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sunshine-theseus · 7 months

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Angel In Disguise | Esme Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: life’s hard when all your students prefer your footballer partner over you.

Warnings: fluff, children? idk how the English school timeline works and the Australian one doesn’t match up with the story so I’m just saying school starts in like September and ends in late May??

Request for: @wlwskyy i hope this is good! it's probably not as good as I hoped but i'm still pretty happy with it

Being a primary school teacher was hard. Trying to help students who struggle with the content while also helping others progress. Being strict while also wanting to be fun. My biggest struggle though, was a very me specific one.

Esme Morgan loves to visit me or help me out at school from time to time, and just like everyone else she meets, the kids fall in love with her. From the first time they meet her, they’re begging me to bring her back.

“Ms L/n it’s so cool you’re dating a footballer! Can you bring her back tomorrow? And the day after that and the day after that one until forever?” and once they realise that she actually has her own job to do, they beg I bring her in at least once a term.

It was my first year teaching after university, the first time she’d come to work, and it had been a complete surprise.

After she broke her leg in 2021, Esme struggled to fill her time. She’d made about 27 bracelets in the first 3 days, then tried to bake a little, although it went rather poorly. She then watched all the original Disney movies in release order. I think she got to Mulan II before she decided enough was enough.

I was in the middle of teaching the times tables when there was a light knock on the door. I could see her cheeky smile through the small pane of glass and rushed to open it for her. Esme stumbles through the door, her moon boot and crutches making it difficult for her to fit through the rather narrow frame.

She pecks me on the lips and the room erupts in childish giggles. Romantic affection was something so foreign to 8 and 9 year olds.

“Es… what are you doing here?” I whisper as I pull a chair for her sit on.

“I got bored, and I miss yoouu.” She smiles up at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“Oh! And I brought gifts for the kiddos!” she holds out a paper bag and I peak inside.

My heart melts at the pile of hand-crafted bracelets, ranging in colour and design, that fill a significant proportion of the bag.

She spent the rest of the day surrounded by my class. Eventually I had to stop teaching because they were so in love with this angelic limping figure who brough them friendship bracelets. I don’t think Esme prepared for them all to assume she was every single one of their best friends.

~~~~~

It was nearly Christmas break when she first met my class for this year, and everyone knew who she was. For the first time, I didn’t have to introduce her or tell them what she does for them to get hyped.

“I WATCHED YOU IN THAT FOOTBALL THING” and other similar phrases are shouted many times when she enters the room.

When I looked at her it was hard not to smile. She was playing and talking with kids and giving them all little bracelets, just like she does every year.

As she was crouched in front of a small group who were excitedly asking her questions, Marley, a rather shy and quiet girl, walked up to Esme and lightly tapped her shoulder. She fiddles with her fingers and avoids looking at anyone as she waits.

“Excuse me Mrs Esme?” Esme is already smiling when she turns to look at Marley.

“Hey kiddo!”

“Um you’re my favourite player of all time. I watch all your games and wanna grow up and play just like you.” And Esme’s smile grew bigger, something I wasn’t sure was possible.

“That’s so cool! Can I give you a hug?” Marley nods and giggles into the embrace, and then they begin to talk about Marley’s interest in football and Esme’s work.

I’d been struggling to get her to talk for 2 months, and Es came in and got her to talk within minutes, but I can’t stop staring lovingly at the angel of a woman in front of me. There was a part of myself I saw in Marley. I’d struggled to be very open for a long time until I met Esme. She just had this gentle, caring nature that was hard to ignore.

Marley misses her the most between visits. They’d made a secret handshake and love to chat and giggle on the oval at lunch, kicking the ball around.

In between visits Esme and Marley both interchangeably would give me something to give the other; a bracelet or a packet of lollies or a flower they found randomly. It was so hard for me to not burst from how cute their friendship was.

It had changed Es as well. Obviously, she has always been welcoming and warm-hearted but she’d become more confident about her play and sometimes I would catch her bragging to her teammates.

“I’m Marley’s favourite player!” it took them a while to realise who Marley was, but they found it adorable.

We’re in our last week for the school year, just in time for Esme to make one more surprise appearance before she has leave for camp for the France Olympics. I’d told the kids she wasn’t sure if she would have time to make it between finishing up the season and preparing for the Olympics, but that didn’t stop them from begging me to bring her in.

It’s the last day, everyone already buzzing for their long holiday, and admittedly from the lollies I gave them. I always try to make the last day super fun, activities and music and a surprise guest.

By midday I’d already had to apologise that Esme couldn’t make it. 17 times and counting.

And by 1, there was a knock on the door. A knock the kids were all too familiar with, and Esme rushes into the room, kids swarming her from all angles.

“Hey kiddos!”

“Hey pretty lady” she turns to me and kisses me quickly. Gags and loud ‘ewww!’s echo out.

Marley waits patiently with a small bag in her hand, still considerably shy. Esme wastes no time in getting to the young girl, with a similar bag in hand.

“Hey Mar! I got you a little something.” Esme hands the bag over, and everyone watches carefully as she pulls out whatever lays inside.

I see the familiar light blue peak out, and recognise the jersey design I sport most weekends. The present is clear when Marley starts jumping up and down in excitement.

“It’s one of my spares so don’t tell Gareth, ok? I got all the girls to sign it.” Marley is wrapped around Esme before she can finish the sentence.

“Thank you!” she scrambles to put her bag in Esme’s hands before tugging the shirt over her head.

I nearly scream when I see Esme pull out a black and purple jersey, colours I know from all the pictures Marley shows me of her games, usually with a trophy in her hands. Her last name and the number 14 adorn the back with a tiny ‘Marley’ in black sharpie on the ‘1’.

“Oh my god Marley this is so cool! I’m going to keep this forever. In a few years time I’m going to see you playing for England and know I got the first ever Marley jersey and signature. And of course you’ll play for Manchester City yeah?” the little girl eagerly nods her head.

The day goes on and the kids go home for the last time. Esme leaves after an hour of helping me pack up the classroom, to start dinner and I don’t finish until 5:30.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m exhausted, but satisfied with my work for the year.

I leave most of my gear in the car to unpack another day and walk to the door. I struggle to open it for a moment but when I do, I’m hit by the smell of my favourite meal cooking and the sound of Esme singing, albeit not well.

I drag my feet into the kitchen and wrap my arms around my wife, kissing her back as I just rest against her.

“Hello my love.”

“Hey sunshine.” I pause for a moment.

“You’re so good with kids.” She hums as she turns the stove off.

“And you helped Marley so much.”

“She’s a good kid, it’s hard not to like her.” I pull away and reach up to kiss her on the cheek before looking for the small gift bag.

“What are you doing?” Esme questions as she begins to plate to the food

“Well we have to measure Marley’s shirt for a frame so we can hang it up don’t we? I want to be able to boast to the world in like 8 years time about how I taught her and how we have her first ever signature.” I poke her in the side as I grab my plate.

“Well how about we do that tomorrow? I just want to cuddle with you tonight before we have to pack and get ready for camp.” I let out a loud groan.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me to France, and we’ll barely be able to do any of that gross romantic shit together.” Esme smiles down at me, regret floating behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Noo I’m so excited I just think they’re cruel for making players do their job or whatever.” I jokingly roll my eyes before I lean back into her on the couch, both our plates sat in our laps.

“I promise to take you to that restaurant on the top of the Eiffel Tower before we leave.” She kisses my forehead.

~~~~~

“This is light work for the defender, tapping the ball passed Courtney Nevin and chipping it passed the Australian goalkeeper! IT’S A GOAL FOR ENGLAND AND THEY FIND AN EQUALISER IN THE OLYMPIC FINALS!”

I cheer at the goal with the rest of the stadium, hugging the small girl next to me as she bounces in excitement.

“Did you see that mumma? She scored! Mar Mar scored!” Reese shouts over everyone else.

“I did! It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

When the game ends, I pick Reese up and we rush down to the pitch with the other family members, celebrating as we make our way. It takes us a few minutes to spot the players we’re looking for but when Reese points them out, I put her down and she runs toward them without a single thought.

“Congratulations!” I pull Esme into a kiss before turning to Marley. The 16-year-old smiled brightly at me before hugging me tightly.

“Your goal was fucking phenomenal Marley! They should make you a striker.”

“But then she wouldn’t be just like her favourite player” Esme buts in, our daughter falling asleep on her hip. We all laugh and continue to talk with the other girls and celebrate until we decide to head back to the hotel to put Reese to bed.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come you know?” I pull Marley into my side as we wait for the elevator.

“From ‘shy little 8 year old who refused to talk to her teacher’ to ‘number 14; defender and debut scorer for her country at the 2032 Olympics at 16 years old’.”

“And one of the youngest and best signings for Man City!” Esme chimes in

“Thank you for always believing in me.”

After we say goodnight to Marley and make sure Reese is definitely asleep, I climb into bed with Esme.

“You’re so amazing.” I stare at her. Sometimes I don’t understand how I was blessed with such a kind-hearted, gentle woman.

“I try.” We break out in giggles and I slap her lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” we don’t say anything else.

She kisses me hard before I rest my head on her chest, her arm wrapping around me as we fall asleep. She’s my angel in disguise.

#woso x reader #woso #wwc 2023 #olympics 2024 #esme morgan #esme morgan x reader #womens soccer

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crucifiedramblings · 1 year

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CRUICIFIED ✟ SPENCER REID (PART 2/5)

find part one here!

summary: after weeks of killings by a man who calls himself raphael, the bau finally narrows down a primary witness that could (and does) change everything.

word count: roughly 2.9k!

tags/cw: language, canon-typical gore/violence, no use of y/n, kidnapping, religious trauma/text, dog death but not descriptive, a bit of a suggestive flashback + more nsfw to come in part three!

PART TWO — EYE OF THE STORM

You awoke to the unexpected nudging of Spencer’s knee against your own. He softened his worried gaze and planted a gentle, hesitant kiss on your forehead. You looked around the empty cabin of the jet, sighing and allowing your concerns to fade. You gathered your things, straightening out your blazer and pinching the bridge of your nose, nodding before descending the steps into the blazing Georgia heat. You quickened your pace to catch up to Penelope, giving her a wide-eyed look and whispering to her when you had gained some distance from Hotch and Spencer.

“You have to promise not to say a word,” you leaned in, voice hushed and flat. “I’m so serious, Penelope.” You almost always called her a nickname or something cute, so her brows drew into a concerned rift at the title.

“All over it. Spill.” She grinned, “um— I’ll take ‘em in my car. We’ll catch up.” Penelope called back to Hotch as the two of you excitedly piled into her Sedan.

“Spence almost fucked me in the bathroom on the jet.” You wasted no time, airing it out as soon as the doors were shut. You had never seen Penelope lock eyes with you so damn fast. “He fuckin’ ambushed me, dude! Didn’t even wait for me to lock it!” You laughed, watching her grin grow wider by the word.

“I knew it! Prentiss and JJ called me nuts!” Penelope laughed, pulling out of the lot and rolling down the windows. “Are you guys, like . . . you know? Not to be super invasive, but is it serious?” You nodded with a small smile, and she squealed as though her favorite couple in a sitcom finally made their move. “When you started at the Bureau, I knew you guys would be perfect! You are so compatible!”

“Alright, settle down, matchmaker.” You recalled that Penelope set the two of you up on one of your first cases together, sweeping it under the rug as “workplace collaboration.” You took a moment to soak in the scenery; the sun stood high, relentlessly peering down onto the rolling fields of yellowed grass and golden wheat. “We made it official almost six months— no— exactly six months ago. Like, to the day.” You huffed, the wind pulling at your jacket sleeve and making it dance in the breeze. “That’s why we wanted to take the day off.”

“I’m sure Hotch would— oh, right.” Penelope interrupted herself at the remembrance of a strict rule; no fraternizing with other members of the Bureau. Granted, those rules were mostly implemented to steer Rossi from his antics — but you knew Spencer didn’t want to push his luck. He seemed to think that everyone underestimated his mind, and therefore had to prove himself to imaginary arguments.

“Mhm,” you hummed. Regardless of rules, you couldn't help who you loved. Hotch would understand that — whenever you decided to tell him. You knew that it couldn’t be kept hidden forever, but on a case was the worst time to inform him that you and Spencer had been deliberately breaking Bureau policy for six months. The two of you pulled into the front yard of the latest crime scene, a gorgeous home with a white picket fence and a few cats lingering on the front stoop. It was no hard guess to make, whoever lived here had been rich.

You reached down to run your fingers along the back of a tabby’s head and neck, crossing the threshold with a gentle sigh and applying your gloves. It was horrific, two adults splayed out with their throats slit. A haphazard trail of oxidized blood ran through the den and into the kitchen, some fallout decorating the walls. You drew your brows into a line, pursing your lips as you cautiously removed and held up the page that had been stuffed into the presumed husband's mouth. It was a bible passage, Proverbs. It read; “Hear, my children, the instruction of a father, and give attention to know understanding; for I give you good doctrine: Do not forsake my law.”

“Bit archaic,” laughter bubbled from your throat, trying to keep your nerves together, “and pretentious.” You placed the page in an evidence bag for forensic analysis. Spencer came to a halt beside you, hand brushing yours momentarily. He knew how catholic-centered events and cases affected you, but there was no opportunity for his comfort to soothe your rapidly increasing heart rate. You excused yourself, stepping onto the back patio and taking note of the unlocked door. You wracked your brain for answers, deciphering as many details as possible with the information that had been given.

Think it through, you thought. Why the specific passage? What did it link back to? If there were no children, why was the verse about a father? Was the unsub trying to describe another relationship or his own? You turned on your heel and walked back into the kitchen, tapping Hotch on the shoulder and gently tugging him outside with yourself and Reid. You did a recitation of the verse, pausing to collect your thoughts.

“I think the unsub is trying to suggest that he has an emotional obligation to his father,” you placed your index finger to your lips. “Hear, my children. Do not forsake my law— there were no kids involved here, we ran prints and neither of them have any next of kin— the work is sloppy, suggesting he worked alone, but the operator who answered the call said she heard two distinct voices with similar diction.”

“What are you trying to tell us?” Hotch crossed his arms, listening intently. “Is he working alone or not?” You paced briefly, thoughts racing at an ungodly pace. You shoved your hands in your pockets, slowing down and looking at the two of them as though you had been struck by lightning.

“He said that his name was Raphael,” you muttered, “the same title of a completely ambivalent archangel that served God with no convictions.” You took another pause, the evidence connecting like ice forming across a glass pane. “What if Raphael is a persona, something to forgive him of guilt?” Hotch furrowed his brows, allowing a singular nod before turning to take another look at the scene. The door was slightly ajar, a breeze licking at the drapes. “The door was unlocked— the back, I mean. Nothing forced. I think they let him in.” You huffed, trying to wrap your brain around the different clues. “Send the passage over to our guys up the road, see if they can lift a print.” You handed the bag to Prentiss, offering a gentle smile.

ONE WEEK LATER

You and the team had been chasing the unsub around on a wild goose chase for about a week, and had finally gotten a substantial lead. Tobias Hankel, a lifelong Georgia resident, had made a call to his local police station about something flying over a fence in a nearby neighborhood several weeks ago. On the line, he sounded panicked and frazzled. Hotch had requested that you take Reid and Jareau to the listed address on file and ask the witness a few questions, as he called from the same street as the first victims.

Your hands gripped the wheel as you drove out into the countryside. You had an incredibly bad feeling about this, but not the first clue as to why. Sometimes your intuition was a bit off, you supposed. Jareau and Reid’s conversation became background noise as your eyes fixated on the white lines slathered along the highway; this case had been rough on you. Spence had attempted to initiate some sort of intimacy a few nights ago, and you just couldn’t let yourself relax enough to follow through. He was incredibly understanding, settling for a few glasses of wine and a collaborative shower in your hotel room. You booked your own to have a bit of privacy, and coincidentally, Spencer had found his way in every night. You couldn’t help but allow your mind to wander as you caught a glimpse of his hands gesturing wildly in your rearview mirror.

Spencer’s hands started to glide down your body, slipping past your chest and ribcage, feeling every curve and dip he could trace with his fingers. The water had grown a bit cool, the two of you preoccupied with touching— no— exploring as much of each other as you could. He lathered your hair with shampoo, eyes trailing along with the pearlescent bubbles that slid down your spine. His left hand reached around to cup your breasts while the other massaged your scalp, occasionally tugging at your locks and forcing a whimper from your lips. You turned to face him, pressing your slightly parted mouth to his own and experimentally resting your fingertips at his throat. You dug your nails in gently, leaving pale pink tracks down his chest and stomach. He started to slip his fingers past your thighs and—

That was quite enough, you thought with an embarrassed grin. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, seeing your flushed cheeks. You gave a silent chuckle and pulled up in front of an old farmhouse with a barn out back. It was dark by the time you had arrived, and the three of you approached the front steps. You sent Jareau and Spencer up to the door while you took a quick look around the perimeter; it wasn’t even for investigative purposes, you were simply curious how one man could live on this property alone. You kept an attentive ear, just in case trouble found its way to your fellow agents in the brief moment you were gone.

Walking back around, a well-lit window caught your eye. It offered a full view into a room with several computers and a lot of heavy tech, all open to several tabs that appeared to be live feeds from laptop cameras. Your eyes grew wide, and you quickly made your way to the front of the house, catching up just in time to see the door close in Spencer’s face.

“I just don’t get it,” Jareau stated, “why call the cops if you’re just going to deny it when they come asking?” She shook her head, skepticism in her voice as she looked back at the house with crossed arms.

“To guage their response time,” you and Spencer had chimed in at the same moment, “I saw his computer setup, this guy is the fucking unsub—” You began, cut short by the sound of the door opening and Tobias bolting across the lawn. Spencer yelled after him, sighing and shaking his head.

“Okay,” Jareau nodded. “Let’s check out that barn, take some photos, and head back. This could end really badly if we aren’t careful.” She drew her gun and started toward the back, Spencer following behind dutifully. You paused, hearing rustling in the field and turning to catch a glimpse of a figure sprinting through the wheat. You drew a quiet breath, rubbing your eyes and ascending the steps of the house.

“I’m gonna see what I can find in here, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You called after the two, and Spencer shot you a look of concern. “I’ll be fine, but y’all better come running the moment I shout for you.” They both chuckled softly and started to do a loop around the barn. You walked through the front door of the primary residence, doing a sweep of the entire house before proceeding with any evidence collection. You found a journal with some illegible scrawlings, taking a mental note of the three different styles of handwriting present on the yellowed pages. You gazed at the computer setup, trying to wrap your head around what you were looking at. It featured a few different scenes; one, a child’s bedroom, vacant with a bedside lamp left on. another, the livingroom of a couple that sat intently watching what you assumed was a television out of frame. They were all normal looking homes, with residents who were none the wiser. You didn’t have nearly enough technical expertise to shut it down yourself, but you would definitely be telling Penelope about your discovery.

You decided to take photos of anything and everything that could be used as evidence to help build the case— also, you knew that you couldn’t return hours later with empty hands. You glanced at the icon bar on your phone, the words no service written in bold letters on the top right corner. You groaned, taking the pictures and opting to send them as soon as you were out of the sticks. You turned to leave, only to be faced by the man you knew as Tobias Hankel. He was blocking the doorway with his slightly built frame, and you froze, slowly placing your phone in your back pocket. He glared at you, his presence more intimidating than it had been during the previous interaction. You drew in a soft breath, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“Tobias?” You softly called out, “I’m here with agent Jareau and Doctor Reid—” You were interrupted by his movements; he crept closer, stature tall and unwavering. You swallowed, keeping your distance. “I work with the Federal Bureau of Investigations, I just need you to answer some questions. Would you be able to do that for me?” His gaze softened, an almost instantaneous change from his previous grimace. He suddenly looked like a child that had just been scolded, shoving his hands in his pockets and backing away before taking off towards the barn. You sprinted after him, yelling for Spencer and JJ while tugging your gun from its holster in a hurried attempt to hopefully defend yourself. The two of them quickly met with you out front, watching as Tobias ran into a nearby cornfield.

“I’m going after him,” Spencer rolled up his sleeves and started in that direction, “you guys check the barn, maybe his captives are still alive in there.” He gestured towards the large wooden doors, “the keys are on the hook just outside. If I’m not back in ten minutes, come look for me.” He ran into the field, and you lost sight of his slender frame. The worry was already making you sick to your stomach, and Jareau could sense it.

“He’s gonna be fine,” she placed a hand on your shoulder, “he can handle himself. Reid is one of the most capable people I know.” She headed in the direction of the front side of the barn, unhooking the keys and deciphering which one was made for the heavy padlock. With a deep clunk, the lock fell open and dropped into the dirt. The two of you followed one another inside, making sure to stay close and listen for Reid’s cries of help if necessary. “So— are you and Reid, um—”

“Penelope told you, didn’t she?” You questioned in disbelief, “she can’t keep a secret to save her life! I’m never telling her a damn thing again—”

“Woah, hey,” Jareau turned, shaking her head and chuckling, “Garcia didn’t tell me a thing, I just wanted to know if my suspicions were right this time around.” She grinned, “I won’t tell Hotch. Scout’s honor.” She held up a mock salute and started to look around. Your lighthearted antics were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot in the distance, and your heart raced as Jareau nodded, giving you the go-ahead to run out there and check on your boyfriend.

You had never ran that fast in your entire lifetime. Your calves stung, feet hitting the ground at such a hardened pace that you were sure the state of Georgia could feel it in the streets. By the time you reached him, Spencer was unconscious and being thrown into the back of a rusty pickup truck. You screamed after him, calling his name to try your luck at waking him while attempting to catch up. The truck was too fast, speeding off down a muddy backroad and losing you within a few seconds. You wrote the plate number across the top of your hand and quickly started back, eyes brimming with hot tears as you rushed to the barn. You found Jareau, face twisted into a horrified expression as you let your gaze wander to what she was staring at. The remains of several large hunting dogs were crumpled about the barn, and she was shaking and gasping for air.

“I had to— they were— I had to shoot them,” she stammered, panicking as she tried to catch her breath. It hadn’t occurred to you that several more shots were fired after you left her, but that didn’t matter now. You tightly embraced her, both of you letting go and starting to sob into each other.

“You did what you had to, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” You softly reassured, “Tobias took Spencer.” You couldn’t find a way to forgive yourself. You never should have let him go alone, and you definitely shouldn’t have even allowed him to accompany you here. “It’s my fault, I told him to come with us and now he’s gone and I can’t even call Hotch and—” Jareau cut off your rambling by grasping both sides of your face in a sudden motion.

“Listen to me,” she locked eyes with you sternly, forcing herself to stabilize in order to talk some sense into you. “Nothing you could have done would have completely saved us. If not him, it would have been you or me.” She placed her gun in the holster and guided you into a deep breath. “Now get your shit together, get in the car, and get us back to the team so we can find him.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #doctor spencer reid

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hyunllx · 3 years

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The Christmas Baker

A Hyunlix Hallmark Fic Chapter 4/5 wc: 3.5k

Hwang Hyunjin is a rich, cocky, famous dancer that prefers to keep to himself during the holidays. When his roommate drags him along to visit his hometown, however, Hyunjin meets a boy who helps him believe in the spirit of the season. Primarily Hyunjin’s pov with Felix’s pov added in occasionally. series warnings: Extremely cliche. You will probably cringe at some points but its okay. chapter warnings: Hospitals/doctors, very brief description of injury, POV depiction of vertigo note: This fic is not meant to accurately reflect or portray the members of SKZ. This is just for fun.

Read the last chapter here

|-------------------- Hyunjin --------------------|

Hyunjin couldn’t remember how to breathe.

It’s Lix.

Seungmin took him to the clinic.

He’s hurt.

The words hit his ears and his lungs stopped working. Chan bolted from his side, sprinting down the cleared pathways and onto the main walkway lining the street. Hyunjin followed on instinct, overtaking him easily with his long legs. He slowed only when he realized he didn’t know where he was going. Fog coated his mind, making him dizzy. Still his legs continued to push on to a small crossroads in the main street.

It was snowing; there was no traffic.

Hyunjin recognized the street they passed as they crossed through the center, Felix’s little bakery tucked just behind the corner building, the snow outside piled high and the lights off. Seeing the tiny hovel made him feel as though he’d been kicked in the chest. The wind knocked from him made him finally suck frigid air into his lungs. His body no longer pushed forward on instinct, but fear.

How could Felix get hurt in a small town like this? He was shy, responsible, sensitive. He couldn’t have been doing anything reckless.

They crossed another street before finally coming upon the town’s sole medical clinic. Aside from the town hall, it had to be the biggest building in the area, though it was clearly not a full-functioning hospital. Hyunjin’s throat and chest burned as he finally stopped to catch his breath inside the lobby.

Seungmin was waiting for them in the small holding area; he rushed into Minho’s arms the moment the three of them burst through the door. His puppy-like face was pale with worry, and eyes puffy as though he’d been crying.

“Seungminnie, what happened to Felix?” Chan asked. His words were kind, but his tone remained frantic. Hyunjin had never seen Chan like this; they’d spent so much time living, hanging out, working together but even when Chan was closed off and hyper-fixated on his work, he was still relaxed. Now he was a spring wound tightly around itself and ready to explode. Even if Hyunjin hadn’t been falling in love with Felix, Chan’s desperate face alone was enough to make him terrified.

“I don’t know, I found him unconscious on the sidewalk. His head was bleeding and his arm looked really bad.”

“Chan?” The four of them turned immediately to the nurse behind the registration desk. Their eyes were kind and reassuring as they motioned for Chan to come up to the desk,

“Yes, that’s me. Is Felix okay?”

“Yes. He has a broken wrist and a concussion but it’s nothing terribly serious as long as he gets proper rest. He’s awake and being fitted with a cast right now if you’d like to go see him.”

“Just family?” The question blurted out of Hyunjin before he had time to process it. Both his best friend and the nurse looked at him, surprised. Yet he knew he needed to see that Felix was okay for himself. He wouldn’t handle sitting in this waiting room while he was hurt somewhere in the building. Hyunjin needed to be with him.

“I suppose not, you all can come.” The nurse nodded after checking that Chan was alright with that. Hyunjin lingered behind a few paces, letting Seungmin and Minho pass him as the nurse led them into one of the primary care wings. As the town was small, Felix was one of few patients there and it didn’t take long to get to his room.

“Hyung!” Felix gasped as Chan bolted past the nurse and into the room. The sound of his deep, groggy voice made Hyunjin’s heartbeat and steps quicken. He pushed his way into the room behind everyone else, relief washing over him as he watched the brothers embrace tightly.

A wad of gauze was taped onto Felix’s forehead, just above his left eyebrow, and his right hand was bound tightly in a baby-pink cast, but he otherwise seemed alert and okay.

“You scared the hell out of us,” Minho scolded, though his voice was soft and eyes kinder than either time Hyunjin had met him, “What the fuck happened?”

Felix opened his mouth to answer, but his gaze finally found Hyunjin. The tips of his ears matched his cast as they turned bright pink, and he ducked his head in embarrassment,

“I didn’t notice the ice falling off one of the buildings. It knocked me down and I landed on my wrist and hit my head. Then I woke up here.”

“You were so careful about that yesterday.” Hyunjin frowned recalling how Felix had pulled him out of the same situation. It very well could’ve been him with the broken wrist.

“Ah…” Felix smiled shyly at him, remembering the same encounter, “I think I was just a little distracted.”

Hyunjin returned the smile; he let himself believe Felix meant that he was distracted thinking about him. It wasn’t difficult for Hyunjin’s own mind to wander back to the way they held each other the night before as he apologized for his hurtful words. Or the way they stole affectionate glances across dinner. The soft, loving way Felix told him to sleep well before they went to their separate rooms.

Was Felix thinking about it too?

“You need to be more careful.” Seungmin’s voice snapped Hyunjin from his thoughts, “You’re lucky you didn’t get more hurt.”

“I know Seungminnie, I’m sorry for worrying you. Thanks for bringing me here.” Felix looked around at the four of them, his gaze shining with love for his friends. His eyes settled on Hyunjin again, a smile touching his lips for a moment before he reached his uninjured hand out for him.

Hyunjin hesitated as three pairs of eyes turned to him, boring into his skin. He was used to people watching him, he was a performer after all, but this was too intimate of a judgement. Why was Felix reaching out to him and not his brother, or his best friend?

Hyunjin watched the warmth flicker in Felix’s eyes as he realized what he was doing. Before he could withdraw his hand in shame, Hyunjin stepped forward and grabbed it. Quickly, they both pretended that Hyunjin was pulling him into a sitting position so he could slide to the edge of the bed.

“Thanks.”

“Are you alright?” Felix hummed at the question, ducking his head shyly before meeting Hyunjin’s concerned gaze.

“I am now.”

|-------------------- Felix --------------------|

Maybe it was the pain medication, maybe the pulsing concussion affecting his brain, or maybe just the terror of being injured, but Felix could not let go of Hyunjin’s hand. The second their skin touched, they were glued together, and Felix preferred it that way.

They continued to hold hands as the nurse returned to tell him he could be discharged. Typically Felix would feel self-conscious about his small hands, but with his palm nestled securely against Hyunjin’s, the taller boy’s fingers wrapped nearly around his whole hand… he felt safe.

Balance was a foreign concept to his legs as Felix tried to stand. Chan grabbed his shoulders, and Hyunjin adjusted their hands so their fingers threaded together in a sturdier grip.

“I’ve got you.” Hyunjin reassured as Felix stumbled, trying to find his feet on the floor. His heart jumped, making his ears and forehead throb with it, but he managed to give Hyunjin’s hand a tight squeeze.

Felix had never been a sleepwalker, but he imagined this was much what it felt like. Everything was a blur as they escorted him through the halls toward the front desk; though Felix could focus his eyes, it was difficult to process anything other than the heavy anchor of his brother’s arm around his shoulders and the hot touch of Hyunjin’s skin against his palm. He vaguely recalled the voice of the nurse who spoke to them, though couldn’t repeat anything they said. Standing was too much of an effort. Everything was spinning around him.

Cold air was the first thing Felix could comprehend as he walked out the front door. He shivered, pressing closer to Chan’s warm body.

“How are we going to get him in?” Minho’s voice came as though it were underwater.

“He’s light, we can pick him up.” Seungmin called from a short distance in front of them. They paused, letting Felix rest for a moment and get a grip on his surroundings. Though the spinning didn’t go away completely, he could at least see now they were standing around Minho’s car.

“We have to make sure we don’t move his head too much.” Chan’s voice rumbled next to Felix’s ear,

“I’ll be okay.” He piped up, though his voice was weak. He tried to step up into the open door but stumbled, the vertigo immediately hitting him as his head moved. Maybe Chan was right.

“Hand him to me.”

Felix barely got his bearings back before Chan and Minho hooked their hands under his arms and lifted him into the air. Panic struck Felix as soon as his feet left the ground and he started to squirm despite the ache in his forehead growing worse.

“I told you I’ve got you.” Long, warm arms wrapped around his torso, holding him tightly as his hyungs let go of his arms. Felix’s eyes focused on Hyunjin’s face as the bigger boy dragged him backwards into the truck, only slightly embarrassed about being passed around like a toddler. It was difficult to feel ashamed when the boy he had such a deep crush on was cradling him in his lap, guiding Felix’s head to his shoulder to steady him there. Felix let himself relax into Hyunjin’s chest, the careening dizziness settling down as he leaned into Hyunjin’s supporting frame.

“Um… Is this okay?” Hyunjin asked quietly, his typical shyness returning now that Felix was safe in his arms.

“Mmmm…” Felix hummed into his chest, heartbeat fluttering in his own “Yes, thank you.”

“Just try not to move too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He was aware of the truck moving, his eyes focusing on the cold, white world outside the window. Just stay awake until you get home. He kept telling himself, fighting the drooping of his eyelids. It was so difficult when the pain medication made his head so fuzzy and Hyunjin’s body was so warm…

“Felix?”

His eyes flickered open. Shit.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No…” he lied, mumbling into Hyunjin’s chest. Coming out of the sleepy haze, he realized at some point during his nap, Hyunjin unzipped his thick winter coat and nestled Felix inside, further adding to the comforting body heat. Hyunjin’s chuckle rumbled against his cheek,

“You’re home. Do you think you can walk inside?”

“No…” He lied again. Sure, he probably could make it in with help, but his body didn’t want to move from his safe cocoon.

“Hang on.” The words were a warning, but Felix barely had time to process it before Hyunjin opened the truck door, hooked his arms under his knees and around his back, and lifted Felix into the air. Shock ripping through him, Felix flung his arms around Hyunjin’s neck to steady himself, his head reeling and his wrist throbbing dully under the pain meds.

“What did I say?” His voice was soothing, gentle.

“To hang on?” Hyunjin chuckled again, sliding out of the truck and into the cold air,

“No, earlier.” Felix’s ears burned and butterflies swarmed his chest as he buried his face into Hyunjin’s shoulder,

“You got me.”

“I got you, it’s okay to relax.”

Felix did just that as Hyunjin carried him up the snowy driveway, trying to calm his heartbeat which he was certain the boy carrying him could feel. It wasn’t until his eyes caught Chan’s anxious expression as they passed through the front door that Felix realized how upset he’d made everyone.

Guilt crashed over him, washing away the fuzzy high of the medication he’d been given and making him sink further into Hyunjin’s arms. What he’d said at the clinic was right, Felix was normally more careful. Far more careful. Yet even the possibility of being in a relationship with Hyunjin made his mind wander. Like a dream slowly returning to memory, he recalled the excitement buzzing through his system as he skipped down the sidewalk in the snow. The loving glances Hyunjin shot him over dinner. The vulnerability as they held each other and cried. Spending time in his kitchen making cookie dough-

"Shit!" The gears snapped back into place in his brain at the memory.

"What? What's wrong?" Hyunjin jumped as Felix jostled in his arms, turning him back toward the door. Chan, Seungmin, and Minho rushed inside at his outburst, worry clear on their faces. Felix sighed, head falling back on Hyunjin's shoulder in defeat,

"The cookies. They're not going to get done for tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it, Lix. I'll do as much as I can." Seungmin reassured immediately, though Felix skeptically raised an eyebrow.

"By yourself?" Memories of failed and burned pancakes and fruit pastries flashed through his mind.

"The dough is already done right? I'll make sure he doesn't burn the building down." Minho smiled teasingly, earning a glare from his boyfriend.

“Alright… please be careful.”

“Call us if you need anything.”

“I think I’ll be okay.” A small smile graced his lips as Felix glanced at Chan, then let his eyes wander up to Hyunjin’s face, just inches from his own. Hyunjin’s ears were bright red, and his cheeks a light pink, his brow furrowed as he was lost in his own head. What could he be thinking about so intensely? Felix wondered as Chan showed Seungmin and Minho out and Hyunjin carried him to the living room.

