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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Tower

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rated: Mature

Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language

Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.

Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.

You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath.

Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.

The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin.

Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades.

And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.

On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.

She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.

The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars.

You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.

And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.

You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong.

A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.

You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.

An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.

You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead.

And then—

Chaos.

You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.

For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close.

Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings.

The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you.

Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.

It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on.

Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her.

“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.

“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.

“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out.

A man.

Device.

Charges.

A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.

“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”

///

You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.

Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.

Almost.

But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer-

and then, nothing.

They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang.

You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.

“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.

You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.

“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.

///

After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t.

Can’t.

You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision…

You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.

Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.

And he’s not alone.

You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward.

The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”

Your blood runs cold.

Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-

The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.

Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands.

The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist.

And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.

The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out.

“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.

///

You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it.

You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.

And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you.

Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.

“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.

“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...”

“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.

The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks.

He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.

“— Dala.”

Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.

“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin.

Oh, you think, numb. Huh.

Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?

A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”

406 notes · View notes

borkthemork · 3 years

Note

Drabble Request: Anne and Marcy after her rescue

You know what, Anon? You get a 2,600 word draft as a treat. Thank you for your patience!

-----

Anne had read books before.

She wasn't the kind of person to read long-winding literature like the typical bookworms back home, but she did read whatever interested her. From magazines to comics to zoo books about bird mating dances, Anne liked stuff that had meat to it.

Give her enemies to lovers, she'd cheer at the makeouts. Give her gut wrenching biographies about surviving the Himalayas, she'd bawl her eyes out. And if one gave her story about being one's true self under the guise and acceptance of a duck instructor then she'd quack it up and never be heard from again.

There needed to be meat, drama, scenes of people kissing in the rain. Stories were all about getting punched in the gut over some random guy, and that would always be the best part!

So she had no idea why Cynthia Coven never stood out to her.

It might be because of the choppy writing style or perhaps fantasy wasn't her thing, but that didn't make sense to her. After all, she'd read anything as long as it was interesting and somehow the Coven books just…didn't stick?

Sure, Cynthia had a pet squirrel. Anne could find a squirrel at the park anytime. Cynthia had spells, curses, people with talking body parts that shouldn't be talking at all. Okay, cool — ugh, why wasn't she interested? Everything about it seemed right up her alley!

She chalked it up to preferences and moved on.

But somehow, after all these years, the same book fluttered between the pages in her hands. And she found herself narrating, speaking the paragraphs out loud under the green canvas of her tent.

All because the bedridden girl beside her couldn't sleep.

It had been forty-six hours since Anne and the girls united. It felt a lot longer than that, if she wanted to be honest, but all the footing, fighting, and planning they did to get out unharmed from Andrias's castle had taken a toll on them. And for Mar-mar even more so, what with the amount of stuff that went down. A lot of explosions. Crying. Frog-on-frog violence.

So in this tent came privacy. Not enough privacy to basically stop Sprig or Sasha from barging in, but the makeshift walls were one of the most protected cliff faces inside the forests. So they were basically between a rock and a hard place.

And since Amphibia's nature became a hazard to not only the typical frog but aggro robot intruders, nothing got through as a threat in the end. Not even the huge mother frobo that she and Sash fought days prior.

Anne flipped a page.

The cold draft had slipped in and raised goosebumps on her umber skin. It almost seemed surreal that Summer started to transition out with the months passing, but the chirp of birds and the lack of cicada song had marked a new season, and now Anne shivered slightly with her narration.

Marcy's wounds needed to heal. From the remains of the stab wound to the headache to the numerous nicks upon her feet, if she didn't start sleeping then the medicine Maddie gave wouldn't come into effect anytime soon.

And if she didn't snore in the next ten minutes, Sash would have to knock her out with some sleepshroom grub saute and Anne wasn't going to let her get drugged anytime soon.

But from what was currently happening, Anne became unsure.

Marcy's eyes fluttered shut a few times. She would start drifting off at some random part in the story and then jolted back to listening intently as if nothing had happened. Nothing in the book could get her to sleep. Not Cynthia's introduction to werebeasts, her dramatic one-liners, or how she got knocked out for a minute straight from drinking a pint of Canadian beer.

Wait, could teens drink beer in Canada? Gah, that wasn't important!

What was important was that Marcy looked dead — terrifyingly dead — and no matter how much Anne tried to keep her eyes on the words, the fear clung to the recesses of her mind, asking if everything was going to be alright despite the girls' current luck streak.

That maybe this would be the last time she'd ever see Marcy alive. All because she fell asleep.

Anne leveled her voice when these thoughts struck her, and hoped Marcy didn't note the hitch in her throat or how she blinked faster to catch herself from crying.

Because Marcy was strong. She was stronger than people gave her credit for.

Anne peered down. Marcy's thumb had pressed to the side of Anne's fingers, their eyes meeting for a second; one harbored bags under her eyes, the other of worry.

"I promise I'll sleep." Her smile reached her gaze, the weariness plain on her worn out dimples and ashen cheeks. Anne might need a washcloth later. "It's been a long time since I've read the Cynthia Coven series, my brain can't help but pay attention."

"I know, Mar-mar." Anne closed her eyes for a second and let out a relaxed sigh. "Seven months can be pretty long."

"Tell me about it." Marcy's eyes lingered at the ceiling, licking her lips. "I've been so busy with everything that's been happening that I've barely caught up with the latest book."

"Yeah." Anne smiled. "You know they've got a new release out?"

She blinked. Almost as if Anne punched her in the face at that moment. "Are you serious? Aw man, I missed so much."

"Hey, it's alright. It'll be waiting for you when we get back." Besides, Anne already wrapped the edition in a lot of Christmas paper, might as well keep the surprise.

But Marcy still looked miserable. She pouted, letting her sink more into the mattress almost comically, and Anne bit back a laugh when she groaned. "Oh man, I'm so excited, this sucks! At least tell me if Cynthia gets over the Bridge of Quintessence."

"I don't know what that means and besides, you're two books behind, why would you wanna spoil it!"

They shared a laugh and carried on. Anne missed this. She did. In between the page clips and the eagerness flowing in Marcy's voice, it almost seemed like they were back to what they once were: Two girls laughing and making fun of bad jokes, giggling at stuff that didn't make sense in the story. It almost made the worries over Andrias and her parents grow into background noise.

Almost.

Anne perked up. A question had flown past her, and now Marcy stared at her, inquiry clear in her eyes. "Oh, sorry, I zoned out a bit. What'd you say, Marbles?"

"I'm curious, Annarama."

"Curious about what?"

Marcy's eyes traveled over her shoulder for a second. Was it the fatigue? Judging from how she fiddled with her fingers, the question must've been something serious, maybe something about Andrias or what happened back in the castle.

Whatever it was, Anne readied herself as she waited.

And then:

"Is that mine?"

Anne blinked. She ogled her book, then at the bedside table with its medicinal herbs, then the Thai Go logo printed fresh on her shirt. "What's yours?"

She pointed to Anne's waist.

When Anne looked down, the realization struck her like a bat. Under the filtered sunlight, she almost forgot that the yellow jacket around her waist was there to begin with, snug and tight in that hard knot Anne tied everytime she stepped out of the house.

And somehow, it remained clean from countless dimensional hops and Super Saiyan power-ups. And now it was here. Being scrutinized by her and the girl opposite her.

With that, she started to sweat.

Right, that.

A nervous laugh burst out from her mouth, making Marcy stare at her more out of concern.

How was she going to explain that?

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot!" She rubbed her neck, trying her best to pick out the right reasons in her mind, but nothing stuck out to her. "It's a funny story actually, so funny that you'll probably forget in the morning so why not another time?"

A smile formed. "I don't know, Anne." Her eyes scrunched up too in pleasure, pressing her thumb against Anne's knuckles. "I'm all for sleeping to a comedy. Remember when we watched Borat? I laughed so hard I passed out."

