#I hope the recipient enjoys :D!!!
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A Wolf and A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)
Chapter 2: Will the Chaperone Approve?
A/N: WHO'S READY FOR C2?! I hope you guys enjoy this :D
Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster
Synopsis: Being a noble meant that marriage was a chess game, not an affair of love. Unfortunately for the pristine Balthazar family of Fontaine, Y/N has long been enamored with love and sought it out before their priorities. After her grey, boring time of courtesy, she meets Duke Wriothesley, who makes her yearn for the first time in her life, and it's the same for him. Threatened by the idea of losing this first, it seems they'll stop at very little to be together...
Warnings: Controlling/abusive parents, discrimination (towards Wrio), sexism, reader has a breakdown, yandere themes.
Your parents loved the idea of you taking a vacation not to rest, but because 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'. They were clearly referring to the nobles, who would only pine more if you were unavailable for a while.
Last night, you all returned from Belleau, warmly welcomed by the main manor's staff. Your favorite among them was your governess, Agatha; Though she generally listened to your parents' instructions, she occasionally broke some rules for you. That night, she waited until everyone else was asleep to bring you some cake, in exchange for you telling her about the nobles.
"And what about Duke Arya? I know you looooove braggarts!
"No way! All he does is talk about himself like he's Focalors!".
And you'd both laugh. You loved how Agatha has evolved to be a mother figure to you. It was unfortunate when she had to go and let you sleep, but oh well.
You knew this time would come; It was the morning, and you saw a servant bring tea to the room where your parents read the declarations of courting that were received over the vacation.
"Pierre, please call my daughter here. We must discuss something of the utmost importance.".
The servant would nod, your status as a young maiden really hammering home the point. You walked in, a little unnerved by the warm smile your parents sported, but better that than scowling.
Your mother was the first to talk: "Ah, good morning Y/N. You look as beautiful as you ever did.".
Your father, always thinking ahead, had to add on: "Indeed, so beautiful to make half the Court's dukes turn their heads!".
He let out a loud, victorious laugh. Maybe it would take you a while to get used to this pride for you. You sat down, looking over the small stack of papers. It was truly fascinating, in a weird sense: All these crests and emblems, clearly signaling many different gentlemen... And they all shared the same recipient sitting right in front of them.
"So as per custom, your mother and I have looked over most of them. We've already scrapped the ones from barons, since you can clearly marry up with your amount of choice!".
Was there choice? While it was true that you had a smidge of a say, it was just that. Furthermore, that smidge had to be based on standing, finances and the criteria deemed 'important' for your marriage. Love was not on the list. Maybe a word tossed around or an act indulged in, but nowhere near the other criteria.
How would they react if you told them who you truly wanted to marry? How would they like their daughter throwing away business owners, legacy holders and other 'fancier' nobles for the one who dealt with the backdoor business of Fontaine? No matter, you decided to use that 'smidge' to the best of your ability.
"I'm glad to see I can marry up.".
"Yes, yes. Now look here, my dear. Your mother likes Count Evermore, since he seemed sweet with you...".
And off your parents went off, comparing this Lord and that important person to the other. There was whose business would last longer, which last name had more history, which was cleaner... After the third new name, your mind fazed out to Wriothesley. You wanted to be courted by Wriothesley. You wanted to say yes to Wriothesley. Screw the Evermores, Archadelles, Demauris... Being a queen itself did not compare to being his Duchess of Meropide.
"There are still a couple of unread letters, though...".
"Eh, I don't know. My heart's already set on Archandelle or Evermore... But we'll see these too. There's Dukes and Viscounts, which is good...".
It was as if timing synced up. Your mother grabbed an envelope featuring a wolf crest. No, the wolf he wears right under his shoulder.
It seemed relatively short, but the text must be good. Your mother looked pleased for a minute.
"Oh, my! Gentlemen who are this sentimental about their potential wives are quite rare! Oh...".
When she got to the sender's signature, the dreamlike effect waned off of her. It was as if she was hoping someone else had sent this one. Your father took one look at the crest and understood it all. Nevertheless, he still read it. For now, playing a little dumb (as any good girl should be, in their opinion) sounded like the best option to prod.
"Who is that, father?".
He took a deep breath and looked at it as he answered: "Duke Wriothesley of Meropide. (he chortled) I wonder if he took writing classes while we were away?".
You didn't know how to feel anymore. At first, your despair was replaced by the sheer joy his name brought you. Yes, that was the one you loved best! And you saw some of his past written inquiries, he was always well-spoken and eloquent. Why was your father insinuating that the opposite was normal? You wanted to see it and compare it to what he wrote to your grandfather.
"By the way, Y/N, there's something we must ask you. During our last party, you were seen chatting in a rather... Animated fashion with him. What were you talking about?".
Crap. You should have expected gossip to fly around and narrow your parents' eyes at you. You went with the safe answer: "Mostly books and music. He likes going to the opera whenever he can.".
"But we don't see him often, so I'm presuming he's not always free, is he dear? I was frankly shocked that he even came to the party.".
You knew they'd be nitpicky about even nobles who fit their bill, let alone someone considered 'atypical'. But did anyone see you two leaving? Heart thumping in fear, you prayed to Focalors that they just heard of you two talking and nothing else.
"I mean... Mother, father, while he may not be the most typical Duke, he's still an important component in Fontaine's justice and security. Haven't you noticed crime rates have plummeted ever since he took over? Just like Count Evermore, he holds justice close to his heart.".
Your mother nodded, seeing your point of view, before turning to your father: "I prefer other gentlemen, but she's not entirely wrong. We want her to be with someone who exemplifies Fontaine's core values, just as she embodies them.".
"Yes, yes. We might take that into consideration, but listen to me, Y/N...".
You were so sick of these lectures, but it seemed like your point might hold weight. Grin and bear it. Grin and bear it for him.
"We'll want to consider as many as we can, then narrow down the choice, which will happen after the next event. However, we've raised you to know the best options. You know there are many, many better options laid out to you right now. Unless something happens and they fall from grace, for example, keep the bulk of your attention on the Dukes we have discussed most.".
"...Yes, Father.".
He called out to his wife: "Aren't I right? Isn't what I'm saying the core of successful marriage?".
"Yes, yes, my dear. Though she'll entertain many conversations, she'll focus on our best options. And I must say, it's entertaining how we didn't have to do that much narrowing down, since she's got choice.".
He smiled fondly at you: "Indeed. I know we've raised a fine, young lady. Only at her social debut and she's already brought us so much praise.".
For years, you had yearned for this moment; Your parents smiling like the ones in the fairy tales, kindly praising you and reminding you that they loved you. Had you had this recognition a couple of years ago, you'd readily accept whatever husband they threw at you. But at this stage, it was too little, too late. Your heart has already been captured by Wriothesley, your thoughts invaded by him and no amount of love (Which, conveniently, only arrived after their 'investment' paid off) could change that. You focused on the bright side of seeing him again, and the chance he'll get of putting a good impression to your parents. A Duke was well-versed in that, especially if he liked the lady in question.
The servant knocked: "Forgive me for disturbing this important discussion, but young Lady Y/N's tutor has arrived and inquired as to whether she has lessons for today or not.".
"Oh heavens no! You should get going, my dear. Skipping lessons would be the last thing you need!".
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"That sounds like quite a feat of courage on your part, Duke Archandelle!".
"Indeed, Baron Balthazar. But it might not be courage so much as enjoying the hunting season.".
You did not like this arrangement; Your parents and yourself were with Duke Archandelle, the two men chatting away. Within its course, your father seemed happier and happier, which was bad for you. He's looking for any Duke to pick over Wriothesley, and if Archandelle is 'too good' per say, you know who you're getting paired off with and it's not the one you makes you swoon, laugh, or question the deeper nuances of life. Not the one you love.
"You remind me a bit of myself in my younger years. It's a rite of passage to go after the largest deer your group can find.".
"And the night that followed was equally as thrilling. (he gave you a slight glance) We watched a gorgeous ballet number at the Opera. The Lady of Cooler Waters, I believe.".
The mention made your parents more excited. Here was a kind, courteous gentleman who helped you watch your step, who enjoyed the hunting season and the arts in the same day. Manly, but not brutish. Basically, a perfectly adjusted and balanced gentleman.
A knockoff version of my Wriothesley. How thrilling.
Speak of the devil, tufts of black and silver hair appeared in the sea of blondes. They were twisting around, as if their head was turning around a lot to look for something. In the end, it was someone, and there he was, looking so broodingly handsome and making every other man in the room look average at best. His blue eyes scanned the room, and once they landed on you, it was over for the both of you.
You wanted to swim in those cold eyes until you got hypothermia. You wanted to be thrown into their cool pond and feel the temperature restart your system. But what a paradox took place; Once he found you, your heart felt ready to explode on the spot, and your temperature was rising rather quickly. The once-light dress now felt stuffy. If you fainted, how would you explain this to your parents? You saw his own pupils dilate and his stoic expression break out into an enchanted smile that meant a million more than your parents' or that stupid Archandelle's.
He's here. He looks so handsome. His smile is so cute and gorgeous. Why can't he just come in and join our conversation? Stupid high society social codes!
You could tell that he was trying to get close, already in conversation with a few others nearby. Though they were trying to focus on what he was saying, they were gazing - either in surprise or in prejudice - at his wolf ears.
So rude! So ignorant and incapable of realizing that he's far more handsome that he ever will be!
Once Archandelle left to catch up with a friend (not before obnoxiously letting you know that he wants to talk to you again), a bit of freeway opened up for Wriothesley. Ever the go-getter, you didn't doubt that he'd take it.
"Ah, Baron Balthazar, you picked quite the lovely night to plan this.".
Your father smiled, although it looked rather forced. You bet he wouldn't look like that if it was any other noble: "Duke Wriothesley! What a pleasant surprise, we were worried that you might not make it!".
"Oh? Well, I've always had a penchant for surprising people. How do you do, Madame Balthazar?".
Your mother exchanged pleasantries in the same tense way your father did, her eyes narrowing down on his ears. No wonder he was so happy when you expressed appreciation for lycanthrope culture; Everyone else was being such a jerk about it, and you wondered how he lived side by side with it. Maye you can ask that later.
Though he talked to your parents, you couldn't avoid his gaze. He didn't like a lot of the people here, them included (not that you could blame him). He didn't come here for them, but for you. Enough with the pleasantries, he decided.
"I think by now, you know of my feelings regarding the beautiful young Lady Balthazar. And so, I couldn't let myself show up without a present for her.".
He handed you a small, silver box; Sleek, minimalistic but with a beauty that didn't need the other nobles' gaudiness to shine. You opened it to find a silver bracelet (how did he guess your wrist size, anyway?!) adorned with the same wolf emblem he wore.
Deep breaths! Deep breaths! Don't faint or blush, act normal!
After one, you finally got to talk: "Oh, Your Grace! I-I... Forgive me for my lack of speech, it's splendid!".
Your original plan was to not be too excited by him, but could you really help it? A few other nobles got you presents, too, but you had to question your class' taste in what a lady would like. This was just perfect. If it weren't for your parents, you'd wear it right now, but you had to control yourself.
Your father coughed: "Hem! Er- Thank you for the thoughtful gift, though one would deem it a bit too confident to have their crest on it... Say, how are things at the Fortress?".
He had the urge to punch this annoying old man. Here you were, happy and frickin adorable over wearing his crest, already so eager to demonstrate who you belong to, then here comes the Baron to shut this moment down.
"Pretty stable for now. We aren't receiving many new inmates. Perhaps people are losing interest in crime, in which case, that's a victory for Fontaine.".
"Mhm. Yes, indeed. We have much to thank you for, especially your service. I can imagine it's a hard job.".
He chuckled a little, stealing whatever gaze he could at you (man, he felt like he was reverting to his young thief self): "Not necessarily. Most people behave, and you learn quite a bit. I'm still rather young for a Duke, but ever since I started, I've become much better at protecting what matters to me.".
As he talked, it was more obvious that by 'what matters', that included you. Now the image was stuck in your head: You, in danger for whatever reason, and him dashing in to save you and proclaim that you're his drive, his love, what matters to him the most. This sounded like your fairytale prince. Did anyone in your manor think that way of you? Did you even matter to the other nobles beyond potential unions with a historic and important name?
"I'll cut to the chase, Your Grace, since my daughter is the biggest reason behind the last two events. Say you two married; Would she always be what matters to you? Do keep in mind that that's a heavy proclamation.".
The beautiful thing about Wriothesley was that he was ready for such questions. Most nobles hired a conversation coach to 'deal with the maiden's father' so they could speak well in front of him, thus swaying his opinion in their favor. Wriothesley was genuine. Earnest. He only needed himself to back up his claims.
"I said it, and it will always apply. If you know me well, you'll notice, dear Baron, that I'm a man who finds principles that work and sticks to them. The same applies to deciding my priorities, even if other people may not see what I see.".
"What do you mean by that?".
"I myself was always interested in being married, but you know how the start of a career is; So hectic, you can barely think of anything else. I could see where the rumor of me losing interest in companionship came from. Now that I'm more established on several aspects, I can focus on my own personal goals, including being a good husband."
"Yes, indeed. It does take a gentleman a while before he gets married. And considering your important position, I can presume my daughter will be taken care of?".
Perhaps you should look into a Kamera, to always have a picture of that sweet smile: "Without a flicker of a doubt. And I know courtship should take a while. Please take all the time you need to decide. Should you want to know anything that you think might impact the process, please let me know.".
You wanted to declare victory; He could stand against Duke Archandelle and (at least) make the choice harder for your father.
"Do forgive me suspicion, dear Duke, but does what matters to you extend to... you know... People who aren't, of your ilk?".
Oh no. Oh no, no, no please...
As he said 'of your ilk', he pointed at his own head, referring to Wriothesley's wolf ears. You could feel your love tense up, but keep his cool for another reason besides you; Hybrids were held to such an unfair standard. One trace of annoyance or anger from them and everyone would talk about how 'they're too dangerous to live in human society!'.
"Pardon, my ilk? We're all noble Fontainians here.".
"Oh, I can tell you only come with chivalry and good intentions. But I must point out that even if I'm just a Baron, 'Balthazar' is among Fontaine's oldest and most noble names. People look up to us even more than the average noble family, including our unions and bonds. So marriage has always been a very tricky thing for us, even with close humans.".
Both of you tensed up, and you had to fight back tears. While there was still a chance, technically, you father was alluding to rejecting this pairing, possibly in favor of another Duke.
This is unfair. This is so unfair, and you never wished to not be a noble until tonight. No, you wished you had no parents, that way you could control your fate a bit more, even if people gave you the side eye. Even by noble standards, he was husband material! You wouldn't have to move a finger as his wife. You'd be touted as important, as 'a lady of justice' since that's what your husband is involved in. But no, your parents just have to shut their eyes and ears and call all the shots in relation to you-
Oh, Focalors, what did I do so wrong for you to let me be born as their daughter? Wouldn't it be better if I were just his prisoner? Even now, a prisoner is more his than me!
BOOM!
A loud sound resonated from one of the gardens. The music's abrupt stop further panicked many people, some leaving the ballroom to see what's going on, others peering over the balconies. Your parents belonged to the first camp. A hand immediately grabbed yours; It was Wriothesley's.
"Quick, we're on limited time!".
You both made a dash for a spare room nearby. He closed the door and finally caught his breath. Before you could ask what he was doing, he lunged to embrace you in his arms, the sheer strength making you gasp.
"Okay, listen. I need to tell you two things, okay? They're very important...".
He stopped to pant again.
"Wriothesley, what's going on?".
"A friend of mine made a diversion to buy us time. I can't say these things in front of your parents.".
You nodded.
"First of all, starting tonight and per usual courtship processes, your parents might be spying on what mail you get, so our communication will be halted if they find out... If they find out what we say to each other. But I have a way to keep it up. Can you stay up for a bit to see it, maybe around 12 or 1 AM?".
"Certainly, certainly! If it helps us keep talking, I will!".
Even with the stress rushing through him, your eagerness brought on a multitude of emotions. Gosh, you were so cute. It wasn't enough for you to be so adorable early on, and his own personal type, was it? Your reaction made it clear that he wasn't the only one feeling this way. He was glad that the first plan would work out.
"Thank you. It's vital if we wish to be together. It doesn't sound like I can hold up to the competition your Father has for me-".
The allusion to him not being enough was the last straw for tonight.
"Don't say that, don't say that again! He doesn't know anything about what makes a good man, alright? He demonstrated that enough tonight! You're worth a million more of these stupid other men, okay?!".
He knew ladies were capable of being angry, but something about seeing it in real life, for the first time, was astounding. And yet deep down, he saw the outburst coming. Between your shaking hands and teary eyes, and how much you had to hide them from your father... His heart broke a little at seeing the love of his life so anguished, her tears dripping down quicker than she could wipe them.
"It's so obvious he doesn't care! He'll gladly excuse poor table manners or slimy behavior in general, but when someone just happens to be a bit different, that's when he says 'no sale' and shuts me up! 'We care about good repute and you', my foot! It's all about his name and what he wants... Why does my say not matter? Why?".
You didn't want Wriothesley to see you in this state so early, but after tonight's tension, you just couldn't. You were so sick of living with your shots being called for you. For so long, life was horribly dull, depressing through the lens of a growing child. When you finally found someone who washed away that grey and exposed you to the color of life, you were told you were forbidden from having it ever again. You had to follow the life script your parents wrote, your happiness be damned.
Your sobs racketed up and down, before quieting when you felt his weight on you; Slowly, warmly and lovingly.
"Star of my life... I'm so sorry for how tonight went. Believe me, I wanted to punch him. I hate how rigid this social code is, even more on you...".
You just realized that this was the first time he touched you beyond holding your hand. When you were young, you imagined your favorite chimney in the house to be the warmest place in the world. Oh how wrong you were, but to be fair, you couldn't have known before he took you in his arms; A fortress and a hearth all at once.
"I'm so sorry... You know, I was about to tell you the second thing, which I believe may help you...".
"What is the second thing?".
He slightly detached himself, though still holding you, to look deep into your eyes and silently swear upon those beautiful orbs: "By the name of Focalors and my own as the Duke of Meropide, you will be mine. We will end up together and you'll forget the names of the other men. Yes, we'll face some hiccups along the way. But in the end, all your other suitors will fall, one way or another. And once that happens, we'll be looming over them, with you in my arms for the rest of our lives.".
"Wriothesley... Forever?".
"Yes. We'll never have to face a dull day again. Forever. Forever, until Fontaine keels over and becomes dust.".
Your breath slowed down. He sounded so serious, and you wanted to believe in it. This man's caliber was an exceptional one, and something told you that once he made a promise, he kept it until he withered.
He leaned in a little and so did you. Your time was probably out, but you'll be damned if you can't enjoy it. You were closer, and closer, taking in his scent of cedar and myrrh until...
"That explosion was scary!"
"Shows you that commoners have no concept of watching over their kids.".
The nobles were slowly filing back into the ballroom. Wriothesley let out a quiet 'Goddamnit!", before looking through the door. Once the camp was clear, you left earlier, armed with the lie he gave you: "Oh, I lost my parents and I was so scared!". Perfect for a fragile, innocent maiden. The party went on, and you started questioning what the new way of communication would look like. The 'spying' aspect brought a bit of amusement to your mood, which you needed.
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12:49 AM
Wriothesley ended up being right about your parents controlling your mail. One letter from a male classmate ended up opened and half-torn on fear that he was a rival suitor, before they read the hasty message asking you about a homework assignment. You presumed he's seen many courting processes (perhaps wondering when did he get to be the groom?) and understood their workings well.
The letter you were writing was almost complete. You felt a little clearer in the head after venting out on paper, albeit still very sad. Your father really, really wanted to pair you with Duke Archandelle. But Wriothesley was so determined, even risking his friend - and himself, should they snitch him out - to tell you to not lose hope. For now, all you could do is wait for the 'new method of communication'.
In the meantime, you tried to play a little guessing game to keep your mind off of everything, but to no avail. You also wore the wolf bracelet, its sheen reminding you of his piercing eyes and silver tufts. Your thought of train was about to restart until you heard a small bark.
"Huh?".
Save for the security Dobermanns you often have, dogs were not allowed in the manor. Were you perhaps just thinking about your own dog-like lover too much?