“I think I’ll be okay now.” He joked to ease the tension of being alone together, finally drawing Hyunjin’s attention back to him.

“Huh? Oh, right. Sorry.” Hyunjin giggled behind his words, carefully tilting Felix back onto his feet. The dizziness wasn’t nearly as bad as before, and Felix managed to make his way, albeit slowly, to the couch without falling.

"How are you feeling?" Chan's voice startled him as his brother entered the room, his eyes still deep with worry.

"I'm okay Channie-hyung. I promise."

"I looked through your cabinets and couldn't find any pain medication."

"Ah… I might've run out." Felix frowned, trying to recall if he had any upstairs in his bathroom. The effort made his head throb, and he had to close his eyes to make the dull ache fade. Chan was silent for a moment, locking eyes with Hyunjin who held his intense gaze steadily.

"I'm going to run to the store. I trust you." He said finally, his voice equally intense as his stare. Hyunjin nodded,

"I'll watch him."

Felix's heart flip flopped at the words; the thought of being alone with Hyunjin already making him flustered. The added protectiveness in his tone only added to the fluttering in his stomach, his skin heating up as a result.

Chan glanced between the two of them and smiled, though it didn't reach his ever-worried eyes. Hyunjin turned to the couch as he left, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Thanks for taking care of me." Felix murmured, his voice coming out shier than he wanted. Still, it made Hyunjin's cheeks and ears turn the prettiest shade of pink he swore he'd ever seen.

"You scared me- all of us." Hyunjin quickly corrected himself, nervously fidgeting loose strands of long blonde hair behind his ear, "I just want to make sure you're okay. Are you?"

"I'm okay with you here." God that sounds so cheesy, why did I say that. He cringed internally as the comment lingered in the air. Felix wanted desperately to squirm away at each passing second until a shy giggle burst out of Hyunjin. Baby hyena was the closest description that Felix could come up with for the cutest, sweetest sound he'd ever heard. He had to bite his lower lip to stop the grin that threatened to split his face in two, "I'm pretty tired though."

Hyunjin perked up as he spoke, reaching his long arms across Felix's body to steal a pillow from the neighbouring chair,

"Here, lay down carefully." Felix sucked in a breath as Hyunjin's large hand pushed very softly against his chest, guiding him to lay down with his head on the pillow. He felt a little dizzy with the new position, but the exhaustion was worse. Quickly shifting his limbs into a comfortable position, he shut his eyes, letting the dizziness turn to drowsiness. Slipping his uninjured hand into his pocket, he produced his phone, using it to bring up music on his speaker system,

"Do you mind if I play some music? I like to listen as I fall asleep."

"I don't mind at all. It's your house." Felix smiled at his words, hitting play on one of Chan's slower, softer songs. Shapes shifted around in his mind's eye, recalling the gentle and fluid movements of the choreography Hyunjin had once danced to the melody.

The sweet hum of Hyunjin's voice singing along was the last thing he registered before the waves of deep sleep overtook him.

|-------------------- Hyunjin --------------------|

Soft snores fell from Felix’s pouted lips, sleep finally overtaking him now that he was safe and warm in his own home. The sight made Hyunjin’s heart squeeze with affection, the love that was growing there spreading even farther into his chest.

Hyunjin knew he was fucked at this point; he couldn’t go back to pretending he didn’t have feelings for the sweet angel sleeping next to him. He no longer felt the need to restrain the adrenaline rushes that new love sent through his veins, no longer felt ashamed at the urge to hold and touch the boy his fingertips craved. He reached them out now, brushing silver strands of hair out of Felix's face.

Fingers trailing down the sleeping boy's cheek, Hyunjin let them rest there for a moment, thumb rubbing softly, rhythmically back and forth across the freckles there. The urge to press his lips to the soft russet skin was overwhelming.

Hyunjin drew away before the impulse overcame him. There would be time for that at a later date, when Felix was fully awake and blushing eagerly under his touch.

Instead, Hyunjin let his affection bring back the guilt he felt having caused Felix to be oblivious to his surroundings. Guilt that his injury stopped him from baking for the town he loved so dearly. This time, it didn't pain his heart nearly as bad; allowing himself to accept his love cushioned the blow. Now he was determined to fix things, not run away.

He wouldn't run away again. He couldn't.

Certain now Felix wouldn't wake at his touch, Hyunjin slowly pried the phone from his small fingers. Thankfully, his phone remained unlocked while music was playing, giving Hyunjin easy access to his contact list.

A smile burst across Hyunjin's lips at the sight of the cute names on the list. Each person had their own string of emojis that no doubt described who they were. His smile grew with each name he recognized:

Channie-hyung🐺🌜🥰

Minho-hyung🐈😈🔥

Seungminnie🐶🧁💙

Hyunjin paused briefly to wonder how Felix would save his number, the thought of Felix having his number save at all making his stomach squirm excitedly.

Quickly he copied Seungmin's number into his own phone, dismissed the contacts app so Felix wouldnt see he'd opened it, and slipped the device back into the sleeping boy's hand. The front door clicked shut just as Hyunjin did so, making his heart leap as though he'd been caught.

Chan shuffled into the room, and all Hyunjin could do was pray guilt didn't show on his face.

"How is he?" Thank God, he didn't see.

"Sleepy. I think we should let him rest for a little while."

"Thank you for watching him."

"You don't have to thank me. I'll do it again whenever he needs me."

The worry melted from Chan's face for the first time in hours,

"He really likes you, you know."

"I really like him too." The weight of speaking those words out loud brought tears to Hyunjin's eyes. There really was no going back now.

"Are you two….?"

"I don't know. We'll see after tomorrow."

"Why?" Chan cocked his head, confused.

"I'll explain later. I'm gonna go for a walk for a bit, but I'll be back for dinner." Carefully sliding off the couch so as not to jostle Felix too much, Hyunjin grabbed his thick coat and gloves from where they were discarded on the floor and made his way outside.

It stopped snowing since they'd gotten Felix home, but the cold still punched Hyunjin in the chest. With shaky fingers, he pulled off one glove to pull up the dialpad on his phone, selecting the new number from his contact list and hitting the call button.

Hello?

Seungmin? This is Hyunjin, Chan and Felix's friend.

Hi! Is Felix okay?

Yeah, He's doing well and resting. I was wondering if you had time to go to the bakery right now?

Uh, sure. Why?

I have something planned, but I need your help.

#stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #skz au #lee felix #hyunjin #hyunlix #hyunlix fic #mine #my fic #the christmas baker #ITS HERE IM SORRY #only one chapter left omg

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cattles-bians · 3 years

Text

exes au part 11

post directory

obsetress: i'm about to fully fall asleep but i have been thinking about exes au danvi and like the isabel of it all and dani dating a single mom and how just like

obsetress: vi is so protective of isabel and as much as she loves dani like

obsetress: she took SO LONG before introducing her and then like

obsetress: when they broke up dani left and dani wasnt in isabels life anymore and dani was so good for isabel and viola just feels so fuckin shitty and blames herself and

obsetress: but i'm also thinkin bout soft fluffy stuff too like how much dani loves isabel and how much vi loves watching isabel w dani and

em: hey hannah what the fuck

obsetress: isabel has a nightmare one night and goes to her mom's room and dani's there too and she just curls up between them

em: do you think when they finally reconnected dani was like hey um. does isabel remember me. would it be weird if

obsetress: FUCK

obsetress: this absolutely happens

em: viola is VERY apprehensive at first

obsetress: god yeah esp after getting so hurt by it but

obsetress: viola sure cannot say no to dani!

em: i love some dani with kids tho

em: maybe too soft but do u think for at least a couple years dani would like. send isabel a bday card

em: like dead air otherwise

em: hmm idk i am chewing that one over more

obsetress: god it's hard i think dani wants to but she doesn't

obsetress: i could see dani writing them and holding onto them

em: oh that’s even worse

obsetress: even tho she really doesnt think she'll ever talk to vi again

em: what a soft and depressing thought. thank u. i resent u.

obsetress: yeah it hurts!

obsetress: but then she does! and she gives them all to isabel when she's older maybe

em: hold on i’m gonna bawl

em: sometimes my parents will be like um. do u remember this person and i’m like uh i don’t remember people i worked w two years ago let alone

em: but i think isabel does

em: i will be thinking about this all afternoon bestie have a wonderful slumber

[em note: em yells in hannahs DMs while she's asleep dot png]

em: no um. mate im still furious about the isabel of it all wtf

em: thinking about um. like ok i dont wanna use isabel as a prop but this is certainly one of those times where

em: violas been hurt before and viola's hurt other people before because she's deeply troubled and i feel like that would be one of the first times she sorta. sure she licks her wounds and feels miserable for herself but its also like uh

em: really sobering to realise This Hurts Isabel Too

em: because yknow violas very gatekeep gaslight girlboss i think shes got a strong enough sense of self that nothing really shakes that. maybe even to a deluded degree. i dont think she goes to therapy because shes like wow im fucked up i gotta get help, she's more like

em: shes really driven by her love for isabel!! gestures WILDLY

em: realised this is an au where parents get therapy and dont pass their traumas onto their kids and i want OFF this WILD RIDE im so tired of discovering things about myself through the realm of fiction

obsetress: yeah same i kept thinking about it too alfkadlsfkjdasf

obsetress: i want to reply to every single line of the isabel thing but i'm not gonna do that so let me just say: YEAH

obsetress: like isabel is her cornerstone full stop everything comes down to isabel

em: dani's probably so nervous reconnecting w isabel again. absolutely spinning her lil wheels

em: they set up a lil date and time and dani's doing her gay nervous babble abt if isabel even remembers her or god forbid resents her n jamies like...

em: im pursing my lips as i draw a line on the whiteboard between jamie's whole childhood and isabels and shaking my head Goddamn It

em: jamie lets dani babble it out n pauses and reflects on what she's saying n then jamie's like. the fact ur nervous means u care. n kids are v good at picking up when ppl care. you'll be alright.

obsetress: god yeah this bit i can just. hear it

obsetress: it's so visceral

---

em: viola

obsetress: god my favorite taurus hedonist

[em note: hannah yells in em's DMs while em is asleep dot png]

obsetress: god fuck what was i thinking about isabel this morning like

obsetress: that's what i get for daydreamin between snoozes and not writing it down alas

obsetress: but just like how excited isabel is to see dani again when she does and also like, isabel and rebecca

obsetress: then i started thinking about

obsetress: rebecca and vi getting married and vi's always like i'm not gonna get married again it's bullshit and rebecca's like it's not for me but then they just

obsetress: like they live together and they share everything and rebecca looks out for isabel just as much and they get to a point and it's like

obsetress: oh. oh

obsetress: like they're both like it's the logical thing to do. it's logical and it's safe and we should have this extra layer of protection but also it's like

obsetress: they find themselves more and more excited a lil you know? and just thinking about how isabel's there and how excited isabel is and

obsetress: but god yeah what i was thinking about this morning like. one day vi has to tell isabel dani's not gonna be coming around anymore and like

obsetress: isabel doesn't really understand and she's so sad and then vi feels even shittier

obsetress: and she's like "we'll be okay. it's you and me, remember? moving mountains"

obsetress: "you me us, right?"

obsetress: the first time rebecca meets her she brings her a book as a gift and is like "this was one of my favorites" and

obsetress: OH I REMEMBERED

obsetress: so like when dani sees isabel again finally (and yknow as nervous as dani was vi was even more on edge because it's so inconsistent and is she gonna understand yknow? and the two of them just spiral––which is also another thing about the two of them in a relationship! i think they push each other down spirals)

obsetress: jamie's there too and dani's like "this is... this is, uh, jamie" and it's like you said jamie isabel parallels and so jamie's like a lil tender

obsetress: spoiler: isabel and jamie end up bonding the most

obsetress: jamie's like running around with isabel on her shoulders and then showing her all these plants and taking her to gardens and

obsetress: another tentative jamie vi alliance

em: isabel mikey hangout When

obsetress: isabel mikey hangout!

obsetress: they're hanging with isabel and she and jamie have a very spirited discussion where isabel's like "i wanna be a princess" and dani's like "why not a knight?" and jamie's like "why not opt out of the feudalistic hierarchy entirely and ditch the kingdom for the high seas?" and convinces isabel to go full pirate

obsetress: and then isabel kinda passes out with her head in jamie's lap and jamie's just kinda idly playing with her hair (vi is already like "am i... attracted to jamie in this moment?")

obsetress: and jamie's like "y'know, i should bring mikey round next time isabel's here" and viola's like "......who?" and jamie's like "my little brother? mikey?" and viola's like "right.... right"

obsetress: cut to later, when dani and jamie have retired to vi and becca's guest room: "since when does jamie have a little brother?" "she always has, babe"

em: kinda obsessed w like. violas love for isabel means her wires get crossed when the surly gardener is Good With Kids

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: mikey and isabel immediately hit it off i think

obsetress: a bit of an odd couple because i think isabel is definitely, like, her mother's daughter and mikey is............. mikey

obsetress: but i think they meet in the middle and help each other grow and play pirates together

em: viola is like. of course mikey and isabel will get along. isabel is wonderful. but jamie is quietly Sweating about the whole thing

em: so damvibecca are having their afternoon tea and their little cakes and jamie is Quietly sweating and she’s like ‘quiet is good, right? like they’re not tryna k-‘ and then there’s the sound of two 8 year olds (idk how old they are tbh) YELLING as they chase each other down the hall w wrapping paper tubes

obsetress: nervous babbling dani x quietly sweating jamie, an otp

em: isabel has gotten into the make up n given them both black eyes n scars and moustaches n everyone’s like oh no how’s viola gonna feel about this but viola is DELIGHTED

obsetress: dani's like "chill you all she's gonna––" and then viola is getting up and asking them to do her face too

em: made a parrot outta a sock and newspaper

obsetress: viola playing pirates w isabel and mikey

em: kids w their endless creativity n absolute disregard for personal property is truly a thing of dreams

obsetress: mikey gives her a paper tube and she disarms isabel, takes hers, and offers it very seriously to jamie

em: cuteeee

obsetress: rebecca's giving dani a look and dani is completely unfazed and reaching for another tea cake

em: absolutely unflappable dani clayton

em: dani and rebecca sharing a Look like hey have you ever seen her this gleeful

obsetress: there is something very tasty about jamie taylor having a direct hand in making viola so gleeful

em: takes a village!

obsetress: when viola's two big loves are sitting five feet away from them both

em: everyone changes everyone for the better

em: fucken soft ass chat over here

obsetress: everyone changes everyone for the better

obsetress: soft as hell

em: thesis statement everyone likes each other so much (jamie pretends she doesn’t)

obsetress: (jamie pretends she doesn't) (jamie might like everyone the most)

obsetress: viola registers mikey for isabel's school n pays full tuition

em: oh my god

obsetress: jamie is horrified and refuses to accept it and viola waves a hand and is like "too late, deposit's non-refundable"

em: (they carpool)

obsetress: PLEASE

obsetress: oh god and like

obsetress: flora and miles go there too

obsetress: full circle complete

em: broke: highschool au woke: guardians of primary schoolers au

obsetress: dani jamie in bed jamie's like "you don't...... think it's weird?" "hmm?" "mikey going to.... school with our boss' kids?" "why would that be weird" "i dunno" "he also goes to school with my ex's kid" "he's best friends with your ex's kid" "and that's not weird, is it?" (grumbles) "not anymore" "so why would this be?"

em: jamie’s ribbing mikey for his silly tie and straw hat but she teaches him how to tie a tie and also she keeps crying for some reason???

obsetress: oh fuck

em: mikey: can’t i just get a fake tie >:/

jamie: no because when u have a real tie you can leave it untied a little as an act of rebellion

obsetress: god it's jamie crying for me

em: i love that big baby

obsetress: so much!

em: jamies like idk what’s gotten into me i never cry n danis like. raises one eye brow and mentally checks off all the times jamie has absolutely bawled watching a movie

em: not even a sad movie

em: dani plays along

em: maybe ur getting soft in ur old age jamie

obsetress: jamie i cry three four times a day five if i'm being honest taylor

em: thinking about their weekly weekend lunch w damvibecca and hannah and owen and miles and flora and

obsetress: dfjsldkfjslfslfj

obsetress: god big found family

obsetress: you know viola doesn't like

obsetress: dani and jamie respectfully toe around whatever the fuck owen and hannah have going on but viola just does not suffer it. she's so blunt to them

em: big viola grin and all ‘owen, hannah, i assume you will be each other’s dates?’ (owen chokes on his tiny egg sandwich)

em: hannah grose is serene and unreadable as she dabs a bit off yolk off owens moustache

em: maybe even a bit pleased

obsetress: everyone is always so tense when viola and hannah get together because neither of them take shit yknow

obsetress: and everyone's like "which way is this gonna go"

em: god. peak snarky broads

obsetress: but usually they end up good. two apex predators where one is a lil vicious but the other is so confident in its status that it just chills

em: they have the Best gossip

obsetress: would love to sit in and listen as they drink tea and gossip tbh

em: viola presses owen on hannah and he goes red and viola presses hannah on owen and she does a little wouldnt-you-like-to-know into her tea

em: viola nee willoughby and hannah grose friendship is. truly something i never knew i needed until now

em: they’re both just that lil bit older than the rest of the gang too

obsetress: an important coalition

obsetress: hannah grose! hannah looking out for rebecca and that's the couple times she gets a lil testy w vi

obsetress: mikey and isabel besties but flora and mikey get along really well and isabel and miles do too i think

em: the sheer chaos of a taylor-lloyd-windgrave story time

obsetress: LDKFjKLSDJF HELP

obsetress: taylor lloyd wingrave story time

obsetress: jamie suddenly very invested in story time

obsetress: dani's like "i know this is the first time you've actually cared about story time, babe, so let me give you some pointers"

em: i was just in my head thinking fondly about like. jamie is a drop out and plays a lil dumb sometimes for fun but also prolly reads a lot especially to mikey and now i’m like. wait i’m talking to Ms Floras Two Moms herself

em: idk if i had that headcanon before i read she taught me a lesson alright but yknow what! doesn’t matter it’s a beautiful one

obsetress: thank youuuu i love it a lot

obsetress: jamie big reader is generally one of my fave headcanons tbh i'm glad it seems to be widely accepted. can't even explain why it's just nice

em: sometimes i will talk 2 ppl about my passionate drop out jamie taylor belief n then they’re like but she’s smart (it’s only happened a couple times hahsj) and i’m like these aren’t mutually exclusive!! this is my very biased experience but my friends who do manual labor for a living seem to read so much more than my friends who don’t

em: your brain wants to chew over things while the hands are workin i reckon

obsetress: yes yes yes yes yes

obsetress: i think that's also like (sighs heavily)

obsetress: symptomatic of hegemonic perceptions of the working class

em: i love when u sigh heavily it’s always a fun take

obsetress: i think jamie is v clever and reflective and like if there's one thing i've learned getting older it's

obsetress: smart doesn't matter i think the most insightful most thoughtful people are the most reflective ones

obsetress: like none of it fuckin matters just be a nice person

#in which hannah says hegemonic perceptions of the working class and i pretend its foreshadowing vampire au #the dani jamie viola rebecca exes au #LONG one its like #2500 words which is #yknow! some pages #idk what counts as long all writing is witchcraft to meajhfjbnk #ik i should be pacing these a lil better but #i just wanna get up to vibeccas wedding im IMPATIENT

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bangtanfancamp · 4 years

Text

Into the Garden (JJK)

∴ masterlist

∴ series masterlist (part one of 2 )

∴ pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

∴ word count: 5k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, dinner theater au? Lol

∴ warnings: none to speak of, eventual affection? sexual tension? Probable future make out sesh

∴ summary: It’s a Friday night out with your friends— a perfect opportunity to try out that mysterious new restaurant everybody’s talking about. Always game for new things and a good time, even you never expected to stumble upon the smart, incredibly handsome waiter you meet there who knows his flowers. Who knows where the night will take you now?

∴ vibey playlist that kept me company during writing

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“God, this place is gorgeous.” You gasped.

You felt yourself go still once you’d finally managed to push the heavy wooden doors open. Was it unreasonable to wish you lived in a restaurant if it looked like this? Because it was beautiful in here. Every corner was immaculately decorated- rich, emerald velvet in the waiting area, cognac wood floors, industrial light fixtures… each element carefully designed, but aged and warm, like maybe this place had been here forever, and you’d only just noticed it.

And the plants- there were plants everywhere, on every available surface. Shades of green wrapping and weaving around iron railing. Ivy crawling up the side of the exposed brick like nature was trying to take this luxurious place back for itself. You’d never seen anything quite like it.

This place was all anyone could talk about lately, but you’d never seen it first hand until tonight. It had been your coworker’s bright idea to get a bunch of the staff together and blow off some steam here this Friday night. She’d even wiggled her way into getting the company to pay for it by calling it a “team building experience,” a.k.a “let’s all get drunk together and moan about our problems on the boss’s dime.” You’d be skipping the alcohol tonight, but this place was a million years beyond your “guac at chipotle is a treat” personal budget and there was no way you were going to miss out on a free dinner here.

So far, no regrets as you wandered across the hardwood. You hadn’t even eaten any of the food yet, but it was already your new favorite place in the city on decor alone. And on top of that, you had something else to look forward to. Apparently, the hook here — not that it really needed one— was an upscale version of dinner and a mystery. You wondered how that was supposed to fit with this whole industrial utopia theme.

You hadn’t been to a restaurant that did a show with dinner since you saw Cinderella at a children’s dinner theater in eighth grade, but the shabby, primary colored castles of your memory clashed distinctly with the elegance of this place. The gaping imbalance made you chuckle. Sherlock dinner theater and artisanal hand glazed pottery seemed like an odd mix to you, but you were intrigued nonetheless, knowing you’d have fun whether the plot was brilliant or not.

After gawking an appropriate amount of time in the foyer, you realized you should probably check in for your group since you’d arrived first. Gliding through the Garden in search of the hostess booth, you found it hidden away beneath the shade of an almost prehistorically large fiddle leaf fig tree. You smiled up at the gargantuan plant, fingers tracing the edge of a leaf. If the millennial garden of Eden interior of the place hadn’t already been an indication, this alone reinforced what a miracle worker their main gardener must be.

Every fiddle leaf fig you’d ever owned had died many a gruesome death long before it ever even reached two feet, but this one almost brushed the exposed ceiling beams. You wished you could ask whoever was in charge here for some pointers, but they’d probably smell your plant mom failures on you from a mile away and decide not to waste their time. Plants just never seemed to like you back the way you loved them… oh well. That’s what plastic is for, you supposed.

Getting back to the task at hand, you leaned up on your toes to look for assistance, quickly noticing that the station was empty. Maybe they’re busy watering the crops, you chuckled to yourself wondering if this place really was pretentious enough to grow their own inventory-they certainly could- when you were suddenly greeted by the most stunningly handsome boy you’d ever seen.

“Hello, welcome to the Garden.” The living, breathing Adonis statue could speak apparently. You tried not to stare as he smiled back at you politely, his silky curls shagging about his face as he slid behind the hostess booth. Holy crap. Did they grow him in the back too?

He was beautiful- some undiscovered demigod with broad shoulders and a jawline so strong it could cut glass. He lifted his eyebrows pleasantly, waiting to assist. “I apologize for the wait—how may I be of service this evening?”

You couldn’t help the silly grin that spilled across your face when his wide chocolate eyes smiled your way.

“Um, Hi. I need a table for, lets see… 1,2,3,4...10 people I think?” You counted unashamedly on your fingers as the host’s lips quirked into a smile. “Oh! Actually, you know what? What am I doing—do you guys take reservations? My friend Beth might have called about us earlier?”

“Let me see…” The boy’s amused doe eyes drifted over a computer screen. You fiddled with the edges of a particularly plump succulent on the counter as you waited. “Here it is. Beth party of 10. Now usually when we have a group that big, we do offer the option of one of our private rooms. You guys would have your own separate narrative from whatever the main restaurant is doing….Would you be interested in that this evening?”

“Sure! Why not—that sounds amazing!” You answered, a bit too enthusiastically admittedly, but when his face lit up at your bubbliness, you found you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed. Not when a boy who looked like that was looking at you that way, all soft around the edges. Will you be there? you wondered.

“Okay, then you’ll come right this way. Oh! And you’ll need this.” Dipping into a crystal bowl behind the counter, he fished out a crisp white piece of paper and slipped it into your hand, fingers brushing over yours as he did.

Something in your belly reacted sharply to the contact. Apparently, the electric crackle affected him too. His already round eyes widened, a nervous chuckle tumbling from his lips as your cheeks blossomed a warm, soft pink.

Suddenly, a ruckus erupted behind you, crashing into the tranquil silence. You turned over your shoulder to see your friends piling in the tall front door, laughing and smiling widely at you.

Tearing his eyes away from you with a self conscious gulp, the host cleared his throat before leading you all back past fountains, lush greenery and elaborate floral installations into yet another beautiful space. This room was just as intricate as the rest of the restaurant, with its warm terra cotta-colored walls dripping with ivy and orchids, lit with the dappled light of melting pillared candles piled atop the elaborate raw wood table spanning the length of the room.

As everyone happily clamored to find a seat along the banquet table, you noticed your friend, Erik, crashing along its opposite edge. Erik had been a football player in college, some defensive position you didn’t know the title of. He was a mammoth of a man, his blonde Nordic hair making him look like an off brand, out of shapeThor.

He paid little to no attention to where he threw his weight around like a puppy who didn’t yet know his size. So when he dropped himself onto the neatly slatted bench (gosh, every detail here was dripping in aesthetics) and promptly leaned against the wall, crushing the intricate orchid display, you couldn’t help but laugh. You heard the host’s strangled gasp and giggled at the beautiful boy's wide eyes as his horror-stricken face went pale across the room. Before he seemed to realize he was even doing it, his feet began to march across the floor to say something to your friend, until his politeness overtook him and he froze a few feet away. He grumbled to himself as your friend carelessly peeled himself off of the bench, annoyed complaining about something scratchy digging into his back. The host was positively fuming as irritation ticked in his jaw, but His big brown eyes betrayed his disappointment and downright bewilderment as the bedraggled orchids limped back into place.

“No.... They’re ruined. Now what am I supposed to display?” You heard him attempt to mutter under his breath, but his anger seemed to make his volume louder than intended. He was so flustered—it was oddly...kind of adorable. You couldn’t help but laugh. You knew your friend had meant no harm. He was a sweet guy, but generally oblivious, so things like this seemed to happen a lot. Chuckling under your breath, you couldn’t help but notice the strain in the host’s angular jawline, not to mention how good he looked with his eyebrows furrowed like that. Intense. It made you want to kiss the creases to relax him. Man, this guy was really getting to you...

Maybe it’s time to have some fun, you thought.

Leaning over the edge of the bench, you whispered surreptitiously, “Hey, maybe you should consider wheatgrass instead.” You sent a quick wink in the host’s direction, a thick cloud of giggles falling from your lips. Lashes fluttering , the poor guy seemed startled by your comment. He had been so wrapped up in blinders over his restaurant being ruined that he hadn’t realized anyone had been watching the entire interaction. For a quick second, embarrassment flashed over his features. The sudden chagrin on his face as he nervously ruffled his hair softened him. The Greek god of a man suddenly a soft, flustered boy. He looked so... sweet.

The whole scene gave you the oddest urge to pinch his cheeks and tell him how cute he was. But just as fast as it had appeared, the innocence in his wide eyes was gone, his composure swiftly resettling itself as his shoulders rolled down, his posture lifting him back up to full height. His confidence was back, and so was a lopsided smile that you decided you quite liked. “Might not be the worst idea.... certainly less overhead,” he sighed resignedly, hands hanging low on his hips as the tick in his jaw loosened, replaced instead by the beginning of a smirk.

“Much less upkeep. Less horizontal space. Equal level of pretension. I see no downsides,” you shrugged nonchalantly. You felt your own smile bloom wider the longer your gazes stayed fixed on each other. His eyes were dazzling- coffee brown and deep- as they glittered back at you. “I’ll look into it...might be a solid option. Have,” he hesitated. “Have you been here before? I don’t think I’ve seen you... I get the feeling I would have remembered you.” His face was so soft and unguarded, his pretty mouth just a bit too open as he searched his memory for a glimpse of you. You pulled your lip between your teeth as your smile threatened to grow.

“No,” you shook your head, hair bouncing around you. “It’s my first time here. First time for all of us actually. Hence, my friends lack of good graces with your horticultural displays.” you offered an apologetic shrug.

“May my orchids rest in peace,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “Not your fault though. You guys, uh, celebrating something?” He was suddenly too close for a stranger, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Oh, no. We just work in that massive upstart down the block. Kept hearing about the place, and Instagram kept hacking our feeds with ads for it so we finally caved. Figured we’d try it out. ” You waved across the table gesturing to everyone. There were all so deep in their own side conversations that no one seemed to pay any mind to you lingering oddly with the wait staff. “Glad to see the marketing is working out,” he chuckled. “Well...if it’s your first time, then you’ll need a proper guide through the story.” A glint of mischief sparkled deep in his chocolate eyes, and you felt something effervescent glitter up your spine in excitement. “I suppose we will.” With a bow from his hip and a nod, he turned on his heel with no explanation, leaving you to smile down at your menu like an idiot in his absence. Trying to read was pointless honestly. The letters might as well have been in Arabic as they swam across the page- you weren’t processing anything. Far too lost in a dreamy eyed splendor over the boy you’d just met until a bony elbow nudged its way between your ribs. “What was THAT all about?” Eileen’s eyebrows bounced with curiosity. “ I don’t know.” You answered honestly as your head shook. At this point, you were smiling so much your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “But my God, isn’t he CUTE?” You hid behind your hands. “Cute??” Eileen shoved you in the shoulder. “He’s not a corgi, y/n. He’s a grown man.” She bit her lip. “A GORGEOUS, full grown man....did you see him when he walked away? God, what a view.” You pressed your forehead into her shoulder and whimpered, “I knowww. His smile, those thighs, my god...and his butt. Did you see it? It’s better than mine.” You both fell into a fit of giggles.

“All I know is that if you don’t give him your number then he’s definitely getting mine tonight. Or anything else he’d like for that matter.” Your jaw fell open at her brazenness. “Hey! slow your roll. You can’t call dibs before I’ve even gotten his name!” you laughed.

“Then you better work fast, babe. Cuz butts like that don’t stay single for long.” She tipped her head to the side matter of factly.

“Oh my gosh, shut up! You don’t know when he’ll come back. He might hear you.” You breathed.

“Let him. It’ll make my job easier.” She bit down seductively on her red straw. Swatting at her, you both giggled before back into the table’s office gossip.

Apparently, Elliot had shown up to the office wasted again today- either from getting trashed the night before or from getting sloshed the morning of, no one was quite sure at this point. Either way, everyone was annoyed as hell that he’d never get more than a slap on the wrist for it since his dad managed their branch. Nepotism still alive and well. Clearly.

Popping an entire potsticker in your mouth, your belly ached with laughter as Sean told you all how his assistant had accidentally walked in on two higher ups making out in the supply closet this morning and how traumatized the poor intern had been. He described in detail how the poor slob had still tried to get around them to get the extra printer paper, and what a mess the whole ordeal had been. He owed you a clean fifty bucks now.

With your keen eyes, you’d been the first person to be suspicious of them- you’d called it a solid month ago- and had put your money where your mouth was. You’d started the office pool that they were in fact a secret couple- a bet you’d clearly just won if Sean bleak expression was anything to go by. Lunch on him all week. Potstickers til i burst? Don’t mind if I do.

It had been a great evening, full of unwinding and bonding. So great, that you’d completely forgotten about the mystery element of the dinner. That is, until a crystalline voice spoke above you, snapping you to attention.

“Pardon me, everybody. But it’s time for the mystery of the evening to begin.”

Surprised, your eyes darted up to see the cute guy from earlier. He was standing right behind you. Your pulse spiked as he sent a smirk your way. What were you supposed to do with that? He was so close now that you could hear the fabric of his dress shirt rustle every time he shifted or gestured above you. With every movement, a burst of his scent surrounded you. It was something citrus, something fresh. A dizzy smile tugged at your lips as it enveloped you like a cloud. God, you wanted to bury your nose in it. You were such a sucker for a good smelling boy...

And this one was so in your personal space. Which should have been off putting, honestly. Especially since you’d barely known him for half an evening. It was a bold choice on his part, to get so close to you. It should have been a turn off. Should have. But it wasn’t. Instead, you found yourself almost vibrating with excitement at the proximity of him. Whatever this gravitational pull was around him, you were perfectly content to get pulled straight into it.

If you’d had the nerve to, he truly was close enough that if you tipped your body back just a few degrees you could’ve rested your head against his lean stomach if you’d wanted to… which, of course you did want to do… but you’d only just met him. So instead, you bit down to stifle your smile, eyes flicking over to Eileen who was just as giddy on your behalf.

God he’s so cute, you thought. Wait- is he still talking? Crap-focus, you scolded yourself, tuning back into his monologue.

“As everyone knows, we all have the same five senses. But what happens when we lose one? How does it affect our instincts? Our gut? How does it change the way we listen to each other?” he paced around the edges of the table, hands clasped behind his tailbone. It made his dress shirt bunch deliciously in all the right places, and you bit back a smile. It was getting harder and harder to hide your little infatuation.

“When each of you arrived,” he continued, “you were each given a character and a backstory- No one should know it but you- but only one of you received the card that said killer. Someone at this table has committed a murder, but who? Often, our eyes can deceive us, so as part of tonight’s story, your sight will be taken from you as you try to decipher the truth. Can you rely on your other senses, your hearing, your intuition to solve this case?” A few other waiters approached the table with baskets in hand before the room went dark- completely.

Not the “the lights are off but we can all still see” kind of dark. It was the “it's so black in here that you can feel it” kind of dark. The kind of complete nothingness you never get with the ambient glow of street lights and screens everywhere. It was heavy and consuming, the absoluteness of the suddenly inky black room.

Swirling your own fingers in front of your face, you saw absolutely nothing. Not even the glint of your own jewelry, and something fantastic bubbled up in you. This is going to be so fun. Your heart began to race in anticipation- you didn’t even know what for yet. You felt your knuckles wrap around the bench beneath you, bracing, waiting, holding your breath, wondering when the night would finally be-

Only to have your thoughts stop. Completely.

Each individual one of them halted in their tracks by the sudden contact of warm fingertips against your skin. The gentle press of a large set of hands melted into the tops of your shoulders, thumbs bracing on the back of your neck. It was him again, wasn’t it?

He squeezed once, tense and hesitant despite his obvious strength, like he wasn't sure touching you was the best idea, but he couldn’t back out now that he’d started. The delicacy of it left you buzzing. In the silence, the pads of his fingers sunk deeply into your skin, and your breath caught. You’d never been this grateful for off the shoulder clothing in your life.