"Oh, Mar-mar, that's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?" She then pulled her hand away, frowning. "Unless I'm pushing you, then I'll just—"

"No, no. You're fine!" What wasn't fine was how her heart pounded against her chest. Or, that the more she tried to take a deep breath, Marcy's growing concern made her laughter sound more like an old man wheezing from an asthma attack.

Anne was about to make a dumbass out of herself and that was fine! As long as she stayed calm and explained then maybe she wouldn't feel nervous about this.

Wait, why was she nervous anyway? It was just a jacket!

Oh, she knew why.

"Okay." Anne placed the book down, trying to regain her breath. Might as well go for it. What was the worst that could happen? Don't answer that. "So you remember how I've been trying to find my way back after I got through the portal?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I didn't want to forget. Not like I would've but I thought you died and I knew taking down Andrias was the only way to avenge you and get Sasha back." Anne sharply inhaled — words speeding past her ears. "So I thought 'Hey, I'll carry your jacket so I don't forget' and I basically wore it around everyday until I finally found a way back. So…"

Marcy's stare didn't help her sweating as she spoke, giving jazz hands to finish it all off. "Here I am. Yeah."

Marcy continued to stare at her. She'd never seen her this gobsmacked before; usually she found a way to ask questions, to let her enthusiasm shine through with eager stride, but now she became a deer in the highlights. All agape. All wide-eyed.

Oh Frog, I broke her.

"Mar-mar, you okay?"

"So you wore my jacket as a reminder to stop Andrias," she asked slowly, "after months of finding a way back?"

Anne puffed out her cheeks. "Maybe?"

"Anne…"

"Okay, okay, yeah." She hung her head, defeat in her voice. "I did."

"Oh." Marcy's eyes widened to the size of saucers, a shaky exhale breaking through. "Oh."

Anne stood up. If she didn't get out in the next fifteen seconds, she was going to explode. "Okay, yep! That's it for the Cynthia Coven series! Goodnight, Mar-mar, I'll check up on you later—!"

"Wait, wait!"

Marcy latched onto her wrist. Her ears pounded on, hard to focus with her sweaty palms and the shallowness of her breath. Because this whole situation was awkward and weird and it made her feel funny things in her heart and darn it Anne should've handled this back on Earth — not while they were stuck in the middle of a Frog darn war!

"Anne, please look at me."

She did.

When she turned, the sight surprised her. Marcy's cheeks had darkened considerably as they held each other's gazes, the hold on her arm still having them tethered to one another.

Then the touch loosened slightly. It didn't speak of fear nor did it speak of pain. It didn't speak of the desperation Marcy once had when she held her fists in the broken halls of the Newtopian castle. What Anne instead found was reassurance. A reassurance in their interlocked hands, at how they gazed intently under the tent canvas, a heat creeping well onto Anne's cheeks too.

"It's really sweet that you wore my jacket like that." Marcy then bore down at the bedding lines, almost squeaking her words. "And very clever! Yeah! Because a physical reminder is a great alternative to notebooks and to-do list, and since my jacket has emotional connotations to me, of course you'd wear it! It just makes sense."

Marcy coughed into her sleeve, words almost a whisper. "You've always been good at improvising, after all."

"Mar-mar..."

"And thank you."

Anne stopped. She could've honed in on the bustling Wartwoodians outside. Or the rustle of the forest trees. But she focused on the comforting tap of Marcy's fingers, and the gleam in the girl's eyes — almost as if Marcy was about to cry.

"You've always been kind," she murmured. Her fingers trailed circles on Anne's palms, leaving her to shudder slightly under the touch. Especially when Marcy's eyes grew half-lidded. Remorse on her lips. "And to know you worked so hard after everything I did to you and Sash, I don't how I'll ever make it up for it."

"You don't have to do that," she said. Her words drifted between them, remembering what Mrs. Wu said a few months ago: That Marcy was the best out of all of them. Because she always needed to be. "What Andrias did was not your fault, and I'll beat him again if he ever makes you think it is."

"Besides," she said, putting on a smile. "Having you beside me has always been enough. Honest."

But Marcy's grief remained on her face, unspoken as her fingers faltered their dragging on Anne's palms.

Because she wanted to hold her hand instead, both their fingers trembling from the bedridden girl's arm.

"Anne, I hurt you. I did. No matter how much I try to justify myself, I still omitted everything about what I knew." Her eyebrows furrowed, glaring more at their shaky hands. "I was selfish. I wasn't honest."

"Don't say that. You didn't know this would happen, I understand this now."

"But you're still angry." Marcy sighed. "I know you are."

The conifers rustled silently. The faraway bugs whistled, occupying each interval as they held hands, their gazes observing anything but the other. Until Anne couldn't think up a better excuse anymore.

As much as Anne tried to forgive, there was something frightening about the resentment in her skin, underneath all that warmth. It went against every lesson she learned. Every lesson of compassion. Or maybe she was just denying it for what it truly was — a tight angry wound that had reason to exist as much as their handlock.

Her body sagged at the thought. She'd gotten so far, trying to deny anything about herself would reverse so much.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I'm still mad. I don't want to be, but I am. But that doesn't mean I was gonna leave you guys in the middle of a war." The next words were under her breath. "I never wanted you guys to get hurt in the first place."

Marcy brushed her knuckles. "Take as much time as you need."

"I think a few months is enough."

"Or a year."

A smile. "Maybe more."

And Anne held her hand until the silence heard their heartbeats. Until their smiles returned slowly, surely.

"I talked to Sasha before you came in," Marcy said.

"You did?"

She nodded. "Mhm. And I don't know if she told you this, but we both agreed to a concordance." Marcy faltered. "An agreement I mean."

Anne snorted. "You don't have to dumb yourself down around me."

"Heyy, I'm not, I just don't want this to sound...clinical."

"Right."

The younger girl shuffled closer to her, which was surprising enough with the limited room on the bed itself. But when Anne held her eyes, there came recognition of something new. Was it relief? Worry?

"What we agreed on is that you don't have to forgive us. Maybe you'll be mad at us for a long time—"

"Mar-mar, I'm not—"

"Let me finish," she said softly. Anne hesitated. She resolved to caress Marcy's knuckles instead, and, of course, she didn't seem to mind. "Whatever happens, whatever you decide, we're not going to abandon you. If you want us out of your life, we'll respect it. If you want us to stay, then we'll respect that too."

Marcy inhaled, slow and careful.

"And when you're ready, I'll make sure to be close by."

There had been times where Anne couldn’t predict what her future held. There had been numerous moments where Anne wanted to quit, to get angry, to question how her life hit upon all these coincidences like pinball and found herself in the most surprising of situations.

But when Marcy finished, stared at her, waiting for her to let her statement sink in, everything seemed to click in place. For just a single moment.

Each word had come out resilient, well thought-out. Anne could imagine the planning so clearly: How Sasha and Marcy sat in the same positions as them, sat with their heads together as they discussed what to say. And the more Anne listened, she could only hope that Sasha was just around the corner, ready to say the same things in her own Sasha-like way.

But for now, they gripped each other's hands, squeezed their fingers until Anne could only think of the heat. The burn in her nose. Then the bit-back sob and her trembling lip as Marcy pressed a thumb carefully to Anne's cheek, rubbing the tear trail away.

Because out of everything Anne predicted to find at the other end of the portal, it wasn’t this.

"You promise?"

Marcy smiled, the ends of her lips twitching weakly. "I promise this time." Her voice broke. "I do."

With it, came the waterworks.