"Arf!"
This one was much louder, and on the left side of the table. The source of the barks was an adorable husky puppy, smiling and approaching you. He wore a collar with the Duke's crest on it, and a sort of paper backpack which you presumed had Wriothesley's message for you.
"Awwwww, you're so cute!!".
You weren't often exposed to dogs, but nevertheless you took it in your arms to pet it. His color scheme reminded you so much of Wriothesley, you wondered whether it could be him in his animal form. The collar was double-sided: The back had 'Frosty' written on it in clumsy handwriting that you knew wasn't the Duke's.
"Frosty? Were you sent by Duke Wriothesley of Meropide?".
He barked again, as if confirming your questions. You took out the 'backpack' to find an actual letter, a whistle wrapped up in another note which read:
ABOUT FROSTY
Y/N, excuse my handwriting and format, I'm writing this in a hurry. Before you ask, Sigewinne named the pup. She wanted to name him 'Wriothesley The Second', originally, then settled with 'Frosty' since that was the closest compromise we found. I rescued him from drowning two weeks ago and planned to hand him over to a reputable shelter, until I noticed his smarts. He's delivered my mail efficiently, even if it was his first time going to a new place. He knows where we both live, and answers to the whistle enclosed with him. Use it if you need to send me anything, especially something urgent. You will be my wife soon, so we should get into the habit of good communication. Don't hesitate to tell me anything, especially if it terrifies or excites you. I always have an ear for you.
Wriothesley.
Archons, Wriothesley was so cute. He looked so tough but you could always count on him to decide on such a way. You attached your own letter and pet Frosty one more time before he disappeared into the night.
'You will be my wife soon...' Will I, Wriothesley? Will I really see a day where I'll wake up with you by my side, and not bemoaning my being alive, but thanking my stars for the arrangement?
You two will be together. You weren't sure how many more boring dates you had to go to with Archandelle, but as Agatha told you: All was in due time. It had be a matter of when, not if, the promise was fulfilled and you would no longer belong to your father. Oh, you could hardly wait for that day. For one you'll be wearing the bracelet he gave you. That day would also have sweets, love and definitely not him.
#wriothesley x reader#yandere wriothesley x reader#yandere genshin x reader#yandere reader#genshin fontaine x reader
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The House The Sea Built (KNJ x F!Reader)
Inspired by the Korean film Il Mare, and Namjoon’s album Indigo
pairing: rapper!namjoon x artist!reader
genres/aus/rating: strangers to lovers, angst, smut, magical realism au, time travel au, 18+
summary: It was meant to be a simple, yet practical request - leaving behind the seaside cottage meant you had to find a way for your mail to get back to you. But the response you receive from the previous resident, a man named Namjoon, dated two years in the past, is anything but simple. With extraordinary circumstances allowing you to write to each other, your tired souls find solace in your shared loneliness, and friendship blossoms. But what happens when that isn’t enough? When the ability to change life before and the future ahead becomes too tempting to resist? Will you and Namjoon find the fulfillment you crave, or will the aftermath leave you even lonelier than before?
warnings: lots of pov switches, heartbreak, references to mental health, drinking, swearing, lots of little coincidences, mentions of breakups, lots of Indigo references, Namjoon gets angry, minor accident and injury, Taehyung cameo, character d*ath, happy ending!, smut warnings: masturbation (m and f), erotic letters, squirting
word count: 13.8k
a/n: It’s finally here. This literally has to be one of the most intense labors of love I’ve undertaken, but I love Kim Namjoon, and Indigo, and this is the result of that love. I hope this fic can help you believe in the magic that exists in our mundane little world, and that it can help some of your loneliness go away, or just be understood, much like Indigo did for us when it came out. I hope you enjoy!
Present Day, 2022
What was it about saying goodbye that made it so hard? People always reminded you that you’d have the memories to hold onto, cherished moments engraved in the delicate fabric of your mind. Still, they seemed so fleeting, easily doomed to fade into oblivion as their delicate threads tore off and disappeared into the fabric of your mind.
Lost in your thoughts, you hardly notice the slip of your pen across the cardstock, leaving a garish ink stain amongst the neat print. Sighing, you decide it’s best to end your letter here, hoping the next recipient wouldn’t mind the evidence of your daydreaming staring them down on the page.
Shivering, you wrap your arms tighter around you, taking in the surrounding sea one last time. While there had been many clear blue days during your time at the seaside cottage over the past year, today was not one of them. Today, the fog was so dense the mist clouded the horizon as far as anyone could see, the only sign of the water being the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the shore. Your toes itched to take one last walk on the feather-light sand and to feel it squish between your toes, but you didn’t want to get your shoes dirty before making it to your new apartment.
A soft meow calls your attention, and you look over to see a pair of curious green eyes studying you from the shadows. Smiling, you slip the postcard into its envelope, reaching for the heavy box of art supplies - the last imprint of yourself remaining in the house, and rising to your feet.
“Alright Bokboki, it’s time to go,” you whisper softly, your boots thudding against the gangplank that kept the house elevated from the rising tide. Handing your box to the movers, you remember to pick up the card, holding it tightly to your chest with one hand, while scooping up Bokboki with the other. The wind whipped around your face, your hair flying in all different directions as you stepped back to take a look at your home.
Slipping the postcard into the rust-covered mailbox, you hoped the next resident would appreciate the place as much as you did. More importantly, though, you hoped they honour your request in the note - the letter you were expecting was too important to miss.
Climbing into the taxi with Bokboki, you wave a final goodbye to the cottage, turning your gaze away to await the promise of the new life that lay ahead.
. . .
Groaning you turn against the scratchy sheets of your new bed, temples throbbing with pain as you’re greeted by the rays of sunlight upon rising. You missed the dense fog of the house by the sea, allowing you to sleep in as long as you wanted. Here, in this lonely box of an apartment, you were a slave to everyone else’s clock, awakened by the unforgiving light that signaled it was time to have another productive day. You cover your face with the blanket, burrowing back into the sheets.
Five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.
. . .
Those five minutes had unexpectedly turned into twenty, and now you were tripping over the boxes you had yet to unpack, slipping and sliding on the cool tile as you struggled to put your heels on and smooth down your hair. First impressions mattered when it came to finding work in your field, and you had to present the polished, sophisticated image that won the hearts (and the pockets) of most gallery owners.
Locking the door behind you, you see the woman from across the hall step into her own apartment as you’re leaving yours.
“How are you today?” you ask with a smile, only to feel the wind from the door slamming shut in your face. Dejected, you make your way down the staircase with your shoulders slumped.
Passing by the mailbox, you wonder if it’s worth taking a look for your letter, but decide against it. It had only been the first day after all. Who knew if Taehyung was even awake right now, halfway across the world?
Shaking your head, you ward off the intrusive thoughts in your mind, knowing that the letter would come, and all your worries would be eased. For now, you had an interview to go to.
. . .
The cold glint of the gallery manager’s eyes is all you remember, his booming laugh echoing in your ears, the sound seeming less like the jolly joke he intended it to be when he called your work unrefined, and more like a mockery that made your skin crawl. All you’d wanted to do was curl in on yourself in that moment, your feet itching to run to the corner and collapse. Instead, you’d politely wished him a good day, waiting until you were outside to let the first tears fall.
With your eyes trained on the ground as you walk through the brightly lit streets, you barely take a moment to notice the joyful spirit that permeated the air, couples and families all out for a stroll in the chilly weather, enjoying each others’ company. It only made you feel more alone as you ascended the stairs to your apartment, Bokboki’s soft meows greeting you upon opening the door.
Looking at your phone, you see a missed call from Hyung-seo, your best friend, asking if you wanted to hang out tonight. Slumping onto your couch, you try to figure out the best excuse, when your eyes came across the picture of you in Taehyung in the corner, cheeks red from the cold and arms wrapping each other in a warm embrace. Your fingers tremble over the phone buttons, hesitating but never daring to press call.
What was it about feeling sad that only made you want to be even alone? Humans were strange in that way.
Giving Bokboki a few scratches between the ears, you change into your pyjamas and brush your teeth. Tomorrow you’d go back to the house and check if the letter from Taehyung had arrived. You needed some kind of sign that things would be better from now on.
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon looks at the tree with its vibrant leaves hued in red, orange and gold, and a twinge of sadness goes through him. As beautiful as they were, he knew he’d only get to enjoy them for a short while before the wind lifted them up and away, and winter settled in on the coast.
He hadn’t actually been inside yet. The company had dropped off all his things in the cottage, but Namjoon had been too scared to step over the threshold, because that meant accepting this new phase of his life. One where as the world had shut down and gone to sleep, he hoped that people wouldn’t notice how he faded into obscurity, never to be heard from again.
Quite frankly, Namjoon was tired of being heard from. As a performer and a rapper, he was used to thousands of eyes on him every second, whether it was at a concert or even through his pictures on the internet. The mask that he’d chosen to don as his alter ego, RM, had become heavy, the strings threatening to snap and reveal the tired, fragmented soul that lay underneath. He’d chosen to intervene before anyone could see him, the real him. He didn’t want to disappoint them.
Staring out at the sea, the wind ruffles the strands of his hair, and he knows he should get a haircut. But then again, who was gonna see him out here anyway? At most, maybe Yoongi or Hoseok would stop by, or his parents. They were the type of people who wouldn’t care if his hair was a little bedraggled, or if he gained or lost a couple of pounds. They’d love him anyway.
The garish ringtone of his cellphone jolts him awake from his thoughts, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see Hoseok’s name light up the screen, hitting the answer button.
“Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok’s voice rumbles through the screen. “You said you’d call when you got there.”
“Sorry, just unpacking,” Namjoon lied, hoping Hoseok wouldn’t catch on. “The house is nice. Do you know who designed it? It doesn’t seem like it was built by some generic construction company.”
He knows Hoseok is rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone, babbling that it was some architect, but Namjoon’s question had been sincere. He wondered who could have wanted to hide from the world bad enough that they’d design a house on this isolated beach, where the winds were wild and the sun shone rarely, and how someone who he’d never met could have understood his desire to not be found so deeply.
“Thanks for the Kaws figurine by the way,” Namjoon gives out at small smile when thinking of Hoseok’s parting gift. “I’ll find a nice place for it.”
Hoseok’s infectious laugh echoes through the speaker, and Namjoon feels his gut lurch, missing his friend.
“You better send me a picture of what you’ve done with the place, and don’t forget to call, huh? Me and Yoongi-hyung are gonna hold you to it.”
Namjoon remains silent on the other end, staring out at the vast horizon, nothing and no one around for miles.
Hoseok clears his throat on the other end, his voice becoming serious.
“Stay happy, Namjoon-ah, talk to you soon.”
“You too, Hob-ah,” Namjoon finally musters before the line cuts dead, leaving him alone once more. Staring at the open door, his new life waiting for him inside, he rises to his feet, walking towards the house that was now waiting for Namjoon to make it a home.
. . .
The first thing he had to tackle was his massive collection of books, the numerous volumes waiting to be homed on the weathered shelves. He knew they wouldn’t stay tidy for long, with his habit of taking one down every day to read and somehow never putting it back. Staring at the walls, he tries to assess the light filtering in through the window, wondering where he could hang his paintings.
The entire house was blue, from the well-worn wood to the sunlight reflecting off the sea, casting a cerulean glow over the walls, matching the dark blue jeans he was wearing. Instead of being eerie, it reminded Namjoon of those dioramas of a ship in a bottle. This was now his space, his spot to look upon the world, instead of having the world look at him.
As he hung up the art on the wall, he stared at it, hoping it could look back at him, and offer him the inspiration to create he so desperately craved. Studying the strokes of the Lee Bae piece, the splotches and strokes only served to remind him of the dark abyss his mind had become.
It seemed silly, the job Namjoon had. Who the fuck cared about him and his silly rhymes when the world outside was falling apart? When lives were changing like they never had before? At least for artists, their works could live on to be admired and reflected on without the pressures of the context it was created. For Namjoon, context was all that mattered - how he dressed, what he said, who he spoke to. Never how he felt.
Turning away from the lone painting hanging on the wall, he feels his temples throb with the beginning of a headache. Unpacking could wait. For now, he craved the fresh sea air, the whole reason he’d moved away from the city in the first place.
The sand on the beach squished against his feet as he ran, feeling the wind blow through his hair, and Namjoon felt freeer than he had in months. Pausing by the oceanside, he panted, hands on his knees, and drew in his chest, screaming into the great beyond, his voice hoarse and tears streaming down his face.
. . .
Returning to the house, Namjoon paused outside the rust-covered mailbox. He probably should check if there had been any important communication from the label. After all, this break was not completely a break. At the end of it, Namjoon would still be pressured to show that the time off had been worth something.
Reaching inside, he’s surprised to find an envelope within, feeling heavy cardstock in his hands. Curious, he opens it, finding a generic greeting card. Who could have sent him this? He flips the page open:
Hello there!
I’m the person that lived in this house before you did.
I have a favor to ask.
I’m waiting for a letter, actually.
So if you get anything addressed to me, could you please send it to this address?
Wishing you lots of luck in the new place.
Thank you again.
My best,
____
2022.
P.S. those pawprints by the door? They were there before I moved in. I tried my best to get rid of them, but I couldn’t. I hope you can forgive me.
Turning the letter in his hands, Namjoon is confused. The stamp was dated 2022, but it was only 2020. Whoever sent it had to be playing some kind of practical joke on him. As far as the realtor had explained to him, he was the first to live in the cottage, the architect’s lost labor of love away from the city appealing to his desire to get out of his hectic life. And there were no pawprints anywhere.
He pulls out his phone, ready to search your name on Google, but hesitates at the last minute. He knew what it was like to have his privacy invaded, to live a life under scrutiny in the age of the internet. Your letter seemed well-intentioned and even if you were a stranger, perhaps he could just do this one kind thing for you without expecting anything in return.
Lost in thought, he almost misses the sound of a car crunching on the gravel outside, looking out the window to see a sleek black vehicle he knew all too well rolling up. Throwing his coat outside, he runs to it, a surprised expression on his face.
“Hyung!” he calls out to the two figures that exit, their expressions taking in the isolated area with nothing but the sea surrounding them. “What are you doing here?”
“So this is where you’re hiding from us,” Yoongi whistles, Hoseok nudging him in the stomach.
“We brought some of your stuff from the studio,” Hoseok says cheerfully, his heart-shaped smile piercing through the fog.
“Do you want some tea?” Namjoon doesn’t want to invite them in, but feels like he has to.
Yoongi studies him, his dark eyes glimmering, and Namjoon senses something is up. They’d known each other for too long to keep secrets from one another.
“This came for you,” he holds out a piece of paper. “It’s from Ji-hyeon.”
Namjoon flinches at the mention of his ex’s name, and instantly the walls he’d built up in his mind to keep them out of it crashing down, the bitter end of their relationship causing bile to burn in the back of his throat.
“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it,” he spits out, and he watches Yoongi glance at him. He knew his hyung blamed Ji-hyeon for everything going south, for Namjoon needing to get away, but it hadn’t been just that. There was more going, more Namjoon wasn’t sure he was ready to share with anyone.
“The house looks great,” Hoseok interrupts the tension. “You’ll have to invite us in some other time. Hopefully you can actually learn to cook and clean up after yourself.”
He puts a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, beckoning them to go, and Namjoon watches them leave, alone and finally able to breathe again. He hadn’t realized how stifling the presence of other people had become, even those closest to him. He just wanted to be alone.
Namjoon hears a whine from his side, looking over in surprise to see a kitten staring up at him with huge eyes, like it wanted something from him.
“Hey little goyangi,” he chuckles. “Who are you – Hey!”
The kitten stares up at him for a few moments longer, before running towards the house, knocking over the can of paint by the entrance, Namjoon chasing after it.
He walks in to see little black pawprints all over the entry, and is immediately reminded of the letter from earlier.
P.S. those pawprints by the door? They were there before I moved in.
Namjoon runs to his study, tripping over boxes on the way, desperately searching for where he kept his pen and paper. He had to know how you knew about the pawprints, and whether you really were from the future.
Sitting against the wall, he’s unsure how to start - responding to yes your request seemed so trivial, limiting the ability to ask all the questions he wanted answers to. Instead, he decided to take a simpler approach, speaking from his heart:
Dear ____,
I’m fucking lonely…
Present Day, 2022
Curling tighter into your coat, you take in the old cottage, still standing as proudly and as empty as the day you moved in, a lone display piece against the backdrop of the sea. You’d contemplated coming back for a little while now, not having heard from Taehyung or the new resident. Taking matters into your own hands, you’d been surprised to hear that no one new had moved in, lying to the realtor that you’d left something behind.
Key in hand, you open the door, greeted with the vast space that seemed cold and sad without the warmth of a human being and their possessions to fill it. Things had been rough lately, a few more visits with gallery owners and exhibitions not going the way you’d expected them to, and it made you remember why you loved this place so much.
Here, no one could remind you that you weren’t enough, that you’d have to try again. You were just free to be as you were, the ocean your silent partner. Throwing the sleeping bag onto the floor, you scoop up Bokboki, cuddling him in your lap. The two of you remain silent, watching the sky change and the clouds shift, until night falls and you drift off to sleep.
. . .
You open your eyes with a start, the hard wood that you’d fallen asleep on causing pain to explode across your back. Turning, you see Bokboki snoozing off right next to you, his tiny body moving up and down with each breath. The first rays of sunlight have begun to break through the window, and you know it’s a sign that the weekend is almost over, and you’ll have to leave soon.
Stretching, you wrap your sweater tight around yourself, slipping on your shoes to go check on the mail outside. The air is crisp and the fog dense. Slipping your hand inside the mailbox, you’re surprised when you feel an envelope in there, one that hadn’t been present at the start of the weekend.
Taking it out, you open the envelope to find a plain piece of paper, the messy scrawl of black ink all over the pages. Could someone have responded to the card you’d left? Your eyes scan over the page:
Dear ____,
I’m fucking lonely. Sorry for the abrupt introduction, but I just had to get that off my chest, and as you probably know, there’s no one around for miles. As much as I want to help you, since it seems like you’re waiting for something (or someone?) important, but I think you sent that letter to the wrong address. I’m the very first person who’s lived here. I apologize for not being able to help more, and wish you the best of luck with your search.
Sincerely,
Kim Namjoon
Glancing at the stamp on the right hand corner, you see that it’s dated from 2020, and your eyes widen. Was this some kind of sick prank? Whatever it was, you weren’t going to put up with it. You’d been pushed around and dismissed by too many people in your life to stand for it with some stranger.
Rifling through your bag, you find your small sketchbook and a pen, tearing off a sheet. As much as it pained you to rip what could house a potentially new piece of art, this warranted a response and warranted one now.
Listen,
I don’t know why this letter sent to you, but if you’re playing some kind of joke, can you please just leave it where you found it? Thanks.
___
P.S. you’re not seriously sending me letters from 2020, are you? That has to be a typo. Also, the weather is getting colder outside, please make sure to bundle up.
Stuffing the letter back into the mailbox, you feel tears prick at your eyelids. Why couldn’t anyone ever take you seriously? You weren’t just some doll or plaything to be tossed around and abused. You were a real person, with real feelings, and it seemed like no one ever got that about you. You didn’t know why you’d ended with another well-wish, now this Namjoon guy would just think he could use you again.
Suddenly, you feel a cold splish! on the tip of your nose, looking up to see a soft scatter of snowflakes descend from the sky. You feel Bokboki brush against your leg, and smile, your anger of a moment ago forgotten. The tension in your shoulders eases as you close your eyes and make a silent wish that despite the bumpy start, the incoming snow would treat you kindly, and perhaps all that you deserved would finally come your way.
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon shivers with his hands in his pockets, standing outside the mailbox once again. You’d sent another letter. He’d seen it on his way out to the nearby small village this morning, his empty fridge taunting him. While his fingers had itched to tear open the envelope, he needed time to sit and process whatever your response would be.
Opening it, his eyes fall at your cold response, the only thing keeping his frozen tears at bay your request for him to stay warm. Maybe you did have a heart after all. Sighing, he shoves the letter into his pockets along with his hands, breaking into a run as he ventures to escape the frigid winter air.