“May I?” he asked, tone honeyed and sweet.

You realized he meant the blindfold you’d heard so much about before you came and nodded your head just once, tension sticking in your throat as you tried to swallow it down. It was only then that you realized he probably couldn’t see you in the darkness. You’d have to gather your wits enough to verbally respond. You hoped he wouldn’t catch the way the “yes” that left your lips was embarrassingly breathless.

You heard him hum in response, holding whatever was left of your breath as his fingertips slowly fell from the tops of your shoulders, dragging across the edges your sleeves like he was in no rush to let you go. It was a strange intimacy from a stranger, but to be honest, you didn’t want him to let go either.

Until, quick as a whisper, his warmth was gone, leaving you alone in the dark. The shift so abrupt that part of you wondered if you’d imagined the last thirty seconds. His lingering hands had fallen away so abruptly at the end. Where had he gone?

It all felt like a fever dream you’d cooked up, like your own subconscious was mocking you for wanting him so bad. For a second, you wondered if you should be concerned by how obviously attracted you were to him. Should you be ashamed by how quickly you welcomed his touch? By the way your traitorous body showed no intention of pushing him away? Maybe you should, but he didn’t give you the time to overthink it before he was beside you again.

“Jungkook.” He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

“What?” You breathed, face turning toward his sound in the blackness.

“That’s my name. Jungkook.” He repeated, his voice airy and soft. You hadn’t realized how beautiful his voice was until it was the only thing you had to focus on. You could feel that he was bent low, his chest just brushing the tops of your shoulders. You felt dizzy at the sensation of his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as a cool satin ribbon was draped over your eyes.

“In case you were wondering.” He whispered, pulling the edges of the fabric into a soft bow as he dipped to the other side of your shoulders. “But I’ll also answer to ‘guy with the butt that’s better than yours’ if you prefer.” His breathy laugh filled your ears, and you could practically hear him smiling. “Oh god, you heard that?” the back of your hand smothered your mouth, a smile emerging even as you cringed.

“Oh absolutely. Acoustics are insane in this place. It was kind of nice though... I mean, how often do I get to hear such a pretty girl compliment me ?” You could feel the rush of blood practically crashing into your cheeks. You knew the whole world would see you blushing if the lights were on. “I’m out of witty comments for that one.” “Don’t smile. You’ll mess up the blindfold,” he warned, the endearing softness in his voice undermining his words. “I’ll try. Don’t think I can help it though.” A satisfied hum left Jungkook’s lips as he pulled away and went back to the task at hand.

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And just like that, the mystery began with Jungkook as the narrator and weaver of your tale.

Your group had been given a story set in feudal Japan. Clashing samurai, feuding houses, forbidden love- Your friends all got surprisingly into it, losing their normal voices into the adopted lilts and pitches of their newfound characters.

It really was incredible the nuances you caught when you focused on your hearing. Jin’s voice, for example, was far more nasal than you realized. He had a tendency to react dramatically any time someone pressed him for details- clearly signaling how close they were to the truth the more he tried to hide it. Lina’s expressionless monotone was nearly impossible to read on voice alone, but it made her all the more fun to try to figure out. Despite focusing on the story, you couldn’t help but notice that while Jungkook had the entire table to canvas as he narrated, he still stayed suspiciously close to your side the entire time- like he couldn’t help himself. His fingertips would brush the fabric of your blouse when he’d pass. His taut arms would graze the swing of your ponytail as he walked by. He had no mercy on the fragile hummingbird flitting with wild abandon in your chest at each of his actions. In fact, you could hear the distinct note of something that sounded an awful lot like laughter in his voice anytime he gave instructions to your character specifically. Smug son of a gun. Soon, the story unraveled as it was revealed that Jin had, in fact, been the murderer. He was jealous of Lina’s love for samurai Hoseok and had killed him in a drunken rage but tried to frame Bobby for the dishonorable act.

With the crime solved, the lights were turned back on, a fuzzy halo emerging around the edges of your vision as a staff member came behind each guest to remove their blindfold. You were unsurprised when you were met with a gentle waft of clean citrus as Jungkook appeared once again to help you with yours. The warm pads of his fingers grazed your cheeks when he removed the satin ribbon. It was so quick- it was so hard to tell if it had been on purpose- before his touch was gone again far too quickly for your liking. “I must say, you were particularly clever.” He offered softly as he stood behind you. You dropped your neck back to look up at him, eyes wide. “Anyone paying attention would have known that wasn’t Bobby’s blade work.” “Still, most people don’t catch it on their first time through the story.” He tipped his head matter of factly. “Maybe I just had a good guide,” You winked, tucking your chin back to normal when you saw a faint pink color his cheekbones. He cleared his throat before addressing the table. “You’ll find your individual checks have been placed in front of you, along with a complimentary dessert. Thank you for dining with us this evening. It has been our pleasure.”

He bowed at the waist as he gave his farewell, making his last words spoken dangerously close to your ear. Adrenaline spiked in your veins at his proximity for the thousandth time tonight. As he returned to full height, another man approached the table, this one taller, leaner than jungkook, with a smile so innocent and wide it could have belonged to a child.

“Good evening everyone! How was your experience with us tonight?” His voice. It boomed like a clap of thunder. It was oddly deep for someone who looked so young. Everyone at the table chattered with random superlatives about how amazing the night had been as the man's smile glowed brighter.

“I’m so glad to hear it!! You had a real treat tonight- guided by our finest story teller.” Pride swelling in his eyes, the man clapped an embarrassed Jungkook on the shoulder. “Such a shame it might be the last story he tells here.” The baritone lamented. “What am I supposed to do without my partner?” The man used his other hand to clutch at his chest dramatically, face scrunched in distress, as you felt your heart free fall into your shoes.

Last story? “Calm down, Taehyung. You make it sound like I’m dying.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and swatted at the man. “You might as well be!” Taehyung huffed. “He’s leaving us tomorrow to start his new life! Off galavanting in the mountains somewhere with flowers and goats. Leaving all his old, true friends behind.” He wrapped an arm around jungkook’s shoulder, dragging him against his will into a side hug jungkook vehemently tried to escape. “Quiet down, bro. You’re making a scene.” Jungkook balked, face pale at the unwanted attention.

He’s…. leaving? Your stomach took a swan dive. No. But I just met him. How... where was he going? Your eyes fell back to the table as you steadied yourself.

You’d been so excited about where this all might go. It was hard enough to accept that you’d already gotten this attached to him. Let alone invested enough to be this disappointed…..but, you’d felt something so strong around him. The kind of glittering spark you hadn’t felt with another person in a long time, if ever.

Every time his eyes had lingered on you or his body had brushed against yours, a supernova had ignited in your chest. You’d spent the whole night going mad with the electric possibility of him- just to what? Feel like a fool for being infatuated with a stranger? Look like the naive girl you were, pining over a daydream?

This was ridiculous. You shook your head at yourself. This boy didn’t owe you anything. He was a stranger two hours ago, he’d stay a stranger when you left twenty minutes from now. But no matter how you tried to convince yourself, your poor heart still felt sick about it all. He’d just seemed so— you don’t know, special. So magnetic. And You’d thought he’d felt the same pull bringing him to you too.

Because why else would he have flirted with you half the night? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to lead you on if he knew it was going nowhere. An assumption you realized was a heck of a leap. You didn’t actually know anything about him, but somehow, something about that narrative just didn’t sit right with you. The look he’d had in his eyes each time he smiled at you tonight had seemed too sincere to be a lie. But from the way his loud friend was still talking, he made it sound like Jungkook was moving to the Alps.

So even if his sweet eyes had genuinely meant every smile tonight, was it really all for nothing? You knew the night was ending, and it was a long shot, but you’d really been holding out hope it might go somewhere beyond this. Apparently not. In an instant, he reappeared by your side, having broken free from the grip of his affectionate friend’s grasp. Jungkook dipped beside you once again as you stumbled to rearrange your now troubled features into something resembling disinterest.

“Hey, Sorry about that. But, I um, really do hope you have a great night. So your uh, your check is on the table.” His poise seemed a bit more rattled than before, but you were too glum to give it much notice.

You sent an out of focus glance in the ticket’s direction and nodded. He’d already told everyone that. Most of the table already had their debit cards out for their tickets. You didn’t know why he was bothering to mention it again when all you wanted to know was where he was going and if it was far.

“I um...didn’t get to catch your name earlier,” the smile he offered you was gentle, hopeful, as his wide brown eyes looked down at you. You felt yourself sigh withought meaning to. You’d have found the sheepish look in his eyes hopelessly adorable just a few minutes earlier, but now all it did was make your chest hurt. “Not a detail you need if you’re moving away though right?” You asked, a sadness creeping in your attempted smile. God, you weren’t fooling anyone. This was pathetic. His brows dipped at your response, confused by the shift in your demeanor. “I’m... I mean, i told you mine.” His gentle eyes tried to salvage the situation. The confidence he’d exuded all night was slipping away, a boyish vulnerability taking its place. There was no harm, you supposed. “Fair enough. It’s y/n.” you conceded. “Y/n.” He repeated, like he was trying to make the shape a new habit for his mouth. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

The smile you gave him back was a limp, pitiful thing, but it was the best you could give. Half an hour ago, you definitely didn’t think him calling you pretty would have made you so sad. Compliments didn’t usually send you into a craving for solitude and halo top ice cream, but this one certainly did.

“Well, y/n, I may not be as far away as you think. Have a good night.” And with that he was gone.

Bummed, you looked over your shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Shoot. Well, that was a fast track to nowhere,” you sighed to Eileen, slouching in your seat. “I know. Bummer. Seemed like he liked you too.” Eileen commiserated. “Right? So it wasn’t just me? You could tell too?” “Oh, he was totally obvious about it! He also gave you more ice cream than me. Shameless. Boy has no subtly.” You chuckled at her accusation, but sure enough, you did in fact have one scoop more ice cream in your jadeite bowl than the rest of your friends. This boy already knew the way to your heart.

“Still. Why act interested if you’re disappearing the next day?” You pouted. “Why show interest when he’s just a server you’ve never met before?” She asked pointedly, eyebrow arched as your eyes fell away. “People react when they feel something- and clearly you two were feeling something the entire night. His eyes didn’t leave you for a second....We don’t get to pick the timing of when we’re attracted to people, y/n. Nobody’s working with that kind of control.” Flopping onto her shoulder, you heaved a heavy sigh. “Again... you’re right. I just, I don’t know. There was just—something about him. He felt... special.” “He looked special in that outfit. Those buttons were crying.” She mockingly bit her lip as you swatted your napkin at her. “Eileen! Unhelpful! I’m aware.... I guess you just don’t always get to know where things could have gone.” You shrugged, wilting into her warmth. “I know, babe. Sorry.” She patted your head comfortingly. You turned to your ice cream to heal the wound, accepting that beautiful Jungkook would just be a passing meeting and a quick deadend to nowhere. After polishing off your dessert, you pulled out your cash to at least leave him the memory of a good tip when your eyes caught on scribbled handwriting in the top corner of your receipt. Hey, I don’t normally do something like this, but there’s a place around the corner that stays open super late. Meet me for crappy coffee + good conversation at 11? -jungkook xxx-xxx-xxxx You choked on nothing as you processed what was going on.

“Eileen! Eileen!!” You grabbed at her sleeve. “What?? What is it?! Calm down.” She pried your clutching hands off her cropped leather jacket, brushing off any damage you’d done.

“He gave me his number!” You nearly shouted.

“What?” She almost spat out her cocktail.

“He gave me his number!!” You waved the receipt wildly in her face. “He invited me to coffee and gave me his number!!!” You squealed, shrieking at an octave usually reserved for wild piglets. “Shut up! No way!!!” “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” You rambled ecstatically. “But wait!” your face fell,“ we’re supposed to go out for drinks with everybody after.” “And? Is that a joke??? You see us every day! What are you doing talking to me?? Text him! Go meet your man, honey. I’ll cover for you.” She winked as she swung her purse over her shoulder. “Really?? I love you! I owe you!” You yelled as she made her way to the door. “Um, You really don’t, but I’ll never turn down a favor. Let me know how it goes. See you on Monday.” She waved back at you, flipping the platinum ends of her ebony hair over her shoulder. “Hey! Where’s y/n? Isn’t she coming with us,” Jin seemed to be the only one alarmed by your absence. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, dear. I’ll fill you in later.” She grabbed him by his shoulders and nudged him out the door frame. “Ooo, bulking up are we, Kim? Feeling solid these days.”

“Yes actually!” His face glowed. “I have been! But you know, muscle tone is 80% genetics anyway. You cant just make yourself handsome, you know.You have to be born this good looking to start with and work from there.”

She knew there was no quicker, sure fire way to get Jin off topic than to ask him about himself. Once that train had left the station, there was little hope if any of ever turning back.

Eileen really took one for the team there. “Call me” she mouthed back at you as they slipped off into the night. You chuckled to yourself at the scene, finally realizing the turn your own evening was about to take. You plugged his number into your phone and shot him a quick message. [10:35pm] Hey, how did you know I was always down for quality conversation? Moments later, your phone began to buzz. Jungkook [10:36pm] Just went with my gut ;)

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princessofgayskull · 4 years

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somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?” Scorpia raised an eyebrow.

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete.

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body.

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that.

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation.

“Oh.”

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence.

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think?

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt.

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority.

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang.

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task.

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her.

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a person who takes care of and looks after her children?

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that?

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with?

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response.

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.

#catradora #sav writes a baby fic #catradora fic #she ra and the princesses of power #up until like three hours ago i forgot i told you guys i wasn't going to write this fic #surprise!#I'm hoping not to trip before the finish line #but thank you to tol and ren for convincing me to sit down and write this

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thetwoplayergays · 4 years

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RFA with a royal MC 👑

Quarantine has thrown me back into my old fandoms, as I’m sure it has for many, and I’ve been reading Mysme headcannons all week so I thought I’d throw my hat back into the ring

Yoosung

Yoosung’s been working for the royals since the day he was born, being from a poor family

His parents were the personal servants for the king and queen back in the day, that’s how they met.

Naturally, when the two best servants of the castle had a son, they had their eyes on the boy

Rika was Yoosung’s mentor and taught him all he needed to know to get comfortable in the palace

He still can’t cook though

“Rika look what I made!”

“...Yoosung are you trying to poison the princess?”

“Princess??”

The first time Yoosung meets you, he bumps into you in the corridor carrying a load of clean sheets

You both end up on the floor, sheets flying everywhere don’t worry Yoosung Jaehee will take care of it

The poor boy is already apologising before he even looks up and realises who he just bumped into

Now he’s not just sorry-

He’s horrified

He knocked over the princess!!!1!

Immediately he’s on his knees, gathering up the sheets and apologising over and over- poor boy looks like he’s about to cry.

But you aren’t angry at him. No- you start to laugh

“Mistakes happen! It’s okay- here let me help you!”

Yoosung watches in awe as the princess starts to help collect the laundry for him

She’s not meant to do that?!?

“I-it’s okay it was my fault-“

“Nonsense. I wasn’t watching where I was going, I am just as much at fault as you are, okay? No hard feelings!”

And then she

giggles

Yoosung’s down for the count- game over

He meets you again the next day and his face just bursts into a bright shade of red

“It’s you again! Looks like we keep bumping into each other, huh?”

Hahaha kill me now Rika quick my heart can’t take this

It takes Yoosung a few weeks to get used to seeing you around the palace without making a total moron of himself every time

You even manage to have a few delightful conversations before you’re whisked away for some royal duty

It took even longer for him to actually introduce himself to you

“Yoosung? What a sweet name...”

Good job MC you killed him again

Zen

You already know this dork is the most famous actor in the whole village

He puts on a play every week in the town square and the people love it

He eats up all the ladies’ attention, I mean,,

Are any of us surprised?

“Zen! You were amazing tonight! If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’d even have impressed the princess if she saw you!”

Little did he know, she did see

When you heard about this so called ‘handsome actor’ down in the village of course you were going to go investigate for yourself

With the help of some of the maids who you confided in Jaehee, you manage to sneak down into a village just in time to see the performance for yourself

Naturally, you were hooked

Good job Zen you made the princess horny have a cookie

Of course Zen continues to perform every week, non the wiser to the newest addition to the audience

That was until one night where you accidentally locked gazes with eachother and he saw this girl smile for the first time

Dumb bitch forgot his next line and got a deadly glare from his co-star

After the performance, Zen immediately ran into the audience, ignoring the swarm of fans that surrounded him as he looked around for the girl he saw in the audience

In that brief moment, Zen was so entranced by her that she hadn’t left his thoughts since. She was so beautiful, she even reminded him of the princess.

Funny how that is

That’s when he spots you, diving into the dark streets of the village in a dark cloak

“Excuse me- yes I’m so glad you enjoyed it- yes- excuse me- coming through!”

He pushes past all the fan girls and full on sprints after the princess, ignoring the shouts coming from behind him.

This lovesick fool is convinced he just met the love of his life and he wasn’t about to let her get away

Eventually he manages to catch up to you and grabs your shoulder before you can leave again, giving him a brief moment to catch his breath.

“Why princess, leaving so soon? I never even got a chance to say hello~”

He meant it as a flirt.

He didn’t expect to look up and be talking to the actual princess

Shit fuck shit shit oh fuck-

“I- I mean- um-“

“They did warn me you were bold...”

You tease him with a small smirk on your face, watching Zen’s face morph into panic upon realising who you were.

“I normally hate being called princess... I’m open to making exceptions however. Your performance was incredible.”

You lean forward just then and place a chaste kiss on the actor’s cheek, pulling away with a small blush on your face.

“Perhaps we’ll meet again at your next one.”

And just like that- she’s gone

Zen is left in the empty streets, stunned, flustered, and completely convinced this princess was going to be the death of him.

Regardless, he’s practicing for next week’s performance before he even gets back home

Jaehee

Everyone in the royal family knows that maid Jaehee is the best in the kingdom.

She’s perfect at her job in every way, and always knows how to make the royals feel as comfortable as possible living in the castle.

Need something cleaned up? Call for Jaehee.

This food doesn’t taste quite right? Call for Jaehee.

Princess needs a personal maid? Call for Jaehee.

When the king and queen first approached Jaehee on the subject, she initially refused, telling them that although she was extremely flattered they had thought of her, she didn’t want to abandon the rest of the duties around the castle.

But the king and queen insisted, only wanting someone they trusted to help their daughter.

And who would be stupid enough to deny a request from the royals themselves

Jaehee was forced to accept the position.

It was difficult having to adjust her priorities with the new job. Jaehee no longer was in charge of the castle as a whole, but rather her focus had to be entirely revolved around you at all times.

Though you were incredibly nice to her, she tried her best to keep things professional as one should. She never spoke up, never crossed her line as a maid and always did her job perfectly.

....at first

One night, you requested for Jaehee to accompany you on a walk around the castle, and of course the girl was happy to oblige.

She quietly listened as you rambled on, talking about your passions, listing all the things you had to do that day, etc.

Everything was fine until Jaehee spotted a rather shady individual approaching you two from behind, but was a second too late in realising they had a knife.

Within an instant, they aimed the blade at Jaehee’s throat and ordered the princess to come with them peacefully, or the maid ‘gets it’

Oh no honey, you don’t threaten Baehee

This girl takes down the man in a flash, barely giving you time to realise what had just happened before guards were surrounding them.

“Oh I- I learnt a few martial arts moves from the knights when I was younger.. it was simply a hobby..”

“YOU HAVE TO TEACH ME JAEHEE!”

“I couldn’t possibly Princess-“

“PLEASE!”

....

The next thing she knew, the princess and her maid would sneak out every night for private self defence lessons

The maid grew to look forward to those evenings, the one-on-one time with eachother giving you and Jaehee time to bond and properly grow as friends rather than simply working under the professional environment of the castle.

Jaehee was able to relax and show her true colours to the woman she was dedicating her live to every day, which only made your ‘friendship’ stronger.

“My father told me today that he’d have to start looking for suitors for me to marry soon..”

“Oh... have you got anyone in mind, your highness.” Why do I feel so upset

“...perhaps.”

You never spoke of that conversation again.

That didn’t stop it from keeping Jaehee up at night though

Jumin

Oh this boy is already a royal. I mean.. do I need to explain myself?

You and Jumin actually met when you were just children, your families visiting eachother often in order to form alliances.

Everyone always said how cute of a couple you two would make when you were older, cooing over the two children who just wanted to play swords.

Let the children play swords King Han come on!

Eventually, the alliance that Jumin’s kingdom and your kingdom had broke apart over petty quarrels, and the two children were ripped apart, likely never to meet again.

“Jumin!! I don’t want you to go... I thought we were going to play king and queens...”

“Don’t worry MC, I’ll become the greatest king of my kingdom, and then I can visit you whenever I want. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

...

As the years flew by, Jumin’s childhood friend became nothing but a distant memory, his future as king being his primary focus.

His father was constantly bringing many woman into the castle, claiming to his son that she could be the new queen until she disappeared a few weeks later when he got bored of her.

It made Jumin despise the idea of marriage, making a silent promise to himself that he would never marry once he was on the throne, no matter how many woman threw themselves at his feet.

One day, King Han recieved message that another woman had arrived at the castle, asking to visit the prince.

Jumin initially marked it off as another woman trying to convince him to marry them so they could become princess, and told his father he was not interested.

“My son, one day you will take over this kingdom of mine, and when that time comes you will need a woman to help you bear an heir. Send her in!”

Mr-I-Won’t-Marry remained in his chambers during the woman’s visit, refusing to even give her the piece of his attention.

But he couldn’t avoid her forever, eventually having to leave for supper, where he discovered the woman having a polite conversation with his father.

Great. Another one had fallen for his tricks.

“If you have come here to attempt to marry into the royal family, I suggest you leave this instant before I call the guards.”

“Oh Jumin.. you don’t recognise me do you? It has been a long time. You haven’t forgotten me entirely, have you?

“.....MC?”

Surely enough, once the pieces began to fall into place, Jumin instantly recognised the kind and beautiful woman standing before him.

How could he possibly forget such beauty?

“I’ll leave you two alone to catch up! It has certainly been a while, princess. Please make yourself at home.” Use protection son

Once you and Jumin had started talking, he quickly fell into his old habits of conversating with the princess, having forgotten how easy it was.

“Remember when you told me you would become the greatest king of this kingdom Jumin? Oh naive we were back then..”

“Yes. Though I still plan on taking over my father as soon as possible. I think it is about time that the contract of our kingdoms’ alliance is revisited, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Saeyoung

Every good kingdom needs a little spy dog- Right?

At least that’s what your kingdom agreed upon when they hired a young boy off the streets to come work for the palace

Saeyoung had a pretty good life growing up amongst the court, which was a startling difference to the village below. He wasn’t there just for fun though.

The king and queen needed to keep the village in check, to make sure there were no riots or attempts to overthrow them. That’s when Saeyoung came in.

This redhead acted as the kingdom’s informat, regularly taking visits down into the streets to chat up the royals, learn of any criminals who had plans to tarnish the good reputation of the court and quell any possible rumours of a rebellion amongst the common folk

He was real good at it too, and everyone in the kingdom loved Saeyoung with all their heart.

Protect the boy

One day, he was taking his weekly trip down to the town when he sensed he was being followed, and immediately put himself on high alert.

He would wonder through alleyways, zig-zag through the busy streets in the hopes of losing them. Nothing worked however, which forced the redhead to confront his stalker head on.

To his surprise, upon cornering the figure in a dark alleyway in town, he was met with the face of the princess, full of guilt and annoyance over being caught.

You explained how much you had wanted to visit the town and see the nitty-gritty of what it was really like to live there, something that was always hidden from you during royal visits.

And Saeyoung had to admit, this chick had some real kick to her

He still dragged you back to the castle though

He thought that would be the end of it, but the very next day he felt the same stalking presence behind him as he left to go into the village

That sneaky little-

“My my~ Princess, if you wanted to spend time with me all you had to do was ask.”

Your face blushed a bright red at the comment, coming out of your place of hiding in defeat at being caught once more.

You waited for Saeyoung to take you back to the castle immediately, however, the sturn instruction never came, and you look up at the boy to see not anger, but a large smirk on his face, a hand outstretched towards you.

“One day. That’s all you’re getting. Got it, Princess?”

To say you were overjoyed was an overstatement.

At the end of the day, Saeyoung was almost disappointed to have to take you back to the castle, finding the two of you made incredible companions together. Spending time with you was one of those few moments where he could genuinely smile and laugh, not forcing it politely in front of the royal family or a group of rioters who he needed to win over.

No, this was new.

The next time Saeyoung had to visit the village, he was almost disappointed to find that you weren’t behind him. So what did this idiot do?

Continue to do this job alone like he was being hired to?

Or climb up the side of the castle towards the princess’ chambers?

If you answered B, congratulations

Luckily for both parties, You were sat on the balcony, looking longingly out into the world like a Rapunzel waiting for her Prince Charming.

“Hey Princess!” Oh would you look at that

“I heard there was a group of bandits that were going to rob a local store tonight. It would be a shame to have to stop them alone.... unless purrrhaps you felt it was necessary for me to be accompanied by someone?”

“Oh, do you need a guard?”

“Wha- no, Princess I meant-“

“Can the great Saeyoung Choi not beat a group of bandits on his own? Or does he need the fragile princess to beat them for him?”

“Marry me”

Jihyun

It was your birthday and your whole day was filled to the brim with celebrations of every kind

It was exhausting

All you wanted to do was to sit down for more than ten minutes without a guard finding you and dragging you back for your next activity.

You even tried to hide in the maid’s quarters until Jaehee found you and scolded you

After a long day, the royal family was finally able to sit down and relax for an hour or two for the last activity of the day.

What was the last activity you ask?

What kind of a birthday would it be without having your portrait painted by the finest artist in the kingdom.

The idea of having to sit perfectly still and look regal for god knows how long wasn’t the most appealing thing in your opinon, but it was better than standing on your feet for any longer, so you took what you could get.

Of course, when the painter walked into the room for the first time, your attitude definitely changed.

“MC, this is Sir Jihyun Kim. We will be sure to make you look magnificant.”

On the outside, Jihyun was calm and collected, being professional in the presence of the princess.

On the inside, this boy was panicking

What if his work wasn’t good enough? What if he made the princess look ugly? Can you be executed over a bad painting?

You noticed a few minutes into the session how his shoulders were extremely tense and how he would barely make any conversation with you.

Sorry Jihyun, but the princess gets what she wants on her birthday

You began to talk him up more, complimenting him on his other paintings that you had seen around the castle, asking him about his life at home and why they had never met before despite him being the best painter in the kingdom.

Eventually he explained to you that Rika, one of the royal advisors, had recommended him to the royal family back when they were engaged, but now that the couple had split under rather unfortunate circumstances, he wasn’t as comfortable as he used to be in the castle and only visited to paint for the King and Queen occasionally before leaving again.

He expected after admitting all of this for the silence in the room to return, but to his surprise, you continued to talk to him, expressing sympathy over the situation and how you would have liked to meet him sooner.

Before you knew it, you both had fallen into a comfortable conversation with eachother and the hours that you had previously been dreading had flown by.

“Sir Jihyun, how’s my portrait coming along?”

“Oh- uh...”

He’d finished it hours ago. He just didn’t want to stop talking to you

When he finally gathered up the courage to show you the final product, he was incredibly relieved to see the smile on your face as you praised it, thanking him for such a beautiful piece of art.

“Sir Jihyun this is wonderful! I can’t thank you enough.”

“It was no trouble, your highness. I enjoyed painting such beauty.”

“What?”

Saeran

Okay so maybe attempting to break out of the castle prison early wasn’t the best idea

But in his defense, his backup team was being too slow to rescue him, so he took matters into his own hands

Saeran wasn’t the most noble of people by far, oh no, but he’d never done anything worthy of the death sentance

Just a few robberies here and there, maybe a heist or two.

Did he have some of the crown jewels in his pocket when the guards caught him?

Maybe...

Regardless of what happened, here he was now, running through the halls of the castle after lockpicking his way out of the dungeon, with the guards close behind.

Stupid dork didn’t think this far ahead.

Turning a corner, Saeran spots the handful of guards facing away from him at the end of the hall, and knowing how close the ones behind him were to catching him, he knew he was trapped.

There were no windows to jump out of either, only a door beside him leading to who knows what.

What other choice did he have?

Saeran yanks the door open and sneaks inside quickly, hoping that he was quick enough not to get caught as he closed it behind him. He leans up against the wall in an attempt to hear the guards outside passing the room, non the wiser to where he had gone.

Success!

Well... almost

What Saeran hadn’t accounted for was you, who had watched the whole ordeal go down from the foot of your bed. In your room. Which he had just trapped himself inside.

Slow clap for Saeran everybody

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Saeran’s victory smirk was quickly wiped from his face as he turns to face you, a brief expression of panic flashing across his face as he took in where he was.

Oh fuck

“I don’t owe you anything, princess.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s seems you’re losing your little game of hide and seek with the guards.”

“Alright listen here you little-”

You were right though, the guards outside had slowly begun to narrow down the short list of possibilites where Saeren could have hid himself, and it wouldn’t take long for them to burst into the princess’ chambers looking for him.

Of course, you knew that, evident by that smug look on your face.

The boy had no choice

“...What do you want?”

“I want to come with you!”

.........what

“You can easily escape them if you climb down the balcony, but only if you take me with you.”

“...Why would I take you with me?” More importantly why would the princess want to leave with someone like him

“You know your way around the village don’t you? I want you to show me what it’s like down there. What it’s really like. It’s a small price to pay for letting you escape don’t you think?”

Oh this one’s fiesty. I like her

“Alright then princess, you got yourself a deal. Don’t come crying to me though after this. It can be rough down there.”

just how she likes it

#mysme #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanon #mm headcanons #yoosung kim #mm zen #jaehee kang #mm jumin #saeyoung choi #mm seven #mm v #saeran choi

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ayankun · 3 years

Text

coffee shop au bitches (working title)

here, have this rough draft of the first half of part 1. consider it proof of concept. (the concept is Destiel Coffee Shop AU, but actually good) (”good;” YMMV)

9.3k words; Cas is human like everyone else so to compensate I made him socially anxious af; there’s a brief unpleasantness wherein someone in customer service gets harassed so watch out for that I guess; Cas is also carrying a lot of baggage (literally and metaphorically) and it’s vague for now but a little wearisome so GLHF I promise when it’s done-done they all get the kind of happy endings they deserved from the show

The town of Lebanon, Kansas sprang up without warning, its tree-lined streets shockingly claustrophobic after the three hours of patchwork browns and greens streaming by the smudgy window, the rolling plains uninterrupted to the very ends of the earth until the blank blue September sky finally picked up where the horizon left off.

Castiel felt his eyes strain, forced to reel in his thousand-yard stare, as he squinted at the blur of tidy little houses perched along Lebanon's brief outskirts. He blinked away from the window and pushed himself to his feet, sidling carefully into the aisle to pull his duffle down from the overhead rack. In short order, the bus turned onto the tidy little Americana main street and rolled up to a tidy little bus stop, and, reaching back into his seat to retrieve his briefcase, he squinted out at this, too.

The screech of well-worn brakes, the brace against the final lurch of inertia, the hiss and clack of the doors at the front and back folding open; with no more pomp and circumstance than that, Castiel's journey reached its end. Clutching the handle of his briefcase and slinging the straps of his duffle over one shoulder, he edged down the aisle and nodded his thanks to the driver on his way down the steps. Finally, Castiel planted his sensible shoes on the cracked sidewalk, looked carefully up and down the stretch of unremarkable, middle-of-nowhere civilization, and wondered what the hell he thought he was doing here.

The bus shrieked and rumbled back into the non-existent late afternoon traffic, a thick gout of black exhaust signaling its farewell, leaving Castiel behind before he had a chance to change his mind. He watched its departure absently for half a moment, road-weary and numb. Then he hiked his duffle a little more snug against his back, turned around, and began an unhurried stroll the shady two and a half blocks back to the motel on the south side of town.

---

"Been expecting you," the woman behind the counter said the second Castiel pulled open the glass door to the motel office.

He paused, looked over his shoulder, saw no one among the growing shadows of the motel's empty parking lot, no one except a trucker hopping out of his cab parked at the gas 'n sip on the opposite corner. Castiel watched him jog across the street towards the Biggerson's, the lights of its enormous, highway-facing sign flickering on in welcome, and turned back to shoulder his way inside. "I did reserve a room over the phone," Castiel said, approaching the counter, "And I was told that a few . . . personal items would be held for me at the front desk?"

The woman, Billie, according to her name tag, responded with a nod, less in answer to his question and more in the way one does when one is not surprised by what they've just heard. She pulled the keyboard to the old desktop computer closer to herself with one hand, and held the other out, palm up, to Castiel. "ID and credit card."

Setting his briefcase down on the floor, Castiel dug inside his overcoat's interior pocket for his wallet. By rote he thumbed out the military ID to give her, but at the last second his heart gave a sharp little twist and he drew it back. Her lips twitched, nonplussed, but she waited patiently until he handed her his driver's licence instead. She studied the picture on it for a second, mouthed the name, and carefully considered the face on the photo compared to the face on the man in front of her. He shifted his feet nervously, thinking he should have just given her the first one, if only to avoid looking any more disreputable than he already did.

Evidently their hangdog looks matched to her satisfaction, though, and she snapped the plastic down onto the counter, shifted her attention to the computer to check him in.

"Room's yours for the week," she read off the screen as he retrieved his licence and put the credit card down in its place. She slid it over to herself without looking, only glancing down to read the numbers, obsidian black fingernails clacking proficiently over the ten-key peripheral plugged into the side of the keyboard. "Checkout's at eleven on the 25th."

When she slid the card back over to him, Castiel palmed it off the counter, put it back into the wallet behind his IDs (driver's license on top), tucked the wallet back into his overcoat. "Um. I'm not exactly sure yet -- I may need to extend my stay." Absently, he wondered why he sounded like he was apologizing for it.

Billie looked up from the computer screen at him, neutral. "Whatever you need. We can do you by the week, month, whatever. Got your card on file, so you just let me know when I should stop charging it."

Castiel tried a smile he didn't feel, thinking as he did so that he probably shouldn't have bothered with one, what with how it seemed to crumple his face in unnatural ways. "I will let you know, thank you."

She pulled a blank key card from a drawer and ran it through the machine to code it for his room. "Here you go," she said, slapping it onto the counter with another plasticky snap, "Room 401."

"Thank you," he said again, taking the key card and putting it into his coat's front pocket. She held up a hand to keep him from running straight off to the room, a slightly unnecessary gesture, since he had no intention to do so. Not without the banker's box that she was now pulling out from under the counter.