#amphibia #marcanne #annarcy #asks #Anonymous #fanfic #this took weeks to write here ya go

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poohkeepsee · 3 years

Text

I was going through my AO3 bookmarks, and I wanted to organize them a little bit. These are my Dean/Cas canon-ish fic recs.

season 5

canticles by 2street2car Words: 10,311 Chapters: 1

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

FTBYAM MY BELOVED

post season 6

Someone Who's Feeling For Me by ellispark Words: 45,876 Chapters: 1

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

post bunker

Sun Can't Set Until Nine by LeverDrift Words: 67,939 Chapters: 16

Cas moves into the bunker as his powers start to fail. Dean doesn’t know if the arrangement is as permanent as he wants it to be. He's also not sure why he keeps dreaming about his friend. All he knows is that he wants Cas to stay. Overall warnings: canon-typical miscommunication & Dean having self-hatred issues.

Life Skills by ilovehowyouletmefall Words: 26,052 Chapters: 3

After Metatron steals Castiel's grace, and Cas comes to live in the bunker, Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human. And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Sam Stole My Boyfriend by sobsicles Words: 8,445 Chapters: 1

“Dude, you’ve been staring at me a lot lately, like even enough that Sam noticed. More than usual. So, like, what’s up?” Dean pauses, purses his lips and reconsiders. “What did I do?”

Cas knows that would be a perfect time to confess to Dean what exactly happened and what he was thinking. Maybe, Dean had some insight into the situation or even some kind of comfort to offer. But, the longer that he sat there, he realized that he could not tell Dean absolutely anything. So instead, for the first time, Cas fumbled.

“Um,” Cas mutters and abruptly stands. “Freckles?”

Dean blinked up at him as Cas pivoted and left the room. There was only one remaining option he had and unfortunately, it involved Sam.

Aching in the Absence of You by sobsicles Words: 95,090 Chapters: 10

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back.

He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales.

"Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time.

By nightfall, Cas is gone.

'Communication' by JustAnotherSamlicker Words: 11,656

The same story told from two perspectives.

Dean bought a house and he and Cas fix it up.

Is Dean moving out? Is Cas moving in?

Should they just talk to each other already? (Yes they should)

Build a Home by domesticadventures Words: 20,102

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn't

season 10

The Most Important Thing by NorthernSparrow Words: 94,462 Chapters: 14

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

season 12

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord Words: 42,922 Chapters: 7

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

season 13

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees) by sobsicles Words: 74,173 Chapters: 8

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

Trial and Tribulations of Raising a Nephilim by Sickandtiredofyou Words: 14,910 Chapters: 6

Dean has far too much on his plate, losing his mom, his best friend and now being a single parent to a newborn nephilim.

In which Jack is an actual newborn instead of a teenager.

post season 13

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination) by sobsicles Words: 108,427 Chapters: 4

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want."

"What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before."

"Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out."

"Easier said than done."

Reasons to read this:

Dean reads a story that ends like despair and his reaction is FUCK THAT

Cas wears Dean's hoodie

Jack is a toddler

The Jack and Claire sibling energy we deserve

Eileen being awesome and pulling pranks with Dean while Sam thinks she's an angel

Sam knows

YOUR HONOR THEY'RE IN LOVE

First Date by aeli_kindara Words: 8,968 Chapters: 1

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

Also known as the Dean Winchester makes the first move fic.

season 14

Broken Road by thegeminisage Words: 109,629 Chapters: 7

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

post season 15

fools and pilgrims by lagaudiere Words: 31,904 Chapters: 2

Claire shows up at the bunker a day before Dean was planning to leave, with her hair cut short and a fresh tattoo on her left arm under a bandage. Chuck is dead, Jack has given up his godlike powers, and Cas is back from the Empty, which doesn't make it any easier for Dean to talk to him. Suddenly finding himself in a world without monsters, supernatural forces, or any need for hunters, Dean's solution is to go on a road trip. Claire tags along.

Dean-Claire mirror fic post Despair

what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles Words: 27,403

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

canon(?) au (Hunters and Men of Letters)

Dean Winchester's Secret (Angel) Boyfriend by reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent Words: 11,191 Chapters: 1

Dean Winchester isn't exactly a team player. So when he starts mentioning a new Hunting partner, Ellen and Jo Harvelle aren't sure whether they should be worried or relieved.

But they're starting to get the feeling there's something important Dean's not telling them about Cas...

Shot Through The Heart by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim) Words: 11,191 Chapters: 1

Dean is a hunter.

Castiel is a Man of Letters.

And even though they have to work together on a regular basis, there is not much sympathy between them. Castiel thinks Dean too brash and reckless while Dean in return sees nothing more in the other man than a rude asshole with an obsessive love for books and a truly terrible fashion sense.

But fate clearly has a funny way of throwing those two together over and over again.

And somewhere along the way feelings change into something neither of them would have expected.

#destiel #deancas #fic recs

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noctumbra · 4 years

Text

peaches: iv

summary ─ “that’s my girl,” bucky whispered and smiled. tucking her hair behind her ear, he leaned in and kissed her. it was a soft, tender kiss: a kind of kiss that made her feel warm and loved.

pairing ─ dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ angst, conversations about exes, mentions of depression, age difference (reader is 21, bucky is 39)

a/n ─ this one is filled with angst i’m afraid. also includes a little bit of their backstory. sexy times will continue in the upcoming parts (dates: unknown). i would love some feedback. hope you like it! i don’t own the gif.

If their situation had been explained, many would think that Bucky watched her grow up, become the smart woman that she was today, but they would be wrong.

When he met her for the first time, Bucky was twenty-seven while she was nine. Their meeting was brief; Steve wanted Bucky to meet his litle daughter just before they went off to Italy for work. She was pretty; her face was already glowing with the innocence, her eyes were holding a cute mischievous look in them, her small smile was making Steve tear up every damn time while Sam was laughing at his reaction. Her hair was braided adorably, there were small flowers in them, too, and it was glowing under the sunlight. Sam would take the compliments about her hair proudly.

At the age of thirteen, Bucky was thirty-one, he saw her once more. That was their second meeting. She was more talkative and playful. She also had the best side of Steve and Sam’s sass, Bucky loved it. It was her birthday, and Steve invited him while he was staying in Brooklyn for a couple days before he went off to Russia this time, again for work. He only agreed to it because he heard her asking for him: “Is that your friend Bucky, Papa?” He was greeted with a warm welcome. It was a bit surprising that she remembered him. Steve had said that she had a strong memory and had loved the chocolates he had brought her the last time. It was the chocolates that made him remembered, but Bucky hadn’t mind. It was enough to be remembered, connected to something or not.

Ever since her thirteenth birthday they haven’t seen each other. Until Bucky sort of ‘retired’ and moved back to Brooklyn, carrying his work home.

“My litte girl started college,” Steve had once told him, with a proud look in his eyes, when he just moved back. He had also been holding his tears. “She’s a bookworm, so she carried that to the university. She’s studying literature,” Steve had joked. Bucky could remember her reading on the background while he was having conference calls with Steve. He could also remember her hushing Steve whenever his voice got a little bit loud, and Bucky had grinned at the memory, because it was such a Steve thing to do. He used to hush Bucky, too, whenever he had tried to talk while Steve was reading around him.

She was twenty when they saw each other again. It was a week after Bucky finally finished opening boxes after boxes. He got lucky and was able to buy the house across Steve and Sam’s. After that, she was always in his house, owning it like it was hers. Bucky didn’t mind, he liked company. Her company was so much better than the other women who didn’t know what shutting up was. She knew when to stay quiet, when to talk and force Bucky to do something that in a normal day he wouldn’t. She helped him to feel a little better about himself after the bad relationships he had over the years.

Bucky was devastated after he found out that his fiancée had cheated on him for years and had been using him for his money. It had hit deep and hurt so much, Bucky couldn’t shake it off for months ─ years even. He got depressed: didn’t go to work, answer his phone and his door. Natasha had to enter his house by breaking his door. After that, Steve, Sam and Natasha had ganged up on him and pulled his head out of that cloud that made him feel like he wasn’t living.