Shaking the snow from his hair, he strips off his winter clothes, teeth chattering from the cold. He walks down the hallway to the bathroom, stripping the rest of his clothes and filling the tub up with warm water. At the sound of the dripping, his new cat friend comes pattering in. Namjoon had decided to keep the curious creature after much contemplation. Just because he felt lonely, didn’t mean he wanted to be completely alone.
He sighs as he steps into the tub, the water instantly filling him with warmth. Closing his eyes, he reaches for his phone on the bench nearby. His eyebrows furrow when he sees dozens of messages from Yoongi and Hoseok, asking about how he’d settled in. There was another text too - one from the company’s head, asking how the progress on his new album was going.
Namjoon wanted to bang his head against the wall. He’d barely had a break and already, people were demanding things of him again. He wondered when this all became so painful - when the fame began to feel like shackles, when everything began to seem forced. Namjoon swipes on the message, deleting it for good. He wouldn’t let the pressure get to him again. If he wanted to write music, he would. If he wanted to make poetry, he would. If he wanted to throw paint against a canvas, he would. But no one could tell him what to do.
His phone clatters against the bench, Namjoon dropping it in favor of the wineglass that rests by the tub. Taking a sip, he sighs, the hot water restoring life to his body and the alcohol numbing his brain.
“I do wish me a lovely night,” he chuckles to himself.
Present Day, 2022
Dear ____
Like you predicted, the weather got colder. It even snowed! I’m afraid though, that with the wintertime cheer, I’ve gotten a cold. I don’t know what to make of this – I can’t tell whether you’re a prophet or a fortune teller or just someone who owns a lot of crystals. But somehow all of those are easier to believe than the fact that you’re from the year 2022.
Best,
Namjoon
Clutching the letter to your chest, you sigh heavily, unsure why you’d decided to keep writing back to the strange man who seemed to live inside the mailbox at the cottage. He seemed less harmless than you thought he was, his words so sincere, you could almost imagine the smile that lit up his face as his messy scrawl danced across the page.
Reaching across your desk for a piece of paper, you dig through your collection of pens, finding your favorite one. You smile as you pen a quick response, refraining from telling him I told you so about the cold weather. It seemed extraordinary to be writing to him. Although you still couldn’t fully wrap your head around the fact that he was from the past, you hadn’t realized how lonely your life had become.
Ever since Taehyung had moved away, you’d only had Hyung-Seo. The life of an artist was lonelier than people realized. There were no glamorous gallery openings or art parties in dimly lit rooms. Many of the other artists you came across were cold and unwelcoming, preferring to stick to their already existing circles, and showing no interest in you or your pieces. Hyung-seo was the only friend you managed to hold on to, but even she had her own life to worry about.
Maybe that’s why it felt so right to be writing to this Namjoon guy. You’d been denying it, but there was a void in your life - you had no one to talk to, no one who would really listen to you. Even Bokboki couldn’t say anything back. But Namjoon listened to you - he wrote to you even when you’d been rude, searching for ways to prolong the conversation. And his words, despite how brief they were, made you feel just a little bit less lonely.
. . .
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon guzzles the last of the beer, the rush hitting him while he waits for Hoseok to come out of the convenience store. Pulling his mask up and his hood over his head, he looks down at the ground, hoping no one recognizes him at this hour. He didn’t have the capacity to deal with a fan sighting right now. In fact, he’d been hesitant to agree to Hoseok’s offer of hanging out in the city at all, preferring the peace and solitude he’d come to associate with the beach house.
He had a love-hate relationship with the place, the tall buildings and masses of people in the street only serving to make him feel lonely. For a place full of people, the city was full of sorrow. In the days he’d lived here, Namjoon’s only solace had been bike rides on the river, the briny smell of the water being the impetus that had spurred him to move out to the oceanside in the first place. While he missed it, he didn’t miss the feeling of being a wanderer, not having a place to belong in this vast metropolis.
Hoseok comes out with his haul of snacks, the two of them ready to head back to his apartment. In the car, Namjoon reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against the last letter you’d sent, and he has a spark of realization. The address you’d been writing him from was near Hoseok’s place, maybe five or ten minutes away. Maybe he could finally meet you, the mysterious woman who occupied most of his thoughts and activities these days, the one who made him feel a little less alone in the world.
“Can we take a detour?” Namjoon asks suddenly, prompting Hoseok to look at him with raised eyebrows. “I have somewhere I need to see.”
Hoseok nods silently, and Namjoon is thankful he doesn’t question him. He gives the directions, and Hoseok drives, coming to a stop a few minutes later. Namjoon can stop himself from bolting out of the car, running up to where he know you live—
Only to find a construction site and a half-finished apartment complex, and his face falls. Taking a look at the exposed beams and the planks of wood, it finally hits Namjoon that you’re a real person. A person who’s going to live here. He wonders what you look like, what you do for work. He wants to know more about you, know where you are in the world, and when your paths will cross.
“Why are we at a construction site?” Hoseok comes up beside him, concern etched in his features for his best friend.
“No reason,” Namjoon sighs. “I just thought there’d be something else here. Let’s go.”
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon looks at the kitten, studying it with the utmost scrutiny. A tortoiseshell coat, and striking green eyes, and a little triangle patch of black hair in the middle of its head.
He hadn’t known the little guy was supposed to have a name already, but now he’d just found out: Bokboki. Namjoon is unable to speak, sitting there stunned with his little companion after reading the letter you’d just sent, ranting about how you’d spent the entire day just lounging around with your cat, whom you’d found when you moved into the house.
Namjoon hadn’t seen many other cats strolling around the beach, and since this one seemed to have a particular connection to the beach house, he realizes that in some strange twist of fate, the two of you owned the same pet, the fortuitous connection between you two only building and building. So, you really were from the future.
You’d sent him something else besides the letter, something that had shocked Namjoon even more than the revelation about little Bokboki. The piece itself is tiny, printed on a sheet even smaller than the one you’d written your letter on, but it’s nothing short of stunning. The simple flowers, not unlike the ones he’d seen growing by the beach, are shaded in different hues of blue. He can see where the acid caused the paint to stratify, feathery strokes running over the page, and the once vibrant flowers are now washed out to nothing but white, obliterated by the dark midnight of the background. In the very corner lies a small signature, and Namjoon realizes the neat scrawl is of your name.
You were an artist. Just like him.
Namjoon feels a pang within his chest, unable to reason why the tiny painting you’d shared affected him so. You hadn’t said anything about it, hadn’t bragged or even gone into detail about what it meant or why you’d chosen to paint it, or send it to him. And yet, Namjoon felt as if through this painting, he knew more about you than he had through the course of all your letters sent to each other.
You understood him. You understood what the pressure to create was like, how hard it was to condense the vast world around you into a set of lyrics, or a single painting, and to still invoke a full-bodied spectrum of emotions. He wondered if you understood the burnout too - when art no longer felt like freedom, and more like a set of shackles. How when what once made your heart beat no longer touched it at all, it felt like dying your very first death.
He doesn’t realize the tears have fallen down his face until he sees the paper he’d picked out to write back splotched with wet spots, and he sniffles.
Scrolling through his library of guide tracks until sleep makes his eyes heavy, Namjoon glances over occasionally at the painting, at a loss of words for how he could even begin to repay the beautiful gift you’d shared with him.
. . .
Dear Namjoon,
Are you for real? A still life that does not stop, keep my flower blooming again. It’s like you wrote this about my painting!! But how could you, when I hadn’t even sent it to you yet? The song was amazing by the way, even though I had to go out and buy a CD player to listen to it. You’re very talented. You should release it! I’m sure it would go viral on Spotify.
I had an inkling you were an artist too. That’s why I sent you my piece. I’m glad you appreciate it, even when others don’t seem to. But enough about me, I want to talk about you! Your music is so addictive, I can’t stop listening to it. Do you like making songs? I know sometimes it can be hard to create things and not see them get the appreciation they deserve, but I have full faith that if you were to share your talent with the world, you’d find an audience for it (okay maybe the audience would just be me, but isn’t that reason enough?). It seems we’re living in a strange thread of time right? Our previously separate lives are intertwining, thread by thread, and I can’t help but think that there’s something bigger going on. But I’ll save you from my rambling. For now, I wish you good luck with your songwriting!
Sincerely,
____
Namjoon stares at the letter, his eyes rimmed with red from tears and a lack of sleep. He wants to pull at the threads of his hair and yank them from his scalp. When he’d scrolled through his guides on a whim, choosing to send you a CD burned with Still Life, he’d never expected this reaction. He had never meant for you to hear it, or for anyone to hear it for that matter. It wasn’t the kind of music anyone expected from him, or the dark, sexy kind of song that made any money, and so he’d let it sit on his computer, abandoned.
Until now.
Namjoon wants to tear up the letter into a million tiny pieces. How dare you say that to him? How dare you give him this fragile sense of hope, knowing any moment, this cruel world could snatch it away? You were wrong. In this day and age, no one was actually interested in music. Sure, they blasted songs through their headphones on the way to work, or while running outside, or in the clubs, but did anyone actually listen to what the artists were saying? No. The lyrics remained lost in the back of their brains, no one ever stopping to think about the conversation that he was trying to initiate. Everybody talked about him, but no one ever talked to him.
Finding another piece of paper, Namjoon nearly rips through it with the force of his pen scratching across the surface.
Dear ___,
You asked me if I like making music. I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know.
Present Day, 2022
Dear ___,
We’d like to thank you for your time spent applying to our gallery. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you…
You toss the letter in the trash before you can even read the rest, covering your mouth to stop the tears from spilling out while you were in the middle of the street. It hadn’t been a good week for you. Not only had Namjoon written you an abrupt response, leaving you to wonder whether he was angry, but you’d finally gotten the letter you were waiting for from Taehyung. Except, instead of the response you’d expected, you’d been greeted with nothing but a big red stamp - return to sender.
You shove your hands in your pockets, staring blankly ahead as you walk wherever your feet will take you, uncaring of people scolding you to get out of their way or to watch where you’re going. Eventually, you find a bench, plopping down on it with a sigh, only to be met with the rude stare of some old man who promptly gets up and leaves. You weren’t good enough for anyone it seemed.
From across the bench, you can see a rusty telephone booth, a relic you thought didn’t exist anymore, and an idea sparks in your brain. A very bad idea. But your mind is powerless to stop the way you rise, feet walking towards the phone booth.
The door creaks when you open it, and you give the buttons of the phone a cursory tap, just to make sure they still work and you aren’t about to have your credit card eaten. Although it wouldn’t matter much if it was - it’s not like your name was worth much. Dialing the last number you knew to be Taehyung’s, you wait as the dial tone rings and rings.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice answers. “Hello?”
“Who is it?” a deep voice rumbles in the background, and you slam the phone back onto the receiver, your heart beating out of your chest.
Running out of the booth, you don’t stop until your feet carry you all the way home.
. . .
Shoving your coat and your shoes off, you strip off the rest of your clothes, throwing them against the wall with a thud. You want to scream. You want to break something. But you have nothing of value. Nothing that would equal the pain and the heartbreak you feel right now. All you have is yourself. And you’re completely alone.
You slam the door to your room shut, ignoring Bokboki’s soft meows, and collapse to the ground, sobs wracking your entire body. You lay there with your head against the door, wondering why the world had chosen to be so cruel to you, to leave you so lonely.
That was the hard part about getting older. When you’d been in high school, everybody had told you your adult years would be the best of your life, with so many milestones to look forward to - getting a job, entering a relationship, getting married, buying a house, having kids. And that you’d have so many people by your side to witness it all. But the reality was, none of that was true. Instead, you felt more like you were wading through the wide open ocean, with no one around to see you struggle to keep your head above the surface.
You muster enough strength to get up, stumbling over the desk, head in your hands as you stare at the piece of paper you’d chosen out to write your next letter to Namjoon. Tracing your hand over the edge, you pick up the pen, beginning to write.
I thought falling in love would make me so happy. But all it did was break me inside. It gave me fleeting happiness, only to snatch it away and laugh in my face, telling me that I’m not enough. That I will never be enough. Why though? Why does it have to be me who feels so lonely? Why do I have to go through this pain? Am I not worthy of being loved? Am I undesirable in some way? Once, just once, I wish I could love someone and have them love me back. And not in the transient, fleeting kind of way. No, I wish I could be loved, wholly and completely. I wish to know what it feels like to have someone who’ll sleep beside me every night, to wake up warm instead of freezing. To feel another pair of lips against my own, to have those lips both soothe me and undo me. To feel someone’s fingers inside me, bringing me to highs I can never reach alone. To know someone else’s body as well as I know mine, to lose myself in them completely while we make each other come.
As you write, an image flashes in your head, one of a faceless man. You have no idea what he looks like, but you can hear his voice. It’s the same voice that writes to you nearly every day, that hears your deepest thoughts, and you want him to know your darkest desires.
Your fingers slip underneath the waistband of your panties, warmth pooling in between your legs, and you resist the urge to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure between them. You let out a staggered breath when you swipe through your folds, fingers sliding easily against the wetness that has begun to pool, and your hand rises to circle lightly around your clit.
You let out a moan you didn’t know you’d been holding in, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair, your legs spreading on their own as the deep voice in your mind continues to talk to you, to repeat what you’d written in the letter, and you feel yourself clench involuntarily thinking about the faceless man in the back of your mind.
Sinking a finger inside of you, you grind your hips, your throbbing clit catching the palm of your hands. You tremble at the wet noises you can hear, accompanied by the soft staccato of your whines, and your thumb circles back around your needy bud, increasing the pressure, the pleasure rapidly building as you slide in another finger, fucking yourself against your hand.
It takes a split second for your walls to tighten around you and the taut knot in your stomach to snap, your body convulsing as your slick spilled all over your fingers, soaking your underwear and the chair below.
You open your eyes, huffing breathlessly as you remove your sticky fingers from inside of you, your heart pounding in your eyes. Looking down at the piece of paper, you shove it to the side, shame flooding your entire body at the debauched fantasy of Namjoon you’d just gotten off to. He was your friend, not some cheap rebound attempt. Your fingers tremble as you grab the pen, trying to write another letter to him to quell your racing thoughts, hoping calm would find you again after the storm that had just ensued.
. . .
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon shouldn’t be reading this. This clearly wasn’t meant for him. But wasn’t it? You’d put the letter in the mailbox, knowing it’d go through to him, knowing he’d read the very words that had his face flushing red and his cock stirring underneath his grey sweats. He felt like a total perv, getting hard when you were clearly vulnerable and sharing something personal with him, but he’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about how you looked, how you felt, how you tasted.
It’d been too long since Namjoon had sex, and he’d forgotten how strong and persuasive desire could be, leading him to do the most fucked up things. Namjoon reads the letter again, and again, and again, wondering if you touched yourself while you wrote it. Wondering if that’s why the words sounded so rushed, so frantic, spilling out of you like he’d never heard you speak before. He wonders who could make you feel that way, and jealousy stirs in his chest when he realizes it’s most likely someone else. Not him.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from tugging his sweats down, his hard cock springing out, and he wraps one hand around it, leaning back against the bed. His eyes close as he pumps himself, imagining you behind his eyelids - your lips, your breasts, your pussy. But also your smile, your eyes, your hands. And Namjoon aches to touch you, to touch anyone, to banish the deep-rooted loneliness within his heart.
A bead of precum escapes the tip of his dick, and Namjoon slides it around himself, stroking harder, and faster, thrusting into his hand imagining it was you instead, just like you’d wished for him to do. Underneath him, the bed begins to creak, and Namjoon lets out a low groan, throbbing as he bucks his hips in time with his hands.
“Fuck,” Namjoon growls as he explodes, curses falling from his lips as he slumps into the bed, chest falling and rising with heavy breaths. Sparks tingle under his skin, Namjoon’s body coming alive like it hadn’t for months.
At the same time, the guilt settles in, and he feels as though a lead weight is pressed against his chest, crushing his lungs until he can’t breathe. He feels sick inside for taking your moment of vulnerability and using it for his own selfish gains. The gross feeling remains even after he’s gotten up and cleaned himself off, his head buried in his hands when he sits at his desk.
Grabbing a piece of paper, he begins to write, words of apology flying off the page, hoping it’s enough to excuse his depravity, that you’ll forgive him, that you’ll still want to write to him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t.
Dear ___,
I’m sorry you’re feeling this way. I don’t know if you meant to send me those vulnerable words, but if you did, I want to thank you for thinking that I’m trustworthy enough to share them with. I know nothing I say can completely heal the sadness within your heart, but maybe I can offer some wisdom from my own up-and-down experiences with love.
The reason we’re so tormented in life is because love goes on, not because it goes away. But even after we lose that love, the life of a person who’s been in love is more beautiful and vibrant than that of someone who’s never experienced love at all. Cheer up. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to.
- Namjoon
Namjoon stares at the letter for a few moments, unable to believe the poetic words that had just left him in this moment of shame when he’d been struggling to write for months. His brain churns with an idea, and he opens his mixing software, grabbing the notebook he uses to pen his lyrics, and beginning to write.
If love ain’t for us
I’ll be satisfied with this
I don’t need your touch
I just need your love
Come closer, come closer
Present Day, 2022
Perusing the piece of paper, you wonder if Namjoon’s been drinking the past couple of days. He’s never opened up this much to you, preferring to keep your interactions surface level and friendly. But his last letter hadn’t been just friendly, it’d been poetic, reassuring you that love was worth it. You wonder if he’d been thinking of someone specific when he penned the words. Now, with this next letter, you finally had your answer.
Dear ____,
It was Ji-hyeon. Ji-hyeon was their name. I thought we had it all - the perfect chemistry, thought we wanted the same things. But I was a fool to think that love was for me. I’ve been trying so hard to let the memory of the breakup go, but it haunts me every day. Every day, a little piece of me chips off and withers away when I realize that I’m losing myself. I’m losing my sanity. I’ve ceased to be a human and instead become a prisoner to this industry. To making music. And I just want to let it all go. To quit. That’s why I moved out here in the first place, to find some peace away from the hectic city. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t. I can’t let it go because music is who I am, art is who I am. And it breaks me because the pull of creative expression will always overtake anything, or anyone in my life. I can’t live normally, as much as I yearn to. I can’t love anyone.
- Namjoon
You clamp your hand over your mouth to stop the tears from falling, Namjoon laying himself bare on the page, and your heart hurts for him. Not only because of his sadness, but because his loneliness is the same loneliness you feel, both of you wandering souls in this unforgiving world.
Watching your clothes spin in the washing machine, you think of Taehyung, and how he was your Ji-hyeon. Except, it was different. You’d known love, you’d known happiness unlike Namjoon had.
Grabbing your notebook, you scribble across the page, telling him that it doesn’t have to be that way, that real love is like the beauty of an amazing art piece. Something can be both beautiful and full of love, it doesn’t have to be full of ugliness and heartbreak for it to inspire you to create. Pausing, you think back on a story from a while back, deciding to divulge it to him.
The watercolor I sent you? It’s from two years ago, I was painting a whole series on wildflowers in cyanotype. But I went through so many different renditions, so many different drafts, that I ran out of my favorite watercolors, the . I ran to my favorite store, hoping, praying that the creative streak I was on wouldn’t leave me, that if I just had those watercolors, I could keep going. I could make something of myself. But they weren’t there. Someone had bought them just moments before I entered the store, the last set. After that, I just gave up. I was strapped for money and couldn’t afford another set, let alone the time it would take to scour the city looking for them. I haven’t touched the paintings since.
. . .
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon throws his coat over his shoulders, stopping only to scratch Bokboki between the ears before he runs outside, stumbling into the taxi as he frantically tells the driver to take him into the city. The roads pass him by, the serene landscape becoming dotted with more and more buildings, more people as the minutes go on. He asks to be let off at a random intersection, tipping the driver generously before he’s off running again.
There were a million art stores here. Surely one of them had to have the watercolors you were looking for. Namjoon didn’t want you to become like him, paralyzed and unable to do what you enjoyed. No, he wanted better for you, and he’d make sure it happened, so your beautiful wildflowers could see the sun’s rays once again.
Finding one on the corner of a narrow street, he slips inside, greeting the store owner warmly before heading to the back wall full of paints.
His eyes scan through the rainbow of tubes and pans, until he sees them, the Kuretake ones you’d talked about in his letter. And there was only one left. Grabbing it, he rushes over to the cashier, paying for it, and running back out into the cold air, excitement coursing through your veins when he thinks of how happy you’d be when you saw him.