It was sealed with tamper-evident tape, noticeably intact as she spun it 180 degrees so he could also see his name and a brief description of the contents inked with a tidy hand in the space provided on the lid. Billie pushed the box toward him and then tapped a nail over one of the items on the contents list. "She's parked out front."

Castiel peered down at the item she had indicated. "Keys," it said, rather cryptically, in that unfamiliar, efficient script. He nodded. "Thank you."

He bent to pick up the handle of his briefcase, letting the duffle fall farther across his back as he did so in order to free up space under his arm for the banker's box. It worked, albeit inelegantly, and he felt a little foolish as he fumbled the box off the counter and turned to go. He felt even worse when Billie said to his back: "I'm sorry for your loss."

No part of him wanted to say "thank you" again, so he just paused long enough to indicate that he had heard her, and then went out through the glass door and back into the shadowed parking lot without saying a damn thing.

---

Room 401 opened into a concise sort of entryway that pointed him toward a small kitchenette lit primarily by the glare of the Biggerson's sign falling in through the window. The space featured a round table with peeling laminate, two plastic-and-stainless-steel chairs, a sink and a microwave and a loudly humming fridge. It was downright lavish compared to the accommodations Castiel had shifted between for the better part of his life.

The banker's box went onto the table, to be ignored until the time came Castiel felt ready to pry inside.

He shrugged his duffle off onto the end of the bed, the briefcase going onto the floor at its foot. Successfully offloaded, Castiel turned and sat beside the duffle with his hands in his lap, looking at the boxy little TV set sitting on top of a banged up little dresser; at the dusty looking armchair shoved back in the corner to his right, under a dusty looking lamp; at the dim alcove immediately to the right of the TV, keeping discreet the bathroom sink and mirror and the door to the toilet and shower.

He didn't know what to do now.

Twisting to look at the digital clock on the bedside table, he marked the time with no real interest. Just after 6:30. Not enough daylight left to try and find his way around town, too early to sleep. Not that he really felt compelled to do either of those things. Not that he felt compelled to do anything.

But he had to do something, though, didn't he? He had to keep moving forward, in whatever small way he could manage. He had to.

With a long sigh that seemed almost to empty him completely, Castiel got to his feet. He pulled his overcoat off, went to the alcove closet to hang it up, stopped at the sink to splash some water on his face. He took a moment to appreciate his appearance -- mournful and aggressively unkempt after two solid days on the road -- before stepping out of the alcove to retrieve the briefcase. He opened it on the bed and slipped the laptop out, digging around for the charger, and brought both to the dresser, setting the laptop to one side and plugging it into the outlet he found by tracing the TV's power cord.

He stood there, hunched a little over the open laptop, waiting for it to wake from its hibernating state. He could check his email, at least, or scroll through the news he'd missed while in the air and in taxis and in the air again and in buses that sailed too quickly through isolated islands of 4G signal that lit up only a single bar before going dark again.

His desktop loaded, the wallpaper a heavily-filtered photo he'd pulled from who-knew-where: just an expanse of faded teal, adorned only by a single, old-fashioned kite, bold and bright with primary colors, pinned there on the sky by an unseen breeze for all eternity. He had set it a long time ago and never changed it; the image was a small comfort, though for what reason, he couldn't tell. It wasn't his memory.

The fleeting sense of well-being provided by the tranquil wallpaper faded as quickly as it had come. The only Wi-Fi network in range was named "Big D's iPhone" and it was locked. Castiel refreshed the network scan a few times, hoping to see something that looked like it was related to the motel, but nothing else appeared. He fished his phone out of his pocket for a second opinion, but it, too, displayed just the one fishy looking hotspot and very little 4G, even though he swung it around like an idiot, dowsing the room for a signal, watching the littlest bar wink at him no matter which out-of-the-way corner he took it to.

He even found himself squeezing between the table and the window, pushing the curtain aside as if the radio waves were having trouble making it through the few millimeters of dusty fabric. He knew better, but it couldn't hurt. In the Biggerson's lot, catty corner to the motel, a sleek black muscle car came to life with an animal growl, and he watched it prowl out onto the street and streak out towards the highway, taking Big D's iPhone with it.

---

It wasn't Billie manning the motel office when Castiel made his way back inside. He didn't know why this should surprise him, but the fact that his expectations had been subverted in such a minor way somehow made him stutter his step as he entered.

The woman lounging in the office chair with her boots on the counter didn't wear a nametag. She did look up from her magazine -- Knives Illustrated -- but only for a second, just a cool, cursory glance to let him know that she knew he was there and also that she wasn't too bothered by it.

"Howdy there, Clarence," she drawled.

Castiel didn't look over his shoulder, this time, but he did falter to a premature stop halfway to the counter, searching the vast middle distance as he tried to quickly figure out if he had enough information to parse the greeting. He didn't.

"My name is Castiel," he informed her cautiously, eyes lifting to meet hers over the cover of her magazine.

She turned a page. "Knew it was something hokey like that."

"Yes, well . . . hello," he said, brow furrowing. She turned another page and he pulled his hand down over his rough five o'clock shadow, a token from his time on the road. He probably should have cleaned up before leaving the room, but here he was. He stepped forward, "Excuse me--"

"You're excused," she sing-songed at him. The magazine dropped just enough to reveal her razor-sharp grin; it was not too dissimilar to the image on the front cover.

"--I was wondering if you knew where I might find a decent Wi-Fi signal in town." He arrived at the counter as he was speaking, and placed both his hands palms down on its surface. When she didn't stop looking at him, he picked his hands back up and dropped them to his sides.

She went back to the magazine. "Depends. Business or pleasure?"

"Alright," Castiel said, defeated, hands clenching irritably at nothing, "I apologize for having bothered you. Enjoy your evening."

He turned his back on her, and wasn't going to stop even when he heard the magazine slap closed and her boots clump to the floor, but still that's exactly what he ended up doing as she called, "Hold up, C."

It was the impromptu nickname more than anything, since hearing it inspired him to send a pinched look of consternation back in her direction, where she was now leaning towards him with her forearms planted on the counter, her straight dark hair falling over one shoulder. "I was only having a little fun," she told him once she was sure she had secured his attention, "We don't get fresh meat like you too often around these parts, and a girl's got needs. How could I resist?"

"That is a very forward way to speak to a customer," Castiel intoned, the dip of his head turning judgemental. He'd seen looks like that before; his skin crawled when they were for him. His hands balled up and flapped open again, trying to shake it off. "Good night."

"Best bet's the Roadhouse," she told him just as he reached out to push open the door. Again, he paused, against his better judgement, and she took that as her cue to continue, "Just head on up Main Street, you can't miss it. If you hit the prairie, you've gone too far."

Castiel ducked his head, hiding the twitch of a small, rueful smile at the joke that slipped its way in at the last second. "Thanks," he said, more to the half-opened door than to anyone else.

"You watch yourself out there, fresh meat," she hollered a parting warning as the door swung shut behind him, "The freaks come out at night."

---

Castiel walked back to his room to get his overcoat, taking in the rosy hues of twilight that striated the western sky dead ahead of him, chewing over the likelihood that the insouciant woman meant what she'd said. He couldn't imagine that a small town like this would be terribly dangerous after dark, but, then again --

Stopping at the door to 401, he carefully prodded his better judgement into at least considering taking the car -- he looked at it from the corner of his eye, trying not to dwell too long on the idea that its previous owner would have left indelible personal traces behind -- and, sure enough, he wasn't ready to go digging. Not in the box, and certainly not in the car.

Castiel gently shook out the fist he had made, swept his eyes over the brilliance of the western sky, and decided he was in the right kind of mood for a walk.

He unlocked his door, entered the room to grab his overcoat, stuffed the laptop back into the briefcase, exited again, pointed himself towards Main Street without giving the car another thought.

---

Turned out she was right about one thing, the Roadhouse was impossible to miss.

From the way the neon sign lit up the rustic wood siding of the cowboy-chic exterior, he half worried the establishment was a bar of some sort. The windows were dark, the shades drawn down against the setting sun, so he only could only make a guess based on what the exterior looked like. Hesitating on the sidewalk under a street lamp, Castiel squinted up at it and waged a minor civil war with himself as to whether it would be worth it to go in and find out.

He slowly turned around on the spot, in his little pool of light, casting up and down the nearly deserted street for some kind of sign that would help him choose one way or the other. Small town Kansas didn't seem to have much going for it, in the way of nightlife; from what he could tell, the storefronts looked exclusively like the little mom-and-pops one would expect from the heartland -- the highway-adjacent Biggerson's the evident exception -- and all of these were either closed or closing.

He completed his inspection, coming face to face once again with the Roadhouse. On the one hand, it purportedly had Wi-Fi, his current mission being to locate the same. On the other hand, it looked like a bar, and he didn't want to walk in there with his out-of-towner face, with his uncool overcoat and his briefcase, and specifically avoid ordering alcohol.

He was just coming around to the idea that he could very well survive off the grid for a night when a pair of headlights attached to a shadow came roaring down from the north end of the street at him, the car banking into a smooth, undoubtedly illegal U-turn in the middle of the block, slinking confidently into the open space directly under Castiel's street lamp. The engine cut off, then the lights, and then a man was ducking out of the driver's side, slamming the door shut behind him.

Castiel was stuck. He hadn't counted on this particular type of social awkwardness, caught loitering on the street without anything to say for himself. He averted his eyes, expecting the man to pass him by and go on with his business, but to his increasing embarrassment and frustration, the guy stepped up onto the sidewalk and shoved his keys into a pocket of his green canvas jacket and definitely didn't continue on his way.

"Coming or going?" he asked. The voice was something of a deep growl, but the tone was friendly enough.

Castiel looked up to be polite, or, at least, to be less weird. "I don't know," he found himself saying. Any chance to possibly come across as a reasonable human being was thoroughly smashed, he thought. He couldn't talk his way out of this one, even if he tried. Especially if he tried. "I've only just arrived," he added.

The guy looked him up and down, not in a lecherous way, or even in a macho, sizing up the competition way; just an unguarded appraisal of his bus-rumpled appearance, the suspicious looking briefcase, the disconcerting way he was caught standing in the dark looking at the door of a place without going in. The inspection was over in a second, and concluded with a good-natured nod and an open-handed wave that clearly said, "yeah, I figured out that much on my own."

"Well, we don't bite," the guy said aloud, slapping Castiel hard on the shoulder, making him rock from the impact and almost exactly undermining the sentiment. He immediately turned and stepped up to the Roadhouse's door, hauling it open and beckoning back at Castiel to get his ass inside. "C'mon, at this rate they'll be closed before you make up your mind."

If Castiel had been looking for some kind of sign, this was clearly providence's way of sending him one.

Even so, he realized he had started moving forward to accept the invitation without consciously meaning to, and, well, he had a lifetime of conditioning to thank for that. Castiel, ever the good little soldier, taking orders at face value, instead of thinking for himself. He frowned a little on the inside -- remembering to briefly tug a smile of thanks on the outside -- until the wave of warm, coffee-scented air hit him in the face along with the unavoidable understanding that the Roadhouse was not, in fact, a bar.

The relief of this revelation was powerful enough to enable him to put his weird little hangups back inside the box where they belonged, his outside smile going soft and honest around the edges, and he ducked his head sheepishly at the guy, who had followed him in. Automatically angling himself towards the register, as one did one when one entered a coffee shop, he said, "I was informed there was Wi-Fi here. Just not what 'here' was. 'The Roadhouse' sounds -- I thought perhaps it was a bar."

His honesty caught himself off-guard, uncertain as to where the need to explain himself to this stranger came from, exactly. It was probably because he had already demonstrated the kind of small town friendliness that made Castiel feel like it would be read as rude if he didn't attempt a bit of smalltalk in return. The guy looked like a nice enough sort of person to meet halfway; about Castiel's age, a little younger, perhaps; kind of a non-threatening good-ol'-boy with his ripped jeans, plaid flannel, and his not-quite-scruffy-not-quite-clean-cut style. Castiel thought that maybe he could survive being social for a minute or two, with someone like this.

Instantly, this thought hit a bump in the road, as his new friend twisted a funny look at him. "Got something against bars?"

Castiel dropped his eyes and tried to ignore his obvious misstep while he drifted into the back of the line, behind a towering mountain of a man in a black leather jacket. Castiel wasn't short, by any stretch of the imagination, but the two men hemming him in were both taller still. He thought about his answer to the question, flicking rapidly through the options, but wasn't able to pick one that was both simple and truthful before the guy abruptly leaned in. This startled Castiel, who instinctively shifted away a half step, shoulder bumping up against the glass that separated him from a shiny brass espresso machine.

The guy didn't notice his discomfort, having breached Castiel's personal space to say in a stage whisper: "If it's rough company you're worried about, nothin' to be afraid of, around here. The real seedy joints are across town. Ain't that right, Tiny?"

At this last, he straightened up and raised his voice some, directing the question straight past Castiel.

Castiel turned his head to see the huge leather jacket man fixing the tall canvas jacket man with a full-bodied glare. He also, at this time, took in the man's shaved head and appreciated the twisting serpent logo coiled on the back of the jacket. He shifted even closer to the espresso machine, clearing the space between the two men as best he could.

But "Tiny" didn't otherwise react, just turned back and stepped up to the register, boots heavy on the wooden floor.

"Wi-Fi's pretty decent here, yeah," Castiel's companion went on. Castiel looked back to him, surprised to see him relaxed and indifferent, like he hadn't just specifically tried to antagonize a 400-pound member of a biker gang after dark. "And the lattes are alright. Fair warning: your choices are pretty much either that or black coffee, those're the only things the kid can't mess up too bad."

Off the guy's nod over Castiel's shoulder, he obediently turned and saw the referenced kid -- in actuality, a young, sandy-haired man of about seventeen or eighteen -- working the espresso machine on the other side of the glass. The milk frother hissed demonstratively for a moment, the kid's face pinched in comically serious concentration on the task, but when he shoved the arm back into the off position, he looked up to see who was watching him and broke out into one of the purest smiles Castiel had ever seen.

"Hello!" the kid said, sunnily, like Castiel was his closest friend and not a literal stranger gawking at him like a zoo animal. The hand that had been operating the machine was summarily raised in greeting, palm forward, fingers wide. He radiated a positively angelic energy that instantly made Castiel feel at ease, despite the anxiety of the last several minutes, somehow even despite the soul-crushing weight he'd brought with him to town.

"Hello . . . Jack," Castiel replied, after realizing he could make out the kid's name tag pinned to his apron. Pinned to their apron, rather, as he belatedly noted the "they/them" pronoun declaration stuck on underneath the name with white label tape. He smiled, the desire to return just a small portion of the hospitality he'd received so far rising ferociously inside him, one of the strongest emotions he'd had the pleasure of feeling in recent memory. "I've been informed I should try one of your lattes."

He nodded at the stainless steel carafe of foamed milk in the kid's hand, and they looked down at it as if they'd forgotten it was there. "Oh! Yes, I suppose you should." They poured the milk into a waiting paper cup of espresso, face contorting back into that look of supreme concentration for only as long as it took to pour, smiling back up at Castiel the second the task was done. "I'm still learning how to make everything, but I'm getting better at the basics."

"Yeah, you are," the guy behind Castiel said, in that manner of speaking that was as aggressive as it was supportive. Jack grinned shyly, ducking their head at the praise, and shuffled the drink off to the pick-up counter on the other side of the register.

Castiel looked back over to see the guy grinning after the kid, and a thought hit him. "Are you their . . . parent?" he asked, tripping and catching himself on Jack's pronoun only slightly, a very jarring rush of panic hitting him in time to swerve around using the word "father," just in case gender-nonconformity ran in the family.

The . . . person met Castiel's eye and then looked away, shrugging a little. "Oh me? Nah. I mean. Sorta. We're kind of just, looking after them, I guess you could say."

The use of the first-person plural pronoun seemed like something Castiel would pry into next, were he the prying sort. Instead, he very, very briefly wondered what the average household looked like in Lebanon, Kansas, these days, or if he'd just stumbled into the exception on accident.

A hand was extended his way, along with a name. "Dean," Castiel was told as he accepted the handshake, "He/him, in case you were wondering."

Castiel let out an inward sigh of relief, and the guy winked before adding: "Aquarius. Stones, not Beatles. Star Wars and Star Trek, but not the garbage that came out after the nineties." Dean let Castiel's hand go with a chewed-on smile and something of a self-deprecating eyebrow wag. "That's basically all the important stuff you have to know about me up front."

"Castiel," he returned, "And . . . I am also a man."

Dean snorted a short little breath at that, eyes bright. He rubbed his chin, scratching through the close-trimmed stubble. "Castiel, huh?"

Castiel pressed his lips together and took a moment to take stock of the state of his shoes, squaring himself for the inevitable question about his uncommon name, but for once it didn't come. Dean didn't have the chance to ask it. When Castiel glanced up, Dean was looking over Castiel's shoulder in the direction of the register, all traces of his friendly disposition replaced by a cold scowl.

As one did, Castiel, too, turned to follow Dean's gaze, searching out the source of his sudden displeasure. For a second he assumed it had something to do with Jack, maybe getting into some difficult situation with a customer, but at a glance he saw that he only had it half right. Instead of Jack, it was the young woman behind the register, who pulled her wrist out of Tiny's pawlike grasp as Castiel watched.

Castiel's throat closed up, his second-hand anxiety over the situation momentarily flooring him. Embarrassed, he looked away, out over the sparsely populated cafe, everyone he saw slowly doing the same: turning back to their screens and their friends, pretending nothing had happened.

Everyone but Dean, Castiel saw as he finally looked back up at him. Dean was still watching Tiny closely, his brow drawn down and his mouth set in a firm line. He flicked his eyes down to Castiel when he caught him looking, and did a stuttered double take when he realized he had accidentally leveled that glare at him.

Dean relaxed his expression into something more neutral, obviously seeing the stress on Castiel's face; while Dean was clearly angered by Tiny's overreach, Castiel couldn't help but project a grim ache that he didn't want to name. Dean's head tilted, as if he was slowly cottoning on to the depth of Castiel's discomfort the longer he looked at him, and Castiel saw his jaw clench the moment before they both looked sharply back over at the register, hearing the woman's voice rise, frustrated and disgusted, over the country twang of the canned music pumping through the coffee shop's speakers.

"You kiss your mama with that mouth?" The young woman had taken a full step back into the space behind the counter, dodging out of the way of Tiny's reach. Castiel could see fire in her eyes, and barely registered Jack standing nervously on her other side.

Tiny laughed, a rolling chuckle that filled Castiel's gut with acid. The huge man leaned up against the counter, shoving a shoulder as far as it would go into the open space next to the register, and curled his hand around the far edge of the counter. "Why, you jealous? How 'bout you pucker up, sweetcheeks, let me show you what you're missing."

In an instant, the nerves and disgust flushed out of Castiel's system, and in its place a white-hot righteous anger swirled up. His hands twitched, settling for fists, and he took a lurching step forward, his briefcase swinging roughly into his leg, the emotion spilling out of him in a growl of "Hey, asshole--"

"Yeah, alright--" Dean growled at the same time, taking the same step forward, bringing him even with Castiel, the two men suddenly a solid wall staring daggers into Tiny's back.

"Stay out of this, Dean," the young woman said, fierce. The tone in her voice caused Jack to flinch, snatching back the reassuring hand they'd been tentatively reaching her way.

Tiny heaved himself off the counter, turning to face them slowly, deliberately, letting them appreciate his size and giving them ample time to reconsider the hill they might be about to die on. Castiel's chin went up, eyes narrowed. At his side, Dean sniffed and thumbed his nose, aggressively nonchalant.

A devil-may-care smile on his face, Dean put one arm wide. "No can do, Jo. There's a quick way to handle huge, steaming piles of human garbage like our friend Tiny here," he said, making stabbing motions with his hand at the man in question, "and I'd hate to see you lose your job over a broken jaw."

Castiel glanced sharply up at Dean, trying to gauge the realistic chances of an all-out brawl going down right here between the novelty mugs and the last of the day's homemade baked goods. Lebanon, Kansas was quickly proving to be something other than the sleepy, middle of nowhere hamlet he had assumed it would be.

In fairness, though, he had been warned that the freaks came out at night.

Dean didn't exactly look ready for a fight, though, loose-limbed and calm, fixing Tiny with a cocky grin that was daring the biker to make the first move. Castiel forced his own shoulders down, his fist to relax around the handle of the briefcase he was gripping like a weapon. He cut his eyes over to Tiny, who was equally not rising to the bait, just sneering at them for what he was reading as biteless bark.

"Like to see you try, pretty boy," Tiny said, digging in his heels.

Castiel frowned, seeing that the situation had ground into a stalemate before it had even started, two immovable objects sizing each other up, both content with the fact that the one who either struck first or walked away first would make himself the de facto loser of the conflict, one way or another. Even so, Castiel strongly felt that neither of these two would be the type to walk away. He raised a hand, palm out, and tried to press some sense into the moment before one of them exhausted their patience and decided to throw a match onto this powderkeg.

"No one has to try anything," he warned, making sure Dean knew he was included in the list of people encouraged to stand down, "Let's all conduct ourselves as civilized people. Please, just leave the young woman alone, let her do her job in peace."

Tiny peered down at him and made it clear it wasn't about to back off just because a stranger in a rumpled trenchcoat asked him to play nice.

Dean, meanwhile, licked his bottom lip and looked like he might actually be considering his options. He nodded, ducking his head as though coming to an overdue realization.

"See, I know Tiny's mom," Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Castiel.

Castiel dropped his own right back at him, a suspicious squint pinching his face as he felt in his gut that the situation was about to spin off the axle in some unforeseen way, despite his best efforts to prevent that exact outcome.

Dean went on, unperturbed, sliding one hand into his pocket as he half turned away from Tiny, like he was just carrying on their friendly chat from before, like they didn't have a behemoth of an audience listening in. "And I know she would be appalled -- shocked, even -- if she found out what her son was up to when she ain't looking. Sweet old Martha, she's been in hospice for what, six weeks? Seven?"

He swiveled suddenly and jabbed his free hand at Tiny-- "Please, correct me if I'm wrong--" Back to Castiel, he tapped his own chest twice to demonstrate-- "The ol' ticker's just not what it used to be, or so I hear. Can't imagine what a bit of bad news might do to her delicate constitution."

As he said this last part, Dean's arm fell, and with it his cheery facade. He rolled his head Tiny's direction, offering him one of the coldest, meanest looks Castiel had ever seen on a person.

All seven feet of Tiny was now quivering with a quiet kind of rage, his boiled egg of a head going pink as he struggled to hold it in, to not lose the game of chicken he and Dean were playing. "You're not gonna tell my Ma nothing, you hear me?"

Dean exploded forward a half step, a finger viciously stabbing the air in the vicinity of Tiny's face. "You stop being a dick, and I'll have nothing to tell," he roared.

"Dean!" Jo shouted over the top of him, slamming her hands down on the counter.

Everyone in the coffee shop flinched. Castiel felt himself hang his head, feeling the sting as if he himself had been scolded. But he'd made himself a part of it, stepped in and got involved, hadn't been able to prevent escalation. He looked out of the corner of his eye at Jo, thinking that maybe he should apologize, but she was just glaring at Dean with hard eyes and a furious shake of her head.

"Out," she ordered.

Dean ignored the way she obviously meant him, and swung an open grin Tiny's way, canines and tongue showing. "You heard the little lady."

Jo grit her teeth. "Both of you, out. We don't need your kind of trouble here."

Something about what she'd said or how she said it got Dean's attention. He dropped his arms to his sides with a slap of canvas on canvas, twisting her way with a schoolboy pout pulling down his face. "C'mon, Jo. You know I didn't mean it. You know me. I would never--"

"Save it," she cut him off. "Jack's shift ends in twenty-five minutes. Go wait in the car."

There was a second where Dean gaped, fish out of water, at the order, but the cool, commanding look that came with it forcibly shut his mouth with an audible click and he reared back, bumping into Castiel slightly. "Alrighty, then," he huffed, stomping the wrong way through the line and on towards the door without looking back.

Castiel watched his boots retreat over the polished wood of the floor, heard the bang of the door being slammed open with more force than absolutely necessary, then tilted his head to catch Jo giving Tiny the same icy treatment.

"What are you waiting for, then, an invitation? Go on, get. And if you try something like that again, trust me, I won't bother with your Ma. I'll go get mine." She smiled, sweet and sharp, leaned forward over the counter, right into Tiny's personal space, to make sure her point wasn't missed. "And we can see how many bones she can break before the Sheriff hauls her off your dead body."

An ominous kind of tension straightened Castiel's shoulders, surprised at Jo's candid threat, doubtful that hers would work where Dean's had failed. After a moment, though, Tiny heaved his bulk away from the counter, gave Castiel a dirty look, and similarly made his inglorious retreat into the night.

Castiel wondered what was going to happen now between the two men, whether they were going to carry on in the street or just back off to lick their wounds until their next meeting. He hoped Dean had sense enough to actually get in the car, at least.

"Next!"

Distracted from the errant thought of the well-being of a near stranger, Castiel turned to see Jo smiling at him from behind the register, the picture of award-winning customer service, and nothing like the stone-cold demon who had seconds ago threatened to have her mother bludgeon a customer to death. He stepped up to place his order, thoroughly cowed.

"I apologize for the scene, for my part in it," he told her quietly as he leaned to one side to set the briefcase on the floor at his feet, reaching for his wallet. "You clearly didn't need us to butt in, but still, I hope you're alright."

She waved his apology away, shaking her head. "Nothing to be sorry for, it's fine. Small town like this, hard for some folk to avoid bumping into the folk they shouldn't be bumping into. It happens, you handle it, you move on. What can I get started for you tonight?"

Castiel offered her a small smile, feeling it press a little tight around his eyes, his misplaced guilt swirling harder at her need to project such a tough exterior. It was unfortunate and unfair that the world demanded the thickest skins from some people more than others, and his heart ached in a vague, nameless way, wishing there was something he could do to alleviate the need for someone so young to have constructed such a defensive worldview.

Off her expectant look, he willed himself to remember what he ought to be doing in the here and now. He gave the menu board on the back wall a cursory review, not really consuming its contents in any meaningful way, until he looked down and caught Jack's eye from where the eager barista floated at a respectful distance between Jo and the espresso machine.

Castiel smiled, this time with notable ease as he remembered Dean's earlier suggestion. "A small latte, please. It came highly recommended."

"You got it," Jo nodded, punching the order into the register and pulling a cup from the stack. "Your name?" She looked up at him, reaching into a mug with a missing handle to fish out a Sharpie.

"Uh, Castiel," he supplied, and spelled it for her benefit, just in case.

"Castiel," she repeated, as most did when confronted with his name for the first time, trying it out for themselves, "That's got kind of a Biblical ring to it, doesn't it? Don't tell me you're some kind of guardian angel?"

"Hardly," Castiel murmured, dropping his gaze to focus on pulling the correct currency out of his wallet.

Jo passed the cup with his name on it to Jack, who immediately took it to the espresso machine and got to work, that same serious look of concentration commandeering their entire face for the duration.

"Anything else for you today?" she asked.

It was one of those scripted niceties that Castiel truly appreciated about by-the-book social interactions. A perfect sequitur that spared him the effort of trying to come up with one on his own. "Do you have a password for the Wi-Fi?"

She nodded, slipping a business card sized piece of paper from a loose stack next to the register, and handed it over in trade for the cash he gave her in return. As she punched open the till and dug around for his change, he glanced down at the code. It read "N@turomDem0nto," which, as far as Wi-Fi passwords went, was certainly one.

The till banged shut with a ring, Jo handing him back his change. Seeing his bemused look as he inspected the hotspot info, she explained, "Sorry, I know it's a little out there. Our IT guy, Ash, he's a bit of a supernatural freak."

"I see," Castiel said agreeably, though he felt fairly certain that there was some additional piece of trivia he was missing to be able to recognize the significance of the unintelligible string of letters and numbers. He put the paper into his pocket, dumped the loose change from his palm into the tip jar, and retrieved his briefcase. "Thank you."

Jo's eyebrows came down, not unkindly, as her lips pursed in baffled amusement. "No problem," she laughed, shaking her head at him. "Jack'll have your drink out in a minute." She waved him in the direction of the pickup counter, and Castiel went gratefully on his way, looking forward to the upcoming stretch of time where he didn't have to make small talk, or try to avoid physical altercations, or accidentally say "thank you" after tipping.

The remaining patrons of the Roadhouse appeared to have cleared out since he had last looked, but whether this was due to the late hour or the recent potential for violence, he couldn't be sure. Castiel thought about Dean waiting for Jack out in that beast of a car; thought about Tiny (or men like him) lurking out on the streets.

He pulled out his phone, noting the time as he thumbed to the Wi-Fi settings. Again, the hotspot listing was sparse, just the one named after the Roadhouse -- finally, full bars -- and, to his muted surprise, "Big D's iPhone."

He was still looking curiously at the cafe's curtained windows, in the direction where he knew that sleek black muscle car with the animal growl was parked under a street lamp, when a bright voice chimed behind him: "Here you go!"

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Castiel turned to face Jack, finding a bloom of warmth filling the hollow of his chest to see them sliding his latte over with an exceedingly proud look on their face, certain of a job well done. Right on the drink's tail, Castiel was surprised to see a small plate with a piece of apple pie being pushed his way as well.

He held up his hand to stop or question the freebie, thinking he hadn't done anything today to have earned getting rewarded with pie, but Jo popped up at Jack's side and gave him one of those looks he already recognized as meaning he wouldn't be allowed to decline. His bottom lip pursed, he reached out and obediently pulled the plate the rest of the way over with one finger.

"At closing time, we either have trash all the leftover perishables or give 'em away," Jo explained. She nodded down at the plate with something of a wicked grin, "Normally I'd be packing this up for Jack to take home for Dean, but here's hoping I can teach him something by revoking his pie privileges for one night."

Castiel's eyes went wide, and his hand flew off the rim of the plate as though it had burned him. Before he could figure out a way to articulate how uncomfortable it made him to know he was stealing someone's pie, Jack laughed and shook their head.

"No, it's okay, really. Sam's always saying Dean needs to watch what he eats. So, you're helping!" They chirped this last bit with a scrunch of the eyes and a jerky shrug of their shoulders. Jo backed the assertion, a tilt of her head and a jag of her brow to say Castiel really didn't have the room to argue with either of them on this.

"Ah," Castiel said, eyeing the pie like it was a plate full of gold, feeling completely unworthy, "If that's the case. . ."

He looked up, met Jo's and then Jack's eyes, and told them solemnly, "I appreciate it."

Jack's endearing smile crinkled onto their face again, and Jo patted them on the arm.

"Hey, we're all set here," she said to Jack, "Why don't you clock out a little early, okay? I won't tell my mom."

Castiel kept his small smile to himself, busied himself shifting his briefcase to his other hand as Jack eagerly tripped off to head out for the night. Still, he lingered a little at the pickup counter, not missing the guarded way Jo eyed the front door, which gave nothing away as to what kind of trouble might still be skulking in the night on the other side.

She caught him noticing, which was fine, because his thoughts were running along similar tracks. It gave him the cue to share his own. "Um," he started, glancing away, "Would it be a problem if I stayed until closing? There's, uh, no Wi-Fi at the motel."

When he looked back over at her, shy, she was giving him a soft eye roll with her mouth screwed up to one side to hide some kind of smile. She chewed on the inside of her cheek a moment, then looked heavenward with a good-natured sigh.

"You know, for a guy who swears he's not a guardian angel--"

Behind her, Jack, who had traded their apron for a colorful windbreaker, swung through the half-door at the far end of the counter, on the other side of the espresso machine, and called out a chipper, "Good night, Jo! Good night, sir, hope you enjoy your drink!"

Oh. Castiel hastily lifted the paper cup, Jo waving her own goodbye as Jack trotted across the shop floor towards the exit. He took a sip of the latte, cringing a little to discover that it was still far too hot to drink without caution; even so, he smiled at Jack and gestured with the cup. "It's very good, thank you."

He was treated to another of those full-face, joyous smiles, and then Jack was out the door and Castiel was left alone with Jo, his scalding latte, and his unearned pie. He thumbed the lip of the plastic to-go lid, only half-certain she had approved of him sticking around now that she was on her own behind the counter. For all she knew, he could be just as rotten as any of them, just biding his time until--

"Please help yourself to our Wi-Fi for as long as you'd like," Jo told him, fixing him with a kind, if ever-so-slightly bemused, look.

He nodded his thanks, and, using the bottom of his drink, shifted the pie plate over to the edge of the counter where he caught it in the fingers of the hand already tucked under the handle of the briefcase, maxing out his awkwardness in doing so. Jo was biting her lip, watching the juggling act unfold before her, but she didn't otherwise comment. With a short smile of parting, Castiel fled -- cautiously -- to a small table at one of the shaded windows, far from Jo and close to the door.

As he went, the sound of a car engine, startling in both how loud and how familiar it seemed to him, rumbled up through the coffee shop's backdrop of picked guitars and singing fiddles. By the time Castiel took a seat, it had already roared off into the distance. He was glad its driver seemed not to have run into any further trouble, after all.

Drink settled, pie settled, Castiel himself settled, he set the briefcase on the floor beside him and clicked it open just enough to drag the laptop out from the pocket. He slid it onto the table between his other items, determined to connect to the Wi-Fi and check his email, to do the one thing he had ventured out to do, even if only to say he had.

As suspected, he now saw no trace of "Big D's iPhone" nearby, and carefully punched in the access code to the Roadhouse's network. The computer connected without fanfare. Dutifully, he clicked on his email app and watched the logo splash pop up over the muted periwinkle of his desktop wallpaper.

While the program loaded up, he reached out and pulled the pie over and dug a chunk out of it with the fork that had been so kindly provided. The first bite reminded him that he hadn't eaten since Kansas City, and his focus narrowed to the singular task of slicing and chewing until there was nothing left but crumbs stuck to the cinnamon-sugary tracks his fork made as it scraped over the plate's inexplicable cowboy boot pattern.

Returning the plate and fork to the table with a sigh, Castiel took up his latte, now sufficiently cooled, and sipped this while flicking his fingers over the laptop's trackpad, disinterestedly scrolling through his inbox. The loss of a few of his taste buds notwithstanding, he found he was able to appreciate the quality of Jack's handiwork, and he felt retroactively absolved for the preemptive high marks he'd given.

He stopped scrolling. Not that he'd been paying attention to the task anyway, but thinking about the young person's ineffable good cheer and the mercurial temper of their guardian had him staring at the curtain as if he could see straight through it, into the street and the night, imagining the shine of the street lamp off the hood of that dangerous-looking car.