It was actually what made him to move back Brooklyn. Boy, wasn’t that the best decision he had ever made.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Sam murmured, pulling Bucky out of his head. “I can hear them gears turning, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled lightly. Sam was always this not-a-mind-reader-but-also-a-mind-reader. He knew when someone felt down, or troubled. He was always there to help. Bucky loved that about him.

“I was thinking about the thing that made me move back here,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Remembering those times… Man, I used to hurt a lot. It’s nice not feeling that hurt anymore.” Sam smiled.

“Time,” Sam easily responded. “It heals things slowly. It doesn’t erase anything, but it surely makes things easier for you.” Bucky nodded. They stayed silent after that. Both of them watching the sun slowly going down, listening to the birds chirping around. It was peaceful and relaxing. Bucky let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

Bucky didn’t realize that he fell asleep until he felt a soft kiss on his cheek: He flinched and opened his eyes, confused. “What─” He heard a quiet chuckle and when he turned his head to his left he saw her. Her hair was glowing with the setting sun’s last light. A big smile was on her face, and her eyes were fond.

“You fell asleep here,” she explained. “Papa told me not to touch you, so I let you sleep a bit. Dinner is ready, though,” she added and kissed his cheek again. Bucky surpassed a yawn, rubbing his eyes all adorably.

“Damn,” he muttered when he stood up and stretched. She nodded.

“Papa said you fell asleep fast and hard,” she shrugged. “Looked cute.” Bucky snorted, watched her get shy. “C’mon.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

Inside of the house, there was a delicious smell of food. Bucky felt his stomach rumble. He could pick up the talking noises coming from kitchen as well as the utensil sounds. He sighed, the sleep was still fogging up his brain a little, but he was sure Steve’s cooking would wake him up.

“Ah!” With Sam’s exclamation, Bucky jumped. “Sleeping beauty is awake!” Bucky rolled his eyes, ignoring the chuckles coming from her and Steve.

“Fuck off,” Bucky grumbled. Sam laughed while Steve chuckled and she nudged Bucky softly. Bucky rolled his eyes again, but this time it was playful. He winked at her cheekily. “Need help?” He asked once he walked towards Steve. He shook his head.

“Nope, all ready. I was just putting them on the plates,” Steve gave him a small smile. Bucky patted him on the back and grabbed the full plates. Placing them on the table, he noticed her looking at him with big, wide eyes. He frowned slightly, lifting an eyebrow at her. She shrugged innocently and mouthed an ‘I love you’. Bucky blinked and blushed, ducking his head down as a desperate attempt of hiding his smile. She chuckled silently. He chuckled, too. Looking up at her, he blew a kiss to her and mouthed an ‘I love you’ of his own. She only smiled wider.

“Alright, sit,” Steve said, bringing the other plates. “Bon appetit, people,” he smiled and tucked into his own food.

──

Dinner went smoothly. The food were delicious, but Steve was always a great cook. Sam was on dessert duty, so they were served a peach pie. Bucky smirked when he saw the topping of the pie and sent a dirty look to her. She felt the heat rushing to her face, prefering to hide her face into the pie. Bucky chuckled. He grabbed a forkful of pie and tasted.

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed approvingly. “Sam, Jesus, you’re getting better at baking,” he added when the amazing taste fired his taste buds. Sam smiled.

“Thanks! I found it in my Ma’s recipe book,” his smiled turned into a shy one. Steve nudged him a little and placed soft kiss on his lips. Sam hid his face on Steve’s ridiculously broad shoulder. Bucky smiled at the scene: He was so happy for his friend having an amazing family. He had a loving husband, a beautiful house and a brilliant daughter.

Bucky might have been a little jealous.

It was always what he wanted ever since he stepped into high school: He wanted to have a good job, earn enough money to buy himself and his future family a house, a beautiful wife and couple kids. Sometimes he would think now that his current age was considered old, how was he to get a life that he dreamt of once?

“Buck?” Steve’s concerned voice pulled Bucky out of his thoughts. “We lost you there for a second, bud, you okay?” Sam placed his half-eaten pie on the coffee table.

“He’s been thoughtful today,” Sam said, recalling their conversation at the backyard. Bucky shrugged.

“I was just thinking…” He sighed. He mimicked Sam’s moves and put his own plate on the coffee table.

“What? Talk to us, Bucky. We’re your family, too, you know that,” Steve murmured, always supportive but never pushy. Bucky looked down at his hands, fingers picking up the hem of his shirt and playing with it.

“It’s─” He took a breath. “I’m jealous of you, Steve,” he murmured. Steve frowned, but before he could ask, Bucky continued. “You have this beautiful family, Sam loves you like crazy and you have an amazing, very smart daughter… You know how much I wanted what you have right now since high school. Now you have it, and I’m jealous in a good way.” He looked up at his friend and smiled.

“Bucky…” Steve started.

“You know it’s not too late, right?” Sam said, voicing Steve’s thoughts. Bucky shrugged again.

“I’m thirty-nine, Sam. It might not be late in your book, but it is in mine. I was supposed to find someone in my late-twenties and have a kid in my early-thirties. Because I’d like to have energy to run and play with my kid, you know?” Bucky sighed.

She frowned slightly. She never knew he wanted those things. He never told her about his dreams. Suddenly, she felt guilty for occupying him like this. She felt guilty for holding him back from real life. Instead of playing house with her and pretend, he could have met with someone who could be with him really and give him kids. She barely blinked away the tears that flooded her eyes instantly.

“You’re fit, man, you workout more than Steve. Trust me, you would still have some stamina to do all the things you want with your kid,” Sam said assuringly. Steve nodded.

“Sam’s right─”

“I don’t have time for a new relationship, anymore, guys. I can’t─ Most women I came across with or been set up with… They’re not there for me, they’re there for the money and the way I look. None of cares about what I want or what I like… We don’t click. Is it make sense?” Steve nodded again. He could understand Bucky’s point of view. “She was the only one I clicked for a very long time,” Bucky added silently. “But she used me, just like others wanted to do. I can’t trust anymore. I’m─ God, I’m hopeless.” Bucky huffed out a laugh.

“Pardon my French, but,” Sam started. “She was a bitch for doing that.” Steve elbowed him with a warning look in his eyes. “What? Man, it’s true. She used him for his money and looks, just like the other women who want to do the same, he said himself. She destroyed the dream he could have had by cheating on him.”

“Sam,” Bucky stopped him. “It’s in the past. Nevermind.” He looked at him with pleading eyes. Sam softened and nodded, his eyes were filled with worry for his friend. “I’m just gonna head back. Thanks for the dinner and the dessert.” Bucky stood up and left the house quietly. He didn’t even look at her.

She felt her heart tightened, tears were back but they were even stronger, now. She sniffed very quietly and stood up to collect the plates. She took them to the kitchen, barely holding the tears.

She didn’t know Bucky was hurting this much. She didn’t know that even when they were together, Bucky was lonely. His dreams were stolen, destroyed, and she wasn’t doing a good thing to him by holding him back from finding someone to make his dream live again. She bit her lip to keep the hiccup that wanted to leave her.

What they had was amazing. Bucky understood her in a way that her peers never could. He helped her become a better person, helped her educate herself. She wouldn’t be the same person as she was today if it weren’t for Bucky. She didn’t know her effect in his life, though.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice carried through the hallway and she quickly wiped the tears that ran away. “Oh, sweetie,” he murmured empathically. He hugged her tightly.

“I didn’t know he was so lonely, Dad,” she cried into Steve’s chest while he petted her hair gently. “He doesn’t deserve to be lonely. He’s such a good person!” She sobbed.

“I know, darling, I know…” Steve rested his cheek on her head, letting her cry. She cried for a couple more minutes, murmuring about how much good Bucky deserved, how good he was. Steve knew it, he knew she was right. So he stayed silent.