On his way out, he brushes against a shoulder, apologizing to the woman he’d accidentally bumped into. She gives him a polite smile before continuing on her way inside, and Namjoon smiles back, continuing on his way until he can hail a cab.
When he reaches back home, he slips the colors in the mailbox, and waits.
It’s a few days later when your response comes back, your joy evident in the way the ink bleeds across the page, telling him you’d sobbed happy tears when you saw the watercolors. You’d immediately gone to start another painting, and Namjoon feels joy bloom inside his chest at the kindness he’d done for you.
Reaching inside the mailbox, he’s shocked when his fingers close around something soft and wollen, pulling it out to see a scarf, indigo in color. The deep blue and violet fabric warms him instantly, as well as the note attached.
They say indigo is the color of intuition and perception. This scarf helped me find wisdom when I was struggling. I hope it does the same for you.
Present Day, 2022
It was a stupid mistake.
Looking at the letter again, you roll your eyes. Men. They could be so emotional sometimes, and yet they’d blame women for not having control of themselves. A small smirk makes its way onto your face as you read Namjoon’s sheepish request, asking that you send him a new tape recorder, since he’d destroyed his in a fit of rage before moving to the cottage.
Part of you wanted to laugh at his impulsiveness, but the other part of you felt sorrow for all the work he’d probably lost, just because of one rash mistake. You didn’t want him to feel sad. You wanted him to feel empowered to create, to make music again. And so, you set out on your quest to find one. The winding city streets took you on quite a journey, passing by various cafes and bookshops and parks, but you didn’t let yourself get distracted. You were a woman on a mission.
Your search finally took you to a little electronics store on the outskirts of your neighbourhood, and you look through the various tape recorders, wondering which color Namjoon would like. You wonder if he’s finally ready to start making music again, and smile when you think about being able to hear his songs again.
Paying for the tape recorder, you gather your things and walk out into the street, headphones in your ears. You’ve just stepped into the intersection when you hear a scream, feeling something slam into you from behind, sending you hurtling to the ground. Your ankle twists out of position as you topple over, and pain explodes across your entire leg as you hit the ground, scratching your hands.
Lying there, your mind chooses not to focus on how much pain you’re in, or the fact that you’re now bleeding. Instead you hyperfixate on the tape recorder that lies a few feet away, wondering how you were ever going to help Namjoon make his songs now.
You don’t know how many moments pass like this.
Waking up, you hear the beeps of a blood pressure monitor, pain trickling from the back of your head down to your ankle. You’re not in your room. It’s a hospital bed, and across from you, you see Hyung-seo looking at you with concern, jolting up out of her seat when she sees your eyes are open.
“Here, drink some water,” she offers you a cup, and you accept, the liquid soothing your parched throat. “You sprained your ankle, please take it easy.”
“Hyung-seo,” you croak to her, still worrying about the tape recorder and Namjoon. “Can I ask you for a favor?”
. . .
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon can’t stop running. He’s probably run further down the beach than he should have, the house disappearing until it’s ceased to be a speck in the distance, disappearing completely from his view. He stops himself, bracing his hands on his knees, and heaves in a few deep breaths, suddenly realizing he forgot to feed Bokboki before he went out.
He hadn’t been able to think straight for the past few days, opening the mailbox every couple of hours anticipating a tape recorder and another letter from you, but instead, he found nothing. At first, he was worried that something had happened to you. But as the days went on, an ugly feeling settled inside Namjoon’s chest. One that convinced him that you were ignoring him, that you’d purposefully grown tired of your interactions, and now wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe you’d found someone new.
Namjoon stumbles towards the ocean, feeling the waves lap at his feet, soaking through his running shoes. Fury floods his mind when he thinks of how open, how honest he’d been with everyone in his life, sacrificing his own damn mind to make them happy. And now, he didn’t even get the same back.
He wades deeper into the water, his waterlogged feet meeting resistance, and screams, his hands pulling at the strands of his hair. And then he screams again, louder this time. But no one is there to hear him.
It’s at least an hour before he returns to the house, shoes soaked with mud. Before he goes inside, he decides to peer inside the mailbox, knowing it’ll probably be worthless. As he opens the rust-covered door, his heart sinks with guilt when he sees a letter from you, and the tape recorder he’d so anxiously been waiting.
He wants to punch himself for his impatience when he reads the note, explaining that you’d met with a small accident and had been in the hospital for a couple days. His heart aches with concern for you? Were you okay? Did his selfish request cause you to get hurt?
Closing the door behind him, Namjoon looks at the tape recorder, wondering if it had even been worth it to ask for it from you. Would it really get him to work on his album? Or would it just taunt him as another reminder of his failures in life.
Sighing, he clicks the play button, ready to make the most of it no matter the outcome. But then he pauses. The sound of the tape is faint, but he can hear a voice on it. Your voice. You’re singing. Your voice is raspy, sounding unpolished, yet also rings clear and sweet. You riff a little melody, adding words that sound like a lullaby and Namjoon feels a pang in his chest. You sound so beautiful.
You end the brief recording with a laugh, apologizing for wasting space on the recorder, and telling him he can delete it. But Namjoon doesn’t delete it.
Bent over his desk, he takes the sincere melody and crafts it into a beat of his own, his low voice joining yours in perfect harmony.
With numerous thorns
The morning that comes and goes
In my own way
I'm gonna anesthetize myself, yeah-yeh
Present Day, 2022
Ride the A1 bus all the way until the second last stop.
When you get off you’ll find a tree-lined street on both sides.
If you cut through the patch of trees on the southwest, and walk exactly 1,632 steps, you’ll stumble upon something extraordinary.
I hope you like walking.
Holding the piece of paper with directions to your chest, you fight off a sheepish smile, heart pumping loudly in your ears as you think about Namjoon’s directions for your little “date”.
It wasn’t a real date, you see. The two of you had decided to send each other on adventures in your own time, but Namjoon had called it a date. The thought made you absolutely giddy. You hadn’t been on a date since Taehyung. As strange as it felt to be going somewhere on your own and calling it a date, it felt like Namjoon was with you, his spirit trapped in the letters of the page, leading you to somewhere wonderful.
You count your steps carefully as you walk, the trees lining your path on both sides, just like Namjoon had said. You marvel at their height, the blue sky peeking out from the canopy of their lives. Continuing to count each precise step, you look down at the ground until you reach 1,632. When you look up, you suck in a breath.
It’s a field full of wildflowers, the vibrant colors peeking through the grass like the twinkling of stars in a midnight sky. Your smile widens as you run into the field, laughing at the smell of the beautiful blooms, tracing your fingers along their delicate petals.
Finding a spot to put your bag down, you pull out your notebook, and begin to sketch, the wind ruffling your hair and Namjoon’s field of flowers keeping you company.
. . .
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon steps through the gallery, keeping his head down to avoid being recognized, sipping the coffe from the café you’d told him to go to before ending up here.
I think there’s an artist you’ll like, your letter had read, and Namjoon, like the smitten fool he was, was powerless against his own two feet as he immediately set off in search of the mysterious paintings.
He hadn’t meant for the word date to come out. It just had. He knew you were lonely like this, and even though he couldn’t be there to erase your loneliness in person, he figured sending you to the wildflowers would be the next best thing. And it was. You’d excitedly written back, explaining that you’d come back with at least a dozen new sketches, ready to paint and turn into cyanotype. Namjoon had leaned back in his chair, his grin wider than the ocean, his heart pounding in his chest and his palms becoming sweaty when he thought about your smile, and remembered your beautiful laugh from the tape recording.
The gallery isn’t busy this time of day, but he avoids talking to anyone, instead making a beeline for the corner you’d talked about. When he comes upon it, his jaw drops open in shock.
The strokes of the piece are ragged, burnt umber and ultramarine blue blending into a series of minimalist lines, the points where they blend creating a black deeper than any night sky Namjoon had seen.
Moving closer, he studies everything, from the worn canvas, to spots where the paint appears thicker in one area than another. The simplicity of the piece blows Namjoon away - the honesty portrayed within, showing him that he doesn’t need to be flamboyant or ostentatious to make an impact. Minimalism spoke words.
Glancing down at the artist’s title card, he sees the name. Yun Hyong-keun.
Namjoon comes home and fires up his computer, looking up interviews and more about Yun, mesmerized by the artist’s perspective on life, emphasizing his own humanity before his duties as an artist.
After his research, Namjoon pens a thank you to you for showing him the work. Coming up on the end of the letter, a bold thought crosses his mind, and he dares to write it down.
___, I’d like to meet you in person if that’s okay? Can we meet here, on this very beach? I’ll give you a day, closer to your time, so you don’t have to wait. How about December 13, 2022 at 3:00? Let me know if that works.
- Namjoon
Present Day, 2022
You slam the dress onto the countertop, the cashier looking at you in surprise.
“Aren’t you going to try it on?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
“Nope, just pack it up, please,” you implore her, blushing at the bold red fabric you’d picked out. Namjoon couldn’t miss you in this.
You were losing it. The date he’d given you was in three days! Not nearly enough time to prepare. How was it fair that he got a whole two years and you only got a couple of days. You wanted to meet him, but you also weren’t ready. You wondered what he’d be like. If he’d be the same as you imagined him to be, or different. Whether his voice would sound as deep and melodious as the strings of a cello, or if he had short hair or long hair. In any case, you were sure he’d be wonderful.
The next couple of days pass by in nervous anticipation, with you talking nonstop to Bokboki about your hopes and fears for the foretold meeting. You re-read all the letters you’ve shared with Namjoon before bed, wanting to impress him with how well you know him.
When the sun rises two days later, you rise bright and early with it, hopping in the shower, making sure your hair is styled to perfection, and not a smudge of makeup is out of place. You feel shy putting in so much effort, but you didn’t want Namjoon to think you were a slob. Finally, you slip on the red dress, amazed at how it fits like a glove.
Studying yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but notice that your skin looks brighter, your cheeks rosier, your hair shinier. You look like life has found its way to you once more, imbuing you with an overall glow that hadn’t existed since before you broke up with Taehyung. Your cheeks flush when you realize Namjoon is the reason for the glow, and you shake your head, banishing all your intrusive thoughts from your mind before slipping on your coat and running out the door.
It feels like the cab ride to the beach is longer today, your leg bouncing up and down in anticipation. When you finally see the beach come into view, you ask the cab driver to stop then and there, not even waiting for them to take you all the way up, instead throwing a handful of bills you hope will cover the ride.
You leap and sprint down the beach, until you reach right behind, the house, where Namjoon said he’d be. Looking around, your face falls. No one is here. Not wanting to give up, you spend a few minutes combing up and down the beach, looking for another human in sight. But there’s no one.
Returning to the house, you let out a soft gasp when you see a man there, his messy black hair blowing in the wind. Dread fills you as you realize you don’t even know what Namjoon looks like. But maybe this was him? You decide to tread carefully.
“Excuse me?” you ask him, and he turns to study you, his eyes reminding you of Bokboki, looking right through you. “Are you here to meet someone by chance?”
His polite smile turns into a grimace, and he shakes his head.
“Whoever your Tinder date is, it’s not me, I’m afraid,” he says.
“Why are you here then?” you question him, looking around at the abandoned beach. “No offense, but this isn’t exactly a tourist hotspot.”
“I had a friend who used to come here, said it inspired him to make art about the woman he loved,” the man says sadly, and you decide not to press on, giving him his privacy.
“Hey!” you hear from behind you, looking to see him waving at you. “Good luck with whoever you’re looking for. I hope you find them.”
. . .
2 years ago, 2020
Namjoon wants to yank at the strands of his hair. He pushes his glasses back up onto the bridge, looking at your letter. He’s so fucking confused. He can imagine your small tears dripping onto the paper when you returned home from the beach, disappointed that he didn’t show. But Namjoon is bewildered.
He wouldn’t have missed meeting you for the world. There was no single excuse, no event, that could have caused him to miss such an important day. Unless, of course, it wasn’t up to him.
Namjoon takes a walk outside the house, descending the stairs to the beach, the indigo scarf you’d given him wrapped tightly around his neck. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and sending a wish out in to the vast world, a wish for your paths to finally connect.
It hadn’t hit Namjoon until he procured the bouquet of wildflowers in excitement for your date, going to the very field he’d shown you. His excitement had been palpable, until he’d returned home to Bokboki staring him down, and he realized he still had two years to go, and the flowers were going to wilt.
His chest had ached with the realization that it would be a long time before he ever met you, and even then, your meeting wasn’t guaranteed. Running a hand through his newly cut hair, Namjoon was struck finally with the revelation that had been creeping up on him through all these months - he’d fallen in love with you. He couldn’t pin it down to a specific moment, but rather the momentous collection of all the times you’d talked to each other. He was in love with you, despite having never seen your face or talked to you in person. His heart was many things, but it wasn’t a liar.
Which is why it broke him to think that he may never have a chance to tell you how he felt in person. That you’d never realize the depth of his feelings, because maybe your paths weren’t meant to converge. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to show the world his love, in the chances that maybe one day, you’d see it and come looking for him.
Fingering the scarf, he looks at its mellow hue, so like the sea before him, and a single thought occupies his mind.
“Indigo,” he whispers. His new album would be called Indigo.
Present Day, 2022
Sipping on your coffee, your ears perk up when you hear a voice behind you, one you hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Seojin, I’ll make it home for the engagement party, you have nothing to worry about,” Taehyung’s deep voice fills your ears, the hairs on your arms coming to stand up as he talks to someone on the phone. Your coffee cup falls out of your hand, tipping over and spilling onto your shirt.
“Shit!” you curse as the hot liquid burns you.
“___? Is that you?” you hear Taehyung’s voice call out, and you turn away, gathering your things and hiding your face.
You hear footsteps come up beside you, Taehyung’s tall figure looming over you, and you inhale the scent of his cologne, closing your eyes.
“It is, isn’t it?” Taehyung looks over at your turnt figure, reaching out an arm to pull you to face him. You can’t even look him in the eyes, instead looking at the floor. You want to tell him to go away, to fuck off, but you feel powerless and weak.
“Can we talk?” he says softly, and you don’t know why you nod. Maybe it’s finally to get the answers you’ve been searching for ever since you decided to wait for his letter in the mail.
You follow him listlessly to a table, looking out the window while he orders another coffee. Looking at your disinterested figure, you hear him let out a heavy sigh, before beginning to speak.
“It wasn’t easy being abroad, having to study there all alone,” he begins, slipping off his coat. “At first, your letters gave me something to look forward to. But then I got tired of feeling so alone. I grew close to one of my colleagues, who was by my side the entire time. We’re getting married soon. I’m so sorry ___.”
Looking up at him, you know he can see the bloodshot look in your eyes, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You don’t say anything, throwing your coat over your shoulders and running out of the cafe, your feet aching in your heels until you’re all the way home.
Slumping onto the floor, you lean your head against the window, watching the rain fall softly outside. Bokboki piles into your lap with a soft meow, and you stroke his head, continuing to watch outside. Opening the drawer to the coffee table, you reach inside, finding the framed photo of you and Taehyung, your smiles taunting you from the other side of the frame.
Things had been so simple back then. You’d loved each other, you’d wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. So why hadn’t it worked out?
Immediately, your thoughts drift to Namjoon, and how you hadn’t been able to connect with him. Were you just doomed to be alone for the rest of your life?
No. You get up, traveling to your desk to pull out another piece of paper. You could change this. You could fix things between you and Taehyung. You could cure this crippling loneliness you felt. And you knew just the person to ask.
. . .
2 years ago, 2020
I thought I could forget him. But, from the moment I heard his voice, it all came back to me. The fact that he loves someone else, and the fact that I’m aware of that, and I still love him, brings me more pain than I can ever admit. I’m sorry that I’m asking you this, but please help me. Please help me not to lose him. I’m sorry, Namjoon.
Namjoon stares blankly at the letter, unable to process the words on the page that you’d written. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and clears his mind of all the thoughts currently at war with one another. He couldn’t think about what you’d just asked of him. He didn’t want to think about it, knowing his heart would splinter even further at the fact that you loved someone else. Someone who wasn’t him.
Leaving the safety of the beach house, he decides the fresh air will help him clear his head, catching a cab to the city. When he bids the driver goodbye, he wanders aimlessly through the streets, people all around him, and yet Namjoon can’t stop thinking about you.
You, who was never meant to be in his life except as a fleeting presence, as transient and ephemeral as the trains that stopped at each station, before continuing on their journey. He knew now that your paths were never meant to cross, and that he had to make his own way in this world, as alone as he’d been before he met you.
The dreadful realization hits him that he needs to leave the beach house - he couldn’t stay there any longer. It was too full of memories, ones he’d made while writing to you, and as painful as it was to forget them, it was time to let go.
He decides to catch the bus on his way back, standing alone at the stop, until suddenly, he’s joined by another person. Turning around, he sees a woman next to him. Her eyes meet his, and widen at his indigo scarf, looking closely at it. Namjoon coughs, and she averts her eyes. Something about her seemed familiar, but she was probably just another stranger. Namjoon wants to talk to her, to be able to talk to someone else besides you. He opens his mouth to make a comment about his scarf, but is interrupted when a tall, well-dressed man swoops in, his arm wrapping around the woman.
The bus chooses that moment to arrive, and he watches the two of them climb on, the women looking back at him with a frown on her face when he fails to join them, his feet glued to the ground.
Not wanting to wait for the next bus, Namjoon walks towards the nearest cab, falling asleep on the ride home.
When he’s finally in the safety of his room again, he decides to write you again, knowing this will be the last letter he ever sends you. Because he loved you, and he wanted you to be happy with who you loved, he knew it was time to let you go.
Present Day, 2022
Holding your portfolio in your hands, your fingers tremble with excitement as you get off the bus, stepping right onto the street where Cypher Labels was located. You’d had a creative breakthrough, and someone finally wanted to hire you!
You would write to Namjoon and tell him the good news, of course. You bite your lip, worrying about him. You hadn’t heard from him since he sent the later saying he’d help you reunite with Taehyung. You had nothing but immense gratitude and affection for him in your heart. He was truly a good person, and you hoped only the best would find him in life.
Do you remember the very first letter? You wished me luck in the house the sea built. This time, I wish you luck. I hope I can help you find what you’re looking for.
You step into the offfice, and the only two people there are two hushed men whispering to each other. At the sound of your heels clacking against the floor, they look up. The shorter of the two studies you curiously, and you can’t help but feel like he’s familiar. Maybe it’s his eyes which pierce through you.
“___! It’s you, right?” the other one gives you a heart shaped smile, his bubbly demeanor immediately putting you at ease. He beckons you to take a seat at the third chair.
“I’m Hoseok, and this is my business partner Yoongi. We’re so glad you could make it. Your artwork has us very intrigued.”
You blush at the compliment, holding your portfolio to your chest.
“Do you mind telling me a little bit about the album and the project itself?”
Hoseok looks over at Yoongi, his face suddenly falling, and Yoongi gives him a tilt of his chin.
“This project is, uh, it’s special to us,” Hoseok says softly. “It’s for a friend that we lost. He used to work with us here at the label, and we were so excited when we got the drafts from him. He’d been struggling to make music, but he moved out to the beach and began talking to someone, and he finally told us he was ready to share the music inspired by his time out there with the world. The album is called Indigo, named after a scarf he was given by the woman he loved, who inspired most of the pieces on the album.”
Your face pales at Hoseok’s description. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be true.
“We lost him in a car accident nearly a year and half ago. He was on his way to meet someone.”
“W-what was his name?” you manage to choke out in a whisper, and you see Yoongi’s nostrils flare at the tears that have collected in your eyes.
“His name was Namjoon.”
You’re up and running out of the studio before you can even process the news, sobs pouring from your body as you keep going, unable to keep the tears at bay.
Namjoon had loved you. He fell in love with you through the letters he wrote, and now he was gone. Gone after he was on his way to meet someone. You do the math in your head, and realize a year and a half ago was the day in Namjoon’s life after you’d written to him, asking him to help bring you and Taehyung together.
Your heart clutches in your chest, and you double over in pain. The album had been for you. It had all been for you, every little thing Namjoon had done. And now he was gone, and he’d never know the truth.