He drank the rest of his latte while absorbed in the expanse of his mind's eye, the limitless vistas of the day's bus ride peppered with half-remembered moments of the evening so far, impressions of the short stretch of Main Street Lebanon he'd traversed, the faces of strangers blending one into the next into the next. There was one face in particular that he kept circling back to, though, and one moment that was sharper than the rest.

Standing under that street lamp, waiting. Waiting for--

"Sorry to interrupt," Jo said, tentative, seeming to materialize at Castiel's table.

He whipped his head away from the window -- had he really just been staring blankly at the curtain this whole time? What must she think -- and pushed back his chair to try to get with the program. "Sorry -- you've probably been waiting--"

She laughed and held up her hands, and he slowed his frantic sweeping of his belongings from the table. "Whoa, there. I was just gonna give you a five-minute heads up, is all. Didn't mean to spook you."

Castiel perched the briefcase he had snagged from the floor onto his vacated chair, and gently slid the laptop back inside. "I'm fine," he said, snapping the clasp closed, "please don't let me hold you up."

"No worries," she told him, and when he darted his eyes over to her, she was giving him that slightly amused, slightly puzzled look she'd been giving him since he walked in. She cleared his plate and cup from the table and made off with them. He picked up his briefcase and pushed in the chair, standing purposelessly there at its side.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, seeing him not leaving. "Five minutes," she said again, "and then I'm going to let you walk me to my car, okay? You seem sweet, and I just can't help feeling like you'll have an aneurysm or something if I walk out there alone."

"Sorry," Castiel repeated. He frowned, suddenly very invested in the stitching on his briefcase handle. "I've overstepped again."

Jo pushed open the swinging half-door of the counter and regarded him from across the coffee shop floor. "I'll let it slide, this once. Just don't make a habit of it," she told him with mock-gravitas, fighting back a telling smile before disappearing into the back.

It was a joke, he could tell, something to dispel the awkward energy Castiel had fomented up around himself. It worked, just a little, and he took a deep breath and let it out in a quiet sigh at himself. Anyway, he could promise her that, and easily. He didn't know exactly how long he'd end up spending in Lebanon, Kansas, but it wasn't like he was planning on sticking around forever.

He shuffled his feet, waiting on Jo's return, and willed himself to imagine opening that sealed box. Digging out the keys to the wide, boxy, gold-colored Lincoln Continental. Climbing into the driver's seat and watching this speck of a town vanish in the rearview mirror.

He wondered what tape would be playing in the deck, or maybe what radio station it was still set to. What the scent of the air freshener hung over the mirror was, and whether the built-in ashtrays needed to be emptied. What he might find forgotten under the seats.

All at once, a full-body shudder rolled over him, overwhelmed by all these questions with answers he couldn't yet face.

"Ready?"

He looked up as Jo crossed to the door and flicked the bank of switches to shut off the overhead lights, leaving them both shadows lit faintly by the glow of the displays on the equipment behind the counter.

Ready? Not in the slightest.

"After you," he murmured, reaching out to push the door open.

---

Castiel showered with military efficiency, the rushing water just about drowning out his empty thoughts.

He changed into his sleepwear mechanically, put himself into the bed, and flicked on the television because there was nothing else left to do. The day was finally catching up to him, and his body ached as it reluctantly gave itself over to the support of the mattress. His bones felt heavy, his eyes raw. He flipped channels without comprehending anything he saw on the tiny screen.

Maybe it was the jangle of espresso in his veins, or maybe it was his internal clock's confusion regarding what time zone he'd ended up in, or maybe it was his white-knuckled refusal to find out what his subconscious had in store for him, but it was several long, dull, droning hours of late-night soaps and infomercials before Castiel finally let go and allowed himself to sleep.

#words

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catsandstrawberries · 5 years

Text

Real Family: Part 9

Pairings: BTS x teen female reader, platonic love

Warnings: Language, neglect, a major panic attack involving past child abuse

A/N: Heavy panic attack at the end, Yoongis a douche

Summary: It’s not blood that makes a family. It’s love.

Masterlist

“Are you sure none of you cant come with me?” I asked wiping my sweaty palms on my black stockings, harshly gripping the sleeves of my black Gucci backpack that Taehyung had bought for me. The night before I had felt so prepared, but as soon as I woke up everything felt like it was going downhill.

The consistent beeping of the smoke detector immediately caused me to jolt up and rush out of my room and down the stairs as fast as possible. The oaky smell of burnt food lingers in the kitchen and I quickly catch on as I see streams of smoke escaping from a pan that was currently placed in the sink. Jungkook stands anxiously in the kitchen, standing on a chair and trying to deactivate the smoke alarm with a broom. I try to call out his name but instead, I'm met with a coughing fit from the puff of smoke wafting towards me. Yoongi is the first to run into the room, “what the fuck Jungkook!” At his exclamation, Jungkook jumps down from the chair successfully turning off the alarm.

“I was just trying to make (Y/N) breakfast since it was her first day of school,” Jungkook mutters while I stare wide-eyed at the fact Jungkook wanted to do something so nice for me. And the fact that there seemed to be more steam coming out of Yoongi's ears than from the burnt pan.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I've barely gotten two hours of sleep and I still need to finish recording my song and learning the dance moves that you,” he glared at Jungkook, poking him in the chest, “can't teach me because you're so busy trying to help her.” I wanted to defend Jungkook, even myself and stand up to Yoongi, ask why he hated me so much. But a third, annoyed voice appeared growling at Yoongi.

“Go back to bed Min.” Yoongi turned around as if he was ready to argue but once he saw the annoyed look on Namjoon’s face he stormed out of the room. Bumping shoulders with the man as he did so. All I could do was watch, and awkwardly shift towards the glass panes.

“Ill open some windows.”

After getting out most of the smoke and listening to Jin complain about his precious kitchen and how Jungkook shouldn't even step foot near a metal pan for the next week I decided to get changed. Namjoon had given me a box the other day filled with school uniforms for Lee’s Science and Performing Arts Academy. Interesting combination. The main colors of the school were black and green so all of the outfits corresponded to the colors. One outfit was a black and green skirt, black tights, black sweater, the second outfit was exactly the same but instead of a black sweater, it was dark green and came with knee-high black socks. The last one was black jeans with a white button up and a dark green vest and suit jacket. I choose the first option, and it wasn't until after I was dressed when I realized how time-consuming it was to properly put black tights on. Checking myself over in the mirror I went back and forth from deciding if I should tuck my sweater into my skirt or leave it untucked. Eventually deciding to tuck the front half. As soon as I had grabbed my bag Namjoon was yelling from the bottom of the stairs about how they needed to leave and then we were all rushing out the door. Squeezing into the SUV wasn't that hard when Namjoon was driving, yet the earlier events in the kitchen made the ride tense.

“Do I really have to go in by myself, don't I need an adult to talk to the principal or something?” I asked once again, spotting the huge school with the green and white sign that stated in bold letters, ‘School of Lee's Science and Performing Arts.’ Namjoon glanced at Jin who was sitting in the passenger seat,

“I'm actually not needed until 10 since there recording rap line and doing a practice for only dance line.” I straightened in my seat, a relieved smile gracing my features. “Really?” Jin answered my question by hopping out of the car and I quickly followed in his footsteps, a strange feeling washing over me when I heard Jimin mumble,

“they're both growing up so fast, feels like we just met her a few weeks ago.”

The closer I got to the school the more I noticed how fancy it was. The front of the building was covered by a huge courtyard, currently covered with a thin sheet of snow. The sides seemed to have tennis, basketball courts and larger fields in the back. I looked back up at Jin and suddenly felt horrible for begging him to walk into the school with me. Jin opened the door for me, “thanks Jin, not just for the door though. I'm sorry if you didn't want to come with, it was stupid, I'm just being such a chi-” Jin placed a hand on my shoulder giving me a reassuring smile,

“hey it's fine. I'm actually glad I came with you, also I may have killed Jungkook or Yoongi if I had to spend another moment with them, my poor kitchen.” I laughed at his joke and watched as he started to lead me through the maze of the school, following the signs that led to the principal's office. I looked around at the empty halls, assuming that most kids were in class since the hallways were dead silent and school had started about an hour ago.

Before I knew it we were standing in front of the principal's office, Jin giving a few light taps to the door followed by a faint “come in.”

The office was clean, green walls and white trimmings giving the room a strange glow. In the center of the room was a wooden desk, a plaque stating, ‘principal Lee.’ The man sitting behind the desk in the wheeling chair gave us each a friendly smile, he looked to be in his fifties, black hair greying at the ends, wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth. He stood up from his chair offering both of us a handshake, “you must be (Y/N), and you're..”

“Kim Seokjin.” He sat back down and motioned for us to sit in the two unoccupied chairs. He took out a vanilla folder, opening it and flipping through the files before taking out a single piece of paper.

“It says here, Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin are your primary care members.” He looked back up to Jin, “Everything seems to be in order.” He grabbed another paper from the folder and reached out to hand it to me,

“Here's your schedule, let's take you to your first class.”

The hallways seemed busier than my last school, the students seemed less friendly (maybe that was just the uniforms) and everyone seemed to be staring at me wherever I went. After Mr. Lee had dropped me off at my third-period history class I quickly noticed the girls staring me down from the other side of the room. Rather than listening about Lincoln's inauguration all I could focus on was the whispers behind my back.

Lunch came sooner than expected and I was happily shocked to find that instead of gross mystery meat and yellow gush that most schools served, there was an array of foods that actually looked good. Also what school served lobster? Apparently rich private schools did. But the worst part of it all was finding a place to sit. The lunchroom was littered with numerous green tables. Some fitting groups of kids throwing footballs, doing homework, and fooling around on electronics. A tap on my shoulder caused me to turn around, a girl my age stood behind me, curly blond hair and dark green eyes adjoined her oval face. Her tan skin seemed to glow in the lights and the intense coats of mascara on her eyes looked painful.

“Hi, my names Amber, would you like to sit with us?” She pointed towards the table behind her, filled with girls and boys all fooling around with one another. I hesitated, looking at the girls pointed smile,

“um sure.” She grabbed my wrist, rather roughly if I might add, dragging me to the table of teens. She pushed over a girl, mumbling a ‘move over’ under her breath as she squeezed me in. “I never got your name?” The girl who had been texting on her phone looked up from the bright screen to stare at me wonder in her eyes.

“My names (Y/N).” Amber’s eyes darkened for a moment as she spoke,

“That's a cool name. These are my friends, Olivia and Rachel.” She pointed to the girl who looked up at me wide-eyed and the other girl sitting next to Amber. Both seemed equally interested in me and before I could ask Olivia quickly spoke up.

“So is it true that you live with BTS?” She laid her cheek on the table, starry-eyed looking into the distance. Before I could answer Rachel started practically screeching.

“Is Suga Hyung that attractive in person?” The way she said his name left a bitter taste in my mouth and I almost wanted to tell her not to call him that. “Oh, he must be so nice! Do you call him dad? You're so lucky to live with seven attractive boys.” Sure, Lucky. Lucky to be adopted by seven strangers, lucky to have Yoongi hate me, and apparently lucky enough that most people in this school only want to talk to me because of my new “family.”

“Actually-”

“Look guys its the school pig!” Rachel and Olivia started to laugh at Ambers joke, faces turned towards a girl sitting by herself at a lunch table. She clearly had heard the joke because she immediately put her food down, eyes glazing over.

“How many donuts do you think she can fit in her mouth? 10, 20?” I glared at Rachel. “Ok, you have no right to say anything negative about someone's body type.” I turned to Amber then locked eyes with the girl, standing up and leaving the lunch room.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. The day consisting of me being awed by the entails of fancy school and shocked by how boring classes were. I had also realized that the school was filled with rich kids whose parents were either a co-leader for Pepsi or distantly related to Gordon Ramsey. By the time the bell had rung I had practically run out of the building searching for the familiar SUV. When I had finally found it, I expected to be met with one of the boys but instead opened the door to meet a complete stranger.

“Oh, sorry wrong car.” Just before I could shut the door the driver pulled down his black face mask.

“Actually I'm your new chauffeur.”

This ‘new chauffeur’ drove me straight home. The car ride awkwardly quiet as I stared out the window, around the car, and basically everywhere except for him.

“Thank you,” as soon as he pulled into the driveway I was jumping out of the car, itching to get out of the tight school uniform. Entering the large house it was eerily quiet,

“Hello?” When no one answered I realized what Namjoon had said the other day about their long week of practice due to there comeback. Taking off my shoes, I brought my bag to the living room plopping down on the couch and starting on my homework.

A gentle shove on my shoulder causes me to groan, rolling onto my side, facing away from my perpetrator. Whoever it is, tells me something along the baseline of ‘get up.' But my foggy brain doesn't register anything but the nice warm blanket I'm wrapped in. The person continues there an assault, flipping my body back, so I'm facing their direction. I groan in annoyance, pulling the blanket up and over my face,

“Kayleigh you really need to wake up.” The blankets pulled off my body, and I immediately shrivel into a ball trying to contain as much heat as possible. “I have to get going, Kayleigh. Your driver will be here soon so get ready.” At his words, I'm sitting up from the bed,

“wait, so you aren't driving me to school anymore?” I rub at my blurry eyes, blinking rapidly to try and gain back my vision. Once I can suitably see, I find an anxious Hoseok who looks back and forth from me and the door. He opens and closes his mouth, debating what to say until a loud honk interrupts the silence.

“I should go.”

Fourth-period precalculus was a disaster. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and every time I tried to raise my hand and ask a question the teacher would skip over me, and move on. What made it even worse, was how easy the class was. I was placed in precalc to catch up with my peers. If anything, I felt like I was falling back, in comparison to the rest of the class. Not to mention that most of the other kids in my grade were in calculus, so if anything I was already behind.

So you can imagine how happy I was when the shrill ring of the fire alarm interrupted my pre-calc class. Grabbing my coat, I raced after the students, slightly giddy until I stepped outside and felt the cold chill of the January air.

“Why do we have fire drills in January?” I muttered, rubbing my arms through the sleeves of the jacket, not expecting an answer.

“The school board keeps getting complaints about safety and how the school doesn't prepare their students for harmful situations.” I shifted my head towards a girl, the same girl who was sitting in the cafeteria and being made fun of. “My mom works with the school board.” She added, shivering slightly. I then took notice of her appearance. She had short chocolate brown hair that fell straight in a bob, piercing blue eyes and darker washed skin. She filled out her uniform, slightly curvy but perfect proportionate for her height around 5’6. I didn't understand why Amber was making fun of her, I thought she was beautiful. What I noticed the most was her shirt-sleeved white button up that tagged along with her uniform. She must be freezing. As if she could read my thoughts, her body started to shake, fingers clenching to get blood flow back into them.

“Here, you must be freezing.” I took off my coat, holding it out to the girl who rapidly shook her head.

“Oh no, it's ok. I mean it looks like a nice jacket, and I probably won't fit I'm a little, bigger-.” I interrupted her before she could say more,

“Please, just take it.” I smiled at the girl who gave me an unsure look. With some more convincing she finally took the material. “I'm (Y/N) by the way.” She smiled,

“I know. We have almost all of our classes together.”

Oh Shit

She immediately started laughing at my reaction while I looked appalled, great first impression.

“I'm Zara. Thanks for standing up for me by the way.” The students started making their way back into the building, and the two of us followed the crowd but made sure to stick close together.

“If it's any consolation, I think you're beautiful.”

After talking to Zara, we both had realized that we had every class together except for math. She, of course, was in honors abstract algebra, instead of asking her what that meant I just smiled and nodded. Talking to Zara was like breathing fresh air, her personality was so calming and youth filled, it reminded me that it was ok to be a kid. That I didn't always have to be the girl who thought she was alone.

She was also hilariously funny,

“I have a BTS water noodle.” I stumbled in my jog, almost tripping over my own two feet. The gymnasium walls smelt of sweat and privilege, and usually, I'd be annoyed because it's gym class. But since I started running with Zara, I hadn't stopped smiling. “My younger sister loves BTS. So for my birthday, she got me a BTS water noodle. I never use it, but my younger sister takes it with her whenever the word water is mentioned.” The whistle sharply blew, cutting through the air and stopping all of the teens from running and talking. Turning our head toward the gym teacher, he motioned towards a bag of soccer balls.

“Get in groups of two and work on passing.” Mr. Ping was young, yet still looked older than Jin. He was tall, lean and muscular. He seemed to be in his early thirties, a silver band wrapped around his ring finger that he unashamedly flashed at some girls (and boys) when they would look at him for too long. When I first met him, he had immediately shown me a portrait in his office of a baby boy in a sports onesie. Definitely a family man.

After Zara grabbed a ball, we headed towards one corner of the room, kicking the ball back and forth to one another.

“Do you think our gym teachers hot?” I choked on my own salvia, the ball racing past me, as I had no intention to stop it. For a moment I thought she was joking. Until I saw the serious look on her face.

“Isn't he in his thirties?” My voice of reason did nothing to stop her train of thought.

“So? That's only a thirteen-year difference.”

“He's engaged-”

“But not married, something could change.”

“Zara he has a kid.” The girl paled then nodded in my direction as if she was praising me for winning the silly query.

“Touché”

Unlike any other school day I had ever experienced, authentic happiness was coursing through my veins, and not just because it was a Friday. After school had ended I quickly got Zara's number in my phone and the thought of having this year be different; new home, friends, school, maybe things would be different.

Opening the door to the mansion, I found Yoongi and Jimin death glaring at one another, seething words at each other that I couldn't hear. Namjoon was in the background, frantically cleaning while Jin was yelling words I couldn't understand at the two.

“Is everything ok?” I asked while slipping my shoes off. The boys didn't seem to notice me until now, all four sets of eyes turning to me.

“Everything's fine.”

“Everything's fucking horrible.”

Jimin and Yoongi both spoke up at the same time while Jin harshly glared between the two before softening his gaze on me.

“Kayleigh why don't you go find the rest of the boys.” I nodded but before I could move Taehyung and Jungkook were peaking there heads out from upstairs.

“The upstairs is all clean.” Hoseok then appeared from the living room area, “the rooms are good.”

“(Y/N), why don't you go get changed for the social worker.” Oh, that's why everyone seemed so nervous. I passed Yoongi, heading to the stairs but his quiet whispers became exceptionally clear all of a sudden.

“Huh, you must love this. This attention from seven world-famous guys. Why do you think people want to be your friend at school? Its because they want to meet us.” I knew Yoongi didn't like me, that was obvious. But I wouldn't let him imply that Zara was only my friend because of them. Clenching my fist, I turned a full 180, coming face to face with Yoongi. I tried not to overthink how I basically had to look up at him or the fact that his death glare made me want to crawl into a hole and bury myself alive.

“What the fuck is your problem?” My voice was calm and steady, but the anger in me was on the edge of boiling over. “You've hated me ever since you saw me at the orphanage, I didn't ask for you to adopt me, I was perfectly fine where I was.”

The words coming out of my mouth were bitter. Lies that I spewed to get a reaction because I knew everything was so much better here than living in foster care.

"What have I ever done to you? Ever since I've gotten here, all you've done is act like I'm a leech on your shoulder. What, are you too intimidated by the fact you actually have to grow up?”

Fuck, my eyes widened immediately at his hardened gaze, I went too far. Before I could apologize or back down the venom in his voice pushed me further. “This,” he made eye contact with Namjoon, motioning his hands towards me, “is why I didn't want her.”

“Yoongi!” I couldn't tell who's voice was shouting because my head was spinning and my vision was blurring. This always happened, someone, deciding that I wasn't good enough, that I didn't fit the right standards. I couldn't handle it, not again.

“You should have left me at the orphanage.” I seethed, his answer was automatic, I think that's what hurt the most.

“I wish I had.” A few shouts from the boys sounded through the room, but what made me turn my head was the feminine voice that cleared her throat. Katie stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand and a disappointed look on her face, this wasn't how I wanted to see her again. I suddenly felt the need to apologize for my actions, tell her that Yoongi and I were faking it and we secretly cared about each other. But the words that parted from her mouth in an exasperated sigh was what broke me.

“Not again (Y/N).”

I was rushing up the stairs as soon as the last syllable left her mouth, hand over my parted lips to stop the sob attempting to escape. I narrowly missed Jungkook's grabbing hands at the top of the stairs trying to stop me, but I snuck through and rushed into my room. Locking the door and falling to my knees, I finally let the tears fall, why did I have to screw it up again?

I angrily threw my belongings into my bag, teeth clenched both in anger and to stop the sobs tempting to reach the surface. After I had shut my door, muffled yelling had erupted from the downstairs, I hated how I was the reason for them fighting. The static in my head only grows once the fear of going back to my old life enters my mind, and once I significantly calm my breathing down a knock sounds from my door. I hold my breath, waiting for the voice to identify itself,

“(Y/N), can you let me in. It's just me, I promise.”

I tempted keeping the door shut, telling him that I couldn't do this. I walk up to the door, leaning my forehead up against the cool wood. Gently wiping the tears from my face, my hand hovers over the knob, in a split moment decision I decide to unlock it. I open the door, turning my back to him and sitting on the bed, I run my fingers on the blankets, wondering if I would spend another night in the building.

“Do you want to stay?” I look up a Jin, probably red-faced and teary-eyed from crying.

“Do you want me too?”

Instead of answering Jin gave me a gentle smile, sitting on the bed next to me, but sitting far enough away to keep his space.

“Did you know,” he started cracking a grin, “that whenever I'm sad I read my blood donor ID?” I raised an eyebrow at the man,

“Why?” I sniffed,

“Because it always says, ‘B positive.’” Jins face morphed into a full out grin, and an obnoxious windshield wiper laugh filled my ears. The joke wasn't necessarily funny, but his genuine laugh is what made me smile.

“Ah, there's that smile.” He scooted closer on the bed as a silence developed between the two of us. “Yoongi's difficult, it took most of us half a year till we really connected. When Yoongi found out he had to live with you, it scared him. He can barely even take care of himself so how's he supposed to take care of a child? He doesn't want commitment.” I couldn't help but hear the hidden meaning in his words.

They don't want commitment.

“Why am I even here? There's a reason why you didn't answer the question, its because you don't want to lie to me.” I stood up from the bed, tears forming in my eyes. I couldn't do this, I couldn't handle it, why was everyone lying to me? I rushed out of the room just as Jin reached out to me.

The thoughts are accelerating inside my head. I want them to slow so I can breathe but they won't. My breaths come in gasps and I feel like I'll black out. My heart is hammering inside my chest like it belongs to a rabbit running for its skin. The room spins and I kneel on the floor, trying to make everything slow to something my brain and body can cope with. I feel so sick. I stand up, rushing towards the exit, feet traveling forward until one hits a side table, causing it to tilt and wiggle. A tall, glass candle sways side to side on the table, before falling to the floor, shattering into millions of tiny pieces.

It starts slowly, the feeling of dread crawling up in my chest, spreading like a drop of ink onto a wet piece of paper. Darkening my thoughts and making it harder for me to see, breath. It doesn't take long for my breath to quicken, eyes wide and chest rising in an uneven pattern as I try to suck in as much air as possible. As if the moment I stop trying there won't be any air left. The shattered glass on the floor causes me to wince, past memories of breaking things by accident and being beaten because of it entering my mind. Tears are flowing down my eyes like a dam had just broken, the drops dripping down my face and onto my hands. My sight becomes blurry and flashes of the belt, my father, shouting and my own screams are all I can remember.

“I'm so sorry.” I choke out, chest tight, and standing in front of me are three shocked boys. Namjoon takes a step forward, fist clenched and an unreadable expression on his face.

“Please don't hit me.”

The boy stops, and so do the others behind him, visibly tensing. “I'll clean it up, I'll pay for it.” I knew whatever I had knocked overlooked expensive, everything did in this house. I drop to my knees, scrambling to pick up the broken pieces of glass, “(Y/N) stop you’ll cut yourself.” Just as Hoseok said, blood starts flowing from my palms, he drops to my level suddenly and i'm scrambling back. Holding my bloody hands out as if they could protect me, back hitting the wall, “please don't hurt me again, it was an accident, i'm so sorry.” My breathings ragged, uneven and I'm hyperventilating. I close my eyes as if they could block out the events unfolding in front of me. Hands gently cup my face and im eye to eye with Jin, “We won't hurt you here, ok? Just breath.” I take a big gasp in, but can't stop the broken, strangled release of air. Hoseok's kneeling beside me just in time as the world around me gets blurry, Jins two eyes soon becoming four as everything turns sideways, and I finally collapse.

#BTS Family #bts series #bts #btsgifs #bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #Poly BTS #bts x reader poly #bts poly au #panic attack #abuse #child abuse #kim seokjin #jungkook x reader #Platonic love #jin x reader #x reader #bts polyamory

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Aliens “Your Planet”

Some of you guys wanted to learn a little more about Krill and his planet. It was a difficult subject to write about, and I think I missed a lot, but this might as well be a start.

As always questions, comments critiques, ideas, messages, and prompts are all welcome. I try to write the stuff that is most requested, so if you want something written its best to request it :)

Descent into atmosphere was as smooth as ever, the atmosphere parted around them under the light of the constant sun-stream. The transport ship rattled maybe once or twice upon entry passing through the rare pockets of cloud that dotted an otherwise open sky. Krill sat buckled into his seat next to Captain Vir, who sat next to a large duffle bag reading a magazine.

All around the transport ship, eyes stared at the strange pair, wary of the towering human. This wouldn’t be the first time humans ventured onto his planet, in fact this would be the captain’s second time, but this would be the first time any outsider would be experiencing an extended stay. Shore leave had come sooner than expected, ad with human colonies cropping up further and further away from earth, it became only fair to let those members of the crew home for a holiday.

Since captain Vir had nowhere to stay, Krill had offered to show the man his planet in more detail. The man seemed pleased and had readily agreed to the idea. The captain had at first wondered if Krill wanted to go back after they had treated him so poorly the last time. Krill honestly did not understand the question, despite their treatment, they were still his species, and he had a duty to return, to be connected, and besides, next to the captain, he wouldn’t seem half so intimidating.

They exited the shuttle near the location of Krill’s hatching, he could see the distant incubation building from atop the landing pad. He ushered the captain follow him quickly, the man got distracted very easily, and he was notoriously hard to rein in. As they went they paused crowds and drew staring. Krill made his way up to the receiving window allowing them to run identification on him.

“Krill, will you be returning to your duties I the surgical suite during your stay.” Vrul asked.

“Yes, of course.”

The Vrul craned his neck upwards at Vir, “And will your friend be staying as well?

Krill nodded.

“Where would he like to apply his services?”

Krill looked up at Vir, and Vir looked down at Krill a confused expression on his human face. Krill wondered for a long moment about that. He knew the man was a pilot, but from what he understood about the human ideas of flying, no one would really appreciate his skill, “Um…. Demolition….. He’s very good at that.

The Vrul gave a curt gesture and sent them off.

Vir looked down, “What was that about?”

Krill looked up at him, “The nature of our species is communal, as long as we are here, we work together for the common good; everyone has their strengths and their abilities, and must apply them for the common good. While I am here I must provide my services, and as a guest you must too.”

Vir tapped a finger on his chin, “Sounds like communist propaganda but ok.”

“What?”

“What?” the human waved him off, “Never mind, I can destroy things, that’s cool.”

“I thought you might think that.” Krill muttered

They walked down the ramp and onto the city street krill pointing out things as they passed by, “That is the seat of the populous council, every seventh cycle we are expected to meet there to make decisions for the city, all of us, it’s mandatory.”

“You have mandatory democracy?”

“Yes? You may not like it, but our system of government is far more effective than yours.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my freedom.” The man grinned at Krill who just shook his head.

“Over there are the incubation chambers, ever year after mating season, all the eggs are housed there.”

The man paused, “Uh, Krill, I know that this is us a weird question to ask but….. I don’t think I ever asked if you were you know…. Male or female….. I suppose I probably should have.”

Krill waved it off, “My species doesn’t find those things as important as humans, mostly because we don’t have genders in your sense of the word. Under certain circumstances any member of my species can lay or fertilize an egg. However laying an egg takes much more time, so my work doesn’t allow for it.”

“Wow…. That’s…. that’s really weird…. So you don’t have…. Families?” The human seemed rather uncomfortable at that thought

“Traditionally we never did, but upon meeting other species we were introduced with new ways of doing things. Some of our number choose to raise their own offspring and many choose the traditional method. Either way children tend to be raised by the community.

“How many…. Children do you have?”

Krill gave a small shrug, “I don’t know, could be a hundred could be none, I’m not sure. Thousands of eggs are laid and thousands of them are fertilized, but it take the perfect conditions to hatch and even more perfect conditions to keep the young from dying. We lose hundreds every season, and that’s why many of us choose to do things the traditional way. It’s less painful if you don’t know which one was yours. However, after that you can petition to keep one of the grubs and raise them to maturity, generally everyone who has a job that allows for it must participate. Since my job is so demanding, I have never been asked, and have never asked.”

They stepped off the ramp into the street the human staring at him in wonder and confusion, “So I don’t get it, do you or do you not have families.”

“Depends on your definition. If you are talking about like your family, than you have to understand that my species does whatever makes sense and is logical for the survival of the species. Other species in the galaxy have families like yours, so it is logical to conclude that there is some benefit to doing it that way, so SOME of us follow that line. Others raise children by themselves with the help of the community, and sometimes you pare off with someone you like. Personally, I was raised by two such Vrul, and, as for you definition, I have a few other siblings.”

“So…. With all of that being said, does that mean you…. You could potentially have kids with any of these people.” He motioned around to the passing Vrul and their staring eyes.

Krill laughed heartily like the idea was absurd drawing a few eyes as they moved on, “No, no. As you know our species needs the perfect incubation to grow and thrive, however, there are subperfect incubation that allows for someone to be born, but allows some…. Deficits, most of these tend to be cognitive. Some are no more than children, others cannot understand abstract concepts and so on. Luckily for me, I remain a member of the class with four functioning cortical zones which makes me a member of a higher class. Due to the genetic likelihood of cortical malformation, they generally encourage members of my class to produce offspring together.”

Vir seemed to shuffle uncomfortably, “That seems kind of messed up, that seems like discrimination against the disabled, don’t you think.”

Krill shook his head, “to the contrary, each level is as important to society as the others. None can function without the duties performed by the others, however you need abstract concepts to build rocket ships. Though, unlike humans they are not treated less, and have the same pull in our council as anyone should.”

They passed by another set of staring eyes. Vir scratched the top of his head, “Wow, I never knew that about you guys…. Kind of makes me sound like a jerk doesn’t it?”

He paused, “Speaking of things that will make me sound like a jerk, is there anything I should avoid doing while I’m here.”

Krill snorted, “Probably avoid being human.”

The man snorted and nudged him playfully to the side, “You know what I mean, anything particularly rude or offensive I should avoid doing.”

Krill gave a sigh, “Captain, by virtue of being you, you are bound to scare someone absolutely sh*tless, but if they use logic like all of us do, than they will know that you can hardly help it. For me, on the other hand, it is quite rude to act against anything that is not species specified. The more human mannerisms that I pick up, the more I am forced to regulate my behavior.”

Captain Vir went silent just then, he felt bad for Krill, he didn’t mean to make him something that he wasn’t supposed to be, but what was he supposed to do? He took it as his only real option to watch and learn about this new planet. He had been here before, but now he was more fully able to drink the whole thing in. The sky was a soft pastel orange fading towards pink near the horizon. The ground around was awash strange white stone that glittered with crystal. Distantly he could hear the sound of rushing water, watching as a strange blue grey plant waved languidly from the distance. The distant mountains were a faded purple color.

In the sky two moons glittered.

It was a shocking and strange new world unlike earth in many ways. Compared to earth it was particularly vanilla for a habitable planet. Its weather conditions were downright affable 459 days out of its 461 day solar year. The creatures there were almost as affable as the weather. Due to the climate the idea of competition so rife on a planet like earth was almost nonexistent here. For every ecological niche there tended to be one primary filler of that category, or several who performed different variations of the same thing, never crossing paths.

As for the Vrul, they were also very affable. They had no definable religion as far as Vir could tell other than science and logic. Their society revolved about being a good citizen of the community. Everyone had their job and their place, and everyone was expected to contribute, anyone who could not follow those rules was quickly ostracized.

The buildings were made from the same crystalline stone that lined the streets, though they separated themselves form their surroundings with delicate architecture. The buildings didn’t tend to reach to high towards the sky usually one or two floors. As far as he could tell, transit consisted mainly of floating or walking, anything out of the city was completely public transit.

They didn’t have any form of currency mostly subsisting upon the idea that the most logical way to live involved everyone contributing equally to the societal good. It was a society that humans had been striving for, and failing for, for thousands of years always corrupted by greed. Communal ideations broke down in favor of greed, and the only way to survive in this world was by way of capitalistic ventures.

But there was an undertone to all of this, an ostracism towards the different, and the unknown or the unorthodox. It was subtle, but poignant. Krill may not have seen it, but he was a definite example. Perhaps that’s why Vir was here, because it made Krill stand out less in comparison. But it wasn’t just his human-ness that set him apart, there was something different, something that had already been there, something that had made him leave his planet to become a trauma surgeon and make the illogical decision to join a human ship.

It seemed interesting, that a curiosity, so common in humans, could be so rare in other species.

On this perfect planet, with its logical structure, communal goals, and perfect weather, they were missing something quite profound, love, companionship, joy?

Because you can only find light in the dark, so you can only see joy compared to pain.

Krill was different, Vir didn’t know how to put it into words, but Krill was surprisingly human in his inhumanity, and that made him special.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are space australians #earth is space australia

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pikapeppa · 5 years

Text

Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Crew

Chapter 8 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3!!

In which we get to see both FenRynne and Piperford being a bunch of silly smitten idiots.

As always, INCREDIBLE DIVINE ART BY @schoute!!!!

Read here on AO3! ~9700 words.

- FENRIS -

Fenris pulled his shirt over his head, taking extra care not to jostle his wounded right shoulder as he did. The wound was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but the faster it healed, the more efficiently he could move when he was required to fight again.

He sat on the wooden stool in his quarters and bent over the bucket of saltwater he’d hauled up from the ocean earlier this morning. Varric had assured him that they had enough fresh water on board for a quick wash, especially since they’d be docking in Llomerynn this afternoon, but Fenris didn’t like wasting fresh water for washing unless he was absolutely filthy.

He dipped a clean rag into the bucket of water. But before he could mop the grime from his neck and face, he paused and inspected the bandage that Hawke had wrapped around his wounded arm last night.

The bandage was neatly tied and trimmed: just tight enough to stay in place but not too tight to cut off his circulation. It was tidy work; he’d give her that.

Unnecessary, though. The stitches were probably not needed. The gash on his arm was long, but not particularly deep. But Fenris had barely had a moment to set foot on the Lady Luck before Hawke was suddenly beside him, wiping the blood off of his arm and dabbing the wound with Anders’s antiseptic solution. Before Fenris could even ask what she thought she was doing, she was chivvying him over to a bench and telling him she was going to stitch up his arm.