“I should go to bed,” she whispered after a while. Her eyes were red, and tears were still rolling. Steve nodded. “I’ve got class tomorrow,” she added absentmindedly. She wiped her tears harshly and made a beeline towards her room. She didn’t realize the figure laying down on her bed as she walked into her room and closing her door, locking it. When she turned around, though, she barely suppressed her scream.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” she murmured, a hand on her heart.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, his voice quiet and raspy. He sounded like he cried, too. She sobbed silently, and Bucky opened his arms, inviting her in. She crawled into his arms. “I’m sorry for making you cry, honey.”

“You should have told me,” she murmured into his t-shirt.

“I know, I should have,” he agreed easily.

“You should have told me. I would have stepped out of your way! I would have stopped holding you back from having your dream come true! I would have─” Bucky put his hand over her mouth and pulled back so that he could make eye contact.

“You are not holding me back. You are not going to step out of my way. No. What I said about wanting a life like Steve’s… I was hoping you would understand without me saying it: I wanted that life with you. You are the only woman I click with after a very long time, Y/N. I want to have you as my wife, want you to have my kids and want to have a house together. I want that dream to come true with you by my side. I also meant when I said I don’t time for a new relationship, I already have you. So, please, stop thinking that way, okay, honey?” Bucky looked at her with pleading, wide eyes, tears were waiting for the right moment to fall. “Don’t ever think that you’re holding me back. You’re holding me upright.”

“Bucky─” She sobbed and hugged him tightly. Bucky wrapped his arms around her just as tight.

“I love you, peaches,” he whispered. “I love you so much. I’ll wait until the right time comes up, I promise.” He kissed her temple, hands stroking her back.

“I love you, too,” she whimpered softly. “I love you so much. I─ I don’t want to hide anymore, but…” She trailed. Bucky nodded. His hands were now in her hair, playing with them.

“Not yet,” he said. “None of us are ready for that yet: Not us, not them.”

“Just a little while longer,” she murmured. “I can wait.”

“That’s my girl,” Bucky whispered and smiled. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft, tender kiss: A kind of kiss that made her feel warm and loved. She smiled into the kiss.

“Just a little while longer,” she repeated and smiled. She could do that.

──

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #dad's best friend bucky barnes #dadsbestfriend!bucky

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yamag00ps · 3 years

Text

the morning after

pairing: yamaguchi x reader

genre: best friends to lovers

contains: even more fluff, slightly suggestive/nsfw

word count: 1.8k

summary: yamaguchi already cannot get enough of you and tries to keep you from leaving your room (as long you'll let him, of course)

note: surprise! I truly did not plan on writing a part 2 to this but I'm happy with the way it turned out. here’s part 1. p.s. I listened to theme of ms. okudera from the your name soundtrack the entire time I wrote this and I highly suggest playing it in the background while reading it b/c I think it makes everything sweeter :-)

You woke to the sweet sound of birds chirping and the feel of an arm draped over your bare waist, his grip just as tight as the first time he held you — as if he was afraid he’d lose you if he lightened his hold on you even a little. A soft orange glow painted the room as you replayed the night before in your head. Evidence of the newfound intimacy you’ve found with your best friend appeared in the purple marks scattered on your neck and your chest, he had a few of his own as well. His head lay on your chest and you smiled at his light snores, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Tilting your head to get a better look at him, you stared in adoration still having a hard time grasping the turn of events. You can’t remember ever feeling so content in your life.

You thought back to last night when you opened your door to find exactly who you were leaving your room for at 3am in the first place. You hadn’t planned on confessing though. You just couldn’t sleep and decided to go bother your best friend. He beat you to it, but he didn’t know that. As if on cue, Yamaguchi stirred and pulled you closer.

“Hi sleepyhead,” you whispered.

“Mmm. What time is it?” he groaned and shifted his position so he could bury his face into your neck, not wanting to face the new day yet.

“Too early. I think we only slept for like 3 hours.” You closed your eyes again and continued to massage his head with one hand, the other hand rubbing the arm wrapped around you.

“Hm, I wonder why,” he mused. You rolled your eyes and lightly smacked his arm. He chuckled and lazily peppered kisses onto your neck.

“Hey! This is your fault Mr. Pacing-outside-of-my-room-at-3am.”

“Shhhhhhhhh,” He put a finger over your lips in a shushing motion. You giggled and lightly bit his finger. “No more biting,” he mumbled, “only I can do that.”

Your laugh turned into a groan as you said, “Actually no, you can’t. No more from you. God, I don’t know how I’m gonna hide these from everyon--”

“Then don’t,” you felt him grin against your neck as his arm returned to its place around your waist.

“Tadashi, I’m serious!” You pouted and smacked his arm again, though you couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto your face.

“So am I!” he laughed and lifted himself up onto his forearms, moving to hover over you. Yamaguchi was never one to be openly possessive over you, but he couldn’t deny the ego-boost he got just from knowing he was the one to leave those marks on you. He finally opened his eyes fully, and boy was he happy he did. Seeing your dreamy state with your bed hair sprawled out onto the pillow felt like a dream. You looked so delicate under him, he was almost afraid to put any of his weight on you.

You rubbed the sides of his arms as he studied you, taking the time to memorize every detail in front of him for future reference (not like he’d ever forget). A blush crept onto your cheeks as his eyes roamed over every one of your features. His eyes trailed from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips, then down to your neck and your chest currently littered with the bruises he left.

“Wait, do they hurt?” he frowned a bit, lightly touching them. You jokingly hissed at his touch, pretending to shy away in pain. The second you noticed the horror on his face you laughed loudly. “I’m just kidding!” you said between laughs while holding his pouty face.

His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and he purposely dropped his entire body on top of yours, earning a grunt from you. You continued to laugh as he hid his face into your neck again, stubbornly biting you again.

“Ow! Tadashi, you’re heavy!” you whined.

“I don’t care. That was mean.”

“If you’re so mad, why are you snuggling into me?” you poked at his sides, still giggling.

He stayed silent but you felt a small smirk against your neck. Your hand found the nape of his neck, playing with his hair again.

“So I can do this.” His hands met both of your sides as he tickled you mercilessly.

Suddenly you were shrieking and laughing, trying to escape his hold.

“No!!!!” You used both arms to still one of his, while his other hand continued tickling you.

“T- Tada-Tadashi p-plea-please! PLEASE,” a mix of your laughter and screams leaving you breathless.

You remained helpless until there was a sudden banging on your door. The both of you froze completely, expecting a noise complaint.

“Oi, oi, oi! Go easy on her Yamaguchi, you dog!!!” Noya yelled. Tanaka and Hinata howled with laughter. You gasped and covered your face with your hands. Yamaguchi blushed furiously as he shook his head and crawled back to hide his face in your neck again, the crook of your neck quickly becoming his new favorite spot.

“Wait, what?!” This time Yaku spoke up, shock evident in his tone. “Yamaguchi, Y/N-san, I hope you were safe!” You rolled your eyes at Hinata’s stupid giggles.

“Dear god,” you whispered, begging for everyone to just go downstairs and mind their business.

Yamaguchi groaned and yelled, “Shut up!” Their laughter only continued and eventually faded. However, the two of you smiled at one another anyway, too smitten to be annoyed for long.

Feeling a grumble in your stomach, you patted his back. “Let’s go eat, bub.” He reluctantly moved off of you, allowing you to get up, put your robe on and open the blinds.

“Wait!” He took your hand and pulled you towards him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You haven’t kissed me once yet this morning,” he pouted. Your heart clenched at his neediness. You loved it.

“Last night wasn’t enough?” you teased and stood between his legs.

“Not at all.”

Holding his head in both of your hands, your lips met his. You smiled into the kiss before deepening it. It started out slowly and gently until his hands began caressing your thighs. His kisses became hungrier and he grabbed both of your legs and pulled you onto his lap. This greediness was so unlike him, but neither of you cared. He was so, so lost in you.