The truth that you’d realized after reading Namjoon’s response, after hearing his willingness to sacrifice his own happiness to ensure yours. That you’d fallen in love with him too.
Sniffling into your sleeve, you pull out your phone, calling a cab. When it arrives, the driver asks you for your destination, and you hesitate, not able to give the address to your apartment. That’s when it hits you. You could change things, just like you’d asked him to. You could write him a letter and deliver it to the mailbox, so hopefully, he wouldn’t go out that day to meet you and Taehyung. You could save him, so that he’d have a full and complete life like he deserved, even if it would never be by your side.
Giving the driver the address to the beach house, you pull your sketchbook out of your pocket, scribbling furiously on the paper.
Namjoon, please listen to me. Please don’t go to wherever me and Taehyung are, I’m begging you. Please listen, please stay home.
The driver zooms towards the beach, sensing the urgency caused by your tears, and you nearly sob in relief when you see the house coming into view, not even waiting for the car to come to a full stop before you’re running towards the mailbox. Panting, you struggle to breathe against your tears, shoving the letter in the mailbox, hoping, praying that you’re not too late.
You collapse on the ground, whispering a silent prayer against the sand, hoping it wasn’t too late to show him your last act of love - saving his life.
Namjoon’s timeline, 1.5 years in the future
Namjoon never thought he’d return to the beach house, resolving to abandon it the moment he’d let go of you. But then he’d gotten the mysterious letter in the mailbox, telling him to stay home, and he figured he had to go investigate. Coming up upon the rickety house, it’s the exact same as he left it - the worn wood and creaky boards of the walkway. The sea around hasn’t changed either, the waves as calm as the day he’d moved in.
Except for the boxes. Namjoon’s eyes widen in surprise when there are a dozen or so boxes outside the door. Someone was finally moving in. Namjoon clutches the letter and waits by the mailbox, suddenly frozen. He didn’t know why he’d come here. As much as his feet wanted to turn back, he couldn’t.
He hears the door open, and a woman steps outside, wearing the same indigo scarf that he had around his neck, and in an instant, he knows it’s you. You’re even more beautiful than he could have imagined, and now he’s finally found you.
“___,” he calls out to you, and you look up to see where the deep voice is coming from,lips parting when you see Namjoon making his way towards the door.
You stare at him in silence for a few moments, and Namjoon is worried you don’t recognize him, that in this timeline, he means nothing to you, and his heart curls into itself, preparing for the inevitable heartbreak.
“Namjoon?” you whisper. “Is it really you?”
“I got your letter,” he shudders with a sob, holding out the piece of paper. He feels a raindrop splash on his head, and then another, before the heavens open and it begins to pour soaking you both.
Namjoon stays where he is, marveling at the fact that you’re finally here, right beside him. You step towards him, reaching for his scarf to pull him towards you, your lips pressing gently against his own. His arms come up to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his lips parting to engulf your own in a more passionate kiss, his cold fingers stroking your warm cheeks. Despite the raging storm around you, Namjoon finally feels at peace, the two of you finally finding your shared moment of forever, here in the house the sea built.
A/N pt. 2: Well now I’m fucking sad. But in all seriousness, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. And again, I hope it can provide some comfort. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜
taglist: @miscelunaaa @luaspersona @whoisbts @blumenfeld @rapmonie2047 @little-dark-empress @lovemepie67 @ggukkieland @joonsytip @namjooningelsewhere @chrisellaxxjung @jub-jub @outro-kook @kamilamb @coffeedepressionsoup @fujinogf @wecanpretendit @lovely-joon @rkivian @rebloginfics @firesighgirl
#bts#bangtanbathhouse#btshoneyhive#bts fanfiction#bts smut#bts reactions#bts scenarios#bts imagines#bts fics#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts imagine#bts angst#kim namjoon#namjoon#rm#namjoon x reader#namjoon x you#namjoon smut#namjoon angst#rm smut#rm angst#namjoon fic#namjoon imagine#rm fic#rm imagine#rm x reader#rm x you#namjoon fics#namjoon imagines
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The thought of oral for the pleasure of the giver and "ignoring" that of the recipient is so sexy to me rn. Very d/s but hob taking his pleasure with dream, eating out his gushy pussy without it being About Dreams Pleasure. Hob is still making him come an honestly unreasonable amount of times but unless dream uses his safeword hob isnt going to stop drinking him up until hes good and ready on his own. Dream is not In Charge. Hes there to be a sweet pillow princess and let hob nibble his labia until hes screaming and thrashing. Suck on his clit like its the last boba in the cup type of deal. Hob makes dream "ride his face" but its really hob whos moving his hips like a doll as his hands are tied with pretty ribbon bows to the headboard. Dream is sobbing throughout, hes so overwhelmed and sensitive but its soooo good how hob pushes him to his limits until hes just a docile toy, mewling and weeping still as hob is mouthing at his poor aching cunt. Dream wants nothing more than to be stuffed full with hobs fist at this point but this isnt About Him and hob is gonna try his best to drown himself. He wants to smell like dream for days, for dream to have his stubble burn as a reminder of how much hob loves him for even longer. It should teach him a lesson about talking negatively about his gorgeous leaking cunt.
-🔪
Love that giving Dream oral is a treat for HOB’S pleasure. Yes of course Dream enjoys it too, but it isn't really about him... his pussy is just the toy that Hob gets to play with until he's had enough.
Some guy: ugh I hate when my spouse wants me to eat them out
Hob Gadling, certified cunt eating connoisseur: I LITERALLY can't hear you over the sound of my husband's ushy gushy pussy, sorry not sorry
Poor Dream is so oversensitive he can't even move, he just has to lie there with his legs spread, hoping that he'll be able to recover a little before Hob catches his breath... speaking of breath, Hob loves to just sigh against Dream’s clit, knowing that the warm air will make him flinch and wiggle. Dream just wants something inside him at this point, but he's not getting anything more than Hob’s tongue. The frustration turns him on even more, and he really is so much fun for Hob to play with because he just keeps getting wetter. The more he's teased and denied, the more he cums and squirts helplessly all over Hob’s face. What a good boy <3
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Hewwoo! I’m back! With my @tnbsecretsanta23 gift to Demo d1m0^d ❤️ I really enjoy to do this so I hope you all enjoy this too and I hope my recipient will love this as much I love to draw it ❤️
Happy holidays you all ❤️
#digital art#tiger and bunny#anime#barnaby brooks jr#tiger & bunny#tigerbunny#taibani#tnb#kotetsu t. kaburagi#usatora#tiger & bunny 2#taibuni#wild tiger#christmas#merry christmas#secret santa#tnbsecretsanta23
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Thanks for answering my ask @dk-wren, can I ask again but this time for Loid/Yor?
What do you think are Loid and Yor’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?
Hello Anon!
Of course! And thank you for the new ask!
(Note: I am so so sorry that I could not respond to your ask sooner. School has been crazy, so I barely had any time to write for non-school related projects. I feel so bad that I could not get to this quicker, but I hope you may still enjoy my response.)
Now, I would like to be upfront and say that my familiarity with Loid/Yor's relationship and all of Spy x Family is a little spotty. I am caught up on the anime and read the first several chapters of the manga. However, I only started consistently reading the manga about a year ago, towards the middle of the Red Circus arc. I generally know what happens between where S2 ended and I picked up the manga (i.e. Yor meets Melinda, Lady Tonitrus, etc.), but I apologize if in my explanation I missed an important moment that happens during that period or contradict something.
That said, I think Loid's greatest personality strength is his ability to fully commit to something. When I racked my brain for what Loid (and also Twilight) moments stood out to me, his line, “Let’s go home” from the first chapter, the castle party, his attempt to have fun during the Cruise Arc, creating a full (educational) episode of Bondman for Anya, and taking Anya on a ski trip are some moments that came to mind. Am I cherry-picking these examples? Yes, but I think each still illustrates how Loid cannot do anything with less than 100% effort.
Now, could you argue this personality trait of fully committing to something can be negative in some situations? For sure. But the way I see this trait present itself within Loid, it comes out of his desire to provide the best he can for his family. And while it was for his mission/cover towards the beginning of Spy x Family, and still sometimes the case, I think there’s been a shift where Loid's motivation for doing all that he can to provide Yor and Anya good/memorable experiences now comes from knowing Anya’s history in the orphanage and in Yor opening up to Loid about her past.
I don’t know if Loid’s training or general nature are responsible for this trait, but I do believe Loid’s ability to fully commit to something is his greatest strength since it sort of acts as Loid’s way to show how much he cares for (perhaps, even loves) the recipients.
In terms of Loid's greatest weakness, I think it is his stubbornness. Loid/Twilight knows he is Westalis' greatest spy. And whether self-imposed or from his colleagues' expectations (or perhaps even a little bit of both), he understands his performance during any mission should be of the highest caliber. In trying to maintain this level of proficiency on his missions, I feel Loid/Twilight can easily get into his own head about how things are supposed to go and needing to stick to a plan.
Especially in the first few chapters/episodes, we see Loid clearly thrown off and flustered by some of Anya and Yor’s actions. When working solo, it is very easy for Loid to be in control over every aspect of a mission. Things can go exactly as planned for Loid, avoiding the need to deviate from his meticulous planning, even if he needs to switch to plan B, C, D, or E (probably more tbh). That is not the case though with Anya and Yor because of their own secret identities and human nature. These two bring in factors or variables that Twilight would not have to typically consider on his missions since they bring their own experiences/perspectives that do not align with Twilight’s view of “normal” or expected.
I know Loid saying “For the mission” is a running joke. But I believe Loid’s stubbornness plays a factor into this. Not necessarily in a bad sense, but Loid can get stuck in his ways and find explanations to justify his actions that do not align with those set ones. His stubbornness prevents Loid from admitting that he loves and cares for Anya and Yor because he is a spy, who should not have any attachments nor the expectation to settle down. He has changed from the first chapter to now. I apologize for not remembering the exact post, but when Loid returns home to Yor and immediately collapses at the end of the Mole Hunt arc, I saw someone beautifully explain how Loid’s reaction is due to his body telling him “He is safe. He is home. He is where his loved ones are,” even if his mind cannot process those feelings.
In reading the chapters about Loid’s past, I would argue Loid also potentially deals with his own guilt about not deserving the love of others after what happened to his parents. That is a hard mindset to break, which I think his occupation doesn’t help in that healing process either. Therefore, between Loid’s own past and being a spy, I think Loid’s greatest weakness is his stubbornness, especially in his inability to process things (namely love) as anything but a means to an end, rather than the end itself.
As for Yor, I think her greatest personality strength is her kindness and faith in others. I feel Yor has so much love to give to the people she keeps close to her heart. But due to her past, she didn't have a chance to shower it on anyone besides Yuri. The cooking lessons she took with Camilla to literally running to pick up Anya after the bus hijacking, Yor’s family and their happiness/safety remains her utmost priority in providing.
I truly believe Yor sees the best in people and wants to uplift that, whether that be celebrating how well Anya did on a test or telling Loid that he’s a good father. I don’t think it’s naivety but rather kindness that Yor embraces the world with. Similar to Loid/Twilight, Yor is trying to create a better tomorrow in her own way. However, one key difference I would say is that Yor sees herself as a part of that tomorrow. Such as in the Cruise arc, Yor recognizes the danger of profession and the fact she may not live to see the next day. But from what I’ve seen, Yor sees herself as working towards that better tomorrow so she can enjoy it with those she loves.
I think Yor’s greatest personality strength is her kindness and faith in others because she sees the best in those around her and wants to bring that out, or encourage people to embrace the good in them.
Regarding Yor’s greatest personality weakness, I think it's her social inexperience. I hesitate to call it a weakness since I think it’s more of a hindrance (and very much due to her upbringing). There are countless examples of Yor responding to someone’s question in a way that shows her misunderstanding of what the original question means (taking things too literally or giving a response appropriate for her assassin job but not in everyday life for example). It could easily paint her as awkward or clueless, but I think it just tells us about the environment she grew up in or is most familiar with.
When in her element, Yor embodies confidence and power. However, more often than not, that’s when she’s Thorn Princess rather than Yor Forger. Being the sole provider for Yuri for a good portion of her childhood and teen years, and also the nature of her profession, Yor is expected to complete things with utter perfection. She received training from the Garden, so that’s likely why she can perform with that confidence and grace as Thorn Princess. In not receiving that same level of “training” or exposure to everyday social situations, I think this causes Yor to second guess herself or fall susceptible to teasing in the workplace.
Again, while I hesitate to consider it a weakness, I believe Yor’s social inexperience can sometimes hurt her more than help her. This is not a dig at Loid/Twilight, but I admire how Yor recognizes this “weakness” of how her knowledge may fall short in certain social scenarios. And to then take that time to learn about “normal” activities or experience something she was not able to during her childhood (as I mentioned above, cooking with Camilla comes to mind, but also befriending Melinda Desmond and spending time with the Women's Society), I think Yor openly embraces these opportunities in the hopes of learning from them and to increase her own happiness/enjoyment or those close to her.
Finally, for the last question, what do I love about Loid and Yor’s dynamic, I’d have to say I love how they uplift each other and acknowledge where the other can provide something they cannot (whether that’s with Anya’s care or household chores). Yor telling Loid he’s a great father to Anya and expressing her wish to help more around their household (to take some stress off of Loid); Loid telling Yor how her strength is an invaluable comfort to Anya, as well as affirming how her past makes her the perfect mother for Anya, and the way his body/subconscious mind acknowledges Yor as someone he feels safe around. At least to me, these examples alone show how much they respect their partner and understand that they can depend on the other. I'm sorry if I keep repeating myself, but seriously, to be able to trust and verbalize that they need help is such a step forward in moving past the behaviors they learned/developed during their childhoods.
While not tied exclusively to Loid and Yor’s relationship, but their family relationship, I also love how they somewhat represent different parenting styles. Loid is the more strict and demanding parent, though from what I recall, he rarely verbalizes his high expectations out loud (not that it always matters when Anya can read his thoughts). He expects Anya to do well and pass her classes, as well as avoid earning another Tonitrus bolt. Even then though, he phrases his words/expectations generally rather than telling her she must get this percent or higher. With Yor, she’s the more comforting and encouraging parent. She wants to see Anya succeed in school, but at the same time, Yor also prioritizes Anya’s well-being and happiness. I love how Loid and Yor’s parenting styles align with their personalities, and potentially the direct results of their childhoods. However, I love how at the end of the day, despite their varying approaches, Loid and Yor are both motivated by their desire to give Anya a happy childhood.
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.
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Thank you again for the ask and your patience, Anon!
I had a lot of fun diving into the individual arcs of Loid and Yor (so far), as well as their relationship. I genuinely love these two so much and how slow burn this slow burn is. It really provides them the opportunity to develop as individuals and see how their interactions can or do affect the other.
-Dakota Wren
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Pins have arrived! Pins have arrived!!! They are so cute, I am going to die
I am on anon, because one of these pins is gonna be gifted, and I am pretty sure the recipient follows you too...so can never be too safe when it comes to amazing pin gifts :P
Yay! And I hope they enjoy their gift :D
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I feel like calling Crossroad Demons "Demons of Desire." They are empowered when people make wishes upon them (aka make deals) and some of them take the form of what the human desires (an attractive woman or a child friend.) They're basically like succubi but given the ability to trade a human's soul for a wish. Or is that more like a Djinn? Anyway this is just my thought. I hope you don't mind.
Hello! I never mind talking about headcanons :D
Crossroad Demons do prey on people's desires, yeah. They can do almost anything if someone asks for it, with the very direct string attached that the recipient of those demonic miracles gets ten years to enjoy their greatest desire before they're dragged to hell for an eternity of torment.
Djinn just use people's own thoughts and feelings to hold them submissive and unaware while they drain the life out of their victim-- not just desire, but some use fear, as well. And as far as we know, a djinn's victim still retains their soul. They're just trapped inside their own minds until they die.
We did see some crossroads demons that just looked like normal people, too, though. There was one that looked like a Nice Grandma Lady (in 9.02... i mean... look at these crossroads demons from that episode, courtesy of Home of the Nutty:
So I don't necessarily think of them like succubi, and most of their powers have nothing to do with sensual or sexual desire for them directly, but the desire of the human to put their own soul at risk for 10 years of... whatever they desire most, whether it be money, a relationship, success, talent, etc.
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My Kirk/Spock fic - Post-TMP, Wedding & Adventure
AAAHH FINALLY I can talk about the story I wrote! ❤️ Some of you probably spotted it on AO3 when it was anon in the exchange collection, but now authors have been revealed :D
Title: But I Will Wed Thee in Another Key
Words: 22,075 (complete)
Summary: After getting the Enterprise back for a second five-year mission, all James T. Kirk wants to do is marry his First Officer and have a great wedding night.
Too bad a group of Romulan extremists has different plans.
Rating: Explicit (18+ only please)
Sooo, I have worked on this fic an embarrassing amount of time -- weeks of writing, canon review, research on Star Trek lore and research on weddings -- and I poured into it all my love for Star Trek TOS and Kirk/Spock. I hope you’ll be able to see it! ❤️ I think the result ended up being a pretty canon-typical episode… plus the explicit gay stuff going on, as a treat. :D
I'd really love to know what you all think about this story, so every comment is super appreciated, as well as kudos/bookmarks on AO3 and likes/reblog here. I hope you’ll enjoy reading about these two guys becoming space husbands as much as I enjoyed writing about them! ❤️
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44590852
Special thanks to @1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt for the beta reading and all the support! Also thank you so much to my recipient and all the people who showed their love for this story when it was still anon! ❤️
#spirk#space husbands#james t. kirk#spock#my fics#star trek the motion picture#star trek tmp#star trek tos#star trek the original series#k/s#kirk x spock
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delicious orange pasta 😋
recipe under read more
serving size: 1-2 people
preparation time: around 45 minutes
Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups of pasta of your choice (i like penne and rigatoni so i almost always use those)
1 small tomato
1 teaspoon of minced garlic
1 small onion/ 1/3 of a big one
1/2 cup of tomato sauce (not paste, sauce)
1/2 cup of water
3/4 cup of half and half (in spanish it's called "crema de leche" so "milk cream" might be another name??? idk)
1 tablespoon of butter
1 tablespoon of flour
1/2 cups of cheese of your choosing (i use mozarella)
turmeric
salt
now let's start cooking :D
add water to a pot and add salt, when the water start boiling add your pasta and let it cook for 10 minutes, then strain it and leave it aside for a bit. (tip: add a bit of oil and mix with a spoon so the pasta doesn't stick as much when it dries)
cut the tomato in long pieces and take out the seeds with a spoon, dice the onion, add it to the same pot along with the garlic with a pinch of salt and olive oil, fry on medium heat until the onion start going a golden color
add the tomato sauce and water, put a lid on the pot and let it simmer on low heat for 10 minutes.
very carefully add everything to a blender and blend until you get a soft sauce
leave the blended sauce aside for a bit
switch to medium heat and add the butter and flour to the pot, mix them for a minute
add the half and half and switch to low heat
when it starts to bubble add the blended sauce and a dash of turmeric, make sure to taste test and see if it needs more salt
when it bubbles again, add the pasta and cheese and mix, put the lid on and let it cook for 5-10 minutes.
enjoy!
idk if this recipe already exists somewhere else (probably yes), i just mxed half of two other recipies together and it worked so here we are. of course you can add anything else you want, like some shredded meat or other spices but this is how I make it.
I hope i explained everything well lmao
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Head canons about Lust/ Lust tale~
- Lust is trans fem / feminine presenting and uses mainly a female ecto-body outside of work but still uses he/ him pronouns.
-Lust tale in my HC is what would happen if no humans ever fell and if the kingdom went through an infertility curse from the humans.
- In Lust tale there is a synthesized drug that is called LUST (it’s a rip on LOVE from UT) and causes the recipient of the drug to feel intense heat and euphoria. this drug, once ingested, will cause complete brain chemistry change that will make the user completely dependent (Unless like in lust’s case where he was hospitalized and put on a year long monitorization to heal damage from LUST)
- When a monster need to consume more LUST they are hit with intense sadness that can make them have suicidal ideation at it’s worse. When one overdoses on LUST, their heat can last days and will no longer use basic behaviors (such as asking for consent).