He still wasn’t sure why he’d allowed her to do it. Strange hands touching his skin, pulling thread through his flesh like he was some sort of… some sort of experiment: it was something he would never grow accustomed to, no matter how benign the intent. He’d only allowed Anders to treat his wounds on two occasions – once when he’d first joined the Lady Luck, and once for a stab wound to the side – and both occasions were more than enough examination by the ship’s doctor for his liking.

Anders was no better than the doctors Fenris had known back in the Imperium. His methods of study were just as corrupt. And now, if Anders was going to be teaching medicine to Hawke…

The thought gave him an odd pang of disappointment. Fenris hadn’t been sure how Hawke would fit on the ship, but he certainly hadn’t imagined her becoming Anders’s apprentice.

He studied his bandaged shoulder for a moment longer, then began to briskly wash his neck and torso with seawater. Perhaps she will be different as a doctor, he thought. She was already quite different from the other highborn humans he’d known, after all. She wasn’t arrogant, for one; in fact, she was quite self-deprecating, aside from her ostentatious flirts. Her sense of humour was unusually lewd for an upper-class maiden, and when instinct overrode manners, the curses that fell from her lips were as filthy as any common sailor.

If anything about her bothered him, it was her bright-eyed naiveté. The delight she took in learning every new skill, and the enthusiasm she had for every new thing she saw… She seemed to think everything in the world was wonderful and interesting, including Fenris himself, and for some reason he wasn’t entirely certain of, this grated at his nerves.

He wrung the cloth out in his bucket of water and wiped his face, then started cleaning his neck and shoulders. Just as he was finishing up, someone knocked on his door.

He tensed. “Who is it?”

“It’s Rynne – er, Hawke!”

He tensed even further at the sound of her cheerful voice. He dropped the cloth in the bucket and hastily stood from his stool. “Don’t come in,” he barked.

She pushed the door open and poked her head inside. “Good morning, sunshine! What are you–” Her gaze fell on his bare chest, and her mouth dropped open.

“I said don’t come in,” he hissed. He turned away from her and fumbled in the chest in the corner for a clean tunic.

“Sorry!” she blurted. “Sorry sorry, I thought you said to come in, I just wanted to see if you could, er, teach me some, um…”

She trailed off, and Fenris warily glanced at her. Naturally, she was staring at the vivid white tattoos on his skin.

He hunched his shoulders and glared at her. “Quit gaping at me. You look like a fish out of water.”

She snapped her mouth shut and pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “I am so sorry,” she said, and then she burst out laughing.

Fenris straightened and haphazardly shook out the sleeveless tunic he’d grabbed. “Entertained, are you? At least one of us is,” he snapped.

“No, no, it’s not that,” she said. She was still giggling like a foolish child. “I’ve just – I’ve never seen a naked man before! Partly naked, that is, but still. I mean, well, I’ve seen my brother in a swimming costume, but it’s hardly the same, he’s my brother. But you – you’re –”

“I’m what?” Fenris demanded. He hauled the sleeveless tunic over his head, ignoring the pull of pain in his right shoulder as he did. “An elf? A slave?” A victim of experimentation at the hands of filthy Tevinter doctors? he thought with growing anger.

“No, you idiot,” she blurted. “You’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.”

Fenris stopped and stared at her. Her face went completely red. “Oh bloody Maker’s balls,” she said, and she burst out laughing again and covered her face.

It doesn’t mean anything, he told himself. Hawke flirted with everyone. She’d been charming the entire crew with her shameless flirtation. Her words meant nothing.

Never mind that she, too, was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.

His ears were feeling distinctly warm. He tugged one ear, then folded his arms. “I hope there is a reason you came here, aside from disturbing me.”

“Yes,” she wheezed. She delicately wiped a tear from the corner of one eye. “I was going to ask if you could start teaching me weapons today. You said you would, and I don’t need to meet Anders for another hour or so, so I was hoping...”

Her smile was hopeful and bright. Fenris shook his head in exasperation. “I can barely begin teaching you the basics of using a blade in a single hour.”

“It’s still something!” she said. She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes. “Please, Fenris? I’ve been looking forward to learning how to fight. Especially after what you all went through on Estwatch…” Her smile faded into a grimace. “That was difficult to watch. Even from this far away on the ship.”

Fenris huffed and looked away. “That was a minor skirmish. Commonplace.”

“I know,” she said. “And I need to get used to it, like you said. And I would really love your help.”

He met her eye once more. Her expression was as open and earnest as ever, but she looked serious for once.

He unfolded his arms. “All right,” he conceded. “We’ll go to the deck. I will show you some of the different weapons we have on hand. It will take some time to decide what combat style suits you best.” He gestured with his right arm for her to step out of his quarters.

Another tug of pain rippled from his wound. He tried not to show it, but Hawke’s eyes widened all the same. “Oh no, your arm,” she said. She stepped closer to him and reached for his arm. “How is it feeling–?”

He instinctively shirked away from her touch. She pulled her hand back and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to… I just wanted to check that it was all right.” She grimaced ruefully. “Actually, that’s the first thing I should have done. Anders will scold me. Is it–”

“It’s fine,” he said brusquely. “There has been no further bleeding, and it’s not hot to the touch. It is fine.”

She still looked worried. “Maybe you should take a few days before we do this weapons training lark, then,” she said. “Take it easy, give the wound some time to heal.”

He shook his head and ushered her out the door. “I have fought with worse wounds than this, in worse places. Let’s carry on.” He led her toward one of the racks of practice weapons near the bow, then slowed to a stop and began to consider the weapons in their arsenal.

A lighter blade, he thought. Hawke was slightly shorter than Piper and almost as petite, so a rapier or an épée like Piper’s would probably be best.

“How about showing me how to use this?” she said.

He looked at her. She was holding out the dagger that Fenris had given her on her first day on this ship.

“Ah. A fair point,” he said. He’d given it to her thinking she should use it to defend herself in case the Lady Luck was boarded, but he’d never actually shown her how to use it.

He took the dagger from her. “Short blades such as this can be used to stab or to slash. Many blades can be used for both. When we have time, l will show you how to recognize the primary use of a given blade.” He held up the dagger he’d given her. “This one is mainly for stabbing and parrying – for turning away an enemy’s blade,” he explained, indicating the narrow blade and fine point. “But it is double-edged. You could use it to slash or cut if you were hard-pressed.”

Hawke didn’t reply. Fenris frowned at her. “Do you understand?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “How do you know all this?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean – well, you clearly know what you’re doing.” She nodded to the rack of weapons. “You know how to use all of these, right?”

“That is correct,” he said slowly.

She blinked up at him once more. “Do all pirates know how to use all the weapons?”

“Of course not,” he said. “Most people have a preferred weapon. Sera has her bow, Varric prefers the crossbow, Piper has her épée…”

“But you’ve mastered all of them,” Hawke said.

Oh. Now he realized what she was getting at. He folded his arms and gave her a flat look. “You want to know how a mere slave is competent enough with weapons to become the master-at-arms.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like–!” She broke off and shot him an apologetic look. “Is it a terribly rude question to ask?”

He eyed her with some irritation, then sighed and unfolded his arms. “It is not an unreasonable question. I was a bodyguard in Tevinter for many years. I was forced to learn every type of weapon. My former master wanted me to be… impressive.” He looked away from her and idly flicked the dagger’s edge. He’d hated being Danarius’s bodyguard, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been the worst of his duties. That dubious honour was reserved for the lyrium mines.

Hawke hadn’t asked about that, though. And Fenris wasn’t going to volunteer that information himself. Even if she did ask, he probably wouldn’t tell her. If he hadn’t told Piper or Varric what he was forced to do at the mines despite knowing them for a year, he wasn’t very well going to tell Hawke.

He glanced at her, then frowned at her sympathetic expression. “I don’t need your pity,” he said bluntly.

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to, er, pity you. I was just thinking that, um. Well, it’s awful that you had to learn to do this,” she said, and she waved vaguely at the weapons. “But at least it’s come in handy. You’re the master-at-arms now – one of the most important people on this ship. It was shitty, what you had to do, but you’ve used it to your advantage. That’s good, right?”

He huffed. That was such a sunny spin to put on a terrible circumstance. “Yes, I did use it to my advantage,” he said. He idly ran his finger along the edge of the blade. “My weapons prowess was very handy when I killed my former master.”

Her coppery eyes widened. “You killed your former master?” she said.

He nodded. He flicked the edge of the dagger once more, then finally looked her in the face.

“Good,” she said.

He studied her serious expression. She wasn’t wrong; it was good that Danarius was dead. It was one less monster in the world who abused his slaves and handed them over to the horrors of experimental medicine. And yet, Danarius’s death hadn’t brought the vindication that Fenris had always hoped for.

Fenris was free. He was able to go where he wanted and to do what he liked. He’d been travelling with Piper’s crew for a year or so now, and nothing truly untoward had happened. Yet he still felt every day like he was waiting for the headman’s axe to fall.

He licked his lips, then held the dagger out to Hawke. “Hold it like this. Thumb over the fingers, never under. Keep the crosspiece snug to your hand.”

She did as she was told, and Fenris nodded. “This is called a forward grip. You can hold the dagger the other way as well, with the blade facing down. But we will focus on this for now.”

She nodded and looked expectantly at him. “All right. Now what?”

“Now I will show you the vulnerable points on the body,” he said. “If you are attacked, these are the areas you should aim to strike on your enemy if you are given a choice. If you’re desperate, then…” He shrugged. “Slash and stab wherever you must. But strategic strikes may help you conserve your energy.”

She nodded again. “Understood.”

He took a step closer to her and touched a spot just below the angle of her jaw, then ran his finger carefully in an oblique angle along her neck. “The veins in the neck here feed blood to your brain,” he said. “Stab a man here, and you will give him a quick death.” With his index finger, he drew a line along the front of her throat. “You can slash here and open the windpipe. But death will be slower and less certain. A man can recover from this wound if he is fortunate.”

She swallowed hard. Fenris watched the movement of her throat before lifting his gaze to her face.

Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were slightly pink. He frowned. “Don’t tell me this talk of death is bothering you.”

“No, no, not at all!” she said. She swallowed again. “Um, carry on. Keep, er, teaching me.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but pushed on regardless. He pointed to the left side of her chest. “The heart is here, as you know. An obvious vulnerable point, but difficult to hit through the ribs.” He lightly pressed his fingers to the base of her ribs. “Better to try coming in low and stabbing up beneath the ribs, here, in the hopes of striking a lung. Or simply focus on the gut, which is largely defenseless.” He quickly ran his fingers along the flat span of her belly. “The larger the wound you deal, the better. You won’t kill someone quickly this way, but you will wound them painfully. It may give you time to escape.”

She didn’t reply. Fenris looked at her once more.

She was nibbling her lush lower lip, and her eyes were closed. Fenris scowled at her. “Are you paying attention?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Suddenly he realized what was happening. He folded his arms. “Hawke, are you somehow finding this titillating?” he said flatly.

She opened her eyes, and with a jolt, Fenris recognized the particular brand of heat in her bronze gaze before she buried her face in her hands. “Argh. I know, I’m so embarrassed,” she said plaintively. “It’s just – you were half-naked, and now you’re touching me, and it’s–”

“It wasn’t my intention to be half-naked,” he said defensively. His traitorous ears were going hot, matching the traitorous heat that was taking root low in his belly. “You burst into my quarters uninvited. And I would train anyone this way.”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault!” she said. “I’m just trying to explain my, um, my… It’s just… you with your fingers on my – and I haven’t – M-maker’s balls.” She swallowed hard and fanned herself. “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of ice water. Or perhaps to throw myself off the edge of the ship. Are there sharks in this water? They could eat me and put out of my misery.” She laughed nervously and moved toward the edge of the ship.

Fenris looked away from her and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He’d predicted that training Hawke in combat would be difficult, but he hadn’t anticipated this being the difficulty.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure why he was even seeing this as a difficulty at all. So what if Hawke was inappropriately stimulated by his training techniques? It didn’t change the fact that she needed to learn to fight. When she was eventually caught in a fight, she would need to ignore her own panic in order to defeat her opponent. So perhaps her, er, arousal was a good thing. A good practice distraction, if you will.

If he was really being truthful, the problem wasn’t Hawke. The problem was Fenris himself. After all, Hawke wasn’t the only one whose reaction to all of this was inappropriate.

He took a deep breath and cursed the heat thrumming beneath his own skin. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. He didn’t want to think about the husky sound of her voice or the silken warmth of her neck beneath the tips of his fingers. He didn’t want to admire the way she embraced every single experience with open arms despite having the most sheltered life that Fenris could imagine.

He didn’t want to want her at all. A lowly elven pirate desiring a highborn human? It was completely irrational. Far too much to risk, given that there was already a price on his head in Kirkwall for his connection to Piper. Not that he would risk it anyway, since Hawke’s interest in him extended no further than her wide-eyed interest in, well, everything.

“Fenris! Fenris, look!”

Her sunny voice was pitched high with excitement. He turned to look at her, and she threw him a brilliant grin and beckoned him over to the starboard taffrail.

He scowled. “We should continue training,” he complained.

“I know, I know, but – quickly, quick, look!” She pointed at the water.

He wilted in exasperation, then trudged over to the taffrail to join her. “What is it?” he grunted.

She was avidly watching the rippling expanse of the ocean. “Wait for it,” she breathed. “I swear I saw…” She gasped and pointed frantically at the ocean. “There!”

He peered into the water, then folded his arms. “It’s a dolphin.”

“I know!” she squealed. “Isn’t it incredible? They’re so much smaller than I imagined! I mean, I suppose we are quite high up on the ship here, but they still seem rather small. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s – I – oh, isn’t this marvelous?”

Hawke beamed at him, and he eyed her apprehensively until he realized why she was so thrilled. She’d never seen a dolphin before. Of course she hadn’t, having lived her entire life in Hightown.

He relaxed slightly and rested his palms on the taffrail. “They are very commonplace here. Even more so at the mouth of the Rialto Bay,” he told her. “This will not be the last time you see them.”

“Really?” she said eagerly. “Can we get closer to them? On the rowboat, perhaps?”

“Yes,” he said. “When we’re rowing into the Rialto Bay, the dolphins often swim alongside the boats.”

Her face was completely lit up with excitement. Kaffas, she was far too excited about this. And far too beautiful.

He swallowed and jerked his chin at the water. “There is more than one now.”

She whipped around to look, then grabbed his bicep and gasped. “Maker’s balls, there’s a whole pod of them!” She laughed. “My father would be thrilled if he could see this.”

Her fingers were firm and warm on his arm. Strange hands on his skin – he didn’t like it. He should tell her to unhand him.

“Your father?” he said instead.

She nodded. Her hand was still on his arm, and her happy gaze was still on the pod of dolphins. “He’s a naturalist,” she said. “He specializes in ocean life. Mostly plant life, mind you, but he’s very fond of the animals as well.”

Fenris regarded her with some surprise. A naturalist was not a very high-status position, at least in Tevinter, though the pay could be rather good.

“Is your father is well-known in the field?” he asked.

“He’s an associate professor at the University of Orlais,” she said absently. Most of her attention was still on the sea. “He heads up their lengthier expeditions. We last saw him... oh, some six months ago when his ship docked in Kirkwall?” She finally released Fenris’s arm and leaned her elbows on the taffrail. “Well-paid he may be, but having an absent naturalist for a father doesn’t gain you very much social capital in Kirkwall high society, let me tell you. That’s where yours truly came in. Rynne Hawke, the Belle of Kirkwall, swooping in with all her charms to save the day.” She huffed ironically. “Guess my mother will have to rely on Carver to make her look good, now that I’m gone. She’s rather shit out of luck with that, unfortunately. My baby brother’s about as charming as an old leather boot.”

Fenris frowned thoughtfully. Hawke was smiling still, but her smile was softer now, and there was a certain wistful tilt to her eyebrows.

He leaned back against the taffrail and folded his arms. “Do you regret it? Leaving Kirkwall?”

She laughed. “No. Not at all. I definitely don’t regret getting away from my mother, that’s for certain.”

Fenris quietly studied her lovely profile. Her gaze remained on the ocean as she continued to talk. “My brother, on the other hand…” She twisted her lips and sighed. “We don’t really get along. But, well… perhaps I’ll see him around. He is with the navy, after all.”

“And your father?” Fenris asked.

She smiled hopefully. “Maybe we’ll run into him during our adventures! He’s constantly travelling himself.” Her smile became a bit rueful. “If not, well... I’ve gotten rather used to his absence, truth be told.”

Fortunate for you, Fenris thought with a hint of bitterness. Varania’s face crossed his mind: her dimpled smile and her big green eyes that matched his own. He had no idea what had become of his sister after she’d convinced that merchant from Qarinus to buy her from Danarius and take her away.

He leaned into the taffrail and didn’t speak. Hawke gave him a tiny half-smile, then looked out at the sea once more. “You know who I really miss, though? My sister Bethany.” She laughed softly. “She’d be horrified if she saw me now. She was the proper one – the truly proper one. But I also think she would find it a bit funny to see me here.” She smiled up at him. “We used to read stories of mermaids and sea dragons and brave sailors. She wanted to be a mermaid, and I wanted to be a sea dragon. Neither of us wanted to be boring old sailors, but look at me now.” She laughed again.

Fenris smiled faintly. Of course Hawke would want to be a sea dragon rather than a mermaid.

“Is Bethany in Kirkwall with your mother, too?” he asked.

Hawke shook her head. “She died three years ago. Scarlet fever.”

He raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t known. “I’m… sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s fine, though. It was some time ago.” She looked at the sea once more, and they stood in silence for a moment.

Then she shot him a tiny smile. “I don’t suppose…” She trailed off and scratched her ear. “Do you remember when we met in the market for the first time and I bought that necklace?”

“Yes,” he said cautiously.

She nibbled the inside of her cheek before speaking again. “I, um, gave you my choker to hold. A red ribbon choker. I forgot to get it back from you before Cullen made me go home. It, er…” She swallowed hard. “It was my sister’s favourite hair ribbon. I don’t… I don’t suppose you still have it?”

Fenris stared at her. It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it, to say he didn’t know what she spoke of or that he’d thrown it away or some other excuse. But her eyes were so wide and hopeful, and her sister was dead…

He gritted his teeth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the satin ribbon, then silently handed it to her.

Her jaw dropped. She carefully took the ribbon from his hand. “You kept it,” she said softly.

He shrugged and folded his arms. “I didn’t keep it. It has... remained in my pocket.”

She arched an eyebrow. “For two months?”

He scowled and looked away. She chuckled and squeezed his wrist. “I’m just teasing you. Honestly, I’m so pleased you still had it. You know I was sort of imagining it travelling around with you?” She slowly wound the length of satin around her palm as she spoke. “I figured if I wasn’t allowed to leave Kirkwall, at least something of mine could escape. I thought to myself, ‘Fenris and the satin ribbon, going off on adventures across the Waking Sea and beyond!’” She chuckled again.

He scoffed. “It has hardly been on adventures. It’s been forgotten in my pocket the entire time.”

“Well then, it should start to see some excitement, shouldn’t it?” Before Fenris could reply, she started wrapping the ribbon around his wrist.

He recoiled slightly. “What are you–”

“Wait, wait!” She deftly tied the ribbon in a loose bow, then released his wrist and smiled at him. “There. One ribbon bracelet, ready to witness some pirating adventures. Just like yours truly.” She curtsied playfully to him.

He scowled at his wrist, then held his hand out to her. “You should take it back. It belonged to your sister.”

She shook her head. “It’s yours now. It’s been with you for months already.” She eyed his wrist approvingly. “Besides, it looks lovely with your skin. I’m far too pale. Mother always said red wasn’t a good colour on me.”

He frowned more deeply as he studied the ribbon on his wrist. Then Hawke suddenly gasped and straightened up. “Oh shit. I’m late to meet Anders!” She ran a hand through her messy short hair and smiled at him. “Thank you for the lesson, Fenris. And sorry about the, um.” She bit her lip, and her cheeks started to flush. She gestured vaguely at herself. “I’m, um. I’ll behave better next time, I promise!” She grinned and squeezed his arm, then ran off toward the infirmary.

Fenris watched as she ran away, then blew out a breath and leaned his elbows on the taffrail once more. One single hour in Hawke’s presence, and it felt like his brain and his patience had been stretched to their limits.

In an hour’s worth of time, she’d waltzed into his quarters uninvited and stared at his cursed tattoos, asked him nosy questions about his past, gotten aroused while he was trying to teach her, then completely diverted the lesson to stare at a bunch of common dolphins instead.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. That’s exactly what Hawke was: frustrating. She was far too talkative, always asking him questions and making her blasted cheerful comments and asking him to teach her things. Always batting her eyelashes at him and touching him – running those damned slender fingers of hers over his arm and tying her damned red ribbon around his wrist…

Fasta vass. He closed his eyes in exhaustion, but it didn’t help. With his eyes closed, he could only picture her that much more clearly: her pearly teeth nipping her raspberry-red lower lip, and that look in her eyes – that undisguised smolder of heat that he hadn’t expected to see in her innocent bronze eyes…

An unwanted flush of heat suffused his belly again, and he shifted uncomfortably before pushing away from the taffrail. He strode over to the rack of practice weapons and selected a blunted sabre, then began practicing his drills.

Hawke was… confusing. Being around her was confusing. And there was one good way that Fenris could deal with the confusion.

He would avoid her as much as possible.

- CULLEN -

The morning after the escape from Estwatch, Cullen found himself standing unobtrusively near the entrance to the officer’s quarters and watching the morning duties on the Lady Luck.

Piper’s ship was buzzing with activity. The swabbies had just finished their morning’s work, and sunlight glinted off of the water lingering in the crevices on the deck. More than a dozen men were handling the rigging, tugging and tying off the lines with the smooth efficiency of a familiar team. Another dozen men were running sword drills on the main deck, and Fenris seemed to be teaching a wide-eyed Lady Rynne how to handle a dagger. A handful of other crew members were repairing a tear in a sail, and the rest appeared to be enjoying their morning meals while cleaning and oiling their weapons and the other equipment.

Cullen inhaled deeply from the teacup in his hands before taking an appreciative sip. The moment he’d stepped out of Piper’s quarters this morning, a petite Dalish woman wearing an apron had skipped over to him and thrust a cup of tea into his hands. He’d barely had time to stammer out a ‘thank you’ for the luxurious beverage before she’d scampered away saying something about making sure the bread didn’t burn.

Cullen swallowed the fortifying tea and watched the ship’s activity for a moment longer. Every member of Piper’s crew knew their role and seemed to be carrying out their duties diligently. There was none of the lazing about or the drunken fighting that pirates were known for. He’d heard the crew making ribald jokes, it was true, but none that Cullen couldn’t imagine Piper herself making.

In truth, the Lady Luck was run with all the efficiency of any navy ship, and Cullen had no qualms about admitting that he was impressed. He’d known all along that Piper was the captain of this ship, but knowing it was different from seeing it in action. Furthermore, Piper was so free-spirited and loose, almost like the mercurial wind come to life in the shape of a gamine silver-haired elf. She was mischievous and jocular and bold, and Cullen could admit to finding it difficult at times to merge the carefree swashbuckling adventurer with his own idea of what a captain should be: hard discipline and command.

But here was the proof of her captaincy, before his very eyes. If the brisk and efficient activity he was observing was anything to go by, Captain Piper Lavellan ran a very tight ship indeed.

Interestingly, despite the navy-like efficiency, the Lady Luck felt different than a navy ship. It was buzzing with activity, but Cullen felt none of the usual tension that went along with being on a busy ship. The crew moved around the deck with purpose but no rush, and the fighters practicing their drills were smiling and teasing each other in a way that Cullen wasn’t used to seeing in the barracks. The men cleaning their weapons over on the forecastle were laughing and chatting as they worked, and it all seemed very… comfortable.

Comfortable. Cullen was surprised the word had even come to his mind. Comfort was not something he had ever associated with being on any navy ship, not even when he was a youth.

Especially not when I was a youth, he amended. The thought of the cramped crew quarters on the HMS Kinloch still made his skin crawl. The creeping feeling that the ship’s walls were closing around him, with only the feeblest of daylight eking its way through the portholes to reach his desperate eyes…

The memory of his own discomfort still brought him shame. Sometimes Cullen thought that the discomfort had simply never gone away, lingering forever at the back of his mind as he worked his way up through the navy ranks and dissipating only when he was finally, blessedly, reassigned to duty on dry land.

But being here on the Lady Luck was unlike any navy ship he’d ever been assigned to. Cullen didn’t feel the usual tension that gripped his gut when he set foot on a navy ship. Oddly enough, Cullen was feeling nearly as comfortable as he ever did on land.

“Hey, Commander.”

Cullen looked up. Varric was at the helm, and he waved a casual hand for Cullen to join him.

Cullen made his way up the stairs to join the dwarven quartermaster. “Master Tethras,” he said. “Ideal conditions for sailing today. Piper must be pleased.”

Varric smiled. “Oh sure. But she likes it even better when it rains.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, then smiled as he remembered. “Ah, of course. I should hope a major storm doesn’t strike while I am on board.”

Varric’s smile broadened. “She told you about her love of storms, huh?”

“I believe it’s one of the first things I learned about her,” he replied. He tapped his fingers idly on his cup of tea. “She told me a story once about a tornado; here in the middle of the Amaranthine Ocean, I believe. She said the Lady Luck was lifted a hundred yards into the air before landing back in the water with an enormous splash.”

Varric chuckled. “Of course that’s what she said.”

Cullen smirked at him. “You mean to tell me it’s not true?”

Varric shrugged innocently. “I couldn’t say. I wasn’t on the ship at the time.”

“A story from before your time?” Cullen asked with a smile.

“Yeah,” Varric said. “I think that one was from her childhood.”

Cullen looked at him in surprise. “Her childhood?”

Varric nodded and adjusted the ship’s course slightly. “She practically grew up on this ship. Some of her guys here have known her since she was a kid.”

Cullen stared at him, then looked around the Lady Luck with new appreciation. No wonder Piper was so fond of the ship. She may only have been the captain for a few years, but if she’d been sailing on this ship since she was a child, then of course she would view it as her home.

He sipped thoughtfully from his teacup for a moment. Then Varric spoke again. “So. What’s next for you, Commander? We taking you back to Kirkwall eventually?”

Cullen swallowed his tea. “Yes,” he said, with more confidence than he felt. In truth, he wasn’t quite certain what his next move should be. He hadn’t yet had a chance to consult with Rylen this morning; his faithful lieutenant was running drills with some of Piper’s crewmates, and Cullen was loathe to disrupt their activities, particularly since he wasn’t sure what to say to Rylen yet.

Rylen’s life had been placed in danger, and it was entirely Cullen’s fault. Cullen wanted to have a plan to set things straight with Meredith before returning to Kirkwall, but in truth, he wasn’t sure how to return to Kirkwall without placing an even larger target on Rylen’s back, not to mention his own.

Varric hummed a quiet acknowledgement. “If you wanted to skip out on the navy, I’m sure Piper could find space for you on the ship.”

Cullen smiled at Varric’s jest, but to his surprise, Varric’s expression was serious.

Cullen blinked. “You… you are serious about that. You truly think she would?”

Varric huffed in amusement. “She brought Rynne Hawke on board, and Rynne doesn’t know the first thing about being on a ship. She would definitely let you join the crew, if that’s what you wanted.”

Cullen glanced across the deck at Lady Rynne. She and Fenris were standing at the starboard taffrail now, apparently deep in conversation. Not for the first time today, Piper’s words from the previous night crossed his mind.

She’d invited him to join the crew. Oh, she’d said she was joking, certainly, but the more Cullen thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder if Varric was right. Had Piper meant it when she’d said he could join the Lady Luck’s crew?

He looked at Varric once more. “What made you decide to leave Kirkwall and join Piper’s crew?”

Varric tilted his head and adjusted the steering. “Well, Kirkwall…” He glanced up at Cullen. “Kirkwall’s home, and in some ways, it always will be. The book shop is still mine, by the way, in case you wondered,” he said with a smirk. Then he looked out at the horizon again. “Can I talk frankly? Without this getting back to your, uh, superiors?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, and a wiggle of trepidation made its way through his gut. He was certain he wasn’t going to like what Varric had to say, but he had no choice but to hear it now. “Of course,” he said.

Varric glanced at him once more before turning his gaze to the ocean ahead. “In the past few years, it’s felt kinda like the navy is, uh, holding the reins a little too much in Kirkwall. For example, taxes have been going up, but we haven’t seen much done for it. Crime is still high in Lowtown. The docks still need repairs. The only changes I’ve seen are the navy getting bigger ships and shinier buckles on their boots.”

Cullen glanced guiltily down at his own salt-worn boots. He’d just had this pair replaced a year ago.

“I know that’s just one example,” Varric went on. “And yeah, yeah, you could say it’s the Viscount who’s at fault. But I think we all know who really has the Viscount’s ear.”

Meredith. Cullen pursed his lips in frustration. Now that he was seeing so many ways that her influence was at play, he was angry at himself for not realizing sooner that she was the one behind the blood lyrium problem.

For lack of anything to say, he sipped his cooling tea. But Varric wasn’t finished. “In fairness to you guys, that’s not the only reason I left Kirkwall.” He shrugged. “It’s just nice being a part of Piper’s crew. I mean, I don’t love being the quartermaster; sometimes I miss the simplicity of being a bookstore owner. And I don’t have time to write as much as I’d like. But the freedom of having Piper for a boss makes it worth it.”

Cullen leaned back against the railing and tilted his head quizzically. “The freedom of having a boss…?”

Varric smiled at him. “Of having Piper for a boss,” he corrected. “She calls the shots, no doubt about that, but she listens to us. We came to rescue you, and that was what she wanted. But now we’ll spend a week or two going where the crew want to go, because she wants everyone to be happy.” He shrugged. “Can’t say there’s much of anything in Kirkwall that’s that equitable.”

Cullen sighed and leaned back against the railing. “No, you can’t,” he said softly.

Varric’s gaze was sympathetic, and Cullen gave him a wry little smile. Then a sultry voice floated into his ears.

“Good morning, Golden Boy.”

Piper was sauntering toward them with a broad smile on her face. Her silver hair was bound in a loose and messy braid, and she was wearing a little sleeveless vest that showed off her arms and the bronzed planes of her belly.

He tore his shameless eyes away from her bare skin and gave her a polite half-bow. “Captain.”

She chuckled and patted his cheek. “Oh Cullen, don’t go formal on me now. There’s no place for manners for a man who’s showing that much chest.” She winked at him salaciously.

He cleared his throat and tugged nervously at the open collar of his shirt, and Varric chuckled. “Does that mean I can be rude to you whenever I want, then?”

She laughed and bumped his shoulder with her hip. “As though you’re ever polite to me anyway, you insubordinate swine.” She looped her hand companionably through Cullen’s elbow. “I’m whisking this one away for breakfast. Holler if you need me.”

“You got it,” Varric said.

Piper smiled up at Cullen. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished, in fact,” he admitted. “I truly can’t recall the last time I ate. Though I suspect I’m less hungry than I would be without that… concoction Anders gave me last night.”

“Ah, you remember that, then!” She laughed as she led him across the deck toward the forecastle. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember much of last night. You were fucking exhausted.”

I recall you joking about me joining your ship, he thought. Then he pushed the thought away. It wasn’t as though he was in a position to consider the offer anyhow, even if she meant it.

“I remember,” he said out loud. “I especially remember your kindness. No, I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Kindness is insufficient. I… truly, Piper, Rylen and I owe you our lives. I can’t thank you enough—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh Cullen, please! Stop thanking me. It’s becoming so tiresome.” She waved for him to take a seat on a bench near the bow. There was a plain but clean wooden tray on the bench containing two biscuits slathered with jam, two portions of salted beef, and an orange sliced into six pieces.

Cullen gestured politely for her to take a seat. She grinned at him, then plopped down on the bench and crossed her legs. “You were dead to the world last night, you know. You didn’t even hear the celebration on deck, did you?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows as he sat on the bench. “There was a celebration?”

She laughed and picked up a slice of orange. “Yes indeed. It was very rowdy – just how I like it. I didn’t join in this time, but believe me when I said the crew enjoyed themselves.” She bit into the orange slice with relish, then delicately wiped a trickle of juice from the corner of her mouth. “Your man Rylen jumped right into the fun. I shouldn’t be surprised, though; those Starkhaven boys can drink.” She swallowed her bite of orange and smiled mischievously. “I think he’d fit in just fine on my ship.”

A funny swooping feeling filled Cullen’s belly. There it was again: another tongue-in-cheek implication that he – well, Rylen in this case – should join her crew. But Cullen still couldn’t decide if she was serious or not.

He decided to sidestep it for now. He smiled and selected a piece of salted beef. “He was training with your men, as well. He’s very fortunate; he has that uncanny ability to befriend anyone. Until recently, that is.” He sighed and took a bite of beef as he remembered the regrettable threats on Rylen’s life back in the navy headquarters.

Piper’s expression grew serious. “Cullen, what happened? How did you end up on the wrong side of a flintlock in the ass-end of nowhere?”

He swallowed the beef before replying. “My investigation into the blood lyrium problem was becoming too successful, it seems. Or… well.” He twisted his lips ruefully. “I was on the right track, at least. And I failed to hide the fact that I was on the right track.”

She tilted her head curiously, so he continued to explain. “I followed your tip,” he said with a grateful nod. “I went to the Darktown docks and waited until I saw something suspicious, and…” He rose from the bench and idly wandered over to the taffrail. “Well, to make a long story short, I was nearing the conclusion that Meredith Stannard, my commanding officer, was the one behind the blood lyrium trade.”

Piper raised her eyebrows. “You’re kidding. Well, you did say it seemed to be an inside job.” She wandered over to join him and hopped up to sit on the taffrail.

“Yes, I did. But somehow, I didn’t imagine…” He trailed off, watching nervously as Piper swung one leg over the side of the taffrail to dangle carelessly over the open ocean below.

She comfortably folded her other leg up on the taffrail, then shot him a quizzical look. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no, nothing,” he stammered. There was no point asking her to come down from her precarious perch; if he expressed concern about her safety, she would only laugh.

“Er, what was I… oh yes. Meredith.” He forced his eyes from her dangerously dangling leg back up to her bright-eyed face. “Well, as I mentioned, I did not hide my investigation well enough. I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I placed Rylen in danger by acquiring his assistance, and Meredith had us sent to Estwatch. Ostensibly to scout the blasted place for a new trading colony–”

Piper barked out a scathing laugh. “You must be fucking joking. That place, a trading colony?”