You broke the kiss and sighed, his lips immediately attaching themselves to your jawline and your neck instead.

“‘Dashi, I’m hungry.” Though, you did nothing to stop him. One arm tightly wrapped around your waist while his other hand continued to rub your sides and your legs.

“I am too,” he agreed, breakfast clearly not on his mind. The growl from your stomach spoke for you, throwing you into fits of giggles. He laughed through his nose, still refusing to let you go.

Grabbing his face once again, you pecked his lips and moved back to lock eyes with him. He melted into your touch like putty. He was in a daze. Everything in him was begging you to stay in bed with him all day, not wanting to leave your room, fearing the reality of the world outside of your door. In here, you were all his and there was nothing that could take you from him. He was being selfish, but he felt that he had a right to be after having loved you for ten years now.

As if you could read his mind, you whispered, “Psst, I love you.” He closed his eyes at this, mentally keeping a recording of that for the times he inevitably would have his doubts. You both knew he was not the most confident person in the world, meaning that a relationship with him was going to require a lot of reassurance on your end. You didn’t mind this. The idea of reminding Yamaguchi how much you love him for the rest of your life made your heart swell.

You kissed him again, slowly and sensually before you pulled away and began peppering light kisses all over his face. “And there is much,” kiss “much,” kiss “much,” kiss “more,” kiss “where that came from,” you smirked. Desperate, he latched his lips to yours once more. You mindlessly grinded your hips into his and a groan erupted from his throat. Before his tongue could meet yours, you pulled away, leaving him a whining mess. “Later,” you winked and stood up, swiftly dodging his swipe before he could pull you back in.

“You’re so mean.”

“Maybe Tsukishima’s rubbing off on me,” you snickered. He smiled and rolled his eyes at the mention of his best friend’s name. He wondered if Tsukki already knew about the two of you; he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the house did. Regardless, he could already see the smug look on his face saying I told you so.

Yamaguchi watched you from his place on the edge of the bed, so utterly and deeply in love. As you roamed around your room getting ready for the day, his heart warmed at the domesticity of the scene.

“Tadashi?” You questioned. He was too dazed to realize you asked him a question.

“Let’s use the canoes on the lake today,” you beamed and he returned your smile.

You smiled warmly as he walked up to you, hugging you from behind in front of the mirror. You leaned into him as he lowered his head to press a kiss onto your shoulder.

“This. Everyday.” Another shoulder kiss. “I want this everyday,” he locked eyes with yours through the mirror’s reflection.

You don’t know why that was all the convincing you needed to stay in your room a bit longer. Ignoring how hungry you were, you suddenly turned and crashed your lips into his.

“Okay maybe breakfast can wait,” you mumbled against his lips. Yamaguchi grinned ear to ear and wasted no time picking you up and jumping back into bed with you.

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

Once the two of you finally stepped into the kitchen around half an hour later, you were immediately met with howls and applause. Bokuto reached for a high-five only for his arm to be smacked away as you made your way to the fridge.

“Mannn, who would’ve thought!” Sugawara beamed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, OKAY we got it,” you rolled your eyes, both of you shaking your heads at the relentless teasing. As you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, you looked up just in time to catch Yamaguchi smugly accepting a knuckle punch from Kuroo as he took a seat. You gaped at him across the kitchen island, Kuroo keeling over in laughter. Yamaguchi cheekily winked at you, his newfound confidence exuding off of him.

Deep down, you both knew it was all worth the teasing because the two childhood best friends, notorious for their honesty, were no longer keeping secrets. If everyone knew, then so be it.

All that mattered to Yamaguchi was that you knew that he loved you.

You loving him back was a major bonus.

#yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi fluff #yamaguchi x you #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #childhood friends to lovers #haikyuu suggestive #hq yamaguchi

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moonflowerlesbians · 3 years

Text

I wrote the 10 year anniversary fic

She's short but she’s sweet. Please enjoy.