-In Under lust Gaster falls into the CORE purposely after coming to the conclusion that they will never be able to leave the underground and their society will crumble in the face of LUST.
-Lust has many issues with abandonment (from Gaster’s suicide) and being raised in the environment that is Under lust has skewed his self worth and being able to feel like love can exist without sex being a constant factor.
-Papyrus was San’s few close people because their relationship was one of the few not built on the principle of sex.
-Lust meets Dance during his recovery period where he would join Ink in traversing the Multi-verse (Ink volunteered after Therapist! Sans asked as a form of enrichment). He appreciated Dance’s very laid back attitude yet caring aura that did not feel like pity or disgust (Which he did not feel very often besides for Therapist! Sans). They would spend more and more time together (ink happily let them stay together because he didn’t want to babysit Lust) until they started dating.
-Lust struggles with feeling like he is a burden to Dance because of his many Mental struggles and his on-going rehabilitation from LUST.
-Lust after being cut off from LUST is a lot more reserved and gains more pleasure from romantic actions then rather sexual/ sexually suggestive actions in a relationship. Though Lust still enjoys occasion sex and participates in sexual behavior just not to the extent in Under lust.
-Lust as a child actually was named Plum and Dance occasionally uses the name as a term of endearment. (Yes that’s a Pj’s Daycare 2.0 ref :) )
- Dance loves Lust because he is honestly a very endearing and romantic person. He always use to hear about Lust tale and the “horrors” of its inhabitants, but after meeting Lust and hearing all he has gone through he views everything in a new light.
-Dance introduces Lust to new concepts, actions, behaviors, and items all the time and he very much enjoys it because of Lusts genuine excitement and love to learn about the world around him.
I think that will be all! It’s a lot but MAN this has been rotting my brain for weeks! Hope yall enjoy!!! :D
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FE OC Week - Endings!
happy end of fe oc week!! I don't think I've ever gone into detail about Summoner Leigh's ending so that's what I'll share today :D
Leigh: Life in Hoshido
(picrew here)
Once peace has been established across the realms of Zenith, Leigh's purpose comes to an end in the Order of Heroes, as does the aid of the heroes they've summoned over the years. After sending their heroes home to continue the fates they had put a pause on (albeit, some a bit teary-eyed) and saying their goodbyes, Leigh makes their way to Hoshido, seeking out a friend who stayed behind at Castle Shirasagi while others ventured forth to support Corrin. There, they stay to help out where they can, lending their expertise during strategy meetings and also studying apothecary under Yukimura's tutelage. For fun, they learn how to play taiko while living in Hoshido, as well as research the history of the kingdoms' languages so they can proceed with their work once the war is over. If Hoshido, Nohr, and Valla are going to maintain the peace between them, then fostering new avenues of understanding is going to play a major role.
For many years after the war, they wait patiently, hoping the letter they had written in Askr and entrusted to another friend would arrive in the hands of its recipient when the time is right.
I really need FEH to add Yukimura so I can start to really develop the rapport between him and Leigh :') they join him in Hoshido after the events of rev-route chapter 16 and stay there for the duration of the war as well as after. Leigh really enjoys Hoshido and learns much about themself during their time living there. Their letter was entrusted to Flora, and its intended recipient is Gunter. Leigh knows of his fate from reading about it in Askr's library; as much as they want to be at his side, they know he must choose for himself what kind of life he wants to live now. So they wait, and keep themself busy, hoping that one day they'll be reunited.
Leigh: Language Advocate
(picrew here)
Now settled on the border between Nohr and Hoshido, Leigh lives peacefully with Gunter in the comfortable home they've created for themselves. While the retired knight spends most of his days enjoying the privacy the forest provides him, Leigh often ventures between all three kingdoms for work, providing the sovereigns with their linguistic expertise in whatever ways are necessary. Together with a few other committed individuals, Leigh establishes a group of dedicated interpreters, educators, and historians (to name a few) who all share the same goal of maintaining the communication channels between Hoshido, Nohr, and Valla so that they do not breakdown again like when the war began. Eventually, Leigh will come to have a smaller role in these affairs, choosing to take a step back and focusing on other aspects of their life.
in the best end possible Leigh and Gunter do end up together!! he finds them in Hoshido and they return together to the quiet little residence he's established for himself. Leigh still has much work to do though! they want to do their part in maintaining the peace for this world they've chosen to be their home. travelling frequently also allows them to sample all the different teas across the kingdoms; a sample of their favourites always accompanies them so that they and Gunter can enjoy it together :')
thank you so much for hosting this week!! it's been so much fun and I hope it makes a return in the future!
[day 1 introductions] [day 2 relationships] [day 3 backstory?]
[day 4 tragedy] [day 5 joy]
#fe oc week#summoner leigh#summoner oc#UWEEEEEH SAD THAT THE WEEK IS OVER BUT TRULY IT'S BEEN SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!#would love to participate again with other ocs or for other oc events#thank you to those who planned this event!!! you are great!!!!!#and if you're reading these in the future and want to know more about summoner leigh: please know my inbox is always open!!#summoner leigh/gunter#i was gonna do ending for hel oc/fallen leigh too but uuuuuhhhh it's late *saves those for next time*
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My gift for the 2022 @eah-exchange!
Recipient: @calebs-hangout-corner
Title: Blondie and Cupid’s Perfect Snow Day
Relationships: Blondie/Cupid, Maddie/Brooke
Word count: 2,700
Beta-reader: @gender-snatched
Other info and stuff is under the cut! Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy it :D (and I hope I got your AO3 username right, I'm pretty sure I did tho)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Blondie Lockes, C.A. Cupid, Madeline "Maddie" Hatter, Brooke Page, Raven Queen (Ever After High), Kitty Cheshire, Narrators (Ever After High), Ashlynn Ella, Duchess Swan (Ever After High), Faybelle Thorn, Apple White, Briar Beauty (Ever After High), Milton Grimm, Giles Grimm, Rumpelstiltskin (Ever After High), Daring Charming, Hopper Croakington II
Additional Tags: Fluff, Ever After High Holiday Exchange, Ever After High Holiday Exchange 2022, Snow, Snowball Fight, Snow Day, Snow and Ice, Snow Angels, Ice Skating, Winter, Nonbinary Kitty Cheshire, Humor, Fluff and Humor
Summary: Blondie and Cupid spend a snowy day wondering about the Ever After High campus, partaking in many snow-related activities, and spending time with their friends.
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DEERLY BELOVED
“Hey!” Forde calls out to Elincia from behind, giving her a playful slap on the back as he greets her. “How was the battle you old-“ He freezes when he sees are face.
“Ah, Lady Elincia I’m so sorry!” He hastily apologises, stepping back. “I thought you were someone else, I hope I didn’t startle you.” He takes a moment. “Well, while I’m here. How was the battle?”
(At some point, Elincia might notice the note stuck to her back - ‘You’re such a kind soul, I’m very fawn-d of you’)
"Sir Forde! You caught me by surprise!" Elincia manages, just about, to not completely jump out of her skin when the blonde gentleman claps her on the back. He takes a step away from her and she smiles warmly, inviting him back in to her little circle of space. There is no malice in his words or actions, so he is welcome by her side. "Please, don't fret about it. Accidents happen! Battle was rather thrilling, I enjoyed seeing the students really give it their all."
A piece of paper folds and flips slightly with her every movement. Elincia reaches a hand behind her, fingertips grazing it. She has the grace not to read it out loud in front of him, though her thoughts linger on who the intended recipient could have been...
"Did you enjoy participating? I think it's always good to get in some practical experience like this but I didn't expect to become so involved in the competition!"
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HELLO HI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELLO.
It's finished I am done I am so tired and so so happy about this fic. Happy new year's @finalcontrolroom you were my gift recipient, i hope you like it! This is my gift fic as a part of the @mcytblrholidayexchange ! Tumblr version below :D
"Oh trust me," they snarled, finally standing up from where she had been sitting, xer cheeks slowly starting to return back to their normal temperature, "If I had wings I would be significantly more proficient in using them than you ever could be."
"If an incompetent as shit twat like you ever gets wings, I'll do whatever you want for a day." Tubbo said, glaring.
Ranboo scoffed. "Oh bee boy, don't go promising me something so tempting so easily," she snarked, leaning in real close and failing to notice Tubbo's shortening of breath. "I'd find far too many ways to ruin your life for good."
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Ranboo is so whipped for Tubbo, except she isn't, she really isn't, xe definitely hates him. Tubbo is head over heels in love but has to play along, because at least that way he gets to talk to her. Also, it’s new years and Ranboo has no idea what that is! Shenanigans shall ensue.
Author Note.
Heyyyyy sooooo *looks at that romance tag* gotta be honest not at all where I was heading with this. Was just gonna have o!Ranboo going on some silly little adventures with the theme of new years, do a bit of worldbuilding and maybe have a little bit of o!beeduo/r in the background, as a treat. However, as always, they have taken over my brain and o!Ranboo the glorious light of my life that she is, is now gonna be going on a little trip down romance lane. Did I manage enemies to lovers? Probably not, never written it before! Hope it kinda applies though? This is getting very long, down to the point.
Hello my giftee here is the fic i have written for you. Mainly o!beeduo, i too adore o!sneeg but i could not do him justice as the main character so he had to have a smaller role i’m afraid. To make it clear, Ranboo is transfem, uses she/xer/they, and i love xer. Tommy uses she/him, Tubbo uses he/him, him and Tommy are both transmasc, because wahoo why not.
Hope you enjoy!
It was Sunday, and Ranboo was having a nice catnap in the sun, her tail lazily swinging back and forth as she leant against the entrance of xer cave. She heard the glow berry vines rustle above them as the wind breezed lightly into her home, and a berry fell into their claw. Surprised, xe examined it. It was a perfect specimen, skin firm, yet not tough, glowing a soft gold as all glowberries do, and with the scent of the sparkling alcoholic drink Phil was so fond of. She popped it into her mouth and let the flavour of sweet and sour wash over xer, as a popping feeling enveloped her tongue. Their eyes were closed, and they let out a contented sigh as she savoured the smell and the taste of a glowberry perfectly in season. It is a truly wonderful moment in a lovely day, and nothing could possibly ruin it.
Ranboo's lovely day was immediately put to a halt as she heard the frantic buzzing of wings quickly grow louder, and she opened her eyes just in time to see a panicked bee hybrid crash into her, xer crown toppling off and his goggles clattering to the ground. The both of them groaned from the collision, Ranboo attempting to raise a claw to rub her sore head, before finding to their annoyance it was tangled up in the arms of the incredibly beloathed Tubbo.
"You absolute imbecile!" she said to him angrily, arm stuck wiggling as Tubbo tried and failed to stand, before he fell onto xer again. "What good are those wings if you cannot even use them?!"
Tubbo frowned angrily back at her, his face a furious red as he tried to untangle himself from the glow berry vines he had crashed into, causing fruit to rain onto the two of them.
"Don't fucking blame me, 'princess' " he said in a mocking tone, causing Ranboo's own face to heat angrily. "The wind changed and it being a bitch is hardly my fault. Not like you could use wings better than I could, dickhead."
Ranboo chose not to take offence to that last insult, instead preferring to fixate on Tubbo’s challenge, not that he meant to frame it as one.
"Oh trust me," they snarled, finally standing up from where she had been sitting, xer cheeks slowly starting to return back to their normal temperature, "If I had wings I would be significantly more proficient in using them than you ever could be."
Tubbo, kneeling on the ground, still goggleless as Ranboo fixed her crown with a huff, ignored the redness of his cheeks and the pain his knees were in and simply shot back with,
"If an incompetent as shit twat like you ever gets wings, I'll do whatever you want for a day."
Ranboo scoffed. "Oh bee boy, don't go promising me something so tempting so easily," she snarked, leaning in real close and failing to notice Tubbo's shortening of breath. "I'd find far too many ways to ruin your life for good."
At a standstill, Ranboo finally noticed the now rather crushed flower garlands Tubbo had been carrying.
"What are those and why did you decide to come break them in my cave?" xe said, trying to keep her tone annoyed but accidentally letting a bit of curiosity seep through.
Tubbo looked down and cursed the strangest string of words Ranboo had ever heard, leaving her to decide it must have been a word in Apiarian, rather than Universal or Ender.
"Pissine n shettning n böllez," Tubbo muttered under his breath, gathering the broken garlands in his arms. As he used his left arm to fix his goggles back on his head, he searched with his other three to find a specific garland.
Hesitantly, almost shyly, Ranboo thought, he held out one of the garlands to xer, one that was mostly intact ,with alliums, white roses and pink tulips being held together by twine.
"Phil suggested I give you one, it wasn't my idea" Tubbo made sure to blurt out first, and Ranboo rolled her eyes as she reached and plucked it out of his arms. They spun it around, viewing it from every angle, yet for the life of her xe couldn't figure out what it was.
"It's to celebrate for new years," Tubbo said, one hand rapidly fidgeting with his belt, the others straightening the garlands out. "Since you're new, Phil knew that you wouldn't know about our tradition in the valley, so he told me to make one for you."
Strangely touched, Ranboo tried to say thank you. However, it got over-thought about a billion times before it reached their mouth so instead the question of "What’s new years?" came out instead.
Tubbo stared at xer for a while, thoroughly puzzled before she snapped at him, embarrassed,
"Look, if you're too unknowledgeable to tell me I'll just go ask Tommy instead, since clearly she's smarter than you."
Whether Tubbo was offended by the insult of Tommy being smarter than him, or if it was the (unlikely) fact that he knew Tommy would tease her much more for it than he would, he answered her.
"Well, we celebrate the end of this year, and the start of the new one. We all kinda have our own personal traditions around it, and Tommy at least is very serious about his week of worshipping prime, but it's mostly just about reminiscing and looking forward to things."
Before Ranboo could ask more about why the year was ending so quickly, or what Tommy's week of prime worship was about, Tubbo flew off and she was left with more questions unanswered.
Just out of listening distance, Tubbo collapsed to his knees out of breath, and cursed Wilbur to the top of the mountains and back for pushing him into the north wind and in the direction of one very pretty, and very scary, Ender princess.
----------
"Tooommmyyyy" Ranboo called, her voice echoing off of the marble walls, as they carefully avoided the water rushing down from the ceiling. Xe was met with Wilbur, who silently and violently shushed her, before he turned back to his place in his seat and folded his wings out, keeping his eyes closed and hands held out in front of him.
"What scam is this weirdo trying to trick me into today?" she thought, before his tail pulled her into the seat next to him. About to shout at him, Ranboo was stopped by Wilbur whispering "Just copy my posture and I'll explain once we get outside."
Very, very, hesitant, Ranboo followed suit nonetheless, and slowly xe became attuned to every noise in the building. The rushing of the waterfall was now less deafening, as each breath she and Wilbur took whispered through the room. The sound of feathers took them by surprise, and she quickly squinted one eye open to see Tommy emerging from the door at the side of the very front of the room. Feeling Wilbur's presence next to her, they shut xer eyes tightly and waited.
Tommy, with much pomp and ceremony, looked around the room and was absolutely delighted to see a whole second person in her church to prime. Barely containing a squeal, he rushed back into the sideroom, and picking up two more of his grandchildren, she returned to her slow walk down the aisle to the only two people attending his ceremony.
Ranboo was told she could "Open your eyes under the blessing of prime, hi Ranboo you lanky bitch hurry up hurry up hurry up look at this," and was greeted with a chicken wiggling in one claw, and a warm egg in the other.
Wilbur nudged her, with a chicken and an egg also struggling to balance themselves in his hands, and confused, she nodded at Tommy and said her thanks in time with a smirking Wilbur. Beaming, Tommy bent to kiss both the eggs, before grabbing the two chickens and stuffing both of them under each arm. She waddled up to the front of the room, and holding on to the prime symbol around her neck, he began his speech.
"Today, on the first day of the last week of a year graced by the presence of me, and blessed by many subscriptions with prime, every person is granted An Egg." Tommy's grin was stretched wide, and would have been contagious had Ranboo not been wondering why he had capitalized those last two words in speech.
"I thank you for your promise to subscribe with prime, as you all have, by volunteering yourself to care for this egg until it's last moments. Your newfound parenthood is a symbol of the birth of the new year that is to come, and I hope you are as excited to look after this child as you are for the new year. Gertude and her many grandchildren thank you for this service, and I thank you for your forever promise to care for my great grandchildren. I hope you all make me a very proud grandfather, little ones!" Tommy called, face filled with joyous rapture, before she turned heel and strode out the side door. Ranboo sat with the egg in her claw dumbfounded, before Wilbur rolled her eyes and pulled xer outside.
"That," Wilbur said to answer her as yet unasked question, "Was the first day of twitch prime week. It's Tommy's thing she does during our new years celebrations, and i'm normally the only one that goes along with it." Wilbur smiled at her, and Ranboo was struck by how genuine it seemed to be.
"I think he was really pleased there was a second person actually there today, even if I did force you to be there." Ranboo nodded, looking closely at the egg in xer hand.
"What is this for, exactly?" they said, gesturing to it. Wilbur laughed. "Weren't you listening?"
She bristled, ready to insult him into the next week, (or rather next year, at this point in time) but he saw the look in xer eyes and hurried along.
"It's from one of Tommy's chicken in the fucking army she seems to have bred them into. We're supposed to look after the chicken until the end of the first week of next year, then we give it back to Tommy so he can continue to have a ridiculous amount of chickens. It’s not at all a traditional prime thing, but seeing as Tommy is the only person who believes in prime that i know it’s not like i’m the expert"
Ranboo was absolutely terrified at suddenly having to care for a new life, but Wilbur was completely fine. "You don't really have to worry about it though, most of the eggs Tommy's chickens lay end up as the eggs for cooking. See?" Wilbur held his out into the sun, his hand still in the shade, and Ranboo could see the faintest shine of yellow on the edge of the shell. "Yellow means it has a yolk, not a chicken, inside. Almost all the eggs are yellow."
Ranboo seemed torn between asking what colour her egg was, and waiting to see what Wilbur would do with his egg. She didn't have to wait long, as Jack Manifold was seen cresting over the hill and Wilbur took the chance to fade into the ground.
"Ayup Ranboo!" Jack called, and Ranboo raised a claw in greeting.
"Good noon, Jack," they said, deciding to stow the egg in her inventory for the moment. Jack nodded at her.
"How's your new years coming along?" he asked good naturedly, planting his feet firmly in the ground, a well enough distance away that his blaze rods wouldn't accidentally catch xer hair on fire, again.
Once more, here was this unknown and terrifying "new years" that Ranboo did not at all understand. Tommy had prime, Tubbo had his weird flower things and yet neither of those explained to her what this one cohesive new years thing was at all. And, well, when xe didn't understand something, she had to fake it till she made it.
"My new year's is coming along perfectly, and far better than yours ever will," they sniffed haughtily, and internally breathed a sigh of relief when Jack seemed to take no outward offence.
"Perfect, ay? Already? You better look out for when it goes wrong, because perfect is a hard place to fall from," he said good naturedly.
"I'm gonna go drop by Niki's for a bit in the afternoon, but otherwise let me know if you need help recovering from your "perfect" new years," he laughed, giving them a wave and walking off.
Ranboo stayed just long enough to watch Wilbur pop out of a tree and crack his egg over Jack's head, where it began to sizzle and burn ferociously, before they teleported back to their cave to find a warm, safe place for their egg.
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"Ranboo!!! What's up!" A new day, a new morning had passed, and now at 12pm Ranboo was greeted with a very loud, and a very tipsy, Sneegsnag right in her ear. Wincing, she plucked him off her shoulder and unceremoniously dropped him to the floor, after she had properly ascended the ladder and crouched through the doorway.
"Good to see you Sneeg," she replied, sitting on the ground next to the tiny table that he had set up.
"Raaaaaaanboo!! Helo!" Fundy also greeted xer, a jug of mead in hand and his cheeks somehow redder than usual.
Ranboo, though still unsure why any being with a brain would choose to intoxicate themselves in such a way that their body and brain were poisoned, for fun, was glad that they had chosen mead to drink, as it had the least unpleasant smell of all the alcohols she had thus far encountered.
"So since everyone here seems to be carried away with this “new years” thing" xe said, shaking a few leaves out of her hair and barely avoiding hitting her head on a lower hanging branch, "Will the two of you care to explain what tradition this is?"