“I know,” Cullen said flatly. “It’s… it is laughable. She must truly have been desperate to jettison us so blatantly.” He ran a hand through his unfortunately curling hair. “In any case, we made the trip to Estwatch without incident, but I knew it was just a matter of time before her men made a move against us. Within a day of our arrival, Ser Alrik–”

“That scum that I killed?” Piper interrupted. She snorted dismissively. “Good riddance, by the way.”

Cullen shot her a tiny smile, then leaned his elbows on the taffrail. “Within a day, he ‘found’ blood lyrium in my quarters and accused me of corruption.”

Piper’s face slackened with shock, then twisted with anger. “You’re not serious.”

“Unfortunately, I am,” Cullen said tiredly. “I argued, he demanded that Rylen and I confess, I refused. There was an altercation, and…” He sighed again. “We fled Alrik and his men. We were forced to hide on the island for almost two days. When they finally caught up with us, I managed to kill one of them while helping Rylen to escape. And thus the charges against me became corruption and murder. After that… well, you came.” He shot her a small, grateful smile, then looked out across the horizon at the shadowy shape of Llomerynn in the distance.

A moment later, Piper reached over and squeezed his hand.

Without really even thinking about it, Cullen turned his hand over so her fingers were resting on his palm. They were small and slender but tough with calluses, and as Cullen idly studied her hand, she twined her fingers with his.

He swallowed hard and met her gaze, and butterflies burst to life in his belly. Her eyebrows were lifted with sympathy, and her big hazel eyes were warm and kind, and…

… and there was a P branded on her wrist. A cruel mark of white standing out against the warm bronze of her skin that told everyone, in no uncertain terms, that she was a pirate.

No matter how fond he was of Piper, she was still a pirate captain, and he was a commander of the Kirkwall Navy. When Cullen returned to his post, Piper would return to the sea, and this… partnership, or truce, or whatever they wanted to call it – this would come to an end.

They would likely see each other again, especially if Cullen managed to undo some of Meredith’s more outrageous laws once she was stripped of her rank. But this warmth in his gut and this wistful pulling feeling behind his sternum… There was nowhere this could go.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, then returned his gaze to his cold cup of tea and reluctantly released Piper’s hand. “I… I suppose I hoped for better. With Meredith as my admiral, that is. It’s disheartening to realize you’ve dedicated your life to something, only to find it is not what you had thought. Not what you had… hoped.”

She was quiet for a moment, and Cullen shot her another quick glance. Her lips were twisted with sympathy, and when he met her eye, she shrugged sadly. “I’m sorry, Cullen. I… well, if the world was fair, then shitty things would only happen to shitty people. But then, if the world was fair, we pirates wouldn’t need to exist.” She shot him a cheeky smile.

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if a normal lawful life on land gave everyone what they needed to survive, then that’s where most people would be,” she said. “But everyone on this ship is here because it’s the better alternative.” She pulled the scrap of cloth from the end of her braid, then started unravelling her braid as she continued to speak. “If my crewmates followed the laws of the lands they came from, Fenris would still be some asshole’s slave. Anders would be stuck with the Ferelden Navy, and Rynne would probably be stuck marrying some rich old guy. They’re all here because they want to be, and that’s what matters.”

She ran her hands through her hair, loosing it from the constraints of the braid that had held it in place. A sweet and spicy scent wafted from the wavy silver cloud, and Cullen forced himself to pay attention to her words rather than the smell of her hair.

“This life was their choice, you see?” she said, oblivious to his inappropriate focus on her hair. “It’s what they chose. And if they decided they didn’t want to be on the Lady Luck anymore, well…” She shrugged and pushed her hair back from her shoulder. “Some pirate captains make their crew sign a contract. I don’t keep crew members against their will. But my point is, everyone is here because something was unfair. There was some kind of shitty injustice where they came from, so they found themselves on my ship instead.” She casually leaned back on her palms. “We follow the code of the Lady Luck. Other than that, we’re free to do whatever the fuck we like.”

Cullen looked at her in surprise. “The code of the Lady Luck? What is that?”

She widened her eyes, then treated him to a slow smile. “Oh, Golden Boy. I’ve never mentioned this to you? It’s the set of laws every crew member has to follow while they’re on my ship.”

He gaped at her. “You… you have laws?”

She laughed merrily and ran her hands through her hair, releasing yet more of the warm and tangy scent from the wavy strands. “Yes, we do. Are you interested in reading them?”

“Very much, in fact,” he said earnestly.

Her smile became wicked. “Well, you can’t. For pirates’ eyes only.” She shrugged and leaned back on her palms once more. “If you were to ever join my crew, on the other hand…” She winked at him, then looked out to sea.

His belly swooped once more. This was the third time now that she’d jested about this. But Cullen simply couldn’t take it as a joke anymore.

He studied her in silence, admiring the curl of the smile on her lips and the playful tug of the wind through her unruly hair until finally she turned back to meet his eye. In silence, they stared at each other until the smile slowly melted from her lips, leaving an uncharacteristically serious look on her face.

She licked her lips, then smiled again. “Why are you staring at me? Like what you see, do you?” She lifted her tattooed shoulder in a coquettish manner.

He kept his steady gaze on her face. “Piper… would you genuinely consider asking me to join your crew?”

The jocularity fled her face, and Cullen’s belly flipped over once more: her expression was suddenly bright with hope. “Why? Would you be willing to consider it?”

He took a slow, careful breath. Clearly the thought had crossed his mind multiple times today. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed, or the last time he had slept this soundly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in anyone’s company who made him feel so much at ease the way Piper did. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had supported and defended him as fiercely Piper had.

But the decision about his next move wasn’t just about Cullen himself. There were bigger issues that needed to be considered; the Kirkwall Navy was undeniably corrupt, and Cullen couldn’t simply walk away if they were placing the city – and his goodhearted comrades – at risk.

He gazed into Piper’s beautiful hazel eyes. “Piper, I…” He exhaled heavily, but she saved him from saying the most difficult part.

“You have to see this through in Kirkwall,” she said softly.

He nodded. “I must. I have no… I have no choice.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how sad they sounded, especially in light of Piper’s inspiring talk about her crew and their motivations for being on the Lady Luck.

He looked sadly down at his cup of tea. Then Piper spoke again. “All right. How can we help?”

He looked at her. He must have misheard. “You… you want to help the Kirkwall Navy?” he said slowly.

She snorted. “No. I want to help you.”

He stared at her. Her lovely face was friendly and matter-of-fact, as though her offer to help him was no big deal.

He swallowed the rising lump in his throat. “But… your crew,” he croaked. “Will they agree to… to helping me?”

She shrugged and ruffled her hair. “Sure, if I throw enough treasure at them.”

He raised his eyebrows, and she chuckled. “I’m joking, Golden Boy. Of course I’ll run it past them first. And trust me, they’ll be in an extra agreeable mood after we spend a few nights in Rialto.” With these words, her lips lifted into a very broad and very mischievous grin.

Cullen’s stomach, meanwhile, dropped like a stone. “Rialto?” he blurted. “A few nights? Piper, I can’t go to Rialto, it’s… it’s–”

“–the finest and most notorious pirate port on this side of the Amaranthine Ocean?” she finished cheerfully. “I know. And trust me, Cullen, it’ll do you some good.”

“Do me some–? How?” he asked incredulously. “I’m – Piper, if I’m spotted… cavorting in a pirate port–”

She laughed and playfully patted his cheek. “Cullen. Relax,” she said soothingly. “What happens in Rialto stays in Rialto. But you don’t have to cavort if you don’t want to.” She snickered. “You definitely have to come off the ship, though, because I said so. I’m the captain, and what I say goes.”

Her grin was wicked and wide, and Cullen gave her a chiding look. “Piper.”

She laughed once more. Then, to Cullen’s horror, she stood up on the taffrail with only one hand clinging cavalierly to the nearest line.

“Listen up, you sorry lot!” she bellowed to the crew. “Change of plans! We’re going to bypass Llomerynn and head straight for Rialto!”

An enormous cheer rose from the entire crew, and Piper grinned down at Cullen. “All right, Golden Boy. Are you ready to see what the pirate life is really like?”

“Do I have a choice?” he said, half in jest. He reached one hand up to her entreatingly.

To his relief, she took his hand and hopped down to the deck. She shook her wild hair back from her face and smiled, but her smile was soft now instead of cheeky.

“Of course you have a choice,” she told him. “That’s the whole point.”

He studied her open, guileless, beautiful face. Finally he took a deep breath and nodded.

“All right, Captain Lavellan,” he said. “I will follow your lead. Just this once,” he added in a mock-scolding tone.

She grinned at him and tugged the collar of his shirt. “That’s all I ask, Golden Boy. A few nights in Rialto, and maybe you’ll change your tune.”

Her eyes were dancing with laughter, and Cullen smiled at her joyful face. He couldn’t abandon his duty to Kirkwall; he had to return eventually, and Piper knew it too.

But while he was figuring out his next move, he might as well follow Piper’s lead. It couldn’t hurt to learn more about a pirate’s life. From a purely educational perspective, of course.

He admired her bright troublemaker’s grin. He barely knew what to expect from this trip to Rialto, but he knew this much: it was going to be an adventure.

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wordsturnintostories · 5 years

Text

show me your rosettes, baby (g)

summary: The world tour is over and the Bangtan Boys finally get their well-deserved break. When Namjoon suddenly can’t find Jimin anywhere, things take an unexpected and pretty unbelievable turn. “Kim Namjoon!” “Hyung. How common is it for people to turn into cats?” word count: 6.1k note: woooo a looong chapter. contains a special guest. the guessing is over. who is at the door? you’ll see. have fun! ✨

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

what happened before:

“Oh God, no, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon pants in surprise and tries to grab the little one who is just way too curious for his own good. Those blue eyes glow with babylike innocence and Namjoon has to hold on to the wall to not fall for the younger’s charms. No, he wants to say sternly, but something tells him the little leopard doesn’t understand the concept of… things… yet. So all he can do before the doorbell rings a fourth time is to kinda push Jimin away gently and ignore the playful mewl and the sharp claws digging into his big toe. That should occupy him enough, Namjoon hopes and grabs the door handle.

Opening the door feels like playing the lottery. He wonders whether it will be Seijin or someone else. When Namjoon’s brown eyes hit familiar warm eyes, his heart stops for a second. Jackson!? Shit. What do I do?

It’s just his bad luck that he’d not only forgotten to check his business calendar but that he’d also neglected his personal one. With all the changes of plans that Jimin had bestowed upon them during the last days, could anyone blame him, though? Probably not.

Of course, Namjoon does what he has to - he pushes Jimin a little further away, but not far enough to go into a stretched-out position (cause he doesn’t want to look like an idiot in front of his friend - his first impression was enough embarrassment to last a lifetime) and forces a smile to Jackson, one person he’s rarely ever fake-smiled at.

“Kim Namjoon. I want to be mad at you,” is what Jackson says with a pout, “You left me standing here for almost five minutes. You’re lucky I’m so patient.”

Namjoon bows. “I’m sorry. Please come in.”

There’s a clear feeling of defeat when Namjoon feels something sharp digging into his toe. He winces. Not the big one. Jackson notices, looks concerned and sniffs. He’s got a cold, already reaching in his pocket to get a tissue.

“Hyung, are you in pain? Oh, you got a cat?”

“No, why would you think that!”

It’s a fast answer, way too fast and not believable at all because Jimin presses his little body against Jackson’s ankles and everything is ruined. There’s a little rumble and then, from Jackson, a little coo. Plus, a dawning realization (along with an amused cackle).

“This why it took you so long to open the door? You tried to hide this fella?”

“Yeah, I was worried that staff would find out, so I thought that I should be careful.”

“Gotcha. Aw, he’s so cute.”

This hangout is going to be a challenge, Namjoon knows it already with the amount of inner panic that he has to push away even with this one pronoun in Jackson’s mouth. How does he know, is what flits through his mind, but he pushes it away. Jackson doesn’t know. Jackson just called Jimin he because all he sees is a little cat and Namjoon hasn’t specified and actually, why the heck is he worrying so much? Korean doesn’t even have gendered pronouns. Why is he filling in the blanks with his own words? He’s freaking out over nothing, once again. Get your shit together, Kim Namjoon. Don’t assume stuff. He hopes Jackson will buy his acting.

The visiting rapper just continues to talk to the cat, stepping into the apartment and walking into the living room. It looks like Jimin doesn’t quite know what to do from where he had been sitting, distracted from his previous quest to chew up Namjoon’s big toe. Should he follow? It’s like watching the exact moment Jimin’s cat brain makes a decision because after licking his paws once, the kitty gets up and runs after Jackson.

“Yeah, right. So handsome. Oh, and you’re hungry too. Come on, there’s probably something good for you in the kitchen.”

The cub seems to like the guest because it lets itself be picked up without protest or hesitation and rumbles against Jackson’s chest while the two of them make their way to the kitchen that still looks a little wild from breakfast, to be honest. Namjoon would like to sink into the ground when he suddenly becomes aware of what a mess the kitchen table is (an abundance of tuna-mashed-vegetable-spread on the table, yes, directly on the surface). But it seems Jackson really doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even say anything. Instead, he picks up some tuna.

“He’s not on a diet, right?”

What a weird question.

“Uh, no?”

The little cat meows, probably demanding the food Jackson’s been holding in his hand too long.

“Yeah, that’s right. You wanna grow, huh? Become tall and strong. So you can protect your hyung.”

While this interaction is adorable, Namjoon feels like he’s stuck in some sort of film. He half expects someone to come around the corner and yell script lines at him. Is there something specific he has to say next? Are there YouTube tutorials for situations like these? The only thing he knows is that Jackson reminds him of Taehyung in this moment, with that bright love for animals and the gentle, playful way he treats them. It’s not good. Taehyung gets attached too easily and Namjoon is already thinking about how to sell this story. He could pretend that this was a stray cat that he’s found by the apartment. Yeah, that sounds somewhat believable. But what do normal people do with animals like this? Animal shelter, right? Are there any animal shelters nearby? But then Jackson leans back and looks around and Namjoon doesn’t even speak up first.

“Wow, it’s so quiet. Where is everyone?”

“Oh yeah, the others went home to visit their families. They’ll come back in a few days.”

“Even Suga-hyung?”

“At the studio. He’s working hard even on his day off.”

“Wah, your hyung is so diligent. I want to ask him something later. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Did you come by to hang out with me or Suga-hyung?”

Both of them laugh at the fake exasperation and the little cub makes happy munching sounds and even purrs a little. When Jackson lets him lick the last bits of fish off his fingers, the leopard cub is eager. Just the feeling of that little raspy tongue on his skin makes Jackson laugh.

“That tingles,” he scolds the kitty. Namjoon watches from the side with a slight feeling of sweat on his forehead. How do I fix this? Once they’re clean, Jackson lifts up the little one, a special warmth resurfacing inside of him. The kitty’s gentle burp vibrates against the palm of his hand.

“Ooh, I can feel how full your tummy is. You’re stuffed, baby.”

Once again, he seeks Namjoon’s eye.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Like this? Here? Um, an hour? Half an hour? Honestly, I was just-“

“Crap Joon, does your management know?”

“No,” Namjoon replies, deflated and retreating into the living room. No, they don’t know. They won’t, because this could ruin Jimin’s career. It could be Bangtan’s end. Namjoon will do everything in his power to keep the secret. Even if he knows secrets are literally the worst thing to keep (next to headaches and caught colds - Namjoon always makes sure to throw them back as fast as possible). And, in his made-up story, management doesn’t know about the stray cat in his apartment either. Stick to your story, Namjoon, he warns himself.

Jackson has Jimin on his arms and whispers something into his fur.

Then, he smiles and says, “Uh-oh. He’s so cute though. They probably won’t be mad.”

The look in Jackson’s eyes is almost loving as the kitten rubs its cheek against the human’s. Soft purring floats through the room and Namjoon wants to coo but he can’t because he has to think. He can’t tell his friend that this is Jimin. Because how awkward would it be to say, “The butt you’re scratching is my dongsaeng’s butt but he seems to like it so please keep going.” Just… no. Seeing that he’s left with no other valid option, Namjoon decides to keep the lie up. How unlikely is it that this is some sort of stray cat? Not that unlikely, especially in Seoul.

“What are you gonna do?”

Namjoon isn’t sure what the question refers to exactly, the way that Jackson says it just sounds so… ambiguous? Like there’s a nuance of this conversation that Bangtan’s leader cannot fully grasp. He hopes his voice doesn’t betray his insecurity.

“What’s the most responsible thing to do? I’ll probably bring him to the animal shelter later.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s no way we could keep him. It’s inevitable that staff will notice and it will be a mess.”

The dogs are fine and Seokjin’s sugar gliders too, but they all have primary places they can stay while not being with their Bangtan owners. Another animal and management would pull their hair out, probably. Namjoon remembers now that ironically, Jimin and Jungkook had asked for a cat before, but that wish had been denied. For logistical reasons. No one wants to carry another animal around on their trips, especially the tours, with all the airport paperwork and staff having to take care of the stressed animals. Plus, cats usually want to run free, outside and on their own, so how can they ensure that a cat would come back from a walk in a strange, foreign city? Summed up, it’s just not a good idea. Or, rather, not a practical one.

“You’re not serious, right?”

Jackson musters Namjoon like a hawk, like he’s searching for something deeper in his friend’s eyes than just the surface calm. Namjoon is aware, wonders what nuance of this conversation he missed, but knows he has to keep up the lie. This is surreal. Even his heart knows it and pounds heavier than usual.

“Yeah why not? Yoongi-hyung, Hobi-hyung, Tae and I have dogs but that’s already a huge responsibility we often can’t really take care of well. We can’t add another pet to the situation now. Also, strays are not always safe to keep.”

For some strange reason, Jackson looks terrified. He grips Jimin tighter and holds him up against his chest protectively. Why is he so upset? Namjoon is sure he’s a good liar. But he can’t lie about the nervousness spreading in his chest. Suddenly, every little twitch in Jackson’s eyes turns into suspicion until Namjoon isn’t sure anymore if what he’s saying is credible. I should switch the topic. Wait. That’s too suspicious. Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into?

“I really can’t tell whether you’re really cruel or just pretending.”

“Uh, it’s called being responsible. Look-“

“No. I don’t believe you. Because your heart is pounding so fast but it has been the entire time since before I rang the doorbell and you’re sweating but that could just be the heat in this room and I’m not sure how to read all the signs in your scent and-“

“Wang Jackson! W-what are you talking about?”

Jackson looks like he’s on fire with the way he suddenly stands up and tosses his baseball cap on the ground. The snapping spooks Jimin a little, the kitty’s tail puffing up as his head snaps to the side and when he can’t read the situation, he sneaks away to bury himself deeply into Namjoon’s hip.

“Hyung, this is Jimin! And I really can’t believe you’d give your dongsaeng away because of this.”

Even in this heated argument, even with his head spinning, Namjoon can see the tears in Jackson’s eyes when he says this. There’s a feeling of fear in the air and Namjoon can’t grasp the unspoken words between them, the reason for this exposition of emotions. What haunts him all the more are the rising questions. How does Jackson know? Is is that obvious? How would he know something like this? I must be a really bad liar… what did I say? Will he hate me for lying in his face like that? Oh, God…

Honestly, Namjoon is out of words and doesn’t even know how to breathe with all these oppressive worries clogging up his brain but apparently, Jackson does have a couple of words for him because he’s still ranting on. He looks really mad. Thinking turns into a race that only stops when the other taps his shoulder gently. The touch pulls him back and makes him notice how his own fingers are trembling on Jimin’s back.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon croaks, feeling like the calm from this morning has slipped away completely, like he’d dreamed it up. Maybe that was a completely different day. Now, all that’s present is the feeling of sitting in the rain. It’s cold and depressing.

“Hyung, did you not know?”

He looks at Jackson, his friend, who sports an expression on his face that spells confusion rather than anger at this point, with two dog ears flat against his head. Wait, dog ears?

“Yoongi-hyung and I…. What is-?”

Only then Namjoon realizes there’s something soft gently moving behind Jackson and he stares at the sleek grey thing. A tail.

“Is that a- Are you- Uh, what…?”

“Hyung, I’m a hybrid. And Jimin-ssi is a shifter. How did you not know?”

How would I have known? It’s not like that’s a thing. No one told me. Hybrids. Shifters?

“I didn’t- what’s a hybrid?”

By now, Jimin seeks closeness to his hyung, placing his paws on Namjoon’s lap as if he feels that comfort might be needed. After checking the dimpled face, he nestles himself into those squishy, strong thighs. Jackson watches the younger, giving off a calmer vibe.

“We’re half-half. Half human, half animal. And you’re living together with one. Well, not quite, since he’s a shifter. They’re a little different from us.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Uh. Shifters are… shifters are like the Hulk. Hybrids are more like Spiderman. Kind of like an 24/7 thing. But that’s not the most important right now. Do you know how hard it is to keep something like that secret? Did the others not know either? And why is he so small? Do you not feed him properly?”

When Namjoon doesn’t answer, overwhelmed by how casually Jackson throws these questions at him like they’re all supposed to make sense, Jackson kneels at Namjoon’s feet to reach up and rub Jimin’s ears.

“Do they feed you enough? Do you have everything you need?”

The little cat doesn’t answer, at least not that Namjoon notices and soon, he’s the target of his friend’s hawk-like glance again. What did I do now? What’s wrong?

“Why is he like this?”

“How?”

“He doesn’t respond.”

“Um, should he? He’s a cat, after all.”

“Hyung,” Jackson sounds offended, “shifters don’t lose their minds when they change. We’re not animals. Well, not entirely.”

He pauses. Sniffs the room. Sniffs Jimin, which translates to Jackson burying his nose in Jimin’s belly fur. As allowing as the little one has been during the whole time of this hyung’s visit, he protests now with a river of sweet meows and an ambitious hiss that is not at all menacing.

“Unless… is this his first time shifting?”

It’s a feeling of helplessness and stupidity crawling over Namjoon’s soul and he hates it so much. Whereas he’d just enjoyed spending time with his dongsaeng during the last days, it had been sweet and downright adorable as much as it had been a learning experience, now the realization that he actually knows nothing at all crystallizes. It feels like crap. And it’s bad because he should be the one being able to figure everything out, leading the other six members securely into one direction, towards their goals. He should be able to take care of their needs. And now he’s overwhelmed. What a leader I am. Can’t even see the path I’m on. Namjoon buries his face in his hands and soon, he feels a kind hand rub his arm.

“Ah, hyung-nim. Don’t worry, okay? It’s not easy, but I’m here for you. Hey, you’re all good. You’re doing great.”

Namjoon breathes. Grateful for the emotional bandaid. Normally, Hoseok would be here to do this, but Jackson isn’t so bad at guiding him either. He’s grateful that baring himself didn’t push this friend (one of the few he has) away.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen it, at least,” he manages to breathe out, “I didn’t know he could do that.”

Jackson hugs him, sensing how heavy this is on his friend who always carries such an air of responsibility and leadership. And this isn’t just a small thing. Being introduced to the entire world of this without any pre-knowledge is no joke. Jackson knows the feeling, has experienced it first-hand a couple of times. He watches the cub squirm and sets him down on the sofa, away from his hyung. Jimin just marks the sofa with his little claws but his sparkling eyes never forget to return to Namjoon. It’s clear the little one adores his hyung.

When Namjoon looks up, grateful for the warm embrace that lifts his spirits, his eyes are drawn to a pair of silvery-brown dog-ears on Jackson’s head. They point at Jimin and move with every sound the little one makes. That… is not what he expected to come out of this hangout that had already been rescheduled three times and almost didn’t happen. Life is crazy. Those are real.

“Okay, could you show me his room? I need to get his scent.”

“What?”

As if this conversation isn’t weird enough already, it makes no attempt at stopping the approaching weirdness. Rather, it embraces it.

“We emit pheromones, it’s like a secret language.“

“I know how animal communication works.”

“Great! Has Jimin peed anywhere yet?”

Namjoon almost chokes on his spit. Shit. Will Jimin pee in the apartment? Wait. Where has he peed the last days? Other than on Yoongi-hyung and me… shoot. We took him outside a couple times but what if he-?

“I hope not,” he mumbles weakly. It would be a lie to pretend it’s not fascinating to watch Jackson’s tail wag in obvious amusement.

“He should at least once. It’s his home and he should mark his territory,” Jackson states without batting an eye and when Namjoon’s mind won’t stop thinking about that, quickly jumping to the obvious follow-up question, he blushes.

“Oh God,” Namjoon mumbles and jumps up, followed immediately by his friend.

“What?”

“I ain’t gonna set foot in your apartment again. Hell no. I don’t even wanna know.”

Jackson cackles, no, erupts in of those laughs where he bends his whole body to slap at his thighs because he enjoys the joke just that much. Namjoon frowns. Yikes.

“Let’s go see Jimin’s room.” Jimin is eager to get off the couch and run after his two hyungs the best he can, tail flopping and paws hitting the floor rhythmically.

“He’s a leopard,” Jackson mumbles, “that’s super rare. You’re gonna have a lot of work on your hands once he’s grown.”

“Grown? He grows?”

The look Jackson gives him is stunning. It’s his typical deadpan- Bro, are you kidding me? look.

“How big?” Namjoon whispers, feeling small under the hybrid’s gaze.

“Have you ever seen leopards? They’re big, Joon. Hence the term Big Cat.”

“Shit.”

They enter Jimin’s room, which is clean of course, except for the stuff on the floor that Namjoon hasn’t cleaned up. Jimin doesn’t like chaos (even if he’s dirty while they’re on tour but who is not?) and loves inviting people (aka Taehyung and Jungkook), so it’s mostly clean. Neat for finding things. (Maybe Namjoon should start cleaning up his stuff too. Hoseok would certainly thank him.)

Namjoon looks at Jackson, not exactly sure what to expect from the other, whose eyes travel all over the place. Maybe he’s looking for something specific. How does this even work?

“How’s the, uh… scent?”

He regrets the question as soon as it’s over his lips. There’s another wtf? look for him and he shrugs apologetically. There’s a big chance Jackson’s just messing with him, like he does all the time, but Namjoon isn’t sure if his question might have been offensive or not. It’s not like his ordinary human nose can smell anything other than the mild fruity-bubbly scent that seems to penetrate everything that belongs to Jimin (it’s that frickin’ body spray he brought home from Tokyo when he went with Jungkook, and Namjoon bets Jimin would probably bathe in it if he could because the younger keeps reordering it). (Oh, and the scent mixes with something sweet, probably that glorious liquid gold hair oil. That one is definitely worth the money for Namjoon too.)

“This is definitely his room, smell-wise,” is all the commenting Jackson does before inspecting the room. Mind-blowing conclusion.

Jimin seems happy to be in here, in his own space, and curls up on the bed, happily rumbling to himself on the sheets. When they make eye contact and Namjoon remembers what Yoongi taught him, to blink slowly, Jimin takes the gesture like a gift, purrs in a kitty-thank you and bares his belly. Aware of the high degree of trust that’s on display, the rapper keeps a tight grip on his wrist.

Don’t rub his belly, Yoongi had recommended, nay, warned. What kind of cat expert are you, hyung? That’s common knowledge, had been the elder’s casual reply.

So instead of succumbing to his urges to let the adorableness meet his fingertips, Namjoon stealthily takes a photo. The leopard ears swirl at the audible click. At the same time, Jackson turns towards him. Caught, Namjoon blushes but it doesn’t seem like his guest minds. The tail is still wagging. This is so surreal.

“One thing is strange,” Jackson notes and Namjoon can’t help but imagine the worst thing right away. Is something wrong? Is he sick? What if-?

“What is it?”

“Jimin’s scent is really… weird, somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure… I have a suspicion, but I don’t want to say it as long as I’m not sure.”

“Is it bad?”

“I don’t think so. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if I can confirm it.”

Namjoon’s head feels like it’s spinning. This is worse than a Seoul-New York jet lag. Honestly, he’s never heard of any of this stuff and he doesn’t know what to think about it either. He only knows that with every passing second, his desire for Jimin to turn back intensifies. Just to turn back, stay human and not cause more stress than necessary. He can’t even imagine what this means for all of the members on a long term basis. A dramatic gasp pulls him out of his sorrowful thoughts.

“Where did he get these?”

“Get what?”

Jackson holds up one of the pill containers from the nightstand next to Jimin’s bed.

“Oh, those are supplements his parents make him take since he was young. Vitamins or something, I don’t know the exact details. But he gets sick without them.”

“Hyung, these are really high-dosed suppressants.”

“Is that… bad?”

“Probably.”

“What do they suppress?”

“His shifting, most likely. Look, his genetic root is a leopard, not a domesticated cat, so you can expect the genes to be strong. Hence these high-concentration suppressants. I bet they wore out, his body got used to it. This,” Jackson looks at the pill tube, reading the banderole, “is a really high dose. It certainly explains why he’s shifted this late. They’re not healthy for his body because they suppress what’s natural for him. Shifters usually turn as children and their parents teach them to control their two forms and their instincts. If he’s taken suppressants since his childhood, it’s all been suppressed and he’ll have to learn all of that now.”

“But will it cause negative long-term effects?”

“I can’t tell you. The only thing I can guess is that his parents are shifters and when they noticed his drive to dance, they wanted to enable him to pursue his dream, to make it far. Hybrids and shifters both aren’t exactly appreciated in the industry, hyung. They wanted to give him a chance. So you’ll have to support him as much as possible. He won’t have it easy now.”

When did Jimin ever have it easy? Namjoon can’t say that this new information sounds good. He takes a look at his dongsaeng that seems comfortable under Namjoon’s warm hand. His mind wanders to Jackson’s dog ears that turn towards Jimin when he starts to purr.

“So, do you have any dog-like instincts or behavior? Or characteristics? Apart from the ears and the tail.”

Jackson’s tail flops against the sofa cushions in a steady, happy thrum. To Namjoon, it sounds like a little beat, happy, maybe bordering on cheeky. Typical Jackson. And this is when Namjoon takes note of how intertwined these animal traits must be - because there’s no way Namjoon can spot the line where they flow into his human ones. It’s all Jackson, all one person. It will be the same for Jimin, right?

When his friend laughs, body moving along with the freehearted sound, Namjoon blushes. Just a little. In retrospect, the question is so weird. So embarrassing.

“Man, I’m surprised you ask. It’s so obvious. You know how I like meeting people. I love people. Also, I’m super athletic. I’ve been told that’s very dog-like.”

After a second of nodding in complete acceptance of the facts, Namjoon’s mind hits the brakes. Hard.

“Tae…” the idea seems ridiculous but kind of realistic enough and he just doesn’t know. He ends up whispering, “…is Tae a dog hybrid like you? He loves people as well and people love him. He’s like a puppy sometimes.”

In his mind, it’s not too impossible, considering he hadn’t known about Jimin all this time, much less Jackson. So when the other shakes his head, Namjoon isn’t fully convinced.

“Why not?”

“He’s not, Joon, don’t worry. He smells human. Don’t get paranoid now.”

“Am not paranoid,” Namjoon mumbles and plays with Jimin’s tail until the cat starts chasing after his fingers. It’s fun to see Jimin playing so freely, even if the claws come out and break Namjoon’s skin.

“Just a little?”

“No. So, how long will he stay like this?”

“When did he change?”

“This is his third day.”

“Since it’s his first time, probably still a day? He doesn’t know how to control it, so it will just happen at one point.”

“It just happens? Like, how?”

“Like farting. It just happens.”

Namjoon’s mind just… blanks. It’s too much information at once. Jackson’s humor doesn’t even register. There are too many things that don’t fit in Namjoon’s mind. He feels emotionally exhausted. Even if there’s nothing that’s really happened during the last minutes. He thinks about Yoongi-hyung, living his best life in the studio. Probably napping. Namjoon wants to nap.

“Or like blanking out,” Jackson cackles, “are you okay, bro?” He only gets a hum in return.

“You know what,” Jackson proposes, “I’ll get you a specialist to come by and check him out. I know someone trustworthy.”

“Jackson,” Namjoon starts and he doesn’t quite know how to go on from there because he feels a headache coming. It’s all too much.

“It’s okay, I’ll give you some time. Text me if you need anything.”

And then, Jackson slips a business card in his hand. It’s a little thinner and strangely, more solid than any other business card he’s ever held. The light catches on it softly, making the vivid grey surface shimmer in the sunlight. It stuns Namjoon when the card warms up against his fingers and he’s even more surprised when the fine white Chinese characters on it somehow… thrum a little against Namjoon’s fingers, like they’re alive and want to get his attention. As if the light and the warmth had stirred them from a hibernation sleep, they swim together and reform into Korean words right before his eyes. Namjoon gasps, looking up at Jackson, who just smiles and shrugs. Surely this can’t be real…? When he looks back to the buzzing paper in his hand (is that even paper?), the card spells, “Call me on this day in a month. Jimin won’t need me until then. You’re doing well, Kim Namjoon. But make sure to tell the others.”

After he’s read the words, they swim together again and almost as if he’s watching a little animation, he sees a white-line drawing of a figure picking up, washing, and feeding a little cat. That’s me. His eyes widen. 잘 했어, 김남준 appears again, after the figures fade. A big sigh falls from his lips. Well done.

When the card keeps silent, no more than the bare grey from the beginning, he’s a little confused. What kind of business card is this? Doesn’t leaving out a number or a name defeat the purpose of a business card?

“There is no number,” he points out. Jackson doesn’t look surprised whatsoever. “Or name.”

“The contact details will be there when you need it.”

“Is this magic?”

“You think Jimin turning into a leopard is not? Everything is magic. We just don’t see it all the time. Actually, you’re a musician, so you should know that by now.”

It’s difficult to keep a straight face after this new information that doesn’t actually make sense (but what does, on this strange day?) and while Namjoon still hasn’t an idea about what to make of the card, he slips it into his pocket. Reassurance softly bumps into his heart without warning, settling there. Relief spreads. It’s nice, a bubbly feeling like champagne. Namjoon finds it almost addicting. It will all work out.

I’ll put the card by my mirror so I won’t forget it, Namjoon thinks. However mysterious the contact may be, if Jackson trusts them, he’ll trust them too. He sits on Jimin’s bed, still working on sorting through all his thoughts and questions. Jimin nuzzles into his hip and Namjoon lets himself fall back. When he closes his eyes, everything swirls around in wild circles. The cat’s fur is soft between his fingers and he strokes Jimin’s back as well as he can, careful to be a gentle giant.

Something rings back in the kitchen and Namjoon is certain that it must be Jackson’s phone. Sure enough, the other rapper perks up from where he had been rummaging through Jimin’s drawers, still looking for something like a clue, something he can’t describe to Namjoon but something that would be helpful in understanding Jimin’s situation.

When Jackson leaves to take the call, Jimin just looks up to Namjoon with his big blue eyes. The latter isn’t sure what he can seem in them.