to be loved a whole life long

Rated T, ~2.6k.

~~~

What is an anniversary, really, if not merely a ploy to indulge in all of the little pleasures one denies on any other day? Saying, “oh, well, we ought to save it for a special occasion.”

And, what, Jamie thinks, is an occasion more special than the day marking the tenth year since she began this beautiful, insane journey with the love of her life. A woman so remarkable that Jamie almost can’t believe she’s real. Almost can’t believe that she can wake up beside the same person every morning, smelling the same fruity shampoo, spend the day working side by side, and still, every night, fall into bed, eager to pull Dani close. Then wake up the following day and do it all again.

It’s a stability Jamie never thought she would have. After years of bouncing from foster family to foster family, Bly was the closest thing to home she’d ever had. Until, that is, these ten, wonderful years with Dani in the flat they share above the little shop that they built from the ground up.

She thinks as much as beams of cozy sunlight filter through the gossamer curtains Dani picked out for their bedroom. She has an arm draped over Dani’s middle, her front to Dani’s back, her hand tracing idle circles on the plane of Dani’s stomach beneath her sleep shirt. Jamie can hear the quiet exhalations puffing against Dani’s wrist, which she’s managed to trap against her cheek. Jamie is certain she’ll be graced with complaints of pins and needles when Dani wakes. Jamie will laugh and offer to massage the numbness away, and Dani will roll her eyes but allow her limb to flop inelegantly into Jamie’s lap.

Jamie props herself up on one elbow, her fingers trailing a path from Dani’s midriff, up her arm, to brush a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Dani begins to stir as Jamie presses slow lips to the junction of her neck and shoulder, moves to the shell of her ear, her temple, the slender curve of her jaw.

Dani makes a noise low in her throat.

“Ah, there she is,” Jamie hums, her voice, though quiet, still too loud in the morning stillness.

“Thought we w’re gonna sleep in t’day,” Dani sighs, already preparing to nestle deeper into the blankets.

Jamie runs a playful finger down the bridge of Dani’s nose. “Already did that, love. ‘S nearly half nine.”

“F’rgot you get up ‘fore the early birds,” Dani grumbles, “An’thing past six ‘s late for you.”

“The plants wait for no one.”

“They’re plants. ‘S not like they have anywhere to be.”

“You don’t know that. Could have important plant business to attend to.”

Dani, at last, rolls over incredulously. “Like what?”

“Dunno,” Jamie shrugs, “but you’re awake now.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Mhm,” Jamie chuckles, “happy anniversary, baby.” Their kiss is languid, sleep-heavy. When they break apart, their foreheads still touch.

“Happy anniversary,” Dani whispers, thumb absently caressing Jamie’s cheekbone. Her eyes glimmer with mischief when she meets Jamie’s gaze. “Wouldn’t be opposed to staying in bed all day, though...”

“Need food first.”

Dani huffs. “Fine.”

“Thought we might try the new cafe on the corner of Leeland and Huntley for brunch. Apparently, they’ve got terrific blueberry muffins.”

“And you know this how?”

“Kid and her mum came through the shop the other day. Wee gremlin wouldn’t put the damn thing down,” Jamie gripes. “Got crumbs all over my daffodils.”

“She sounds cute.” Dani sounds almost wistful.

“‘Course you’d think so. Once a teacher, always a teacher.” She waves dismissively. “Or something like that.” Jamie rubs her palms together. “Right, then, up and at ‘em. Those muffins won’t eat themselves.”

“Didn’t realize you were so excited by baked goods.”

“Not the baked goods I’m excited for. I seem to recall mentions of returning to bed after food.”

+++

They are dressed and out the door in record time.

+++

They’ve closed the shop for the day, allowing themselves a brief reprieve from the discord of the wedding season. Every other day, it seems, a new blushing bride parades through their doors, followed by a mother or mother-in-law with a thousand questions and a dozen requests per minute. Jamie enjoys the work, truly. Seeing the delighted relief wash over the room as the arrangement designs are finalized is immensely gratifying. Almost as gratifying as watching her flowers, her precious creations, adorn ballrooms and churches, surrounded by people celebrating life. The joy of being alive.

She feels it now, she thinks, the sheer euphoria of existing. Here, walking down the street, a take-away cup of tea in her hand, with Dani’s arm roped through hers.

They are living on borrowed time, she knows, stark reminders of blue and brown present in every reflection. Every so often, Jamie catches herself longing, pleading for more time. She should be grateful for what the universe has gifted her. But, on days like these, days where the air is right and the sun is warm on her skin, she finds herself wishing for a forever that she cannot have. A forever unpromised to a monster that lurks beneath the most beautiful smile in the world.

She pushes the thought aside. Tomorrow is never promised. All she has is today. And she’ll be damned before she lets it slip away.

+++

They feed the waterfowl in the park with muffin crumbs. There are ducklings this time of year, and Dani’s gleeful cooing, high-pitched and elated, travels across the pond. Dappled shadows drape across her shoulders. Tree branches sway in a gentle breeze, casting a spotted cloak across the scene. Jamie feels the tension drain from her neck.

They sit, side by side, on the swingset, watching the joggers run past, waving at their neighbors and their golden retriever, the couple whose engagement party The Leafling decorated last month. Dani exchanges pleasantries with them all. It’s the Midwesterner in her, she likes to say, amicability is in her blood. Jamie does not understand, but she does her best to nod less than awkwardly while her partner makes smalltalk.

They stop for ice cream on the way home. It is a special occasion, after all, and the balmy June weather provides the perfect excuse to indulge in seldom-savored decadence. One, Jamie decides, they should absolutely partake in more often, if the child-like giddiness Dani expresses over cake batter ice cream is any indication. The crows feet at the corners of her eyes crinkle as she grins, and Jamie thinks she has never looked more lovely.

+++

A trans-Atlantic call to Owen foils their initial plans of baking their own lasagna after Dani lets slip that they weren’t planning to boil the noodles before layering in the sauces.

“For the love of God, please order in. The both of you are im-pasta-ble. It’s like I’ve taught you nothing.”

“That pun was weak, even for you.”

“This is what you’ve reduced me to.”

So, they call in a delivery order to the Italian place down the road. Jamie chivalrously offers to pick it up, and Dani ushers her out of the flat with a vigor that has Jamie raising an eyebrow. But, she simply shrugs and slides into the drivers’ seat of their second-hand pickup. The familiar rumble of the engine is comforting, the crooning of some jazz singer on the radio soothing background noise. Crickets chirp in the early summer evening.

She swings through the grocer to pick up champagne on her way home and juggles the bottle and the takeaway bag of food as she fumbles her key into the lock. Dani opens the door just as she’s about to turn the knob, and Jamie falls forward, Dani catching her by the arm.

“You alright?” Dani asks, but there’s an amused lilt to her voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. If you could just take…” Jamie’s mouth goes dry. Her face is level with Dani’s hips, which she has come to realize are covered in a velvety fabric she does not recognize. Her eyes flick up, coming to rest on Dani’s collarbones, the exposed skin of her arms, the accentuated curve of her waist. “You… I… uh….”

“You could’ve knocked, you know. I would’ve let you in.”

“I… yeah, could’ve… knocked.” Jamie realizes she is frozen in the entryway, jaw on the floor, and, in all honesty, cannot bring herself to care. Not when Dani is standing in front of her, clad in a gorgeous purple dress Jamie’s never seen before, her bangs styled to frame her face, while the remainder of her hair is pulled back. Jamie clears her throat. “You, ah, you changed.”

“I did.”

“You, you look…” Jamie searches for the right word, but none seem to encapsulate the overwhelming rush of emotion she feels, looking at the love of her life in the dim light from the bulb in the hallway outside their flat, on the tenth anniversary of the start of life she never thought she would have.

Damn the limitations of this bloody language. She can say “I got absolutely goddamn shitfaced last night” in a hundred different ways, but there is no succinct way to phrase, “I love you so fucking much and you are the most incredible person in the world and I don’t know how I got lucky enough to know you and I could spend the rest of my life holding your hand.”

It seems, at least to Jamie, a grievous failure of linguistic evolution.

“Beautiful,” she settles on, at last. “You’re so beautiful.” It’s not enough. But it will suffice.

“Come on, loverboy,” Dani says, tapping the bottom of Jamie’s chin with a slender index finger before giving a tug on her sleeve. “Food’s getting cold.” She’s blushing, though, a faint tint coloring her chest as she takes one of the plastic bags from Jamie. Jamie, who merely stares at Dani’s retreating silhouette before remembering she’s supposed to follow. She shuts the front door behind her and stumbles into the kitchen, setting the bottle and second bag on the countertop next to the stove.

When she turns around, Dani is in the living room holding a match to two candles set on a ceramic dish on their kitchen island. She’s laid out their nice dinnerware, which, really, consists of the four gold-encircled plates and matching napkin rings they’d found at an antique store in Milwaukee, back when they had been exploring the country Dani called home. A vase of roses is positioned on the coffee table, and it’s evident that Dani arranged them herself, and oh, oh, how Jamie loves her for it.

“Surprise?” Dani says shyly.

Jamie blinks at her. It’s all she can do not to break down. Instead, she settles for taking two bold steps to Dani's side of the counter and kissing her senseless. Dani lets out a squeak of surprise, but quickly relaxes into Jamie’s touch. She’s biting her lip when they separate, Jamie’s twirling the fine hairs at the nape of her neck as she presses their foreheads together.

“Let me change, and we’ll eat, yeah?”

“Sounds good.” Dani’s breathing is an ounce heavier than normal.

Jamie winks slyly, wanders to their bedroom and opens the closet, pulling out the first acceptable outfit she sees. She doesn’t have to change, she knows. Dani could care less whether she’s wearing a three-piece suit or sweatpants. (Though she suspects the suit might have the edge.) She dons a white, three-quarter zip and black slacks, pausing briefly to add a pair of black leather suspenders she knows Dani likes. Something about being easy to grab and pull.