"Well," Sneeg and Fundy began, before they both glanced at each other and burst into drunken laughter. As Sneeg’s fork accidently got flung against the room and planted itself into the trunk near her head, Ranboo wondered why she had bothered to come over.
"There was a realm i came from" Sneeg started, before snorting and having to start again. "Called RLcraft, and Fundyyyyyy, joined me once or twice."
"You were bigger then," Fundy shouted, for some reason, even though he was but a few feet away, "Old age has made him shrink already, itty little bug boy."
"Dude, shut the fuck up."
Ranboo sniffed, pretending to turn up her nose at the unsightly behavior of the two, but secretly they found it very entertaining, and were planning to take notes. For completely innocent purposes of course.
"Hey RANboo, did sneeg ever tell you, about the time we fought a… a what was, a tower guardian?" Fundy was thoroughly drunk, making his words slurry and blurred together but this question intrigued Ranboo.
"We were drunkasshit, then too," Sneeg remarked, the middle of his sentence an incoherent mess of sounds.
Ranboo decided to simply watch the two as they bantered back and forth, listening with great interest as they reminisced. Sneeg, for all she knew was a capable and devious little guy, apparently also had a lot of experience surviving in one the most dangerous servers known, or "realm" as he incorrectly labled it.
"Youknow," sneeg yawned, "I used to do this every year with my buddy Union, before i fucked off to here."
"The blue guy?" Fundy asked, barely awke.
"Bitch, I'm the blue guy. But yeahhhh," a large yawn, "it'sa pretty good newyeard tradition. Always fun tryig to fight a sea serpent when you’re not so-” a giant yawn,”sober."
"Raaahn… boo. what're you do for new year's?" Fundy's question shook Ranboo out of the quiet contentment she had been sitting in, and she pondered the query for a while.
"I guess the closest ender holiday that's equivalent to the "new years" celebration, is The Great Sleep," Ranboo said, eyes taking on a far away look. "A year in the end seemed to last about 7 or so of the years here, so I guess that's why I was so surprised when it was drawing so close so early."
Tubbo, who had been heading to Sneeg's to ask if he had any wax he could use, slowed down as he heard her voice and quietened his footsteps, before he paused just outside the entrance.
"It sounds kind of ominous, but it wasn't, really." She said, with intense longing in her voice. "After 7 years guarding us, well, the current dragon always got very tired, you know, and they deserved a break. So, a long time ago, we established The Great Sleep. The ruler would announce that The End was to go into a period of rest, and that they would begin the Change Over, and once they awoke, the year would begin once more."
"So, the dragon would go to sleep, in a special area where time was frozen for them, and the ruler, in my case my mother, would take their place for at least 7 days, but normally no longer than a month. We would always hope against hope that, of course, no overworlders would try to come and challenge us during that time, but the void always seemed on our side during The Great Sleep."
"Since coming up here, I have heard tales, at least from Phil, of the luck for an end raid always being especially bad every 7 years or so, of ender eyes breaking at an alarming rate, the stronghold being deep underwater, or surrounded by lava, of having no eyes at all left in the portal, of the room being nigh impossible to find. During The Great Sleep, I could never stay at rest for longer than a day or two, so I would spend every night watching through the portal in the temple, my mother circling the portal to the overworld, looping through the towers and I watched in fascination. For there are no other endariens or endermen on that island during The Great Sleep, and she would always seem so very alone."
Ranboo sighed, and Tubbo wished that he could give her a hug, but fear of being found out held him back.
"Normally by day 6 or 7 or so, the rest of my family had joined me, and at least by the 10th day most of the rest of the empire would have woken. But we weren't allowed to leave our homes to see others, or to party or celebrate or worship even. We could do all that in our own homes, with family and friends that lived with us, but it was truly a period of, just resting."
Xe leant her head back against the tree trunk, deep in thought.
"I suppose it has something to do with the fact that endermen and endariens don't sleep." And, far quieter than before, they admitted, "And, I suppose, I'm not really a proper one of either of them, so that's why I am so weak and have to sleep every few days, rather than months."
"But there's still a part of me that deeply misses it," she said, "We would have Chorus fruit juice on the first day of the ruler's return, and then there would be a party during however long the ruler's rest period was." Xe grew quiet, and Tubbo could hear her fiddling with her bracelets, the gold and iron clinking in the relative silence. "It's funny to think it's stuck with me for so long but," they gave out a little laugh, "I still know how to make the banners, and the recipe to make the chorus juice fizz. That was my favourite trick that mother taught me."
Xe was interrupted by a colossal snore from Sneeg, followed by a quieter "snork… mimimimimi…." from Fundy, who had curled up on his chair, hat having fallen to the ground.
"So neither of you two were even listening. Wonderful." She got up, brushed a few leaves from xer dress and teleported outside, not irritated to bother with the ladder. They then immediately fell onto Tubbo, for the second time in two days.
“URGH!” she cried, incredibly irritated as she stood up and smoothed out her dress, ears hot from embarrassment, (nothing else) “What is with you always being in my way, you idiot!’
“H-hey!” Tubbo replied angrily, face flushed and fists balled up, “You're the one who teleported into me this time, so that’s not fair.”
“W-well,” they stuttered, cheeks growing as warm as their ears, “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to miss! You should just get taller.”
Instead of continuing to argue, Tubbo froze for a moment before he burst into laughter. “Y-you” he laughed so much his hand swerve holding his stomach, “you sound j-just like Tommy, ha!”
“Well,” xe sniffed, ‘perhaps Tommy is right for once. If you were taller, t-then it would be much more difficult o run into you.”
Suddenly, Tubbo was hovering in front of her face grinning, his wing s a blur this close to them. “Awww,” he cooed as her face finally started to turn a dark shade of purple, “You almost sound like you’d miss running into me.”
They both stayed there for a moment, Tubbo grinning triumphantly at her and Ranboo completely and utterly flustered, before they squeaked out a “shut up!” and pushed his face away with her claw.
Before Tubbo could reply. she teleported away, pulse racing, but only because he had now seen her in an unseemly situation twice, not because his face was so very close to xer’s, o-or because he smelt like the beginning of spring and new flowers, or because his laugh sounded like the bells that rung out with a sweet tune every hour. C-certainly not that at all.
---------
Very pleased with the outcome of their conversation, Tubbo made his way into Sneeg’s tree, to find both him and Fundy passed out. Shrugging, tubbo rumaged through the chests, found what he needed and left Sneeg a sign with
“took some wax and strinf, thabk’s bossman!”
before he flew up and off to the Pub(e).
He dumped the resources in the nearest chest before he quickly went on the hunt for Phil, an idea in his head and a nervous feeling in his heart.
‘Phil? You here?” he called, and received an
“In here, mate!” from Phil’s office in the Pub(e).
Taking a deep breath, he whispered to himself “This isn’t for her, because I don't care about her, i-it’s just cause she seemed sad, and it’d be kind to do this. “ Knocking on the door, he opened it wide and strode in.
----------
It was the third day of prime week, and Ranboo had managed to avoid Tommy’s latest service with a warning from Wilbur on xer communicator.
Wilbur whispered to you: I know I said Tommy would appreciate you coming to all of his service but do not fucking come today. She’s planning to make us make hats out of all the feathers his chickens shed, and we have to wear them all. Fucking. Day. Or he’ll cry and then Phil will get involved so just don’t. Plus he wants a diamond for entry so save your money and go see Niki or smth.
You whispered to Wilbur: Noted.
You whispered to Wilbur: …. Thanks
Ranboo had finished doing her hair, and she decided agasint wearing any of her horn jewllrey for the day. Xe was going to see Niki, and if she had to take a water resistant potion every 8 minutes that she was there, she wasn’t going to bother with a lot of fancy clothes. Just about to teleport down the mountain, her eye caught on the garland Tubbo had given her, now lying on top of her chest. They didn’t know why, but they decided to take it with xer when she went to see Niki.
“Hello Ranboo!” Niki called cheerfully, her hand waving above the water. Ranboo raised and a claw in greeting back and replied
“Good afternoon Niki. How has your day been?”
‘How nice of you to ask!” Niki said brightly, swimming a little closer to the dock. “I saw the sunrise this morning, and it was very lovely. Jack also stopped by to hand me the wreath Tubbo had made me.”
Ranboo was very thankful xe had brought her own “wreath” as Niki had called it, with her.
‘I received one of those from Tubbo as well,” she said, sitting cross legged at the end of the wooden dock. “A-and, I was wondering if perhaps you knew why he gives these out?’
Before Niki could reply Ranboo added “He told me it was Phil’s idea, but i have a feeling that it’s not.”
Niki laughed at that.
“What a weird thing to say. No, Tubbo has done that every year we’ve been here. It’s an Apian thing, something about flowers symbolising their love to carry you through to the next year. Apian culture is very romantic.”
“L-love?” Ranboo squeaked, thoroughly surprised, her ears flushing. “B-ut why would T-Tubbo give me-”
“Oh no no, don’t worry” Niki laughed, “Tubbo told us when he first gave them out that everyone gives them to eveyrone, romantic or family or friends. Besides, there’s only certain kinds of flowers that are romantic, you know? They all have different meanings. I’ll go get mine to show you.”
Niki dove underwater, a large splash making the dock rock slightly and spattered Ranboo with water. She gave a small yelp at the coldness of it, but was very glad she had had a water resistant potion before she had come down to see Niki.
There was a disruption in the water and Niki’s head popped back up above the surface, grinning widely with all her pointed teeth on display.
“Sorry,” she grinned cheekily as Ranboo glared at her, trying their best to intimidate Niki, for all that xe looked like a bedraggled cat. “I knew you had taken a potion, and I just couldn't resist the opportunity.”
“So did you find your wreath or was that just an excuse to get me soggy?” Ranboo snapped, very displeased.
Niki giggled. “It’s right here.”
She held up a wreath that shone with an enchantment, most certainly a water resistant charm, made up of orange and white tulips, also held together with twine, with glow berries dispersed throughout.
“You know, it’s quite funny,” she said laying it down on the edge of the dock as Ranboo marvelled at craftmenship of the wreath.
“Phil got me a book of flower meanings for my birthday last year becuase i had started to get into gardening,” she said, her tail lazily swishing from side to side and creating ripples.
“And I remembered it this year when Tubbo gave me my wreath, but it was so strange. “
“What was?” Ranboo asked, starting to get a little impatient with how long Niki was taking to get to her point.
“Well, flowers are a huge part of Apian culture, and when I asked him once Tubbo told me that flower meanings were a very prominent too. So I’m sure he used that when making the wreaths, but I don’t really understand what he’s trying to say.”
“Well, what’s so confusing about your wreath?” Ranboo asked, “It certainly looks very nice.”
“Yes,” Niki nodded in agreement, as she pulled a small book out from seemingly thin air, “But the white tulips mean forgiveness and purity,” she said as she flipped ot a page, “And for one i don’t know whether he’s asking me to forgive him for something, or saying i’m very pure? One is confusing and the other just feels quite insulting.”
Ranboo agreed.
“As for the orange tulips, it says here that they mean “a sense of understanding between two people”, which makes me think the white are for forgiveness. But i have just no clue what I’m supposed to be forgiving him for!”
Her tail thwacked the surface of the lake with that and sprayed over Ranboo’s hair, leaving xer soggier than before. Ranboo’s sputters going unnoticed, Niki went on.
“And with glowberries meaning excitement, but not celebration, which would make sense for new years, i’m stumped on what he trying to tell me.”
Attempting to shake some of her hair dry, Ranboo asked, “I did come to ask if you might know what my wreath meant, but it seems i will end up with just as puzzling an outcome as you did.”
“Well,” Niki said brightly, “If it’s not insulting, hopefully it will end up being rather funny instead. Bring it out here.”
A little shyly, Ranboo retrieved her wreath from xer inventory, and held it gently in her claws.
“Oooh, that one’s really nice!” Niki said, reaching out for it, until Ranboo held it back, her cheeks flushing with heat. “It’s, ah, just a little broken is all. It fell a few times.”
Niki nodded, and had a good look from a distance away. '`I'm very surprised though, II’ve never seen him use any of those flowers in his wreaths before!’
Ranboo’s heart skipped a beat at that, but their brain turned to reason and xe scoffed.
“He’s probably insulted me in a million different ways then,” She snapped, with a toss of her hair, attempting to show indifference. But Niki watched how tightly xe held on to the flowers, and with a knowing smile decided to keep her comments to herself.
“Pink tulips are a symbol of good luck, and white roses signify loyalty.”
The two sat in silence for a moment as they stewed it over.
‘That’s not quite insulting or a complement” Niki said, re reading over the page.
“I suppose good luck could be an insult, but what is he saying I’m bad at?” Ranboo furrowed her brow, “ And as for loyalty, it sounds like a compliment, but even if I were to take it as an insult it just doesn’t make sense at all! I feel like he has to be insulting me, somehow.”
Niki interjected “Well, if i can find the page with alliums, perhaps we can figure this out.”
Ranboo sat in tense silence as Niki flipped through the pages. Why did this matter so much to xer? It was only Tubbo, after all, a-and she hated him anyway, so why should it matter what he thought of her? Why should it matter that he had spent the time to create something that looked so beautiful and must have taken a lot of effort, especially for them? Why did the thought of him, carefully growing and picking flowers with her in mind bring such a flush to her face, the image of his eyes, bright and concentrated and blue as the sky on her favourite days of winter, make her ears go hot and her heart race? I-if he hated xer as much as she really, really definitely hated him, then why would he-
“Ah, here it says alliums mean patience and humility.”
Ranboo bristled, gripping the wreath a lot more angrily than before. “That self absorbed, donkey brained, smart aleck little twit!” She shouted, jumping to her feet, casting the wreath to the dock.
“How, how dare he tell me, that I need patience? That I need humility?” Xe was breathing heavily, feeling her ears heat with anger now, fists balled up tight.
“What kind of a pathetic snivelling coward is he that he can’t even look me in the eyes and say it to my face! The utter arrogance he has, to think he is so above me that he, h-he’s probably laughing at me now, th-thinking he’s won!” She paced back and forth, incensed.
“Ohhhhh, I should have crushed that stupid wreath the moment he gave it to me, that prick. I’m going to put that complete asshole in his place, ahole in the ground like the peasant he is. FLACS LEN!, he just makes me want to scream, that- that utter dickhead!”
“Ayup Niki! Hiya Ranboo!” Jack Manifold’s voice made it’s way to the two of them, and Ranboo, now having to try her best to calm down, turned to him trying to keep a “glower off of her face, shoving her wreath into her inventory and sitting down grumpily.
“Hi Jack!” Niki replied brightly. Jack made his way over to them and sat down a little ways away from them both.
“What’ve you two been up to this fine summer's day?” He said good naturedly.
“Oh, we were just discussing the wreaths Tubbo made us.” Niki said, holding hers up, the scent of the tulips carrying on the breeze.
Jack gave a low whistle as he saw Niki’s wreath. “Gee, that’s a much nicer one than what he gave me!” he said, admiring the blooms.
“Oh, was yours made with wither roses?” Niki joked.
Jack laughed. “Oh no, I mean he made it well! It’s just that it’s meaning was essentially “you have forgotten how to be humble. Get better.” I have a feeling Tommy was part of that. I was reading between the lines a bit but when I asked he told me as such to my face.”
Niki laughed whilst Ranboo fumed inside. If Tubbo could be bothered to insult Jack Manifold and tell him upfront, why couldn’t he show the same base level of respect to xer?
“But really Niki, he’s given yours such a nice meaning, I didn’t think he had it in him. “ Jack remarked.
As Niki and Ranboo looked very confused at this statement, Jack continued hurriedly, “ The orange tulips mean good fortune, right? And the white ones mean wisdom, and the glow berries are for cheerfulness. Stop looking at me like that!” He laughed.
“What, are you confused that he gave you a compliment? I mean, I am a bit surprised too-”
‘Oh no no, Jack,” Niki said, shaking her head, passing her book along to Jack. “I’m just really confused as to how you got those meanings! See, i got this book of flower meanings from Phil last year and mine says something quite different.”
“Oh that’s cause your’s isn’t the Apian flower meaning!” Jack said, turning it over carefully. “I got curious about what my wreath meant last year, so i looked up a book in the library about it.”
“How do you still remember all the meanings though?” Ranboo asked, tail swishing in fascination.
“Well, the book was really interesting and had some other stuff about Apian culture and a few other societies from the Northernmost Area, and well, since everyone here is so different, it'd be helpful to know stuff wouldn’t it? I though i should at least memorise the flower stuff as that would be easy and might come in handy, as it has. ” Jack said,handing Niki her book back.
“And since James is still building the library, I thought I’d just keep the book until he noticed it was gone. And he’s a thoroughly shit librarian cause I’ve had it far past it’s return date. I can lend it to you if you want.”
“Awesome!” Niki said, grinning. “Do you think you could tell us what Ranboo’s wreath means?” she continued, angling her head in Ranboo’s direction.
Ranboo snorted. “It’s probably something thoroughly insulting, no doubt,” xe snipped, still very irritated with the whole affair, but she handed her wreath over to Jack anyway.
They turned away, almost scared of what the wreath would mean. After almost a minute of excruciating silence and hushed whispers, they had to look back at the other two, who were both trying very hard to hold back a laugh.
“What!” she snapped, and Niki started giggling. Feeling xer ears heat, she began to think of the worst insults they could use before Jack interrupted.
“No, really Ranboo, honest, he’s given you a very nice meaning. We were just, um, not quite expecting it.”
“W-well, what is it?” She said, growing impatient.
“Seems Tubbo has given you a love letter with flowers” Niki giggled, and Ranboo’s heart stopped.
“... What?” she said faintly, ears flushing furiously.
“Well,” Jack said, trying not to grin. “He’s given you white roses to mean “new love”,”
Ranboo’s face was ferociously hot, as she tried to not let either of them read her face and failed miserably.
“Alliums mean adoration, gosh he’s such a sap isn’t he?” Jack continued, sending Niki into a fit of giggles.
Ranboo wrapped their tail around her arm as she tried to not let it wave in excitement, and her face felt like it was on fire.
“And finally, pink tulips mean true love and promises.” Jack was fully grinning now, and Niki was beside herself.
Ranboo was blushing a deep purple, and all thoughts of “putting him in his place” had flown far, far away from her mind.
They sat in silence, attempting to come to terms with this new information she had been given.
“W-well,” she stuttered, “th-thats, certainly s-something i suppose..” Xe couldn't even look at the other two because she knew what their expressions would be.
“So, you gonna ask him about it?” Niki teased and Ranboo decided xe had had enough.
���Well! Th-thank you both very much for helping me, i-i’ve got to be going now. Bye!”
With that, she stuffed her wreath into their inventory and used what remaining energy they had left to teleport all the way back home.
Jack and Niki took one look at each other before they both burst into a fit of laughter.
“Remember the time Tommy told you to give me a bouquet of roses for Valentines?” Niki giggled. Jack’s face screwed up, before he started laughing.
“Oh yes, because apparently I have the romantic charm of a dead bug, and that I really needed help, as he so kindly put it” Jack said.
Niki burst into peals of laughter. “Oh Jack, “ she sung, “You’re a lovely guy but I'd rather go for a nice long swim in lava than date you.”
Jack held a hand to his heart. “Oh Niki, “ he simpered, “ You flatter me so. I must say, if I ever had to date you I would rather help Charlie clean all the slime out of his tank.”
They both shuddered at that.
“Let’s hope Tommy never forces us to go on a date then,” Niki said.
“That, would probably be best,” Jack agreed.
----------
It was now the last day of the year, the imminent “New years” only a few hours away, and Ranboo had not left their cave since the incident with Jack and Niki at the dock 4 days prior. A slightly worried Philza had come past, and asked if xe was feeling unwell, but she threw an empty book at him and shouted at him to go away. He had gotten the message.
Ranboo had spent 4 days in her cave, ignoring Wilbur’s messages about Tommy’s week of prime, thankfully not having to dodge any messages or visits from Sneeg or Fundy as the two had decided to go spend a few days back at Sneeg’s old “realm” after getting thoroughly drunk and reminiscing, and Jack and Niki, seeing as they knew what they knew, had thought it best to leave xer alone for a while.