“What’s wrong, hm?”

The little leopard doesn’t answer, only puts a paw on his hand to sort of hold it there and nibble on Namjoon’s index finger. Maybe he’s teething, Namjoon thinks. I should really get him some toys that he can bite and chew on. Or-

“Are you hungry again? Jiminie?”

Jimin doesn’t reply, only gags and mewls when he takes too much of the finger into his jaw. Namjoon quickly caresses Jimin’s back while the little one shakes from the force of his own body protesting against the intrusion.

“Be careful,” Namjoon chides. He can’t deny the little spike of panic inside of him when his dongsaeng gagged. For a second, he’d been afraid that Jimin would throw up his food from before but right now, the younger seems fine, moving back to chew on Namjoon’s spit covered finger. To prevent further accidents, Namjoon lifts Jimin up and walks towards the living room from where Jackson still hadn’t returned. Hopefully the call doesn’t bring bad news.

Jimin wiggles around in Namjoon’s grip and the rapper feels the small muscles and bones in his hand, can feel the pricky little claws snagging on his skin, can feel the fluffy fur brushing against his fingers. Jimin is a little ball of contrasts, just the same as he is in human form. Cute but fierce. In an alluring kind of way. Small but strong. Kind but ready to hurl you against a wall if need be. Not that Jimin really does that regularly. But he can, potentially, and just knowing that the possibility exists adds to his appeal. As a human, obviously. As a leopard cub, he fits into Namjoon’s two hands.

Namjoon steps into the living room to see Jackson shove his phone back into the pocket of his jeans jacket.

“Management,” he rolls his eyes. Namjoon wonders how often their members get called in by management.

“I actually gotta go, I’m really sorry that this didn’t work out,” he adds and while Namjoon understands, there’s a little hint of disappointment crawling into his mind. But honestly, he’d already forgotten their original plan to hang out to have fun and talk about their lives. Priorities, right?

“It’s fine. Better go before they worry,” Namjoon waves it off, hoping that his own worry won’t show. He’s been with Jimin for three days (not knowing what to make of the situation for three days), so he should be fine (although letting the guy who actually knows stuff go is the stupidest idea ever). It shouldn’t be a big deal and yet, Namjoon really isn’t sure. He knows that the internet is useless in this case (it’s hard to believe that almost every human being on this planet uses it and there’s still next to no helpful stuff on there). On top of that, he isn’t really emotionally ready to prepare the talk with the members and with management on his own, without any advice from an expert.

“Hey, are you going to be okay? I know it must be a lot for you, with Jimin like this. I’ll try to help you as well as I can, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Jackson.”

“Anything for you, bro. Just let me know. Seriously, just text me.”

“Kay,” Namjoon says. It doesn’t mean he’s happy with how this hangout turned out. “You owe me. Let’s go out for dinner next time.”

Jackson nods.

“Bye Jiminie, hyung is leaving,” he reaches out to boop Jimin’s nose and the little cat rasps a sweet purr as a goodbye. “Yeah baby, see you soon.”

Namjoon looks at the cub fondly, feeling oddly warm about the fact that his dongsaeng treats his friend so well - it’s not that he doesn’t expect him to, Jimin is a very sociable person who loves his friends dearly and Jackson is a loved-by-all social butterfly but Namjoon feels honored to have his younger brother appreciate his choice of friends. It’s just - nice to see.

“You’re such a Dad,” Jackson teases.

“Oh come on, shut up,” Namjoon grins but blushes a little, just like every single time the other rapper exploits this old joke.

“They are all your children, admit it,” Jackson cackles, and while it’s just a joke he loves to bring up over and over again, it’s a little irritating because Namjoon knows that there’s a grain of truth in it. There was a recent interview where he even admitted that wish of his. It’s old, his wish, old with yellowed edges, old with moments of pondering, of wishing that things could be different. Moments of imagining what it would be like to hold little hands in his big ones, to have a little body on his chest, sleeping, to have the power to take all nightmares away with a kiss, to have the power to create a life and make it precious by filling it up with love. Yeah, Namjoon wants that. Sometimes, the wish becomes a painful aching in his heart, mingling with doubt, producing tears. It seems impossible sometimes, and that’s why he is grateful when he meets Seokjin’s eyes and recognizes the quiet understanding in them. It’s those days and moments that Jimin usually sneaks up to him, giving comfort even if his mind doesn’t feel the same longing. It doesn’t matter, Jimin loves to give comfort and Namjoon gives thanks every time. So, until the day comes where Namjoon can really be a Dad (he had confided in Jackson long ago), he will just take care of this group. Maybe not like a Dad would, but he could swear he’s raised Jungkook. And that has to count for something.

“Except for Jin-hyung,” the cackling builds up and Namjoon swears if Jackson doesn’t stop, he will- “he’s your husband, of course.”

“Yah, you’re such an annoying friend, honestly.”

Jackson bursts into laughter even as Namjoon shoves him towards the door.

“You’re so shameless it’s criminal,” he says, groaning.

“I know. That’s my appeal,” Jackson waggles with his eyebrows until Namjoon can’t keep the warm laughter inside his belly anymore.

“You’re ridiculous. Go smooch Jinyoung.”

“Kim Namjoon! Don’t make fun of my babies only because you’re bitter that yours are gone.”

“Oh my god. Okay. Tell your babies I said Hi.”

“Will do,” he gives a thumbs up until his phone rings a second time, “have a good one.”

“You too, man.”

When his door closes, Namjoon stills. He is looking at an empty apartment, quiet now where laughter had been a few seconds ago. He still feels it in his body, the joy that always stays behind when Jackson leaves.

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

tags: @taeshuworld, @justanemptydream, @hoodmeup, @gingerpeachtae

#park jimin #kim namjoon #bts #bangtan #shifter!au #shifter!jimin #leopard!jimin #cute #fluff #lol namjoon is so confused #i kinda feel bad for him #wow #wordsturnintostories #oct29 #show me your rosettes baby (g)#smyrbg #min yoongi

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destiny-smasher · 5 years

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I used to be close friends with one of the composers for Steven Universe. I watched them rise from a YouTube remixer living in a cramped bedroom in a shared apartment with nothing but a mattress on the floor and a keyboard beside it to owning a house, happily married with a whole backyard garden and a cat because they found success working on one of the biggest cartoon shows I’ve known. But they broke off that friendship earlier this year and it’s made my biased love for Steven Universe become very difficult to grasp with. Understanding how and why we weren’t friends anymore was likewise difficult to grasp, even after hours of us trying to hash things out and resolve it. And while we DID resolve things amicably (I hope) and peacefully, it wasn’t until Steven Universe: The Movie that I was really able to feel like I could see the forest from the trees and ‘get’ what happened. This will be a kind of review of the movie, but mostly it became more of a personal ramble relating my real life experiences with Aivi to those of characters within SU, especially the antagonist of the Movie. This is lifted from this Twitter thread, so it was originally written stream of consciousness and I’m sharing it here to keep it more readable and archived. This is a bit of a read so tucking it behind a ‘read more.’

"You keep on turning pages for people who don't care about you And still it takes you ages to see that no one's there Everyone's gone on without you"

Time to finally talk about the #StevenUniverse Movie. Strap in 'cause this gon' get personal.

It should go without saying BUT I am gonna be talking about the movie! Dunno how in detail per se but I can't properly say what I wanna say without diving into some of the important plotty stuff. So yea.

Don't read this thread if ya don't want #spoilers #sumovie

First off, I wanna talk about what this movie does well. Going in, I had heard it was framed like a musical. And I wasn't sure how I felt about that idea, though it wasn't surprising. After all, the 'musical' style episodes tend to resonate quite a lot.

I think they work great when it's one song in a 10 minute episode, but an hour and a half of songs? I wasn't sure how well that would go. Turns out, pretty well. This is due to many factors but primarily the variety of song styles and art styles used throughout. Basically every scene has a primary song that drives it home, and basically all of them have a different genre/tone as well as visual presentation style. A lot of work went into getting it all to work together and feel cohesive. TBH for me personally the main highlight of the movie was honestly the animation. Average TV goers might just see "yup sure looks like a cartoon" but on the whole, on average, the movie is CLEARLY animated and framed with much more dynamism and detail than the majority of SU. Getting to see these characters we've gotten to know over the past few years a couple years in the future, generally at peace with things, but animated with more detail than ever, THAT is the true highlight of the film for me. Naturally, there was a lot of bits of comedy, often relying on knowledge of what the characters have been through, and I felt a lot of bittersweet smiles throughout as this felt like a good send off for Steven and his Space Moms. It managed to work in cameos from basically everyone you'd expect, some of which...didn't work out as well as others (specifically, the Diamonds bookending the movie was a bit forced and weird IMO but they ARE important to the lore even if I find them boring tbh) It was nice getting to 'catch up' with everyone, and the plot itself uses a generic 'gotta save the world again' thing (bleh) in a creative way, at least -- it all becomes an excuse to "re-live" the four primary heroes' stories through song. Cool enough. Something the movie inadvertently highlights, however, is the fact that SU as a series really started spinning its wheels a lot for its second half, in particular. Much has been said about how and why and why or not this doesn't matter, etc. etc. I was just along for the ride. I've repeatedly expressed my personal bias in the series' favor for a long time, and now? I kinda don't really have that personal bias anymore. I still love the show, I still think it's one of the best cartoons I've ever seen. But those rose-tinted glasses are off now. Taking said glasses off and actually listening to and looking up what critics of the show had to say kind of unearthed a bunch of things I had kept sweeping under the rug for the sake of personal bias/support of someone I loved and cared for a lot. We'll get back to that. I say all of this because the movie ironically failed to do much of anything NEW, something the series itself kind of struggled with for a while until it finally got around to the conclusion of Steven's story arc. The film ultimately kind of ends with "yeah Steven can change!" Which, um yea? Obviously. He's a completely different person than he was in S1. But he's kiiiiinda been the same person for....some while now. The weird irony of SU as a series is that about halfway through the narrative, the protag has essentially grown up, done. The last half or third or so of SU's narrative was basically Steven having to cheer everyone around him up and help them deal with their shit, and...kinda just going about that essentially the same way every time. The power of love, the friends we made along the way, etc. To be clear, there's nothing BAD about this, and in fact it's what sets Steven apart from most every other narrative of this type. The protag is almost always forced to change in ways they don't want, do things they don't want to do, etc. But when you put it side by side with something like Avatar or Gravity Falls, those series saw everyone growing alongside each other. There are clear arcs for everyone, almost all of which get resolved in ways fitting each character. It's imperfect but it's varied. SU has a tendency to just...hammer everyone's character flaws and arcs with ONE option: just love yourself and be nice, and everyyyyyyythinggggg 'll work out in the end! Which is fine, but when a story does it for so long, over and over, always the same, it gets a bit weird. I specifically LIKED in the film, at the end, that Steven actually does have to fight, because THAT is what Spinel needed to do. She needed to let out all of that anger, and that violence was her own way of doing it. 'you can't just sing a song to make everything go away' etc. It's typical, perhaps, for protagonists to have to tackle problems in different ways because that's LIFE. The fact is, Steven's approach will NOT save everyone. Lapis stilllll kinda stands as an example of this but an as of yet unresolved one. I liked that at the end of things, Spinel still doesn't come into the same fold as everyone else. Basically "sorry, I already fucked this up too much, I can't really deal with this," and that is IMPORTANT and I really liked it. Before really digging into the personal angle, I want to bring up how fascinating it is that the movie essentially had a real BUDGET and so they deliberately seemed to design an antagonist that would take full advantage of that animation budget. EASILY, by far, Spinel is the most interesting-to-watch antag in the whole series imo, in terms of how she moves and fights, etc. They really just wanted to flex and they did it, but like any SU antag there's (somewhat predictable) motives. This gets back at what I was saying before -- how the series spins its wheels a lot -- but Spinel's motivation/back story isssss kiiiinnndaaaa a lot like many many characters' issues and, like, I get it. We get it. Steven's Mom was Not The Best does that have to be the basis behind kinda EVERYONE who goes against Steven? Or the Gems? Lapis, Bismuth, and Peridot all offered more varied motivations, and even THEN, Bismuth was still essentially in the same boat? Anyway, I digress. I DO appreciate the way the series set up Rose as this wondrous lovely lady and has severely dissected and broken that down to the point where I really do not like Rose, in any of her ID's, as a character or a fictional person, and it did so gradually. A lot of what the movie did was kind of expected. Right? Songs, singing, check. Steven going about things the same way, check. Re-living/celebrating how far he and his moms have come, check. What I didn't expect was -- OK, well, there WAS that one fusion...which, um

But the actual thing that really latched onto me was how much I conncted with Spinel. As is the case with any story that has well presented characters, you can attach to SOME part of just about all of them. I associate most closely with Pearl overall but can relate with just about anyone prominent. I see parts of me and Jenny in Steven/Connie, in Ruby/Sapphire, in Peridot/Lapis. I see what kind of woman I might've become in Amethyst (and sometimes am). Spinel, though, is a really weird case because I see my adolescent self in her SO MUCH and yet fairly recent events in my life -- directly tied TO the show itself, mind you -- make that connection weirdly poignant and present. For some context, I used to be good friends with Aivi, one of the musicians who works on the series with their husband. Spring 2018, Aivi and I vocalized to each other that we considered one another one of the closest friends in each other's lives. We're no longer friends. To make sure this is clear, I think Aivi is a wonderful person, and our breaking apart wasn't violent or dramatic or anything, Aivi just...decided they weren't interested in the relationship anymore. And neglected to tell me this until like a year later. The context is of course not at ALL as severe or dramatic as Spinel/Pink, so please don't assume there's some one-to-one there. But OOF are there some harsh similarities and it really made Spinel's backstory sting in a very confusing way. I say 'confusing' because, as I mentioned, I see my adolescent self in Spinel. The way I was going about making friends matches her 'happy' self. The way I acted in my senior year of college matches her 'angry' self. There was no single person that created any of that, though. In high school, I was like Starfire, in college, I tried to nurture that, play to my strengths. I failed miserably. And what I feel is a big part of why is inherently tied to my transitioning (which is, still, something I feel I am failing miserably at). By the end of college I was more like Raven, and there I remained through the duration of my first long-term romance, into a very weird and atypical marriage and breakup, and then I moved to CA and started changing. Fittingly, my current self can't quite ID with any single Teen Titan. I'm not a teen anymore, after all. Throughout a lot of my friendship with Aivi, they really seemed to fixate on comparing me to Pearl. It sometimes made me uncomfortable the particular ways they did, though. I strongly identified with Pearl's flaws and strengths in personality (though we're obviously different people), and so seeing Pearl go through redemption via self-love and self-acceptance meant a lot to me. "It's Over, Isn't It?" I was IN THE ROOM listening to Aivi and their husband work on the chorus to that song. Obviously they couldn't talk about it but I knew damn well what it was about, and anticipated that piece for a long time. Now it's even more weirdly painful. I met Aivi because they made Mario arrangements they put on YouTube and they happened to live a few blocks away when I was subletting my first summer in CA. They seemed very kind and caring and eager to Be Nice and at the time I really needed that at a very vulnerable and fragile time in my life so I latched onto that. -In The Garden- The week when the LiS terfs freaked out on me and that Bad Spinel side of me lashed back, and I found myself suffering from being gaslit and facing the fact that the worst part of myself that Trigon in Raven's mind that Angry Spinel was still THERE was still ME It was too much For the first (and thankfully, only) time in my life, I experienced suicidal thoughts. And Aivi REACTED to that shit. Strongly. In a way no one ever had for me before, ever. They drove across the Bay to my house, picked me up, had me over, and helped me process it. And in the months to come, as I was healing and coming to terms with how That Worst Part of Me That I Wanted to BE RID OF was still THERE and apparently could just fucking show up, through all of that, Aivi helped me work through things, and we really bonded. In retrospect, though, it's SO damned hard for me to tell if Aivi and I became so close because of mutual respect or pity or just conditioned behavior to Be Nice and Keep Up Appearances. I dunno. What I know NOW is that apparently Cost More than I would've thought. I'm not Aivi so I don't want to really dig into 'dirt' (again, Aivi is a great person who works very hard and that's WHY their work is so good) but looking back, it's wild to see their progression into SUCCESS and fame while I just stood by, floundering The thing is, Aivi was a super busy person. We barely got to spend time together -- when we DID, it was a multi-hour affair and apart from like, Jenny, Aivi is prolly the person I've had the deepest, most vulnerable conversations with. They were next to me when I realized 'oh huh I'm maybe trans??' because they were there when I was at one of the lowest points in my life. I never ASKED them to be there, to Be So Nice and as it turns out, Being So Nice is harder than it looks. So to kind of loop this back to the movie, I wasn't some Skullgirls Peacock Cuphead grinny goof or anything like that but I AM WILLING to bet that from Aivi's POV the way Happy Spinel acts toward Steven is prolly how I felt in Aivi's life at points, at the least. The irony is that we would go weeks, months, barely interacting. But looking back, the way Aivi talked about things, the same phrase keeps dominating my mind: Aivi got bored of me. I wasn't 'useful' to them anymore. Aivi said that day in spring 2018 was like 'the climax' of our friendship, or something like that. Way they talked about it was like...the finale of a season of TV. Our character arc together was over. Even though we TALKED about it, came to mutual understandimng of The Logic behind Aivi's decision to cut ties, I don't think it ever REALLY made sense to me, how Aivi must've felt about our friendship, until Spinel. By spring of 2019, my role in Aivi's life -- from what they have told me, from what I can perceive -- was more like I existed in a separate space from the rest of their life. I was that one interesting person always waiting in The Garden for them to visit when they felt like it Because while Aivi had gotten BIG, gotten MARRIED, gotten a HOUSE, found legitimate SUCCESS in their creative field I was still poor still stuck in retail still unable to find an audience still unable to understand the pressures of Success And OOOOFFF in those last couple years, interacting became more and more strained for both of us, from opposite ends of things. Aivi had responsibilities, PEOPLE vying for their attention, people wanting to hire them, projects to complete, a house, a spouse, etc etc My life was (and kiiiinda still is?) nothing like that, and as our Mutual Creatives Struggling to MAKE THINGS and Get By transforming into Yep I Am Still Here but you are SUCCESSFUL I think that really put a lot of strain on things I never accepted until Spinel. After Aivi hit it big with SU, in particular, they gradually started...acting differently. Acting in ways that made less and less sense to me. They were a Diamond now. And I was still just what I was. When drawing comparisons to characters on the show, Aivi persistently compared me to Pearl. A fact I once took pride in. They repeatedly compared themself to Garnet. Which...always kind of didn't make sense to me. Aivi wasn't really like Garnet. They are more NOW, though? In the sense of how they act, I suppose. Specifically, one of the last things Aivi said to me was that trying to be friends with me had started feeling like Pearl trying to force Garnet to fuse with her. This was problematic because from my POV nothing of the sort was happening. All I was looking for was occasionally hanging out a few times a year. Like. Ya know. Actually a lot less than what I was looking for with basically all of my other friends. And that was still Too Much? But when I start looking at things like Pink Diamond and Spinel instead of Pearl and Garnet, somehow things make a lot more sense. I was probably too clingy, too exciteable, and what amusement or relief I could provide eventually stopped being useful. Aivi eventually didn't even want to spend time with friends to just...spend time with them. Everything had to have some kind of practical Purpose to it, it had to be contributing to a Goal. I still don't get that, tbh. But I'm also not A Diamond. I'm not Successful. The most responsibility I have right now is fucking hanging up the laundry to dry. I have college loans that have and continue to feel pointless to try and repay. I have severe dental problems I haven't been able to fix. My body fell out of shape because of retail hell, and what energy I’ve had to spare from that always ends up going into the people I love, and trying to keep Making Things. Let's not forget The Complications of coming out and wanting to transition but not possessing the resources to do so. (Aivi was actually super supportive of this btw and was the first person to make me feel comfortable wearing feminine things so yea) Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that MY LIFE is not together. My personality is? I feel like I am finally Myself in terms of mental/emotional stability. And that is largely because Jenny helped me get there. But Aivi helped a lot with that, too. But I think Aivi got to a point where Success was more of a measure of how Grown Up and Healthy one was because despite my behavior, my personality, my mood, what I was asking for, and what I was giving, all changing DRASTICALLY after being with Jenny, I think Aivi still...looked at me the way Pink Diamond looked at Spinel during that song. Like, "yeeeaaaa ok kiddo it's time for me to go now, kinda done here" This is what's so confusing about all of this metaphor/etc. I'm not...like Spinel anymore? My current, post-coming-out self doesn't really relate with Happy OR Angry Spinel. It's almost like Aivi couldn't see me for who I became, and could only see me for who I had been. And maybe that's like why Spinel can't be friends with Steven at the end. It's too painful. I used to take pride in being associated with Pearl because "I'm enough" and "being strong in the REAL way" but now it's more like "oh you just think I'm still hung up and needy and clingy?" which uh don't feel so great a comparison. I can't help but wonder if while working on the movie, Aivi saw some of themself in Pink. Because I'm not the only person who apparently wasn't 'useful' to them anymore. And I'm not saying we should've kept forcing something that wasn't working. Not at all. What we had was good for both us, but it also entailed a lot of patience on my part and effort on theirs. And unlike any of my other long term friends, I often ended up waiting weeks, months, "Happily wondering night after night, Is this how it works? Am I doing it right?"

Years and years of broken friendships, one after the other, most lasting merely 6 months, MAYBE a year at most, with a handful that have lasted since middle school (but which are so much harder to maintain) took a toll on my Adult Self until Jenny, anyway. For quite a long time - the majority of my life, currently - I assumed I just was Too Different and that was why my friendships didn't seem to last, didn't seem to extend to the depths I was looking for. That's perhaps one critical difference between Spinel and I: she's looking for FUN, for smiling faces, for attention, for creating smiles, I just want some fucking consistency. At this point, I'm not even sure WHY I still reach out to people. I don't NEED friendships in that desperate way I used to, back in the Happy/Angry Spinel times. And I've come to terms with that Other Max part of myself and integrated it, accepted it. My worst parts are still me and instead of suppressing them (often by relying on bids of deep friendship with others) I just have to let them EXIST and let them do their thing once in a while. This is ALL why Celeste hit me as hard as it did. Because even if I'm not actually much like Spinel anymore, and Aivi's not really like Pink Diamond, even if I don't actually share much in common with Madeline (other than the subtle 'I drink sometimes to deal with my problems' thing, which I don't anymore) I still comprehend and resonate so much with that concept of just needing to accept the worst parts of yourself and work with them rather than trying to keep them caged up and then they escape and rampage every 5-10 years or so and ruin your life As I felt myself coming to all of these Good Feelings I FINALLY felt like I could help Aivi in the ways they had helped me. That I finally had something to offer I didn't before. Turns out, I didn't, apparently. Aivi had More Important Things to do than visit me in The Garden. And I couldn't blame them. Not a bit. Especially if they had gotten bored of visiting me. I didn't like feeling like a burden on them, either. Can't really argue with that. During the last time we talked, Aivi didn't use the WORDS, didn't literally say them, but I finally could see it: I wasn't Useful anymore. I couldn't Understand, either, because I wasn't Successful. Our friendship was rewarding, but because it required effort. And that effort was still worth it to me, but no longer to them. I was no longer worth it. And despite that, despite starting to feel those hunches, I spent those final months -- as had been the case before, they were afraid to hurt me so avoided actually confronting the problem -- I remained "Happy to listen, Happy to stay Happily watching her drift away" I have no idea if any aspect of our friendship impacted anything Aivi had worked on creatively. TBH Aivi seemed to approach even relationships themselves with more of a logical, pragmatic style -- it was entirely unique compared to anyone I had ever connected with. But if you've read @lis-allwounds then it might not surprise you to know that a lot of what I expressed through Stella and Max, as well as Other Max and Another Stella, channels a lot of these things. I even quoted Aivi directly in the story's end (perhaps foolishly optimistic) And yes, that epilogue moment of sorts is gonna be entirely different if I ever do finish the visual novel. The fact is that we were ALWAYS very different people and our friendship was weird and complicated and hard for one or both of us throughout its, what, 8 year duration? Ironically, I think I took away the opposite 'Character Arc Lesson' they did from all this. But that's just the thing, nothing is permanent for a Human Being. We aren't Gems, we don't actually fuse, we can't just change our appearances when we feel like it, or project ourselves to look how we want to look, or exist for thousands of years. But we DO all have different needs, different ways of understanding those needs, and different ways of needing to adjust or change ourselves or our environments in order to pursue what we want to pursue with the limited time we have here. We tried, hard, and it lasted long enough. If I'm not useful, I'm not useful, I guess? I don't have any ill will toward Aivi, I loved them as a friend and I know they loved me, too, and were better at showing it than most any friends I ever have had. If I'd been better at reciprocating in ways that were actually useful, that would've been good -- but then maybe we wouldn't have become friends in the first place if I hadn't needed 'saving' in the first place, I don't fuckin' know. And I hope my saying all of these things doesn't make anyone think any less of Aivi because your relationship with them is, very likely, not at all personal like mine is. And you know as well as I do how good they are at what they do. Aivi took the time to ease me out of things. Aivi did NOT suddenly up and vanish for thousands of years. While the dynamics of the situation might bare sharp points of similarity, Aivi is not like Pink Diamond and I'm not like Spinel -- not in the present, anyway. Stories help us because they share THREADS with reality but it's always important to recognize those threads for what they are and not confuse them for ropes. And me ranting and tossing all of this out there is something part of me has wanted to do for months but needed to take the time to grieve and process and accept. And maybe it's selfish to be posting all of this, I don't know. But it helps me accept myself and them a lot more. "Finally something finally news about how the story ends" Aivi likely has brand new friends, better ones than me, and I'm willing to bet some of them worked on this movie. And it turned out pretty good, all things considered, probably in part because Aivi was able to focus on it That person I became friends with, she doesn't exist anymore. Just like how who I used to be when Aivi first me, he doesn't exist anymore, either. We both changed, and grew in opposite directions, I guess. We've found happiness and growth and relief in different ways. In the end the Movie helped me come to terms with all of this in a way Angry Spinel younger me couldn't have still hurts yo

"Isn't that lovely?

Isn't that cool?

Isn't that cruel?

And aren't I a fool

to have happily listened,

happy to stay,

happily watching her drift away"

#Steven Universe The Movie #Spinel #Personal #SU #SU Spinel

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

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A/N: I’m currently in the phase where novelty has worn off but things haven’t got super exciting yet (same thing happened with all of my other series), so I really apologise if this isn’t great. I just wanted to get something out even if it wasn’t as long as my chapters normally are. This one is 1.8k.

LOST IN TRANSLATION ↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER FOUR ↳You have your first English class and enjoy a welcome lunch with (almost) all of the teachers.

You lean over to the small boy sitting on the carpet next to you. “Hi there,” you whisper in slow but cheerful English, “my name is Y/n. What is your name?”

The little boy blinked comically, chubby cheeks adorned with two bright red patches from being put on the spot. “My name…is…Min-jae! Nice to mee chu!”

You beam at him and return the sentiment. The two of you were near the back of the classroom, directly across from Namjoon in a closely packed circle of cross-legged kids. You had just finished up roll call, and a pop quiz on what they had covered in their previous lesson, and now Namjoon was passing around little whiteboards with markers attached. It was a different class from yesterday, these kids a bit younger but just as enthusiastic.

After leaving the staffroom, you had immediately regretted turning down the offer of an escort and had ended up slipping into the English room at the last second, with no time to chat to Namjoon before they got started.

“Okay, class,” the teacher announced loudly, cutting through the excited chatter, “today we are learning some new words. We are going to learn how to talk about the weather! Does anyone know any English words about the weather?” The students look around the room curiously, none raising their hands. “Nobody?”

You wait for him to continue, but instead of moving on, he’s gasping, hands to his cheeks like a movie cover, staring straight at you. You give him a confused smile.

“Oh no, students! Y/n doesn’t know any English words about the weather!” The class dissolves into raucous laughter as you put on a glare, trying to stop your lips from curling up. “Y/n, do you never talk about the weather?”

“Yes, I talk about the weather!”

Namjoon’s eyes twinkle behind his silver wire glasses. “Y/n, how is the weather today?”

You take a look out the window. “Today is cold, brr, and it is raining.”

He lets out a laugh at your charade of rubbing your arms up and down. “Exactly! Class, did you understand that?” There was an unpromising proportion of head shakes to nods. Namjoon chuckles and cracks open a blue marker, beginning to write on the whiteboard. “Y/n said two things: it is cold, and it is raining. Cold, cold and raining, raining. Now, in Korean, we…”

You let yourself tune out a little to the explanation, choosing instead to look him over as he passionately explained the intricacies of verbs and adjectives to the bewildered students. You had noticed how he attempted to hunch over a little to make himself seem smaller among the tiny bodies of the children, although his gangly legs stuck out almost halfway into the little circle you were all sitting in.

His dress shirt was a little rumpled and you could see the finger smudges on his glasses from ten feet away, but he still came across as completely put-together and in control. He kept this encouraging smile on constantly as he both spoke and listened to the spiels of the students, and it looked like his skin was practically glowing in the lights of the classroom. You quietly seethed over the fact that your English teacher growing up was a stuck-up lady who was so behind in technology that she requested you fax your essays to her. If you had been taught by a man like Namjoon when you were in high school, you probably would’ve fallen in love on the spot.

What were you kidding; you could probably easily fall in love with him now. As if sensing your thoughts were on him, he glanced over to you and gave you a soft smile. You blushed and looked away quickly, busying yourself by picking at the fibers of the carpet.

“Now we’re going to play a game, everyone,” Namjoon broke off at the enthusiastic cheers, and you couldn’t help but laugh yourself. It seemed the only thing these kids did were games. “Get into groups of three or four and find yourself a spot in the room.”

Your heart grew three sizes when you were immediately flooded by more than five kids, the two on either side of you, Min-jae and a little girl you couldn’t remember the name of, latching onto your arms tightly. You look up at Namjoon, unsure what to do and a little startled.

Namjoon laughs. “Y/n will be with us for a whooole year, guys, so you don’t need to worry. Some of you can form your own group, okay?”

Four students reluctantly pulled away to bunch up together, and you were left with the two beside you, and another little boy who looked scruffy and mischievous. He proudly introduced himself as Ken, and the girl next to you whispered her name shyly, Jisoo.

The game was simple; shout out a word in English relating to weather and you all had to act it out. Groups that did the wrong action were out. However, you (and you suspect Namjoon as well) weren’t prepared for how earnestly the groups would fight for their place in the game. Elaborate backstories would be formed on why fanning your face actually meant it was cold (“because when it’s cold outside, Teacher puts on the heater and then it gets so hot inside!”) or why cowering from the sky wasn’t for rain, it was for sun (“I was being a vampire!”). Namjoon seemed to be an extremely softhearted teacher, and he would keep giving them second and third and fourth chances until the bell rung and you still hadn’t found a winner.

The kids scattered before Namjoon could assign homework, and you walked up to his desk as he sighed and tipped his head back.

“Good class today,” you quipped, “I certainly learnt a lot.”

You averted your gaze from the arched column of his neck as he swallowed before speaking. “I hoped you were a very strict teacher so that we would get some work done for once. But no.”

You laughed a little, stretching out your legs from being sat down on the floor for so long. “Do we have another class?”

Namjoon shook his head. “It’s, uh, break time. The kids eat lunch now.”

“Oh, okay. What do we do?”

He stood up, holding out a large palm. “We eat too. Let’s go.”

Instead of being led back to the staffroom, as it turned out, breaktime was spent with the staff gathering at a picnic table on the corner of the field, looking over the students as some brave ones decided to play in the rain.

No matter the weather, at least one staff member had to be watching over the kids outside during breaks, and, as Art Kim was explaining to you, they decided a few years ago that it was nicer for them to all be together outside rather than fighting over who had to eat alone.

“That is very cute,” you comment, “very nice.”

He smiles softly, grabbing some more meat from the middle and placing it on your still half-full plate before picking out some for himself. “We’ve become a little family here. It’s been the same staff since…” he trailed off, eyes distant, and you followed his gaze to see Jimin with a tense jaw and dark eyes, the first time you had seen him like that since meeting him. “Since a few years ago,” Art Kim finished awkwardly. He brightened up and jostled your shoulder lightly. “That’s why we’re all so excited for you to be here. It’s about time we had a new face in the school.”

Your eyes glaze over a little as you begin to devour small cuts of the beef you had been given. “Is it, um, you, sorry…” You try and do the grammar in your head as he waits patiently. “Is this food what you eat every day?”

He glances at the impressive layout of dishes on the uneven wooden beams of the picnic table. “Oh, no! This is a special welcome lunch for you. We all pitched in and got some traditional Korean food for you to try.”

You look around the table properly for the first time, seeing the kind faces of all the staff that had welcomed you with open arms. “Thank you so much! I’m very grateful.” But as you look them over, you notice one missing. “Uh, where is Teacher Min?”

Teacher Jung immediately bursts into boisterous laughter. The principal reaches out and whacks him on the forehead before turning to you. “He’s gone to get his lunch. Any moment now, he’ll come out and start accusing someone of stealing it.”

The science teacher rolls his eyes and stretches back in his chair. “Hobi’s been stealing Yoongi’s lunch and he thinks none of us know it’s him.”

The teacher in question gasps in offense. “Hey! Who told you?” He shoots you a quick glare before Jimin buts in.

“Ah, hyung,” he chastises, “you’re a terrible liar. All of us except Yoongi know.”

He frowns, crossing his arms over. “You haven’t told him?”

Jeon answers with an easy shrug. “It’s a lot of fun watching Yoongi grow more paranoid. We’ve got a bet on how long it takes him to find out.”

The principal splutters. “You what? Why wasn’t I invited into the bet?”

You feel like you’re watching a tennis match, head swiveling back and forth, mouth slightly open as you focus on each line.

It’s the art teacher that responds to him in a calm baritone. “You can place a bet now if you want. Me and Namjoon have already lost, we thought he’d figure it out within a week. Jungkook says by this Thursday, and Jimin says he won’t realize until someone tells him. What do you think?”

Principal Kim taps his chopsticks against his plate in thought. “What’s the prize?”

“The winner gives all of their homework to one teacher of their choice, who has to grade it. Excluding Yoongi, because he’s suffered enough.” You let out a little laugh at Jeon’s matter-of-fact explanation.

Principal Kim sighs out dramatically. “I don’t have any homework to give away! There’s no point in me taking part. I’ve already got enough on the line if Hoseok wins.”

Jimin looks at a spot in the distance behind you and his eyes fly wide open. “Can I change my bet?” he asks hurriedly. “I think he’s going to figure out right…about…now.”

The yell is so ferocious the students outside freeze in their tracks, and the PE teacher pales, face falling slack.

“Hoseooooooooook!”

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