And now it was 8pm on the last day of the year, and Ranboo really couldn't avoid it any longer. “It” being the problem of Tubbo, whom she had found that maybe, awfully, hopefully, she didn’t entirely hate. Oh who was she kidding, he had confessed that he was in love with her and apparently xe had only just realised she felt the same. Now, she held the power in this situation, and yet she was far more afraid. Xe had to go to the celebration tonight, more out of fear of what Tommy and Wilbur would do to her tomorrow if she didn’t, by=ut she desperately didn’t want to face Tubbo.
“Maybe” they thought to themself as they anxiously put the finishing touches on her outfit, “ I can just show up, exchange whatever gifts I need to and leave before he notices me.”
During their 4 days of alone time, they had written up a formidable list of “new years” gifts they had to get, and had decided to get everyone the same thing, with variations for each person’s own style.
As she looked in the mirror, xe froze and her cheeks flushed. When had they decided to wear that dress? Definitely not because Tubbo had complimented it once. She pushed that thought to the back of xer mind and checked their invitation again.
'`PARTY AT THE PUB(E)!’ it said, scrawled in Tommy’s handwriting. “BE THERE OR BE A BITCH!” Underneath, in a much neater font, Wilbur had written. “The celebrations will go on for god knows how long, but please try to arrive from 7 - 8:30 so everyone can exchange gifts, and those who need to sleep can join in on time for their sleep schedules.”
Checking the clock, which read 8:25 now, Ranboo took a deep breath to still xer racing heart, and teleported to the top of the Pub(e). However, instead of being greeted with noise and music and partying and laughter, as she had expected, there was silence.
As xe cautiosuly open her eyes, she was then greeted with a giant shout of “HAPPY END OF THE YEAR!” and was then barrelled over by a very excited Tommy.
‘RANBOO MY FAVOURITE STUCK UP DICKHEAD! Look at the decorations we did, I helped the most, do you really like that juice stuff that much? I tried some and it sucked balls-”
Tommy was rambling very excitedly, her feathers all puffed up and her eyes bright with what Ranboo guessed was sugar.
“Yes yes Tommy, good to see you too-” She began, not having listened to his previous rambling, when she stood up and was shocked by what she saw.
Garlands of various shades and patterns in purple were strung across the beams that were built into the roof of the Pub(e), and small lanterns with Ender symbols on them were hanging about the room. There was a large bowl of punch that had the soft, sour scent of chorus fruit, and the fruit itself garnished cupcakes that sat on the table. At the very centre of the roof, there hung a paper ender dragon, with glitter on it’s wings and two small amethyst shards for it’s eyes. In the centre of the room, the tree of prime had an enderman sitting atop it, and it was adorned with all things purple.
“Sooo…,” Phil said, his eyes wrinkling in that way they did when he was trying not to smile because he was very pleased with himself.
“A little bee told me about some celebrations you have in The End, and although I know it’s not quite the right time for you, I thought you might appreciate something more familiar this year, seeing as it’s your first time celebrating new years with us.”
Everyone else had already started the celebrations, conversations being loud and rambunctious, with a few people drifting over to the food table, and a couple more adding their presents under the prime tree.
“What do you think?” Phil said, smiling at her.
In a strangled voice she replied “I-it’s… nice.”
Phil grinned delightedly. “Do you really think so? We put in so much effort, but I can’t take all the credit. It was Tubbo’s idea after all.”
“...Pardon?” Ranboo croaked, her heart racing at the mention of his name. “What did T-Tubbo do?”
“Oh he told me he heard you talking about this and that about The End and he got a few ideas.. But why don’t you talk to him yourself! Tubbo, mate!” Phil waved Tubbo over, who looked a little nervous but nowhere near close to how Ranboo felt. Xe cursed Phil a million times over in her head, casting as many threats of eternal suffering on him as possible as they glared at his retreating back.
“Uhm, so, hi?” Tubbo said, and Ranboo snapped back to look at him, before she promptly flushed and looked away.
In the continuing silence, Tubbo attempted to fill the awkwardness.
“I hope you don’t mind that I uh, kinda overheard you talking to Sneeg the other day,” Tubbo stumbled over his words. “I really hope you don’t think I’m weird, I just thought, well, i-it’s your first new years with us, and we’ve done heaps of celebrations from everyone else’s homes, s-so I thought it would be fair?”
Ranboo had yet to reply to him, but xe hadn’t started shouting at him either, so he took it as a good sign.
“But yeah! Tommy and Wilbur especially got really excited when Phil asked them to help out. Techno made the dragon! A-and Phil and Tommy and I made the banners. Beau offered to help make food, and Wilbur made the chorus fruit punch, so if it’s really bad that’s why sorry. I uh, didn’t know much about End customs and the book I got, wasn’t that helpful, but I hope it’s alright? And that I haven’t accidentally offended you?-’ Tubbo’s anxious rambling was cut off as he heard a sizzling sound, and he turned in alarm to see that Ranboo was crying.
“Shi! Fuck, Ranboo I’m so sorry, fuck fuck fuck where are the bandages,” Tubbo grabbed her by the claw and dragged them into the kitchen, and he started rummaging around in the drawers.
“Here!’ he said as he flung a tea towel at their head, and grabbed the first aid box. “Uh, just hold that to your face, and try to st-stop crying? Sorry.” Seeing as they had grabbed a bit of attention from the other people at the party, Niki and Phil in particular looking on worriedly, Tubbo suggested, “H-how about we head outside?”
Ranboo nodded, and thankful to finally have a response from xer, he once again grabbed their hands and pulled them outside, to sit on a bench overlooking the crater, the music from inside muffled.
Tubbo took his time applying the burn cream to their face and carefully placing the healing enchantments on her skin.
“There, that should be all good,” he said, relieved, and then he noticed how close he was to her face. Ranboo looked him in the eyes, and flushing, they both turned away from each other awkwardly.
Neither of them said a word for a while, listening to the chatter and laughter from inside, the awkward silence slowly being filled in by the music drifting outside on the breeze.
“Thank you,” Ranboo whispered. Surprised Tubbo turned to see them looking right at him, ears a dark purple and clawss fidgeting.
‘God she’s really pretty,” he thought, his own face a bright red.
“It was n-nothing, don’t worry-” he began before they interrupted him.
“It wasn’t nothing,” xe said, her claw finding his hand, and Tubbo’s heart skipped a beat as he zeroed in on every single moment of this conversation. “Obviously, thank you for the bandages,” she said, laughing a little, and oh how his heart fluttered when xe laughed. Her voice was like starlight. And he knew he was down bad when he preferred to hear xer cursing him than to hear nothing at all.
“I, I wanted to say thank you, f-for all this, though” they said quietly.
“It wasn’t anything really-” Tubbo said, laughing awkwardly.
“Shut up.” Ranboo said quietly. “It, it was something, to me. I, just,” And now she was crying again, and fucking hell did it hurt.
“Here!” Tubbo said, grabbing a towel soaked in healing potion.
He held it under her eyes as xe tried their best to compose xerself.
“Thank you, Tubbo” she said, as he blushed, still holding her face.
“I guess I hadn’t quite realised, j-just how much I missed home. And, and the fact th-that you’d put so much effort into th-” a hiccup, “ i-into this, for me, I don’t know what to say, except… thank you.”
The two stared at each other, the music now picking up full swing inside, and they heard a shout and a crash, probably Tommy.
“I found out what the flowers meant,” Ranboo whispered, taking the bandage from xer face and smiling at him.
Tubbo’s heart dropped. ‘Y-you did?” he squeaked, palms sweating, fingers tightly clutching his shirt, his lower hands now desperately trying not to fidget.
“Yes.” Ranboo smiled and Tubbo hoped, that maybe, maybe maybe maybe, it meant something good.
“It was a very nice wreath. I really liked it.” she remarked.
“I really like you,” Tubbo thought as she leaned in a little closer. “Please, please, don’t let this be her making fun of me. I don’t want to cry in front of xer today.”
“W-well, I did spend a lot of time on it,” Tubbo admitted. Quietly, he added, “And I made sure your’s was the prettiest.”
“I think you’re the prettiest,” Ranboo said, both of xer claws now holding his, and his heart stopped. Ranboo’s face was dark purple, and Tubbo was sure that his was redder than Tommy’s plumage.
“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out.
“Yes” Ranboo whispered, xer clawcradling his cheek.
They both leaned, Tubbo’s hand holding her claw, their eyes slowly closing-
“TUBBO IT’S GIFTING TIME, COME ON HURRY UP” Tommy screeched from inside, and two broke apart.
“U-uh, yeah, we’re coming Tommy!” Tubbo shouted back.
They sat for a moment, until the absolute awful horrible awkwardness of th situation was too much to bear.
Avoiding Ranboo’s gaze Tubbo jerked his thumb in the direction of the doorway as he stood up. ‘W-well, you heard her, we should probably go-”
Ranboo walked over to him, bent down and kissed him on the cheek, his sentence stopping as his brain short circuited.
“Come on Tubbo, you wouldn’t want to keep Tommy waiting,” xe grinned at him, before sweeping past him and walking inside.
Tubbo, completely flustered, took a moment to bury his face in his hands, before composing himself and going to join Ranboo in the Pub(e).
----------
“Ranboo! Tubso!” Tommy crowed in delight, running up to the two of them, her wings puffed up in excitement. “You guys were out there for ages, it’s gift giving time! C’mon c’mon!” He then grabbed both of their hands and dragged them towards the prime tree, where they were both roughly shoved to a sitting position on the ground whilst Tommy sat in between them and demanded as much attention as possible.
Phil surveyed the room from the rafters, watching people take their sweet time getting to the gifting circle and decided the hour was near.
“Techno, ring the bell!” He called, and Techno promptly did as he was ordered, a clanging ringing out across the room.
“Crowfather is askin’ for attention, an’ I wanna go to sleep, so everyone hurry up!” Techno called, his ears twitching, and anyone who had yet to be seated hurried to the circle. Techno took his place in between Niki and Wilbur, and all was hushed.
Philza swooped down from the rafters to laughter and applause, along with Tommy squeezing both Tubbo and Ranboo’s claws until they went numb.
“Hey mates,” Phil said, having donned a fancier hat for the occasion of New Years, and his homemade “Crow Father” tie made by Tommy when she was young. He held a bright purple shulker box, which he placed on the ground.
“Now, as you all know this is our little tradition, where I give out gifts that are better than all of yours and i do it in a fancier way,” that got a few laughs, “and this year I just wanted to acknowledge that the celebration we decided to theme this new years after was The Great Sleep, which as one of the major End holidays, I’m sure Ranboo can tell you all about.”
Ranboo, a little embarrassed at now having so many eyes on them, stilled her face and tried to look bored, but Tubbo saw xer tail waving surreptitiously.
“And now with that acknowledged, we go on to my portion of the gift giving!” Phil said with a smile, and he started to hand out a bundle of presents.
Tommy received a specially knitted scarf for his eggs, with warming and protection enchantments sewn in, and he chirped with joy, wigs flapping up and down and banging into Tubbo and Ranboo, feathers going everywhere. Tubbo was handed a new toolset, with a few extra hard to find pieces to build that one specific contraption he’d been rambling to Tommy about for weeks, and the look on his face when he saw it was enough to make Ranboo’s heart explode.
And finally, Ranboo received a book. The outside was a beautifully dyed leather like material, the colour swirling shades of silver and purple. It had a metal clasp, and the pages were made of the finest, most wonderful paper Ranboo had ever seen. Inside was a quill, the feather one of Tommy’s most beautiful, a bright red with flecks of gold and white edges.
“Even though Will has apologised for the incident with the other book earlier this year,” Phil said, “I thought it was a shame you had to get rid of such a nice book, and I thought you might appreciate a nice replacement.”
Ranboo couldn’t cry again, not after the amount of enchantments that had already been used to heal xer face.
“It is a very suitable replacement” xe said, barely containing their smile. “I would think it of high enough calibre to be better than the old one.”
Phil grinned, and she knew he had understood.
The gifting went on, Ranboo giving each person her gift and receiving a lot in turn. Xe had made everyone a piece of jewellery, some people a bracelet, others a necklace if it suited them, and more specialised pieces for her closer friends. For Wilbur, she had made a hanging charm to attach to his sunhat, and then she had to deal with his blubbering as she patted him on the back and avoided getting burnt.
For Tommy, there was a specific anklet, that was very, very resistant, and waterproof, and fireproof, and wouldn’t get worn by time as quickly as anything else Tommy wore normally would. For xer efforts she was gifted a faceful of feathers and screeching, but at least they knew that to be signs of their friend’s excitement.
Jack had received some earring studs, which he immediately wore with pride, and began boasting to Niki about how handsome they made him. Niki ignored him in favour of profusely thanking Ranboo for her nose piercing that had the tiniest, shiniest amethyst shard glimmering in it. Techno received a silver crown with amethysts, to add to his ever growing collection, to which he responded with a tight hug and a “This is nice. Thanks.”
Ranboo had yet to give Tubbo his present, but she had no time to worry on that when she was receiving a hat for her egg from Tommy, a collection of glass bottles with fancy detailing and gems as cork stoppers from Wilbur, a truly glorious collection of (dry) pieces of gold and interesting antiquities Niki had found in an abandoned ship, soft, knitted socks from Techno, a small lute from Freddy, a basket made of reeds and full of (possibly either burnt or undercooked) muffins from Beau, and a wink and a nudge from Jack as he handed her “The Complete and Utter guide to Apia: all about the customs, language and culture of the Apian Society.”
“You should read chapter 14 first,” He said, grinning. “I think you’ll find it the most interesting.”
(And, if later that night, Ranboo did turn to “Chapter 14: How to win (and be won over) by a member of the most romantic culture in the world” and read that first, well who was to know?)
----------
Somehow, Ranboo and Tubbo found themselves outside again, all alone, yet to have given each other a present.
“Well,” thought Tubbo, “It’s now or never, or tomorrow when it might be really awkward and I have ruined things, so best to get it over and done with.”
“Here,” he said, giving her a velvet box. “I, uh hope it’s up to standard.”
Curiously, Ranboo inspected the box. A smooth black velvet on the outside, no clasp and no signs at all of a maker’s signature. Shrugging to themself, xe opened it. Inside was a necklace, made of silver and as thin and fine as cobwebs. It looped endlessly, looking like a layer of lace, with small ovals of obsidian in between, polished beyond perfection to make it shine and glimmer in the low light. At it’s centre, there was an oval circled in silver, inside an emerald and a ruby, cut into perfect shape, and both matching the exact shading of her eyes.
“I know you already have a lot of jewellery, but i haven’t seen you wear much silver stuff so...” Tubbo trailed off, his boot scuffing on the ground.
“I love it,” Ranboo breathed, xer eyes as wide as moonstones. They traced their fingers over each individual loop of silver, each piece of obsidian, the pendant in the centre, the whole thing shimmering with the faintest light of enchantment.
“This is, this isi gorgeous,” she said, absolutely enthralled. “Where did you get it? I have to talk to whoever made this, it-it’s perfect!” xe said, turning to him and leaning in close. Tubbo gulped, leaning back a little as his wings started to flutter.
“Ah,” he said shyly, hiding behind his fringe. “Uh, I made it.”
“Oh.” Ranboo said, and they blushed, internally cursing herself for xer earnestness.
“W-well, Tubbo, it’s, really lovely.” Xe smiled, and Tubbo couldn’t help himself from grinning, his wings fluttering as he began to float.
“I’m so glad you like it,” he whispered.
Ranboo smiled, xer pulse racing. He really was so beautiful.
“Oh, uh, your present, I should probably” Ranboo muttered as xe remembered, carefully tucking the box into her inventory, “Uh, where is it,” xe searched through her pockets until they found it.
“This is for you,” Ranboo said, pulling out a bouquet of blooming pink tulips. They were in a wonderfully crafted vase, made of all shades of stained glass, and tied around it was a matching pink bow.
As Tubbo accepted it, his face unreadable, Ranboo nervously added “I put an anti-aging charm on them, s-so they shouldn’t die for quite a while hopefully.”
Tubbo placed the vase on the bench, and hovering a little higher, he held Ranboo’s face in both his hands, his lower pair grabbing her claws.
Gently, he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I think you figured it out, but in case you couldn’t tell, I really like you,” he whispered, and Ranboo flushed, laughing at the surprise.
Xe pressed a light kiss to his lips, and he went from pink to red. ‘In case you couldn’t tell,” she teased as he stuttered, “I really like you as well.”
Light exploded in the distance, and they both watched as the fireworks started, a cascade of gold and silver light pouring down the sky.
“How do those work?” Ranboo wondered aloud, as red and purple light flashed up above.
“OH!” Tubbo said excited, “You, see, it’s actually quite interesting, Phil told me about it-” He stopped as xe stared at them
“Wh-why are you looking at me like that?” he laughed.
Ranboo grinned and shook her head. “I love when you get all excited about explaining things.” She said, and xe leaned forwards to kiss him again.
“Thank you for making new years so fun.” Ranboo laughed.
Tubbo grinned. “I look forward to celebrating it again with you next year.”
The sky was filled with colour, and Ranboo decided that, even if she still didn’t fully get what new years was, xe was so glad she was celebrating it with the people they loved.
End Note.
oogity boogity my computer has been broken since before the last gift exchange bejeezus. Anywho, wrote the last 7k words of this on a keyboard atachted to someone else's computer, so glad i don't have to write on my phone anymore. First fic i've written that has reached over 10k words, wahoo!
if there are any typos don't be rude about it thanking you. I am tired, i hope you enjoy! goodbye
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hi there! i hope this isn't too weird to ask, but i am an occasional lurker and your 'first house exchange for ants' page on ao3 is *magisterial.* (congrats on all of the horrible old people boning, also!) do you have any tips for someone who's never coordinated something like this before, but who is wanting to set up something even slightly so cool?
Hi! I'm so glad you are enjoying the fruits of the exchange! (link here for 18 works of fic and art centering around the first house)
I was actually not the one who set it up nor ran this exchange, but it is run basically like a secret santa (everyone is assigned a recipient and a gifter, and you try to keep it secret until author reveals). You can do this by hand matching your group of friends, or drawing out of a hat (if you are in person), or you can set it up on ao3 (tutorial linked here)!
Hope this helps :D
#ask#anon#lyctor exchange#btw check out the tlt 2023 holiday exchange as well!!#if u didnt sign up you can still treat or pinch hit!
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Hi there everyone!
This is the new blog for the Paranatural Secret Santa event. The previous coordinator of the event is no longer hosting it, so the old blog will no longer be used. You may be wondering... what now?
What Is Paranatural Secret Santa?
Paranatural Secret Santa is an event that takes place during the holiday season. You get assigned to a person to make a gift for, you create that gift, and you also receive a gift! This secret Santa is themed after the webcomic Paranatural, so if you are a fan of it and create fan content, this is perfect for you!
Notable Changes
Paranatural Secret Santa now has a new coordinator! My name is Cody, and this is my first time ever managing something like this. Please be patient with me, and contact me on any of my socials (listed in the description of the blog) if you have any questions, concerns or problems relating to the event.
There is a new gallery website! This website will contain all of the gifts from this year's secret Santa for your viewing pleasure. It will not contain gifts from the previous years however. The website is currently empty, but as gifts get sent to their recipient, they'll be added onto the website. You can find this website here.
There is now a brand new, fresh URL! Its now just paranturalsecretsanta now! Yay!
Application Form
You can apply for the secret Santa on this form! There is also extra information there in case you missed something.
Schedule
November 8th - December 4th - Applications are open.
December 5th - December 9th - Applications close, and secret Santas are assigned.
December 10th - December 24th - Working period.
December 25th - January 17th - Posting/ Receiving/ Extension period.
This year, extensions will NOT be offered to people who don't finish their gifts by January 17th. However, the posting period will also double as an extension period. Also, because of the secret Santa starting later than usual this year, the schedule is fairly condensed. So, don't expect to receive your gift by the 25th, don't expect to get extra time, and don't expect to turn in your gift by the 25th.
Previous Paranatural Secret Santa Blogs
paranaturalsecretsanta-blog (2015-2017)
pnatsecretsanta (2018-2021)
Go check out those blogs if you want to see an archive of the gifts from previous years :D!
I hope you enjoy this year! Have fun and don't forget to be merry!
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WITA. ♥