Dani is struggling to uncork the champagne when Jamie returns to the kitchen. Her tongue pokes adorably out of the corner of her mouth, and her soft grunts of frustration are surprisingly endearing.

“Hand it over. Come on, now. Before you put your eye out.”

“I can do it,” Dani protests. “Just. Need to tweak it. A little.”

Jamie takes the opportunity to press against Dani’s back, her arms wrapping around to cover Dani’s hands where they fiddle with the bottle. For a moment, Dani forgets to be cross and reclines her head, resting it on Jamie’s shoulder. She sighs, relinquishing control, and Jamie huffs out a quick laugh. She holds the champagne over the sink to catch the overflow when the bottle pops.

Dani mumbles something about “having loosened it,” which Jamie meets with resolute agreement and a, “‘course you did, baby.”

The lasagne, an Owen-approved non-abomination, has been plated, Dani having evidently done so while Jamie was shucking her dayclothes. She pours them each a healthy flute of champagne and seats herself beside Dani, raising her glass.

She hesitates.

“Wait,” Dani exclaims, hurrying to the hall closet. She rummages for a second, bringing back the Polaroid camera Jamie had given her their first Christmas together. She checks the film, appears satisfied, and balances the device on an upturned colander to set up her shot. She sets the timer and sidles under Jamie’s arm, picking up her champagne flute. “Smile!” Dani beams.

When the image prints, the picture reveals Dani, with the biggest grin Jamie swears she’s ever seen, and Jamie at her side, looking positively smitten. The flash has illuminated the silver streaks in her hair, the lines embedded in her skin. Time has been kind to her, she reminds herself, others are not so lucky. And, in any case, when she looks at this photograph, she will not be looking at herself.

Dani kisses her cheek and moves her keepsake to the coffee table for safety. Too many important documents ruined by spills for her to risk it. She props it gently against the roses. It’s perfect.

Again, Jamie raises her glass. She inspects the contents.

Again, she hesitates. Then, a toast:

“To another ten.”

Silence.

Dani stills, looks at her.

Jamie can see the beginning of an argument forming on the tip of Dani’s tongue, and Jamie holds her stare. It’s a challenge. A dare, even.

They do not often speak of the distant future. Only when it is absolutely necessary do they broach the sensitive topic.

A world-weary smile paints Dani’s lips. Her eyes are burdened, the vivacity present mere seconds ago seemingly having vanished. She is tired. It shows in the slump of her shoulders, the crease of her brow, the way the giddiness of earlier has slunk away, leaving Dani bare-boned and fatigued.

She lifts her glass.

She says nothing.

“I love you,” Jamie murmurs after the faint clink of glass on glass. “So much.”

“Always,” Dani finishes. And Jamie knows she means it.

+++

They embrace beneath the sheets that night, sweat cooling in the dry air. Jamie’s fingers are tangled in blonde waves highlighted with grey. Dani’s breathing has evened out, short puffs tickling Jamie’s sternum, as Jamie contemplates the window over her head.

She has found someone to love, and someone to love her in return. Someone who will stay, even on the bad days. Someone who expects nothing and deserves everything.

Dani is everything Jamie thought she never deserved. Dani is good. Dani is good and exquisite and utterly unbelievable and, god, how Jamie loves her.

She loves waking up beside her every morning, and she loves smelling the same fruity shampoo on the pillow. She loves spending the day working together on the business they built from the dirt up. She loves falling into bed every night and pulling Dani close. Every minute they have together is a gift that Jamie refuses to take for granted.

To another ten years, she thinks, and allows her eyes to close. Dani sighs against her.

#hello lads look at me writing shit again #pls enjoy #I hope u like it #the haunting of bly manor #damie #damie fanfic #dani clayton #jamie #jamie taylor #jamie thobm #fic #writing #my writing #thobm fanfic #dani x jamie #jamie x dani

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sapphosclown · 3 years

Text

Treat You Better - Tyrus AU

Part XIV: i guess we carried each other

Cyrus and TJ present their history project.

Masterlist

———

Cyrus was woken up by his alarm, a pleasant scene where birds are chirping quietly in the background and a soft melody crescendos into a lovely morning song.

It absolutely infuriated him.

Nothing against birds or happy music, but it’s 6am and Cyrus has been studying for midterms all week and and now he has to present a project with the guy who is mad at him for whatever unknown reason and quite frankly, Cyrus didn’t want to leave his bed ever again.

The memory of his and TJ’s rehearsal on Monday has been haunting him all week. Andi and Buffy said not to worry about it so he’s really been trying not to, but he can’t.

He misses how it used to be. TJ was always so open and talkative during their study sessions even Cyrus was rude and dismissive. He made Cyrus laugh anyways, made him feel relaxed. It didn’t feel like a school project, it just felt like hanging out with a friend. And now that he can enjoy that atmosphere, it’s taken away from him. Because of course it is.

Cyrus begrudgingly got out of bed and threw on his clothes before going to brush his teeth.

He got to school 15 minutes before the first exam period and saw Andi and Buffy in their usual spots and Jonah sitting on the table across from Buffy in the cafeteria.

“Hey, Cyrus!” Jonah smiled wide at him and held his hand up for a high five to which Cyrus responded with a weak tap as he slid into his seat.

“C'mon man you can do better than that.” Jonah said disapprovingly as he held his hand over to Buffy who slapped his hand without even looking.

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired today.” Cyrus groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Good thing I got a present for you,” Buffy sang as she slid an iced coffee across the table to him.

He looked at the coffee and back to buddy, eyes wide. “I love you.” He deadpanned, causing his friends to laugh.

“Today’s our last day and then it’s winter break, you got this!” Jonah nudged his shoulder gently.

“I think he’s just not excited for today in particular.” Andi replied, breaking apart each syllable of “particular”.

“Why, what’s happening today?” Jonah asked.

“He has his presentation with TJ today.” Buffy whispered loudly to Jonah.

“Oh.” Jonah whispered loudly back.

“You guys are so subtle.” Andi mimicked their voices.

“Whatever. I’ll be fine. Can we talk about something else?” Cyrus dismissed and took a sip of his coffee.

That lit up something in Buffy. “Oh yeah! Andi, tell him.”

“OH YEAH! Cyrus, you know how I was gonna ask Amber for her number?” She said excitedly.

“I do. Did you chicken out?” Cyrus teased, taking another sip of his drink.

Andi glared at him. “No.” she said quickly before shifting her eyes to the ceiling. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance BECAUSE SHE ASKED ME FIRST!”

Cyrus smiled at Buffy. “Called it.” He whispered loudly. Andi hit his arm playfully as he giggled and flinched away.

“Whatever. I still don’t know if she’s—”

“She is.” Jonah interjected.

Everyone turned to him with confused expressions.

“How do you know?” Andi asked.

“She told me. She doesn’t try to keep it a secret, did you not see the rainbow pin on her bag? Or the rainbow sticker on her name tag?” Jonah explained.

Buffy snorted.

“No I saw— She told you?” Andi asked again, still very lost.

“Yeah we’re friends.”

“Not the development I expected but a good one nonetheless.” Buffy joked to Cyrus.

“Since when?” Andi yelled.

“A while now. Our moms are friends and we have a lot in common. She told me she was gay like 2 years ago, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out.” Jonah replied.

Andi stared at him.

“You knew her this whole time, and didn’t think to say anything?”

“I didn’t realize she was the girl you were madly in love with.”

Buffy snorted again.

“I AM NOT IN LOVE W—” Andi got cut off by the 5 minute warning bell and Buffy Cyrus and Jonah all started grabbing their bags to head to class. Andi stares at Jonah, grabbing her own bag. “We’re finishing this conversation later Beck.” She threatened before walking away.

Jonah looked at Cyrus with fear in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me man!”

“What did I do!” Jonah laughed as he and Cyrus headed to their first exam.

***

The good news is Cyrus had English for his first exam to distract him from his impending doom. The bad news is English is is over and now he has to go to history.

Under regular circumstances he’d be glad that his teacher is taking these presentations for their midterm grades, but he’s kind of too busy cursing whatever god is out there controlling his life to worry about his grade.

Cyrus subconsciously walked ever so slightly slower to his history classroom, knowing it doesn’t actually make a difference to what’s gonna happen but it’s worth a shot. Turns out it kind of worked, but in the worst way possible.

Cyrus got to the room at the exact same time as TJ and they practically ran each other over trying to get through the door at the same time.

“Hey, what the hell— Cyrus!” TJ said much louder than he probably meant to.

Cyrus stood at him in shock for a second. Of course he thought to himself. “Um, sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” He forced a smile and walked into class as TJ called after him.

“Wait, Cyrus—” TJ said, taking a seat next to him. “Can... Can we talk?”

Cyrus opened his mouth to respond but the only sound that came was from the bell signaling clad to start. Cyrus looked to the front of the room where their teacher had already started talking.

“Alright, we don’t really have time to waste so, look for you and your partners names on the board. If each presentation is 3-5 minutes we should have some time leftover to watch a quarter of a movie. Sound good?”

The class mumbled in content agreement.

“Great. If you and your partner feel like you’d like to go over your work one more time, you can practice in the hall QUIETLY, while the group before you is presenting. Alright, first up—”

And so Cyrus spent the first 15 minutes of class sitting awkwardly next to TJ as they kept looking over at each other in what was supposed to be sneaky glances but they’re kind of bad at being subtle and make contact almost every time. Eventually the people before then stand up to present and TJ turns to Cyrus.

“Hey, can we—” He whispered pointing to the hallway. Cyrus pressed his lips in a straight line attempting an awkward smile and grabbed his bag, TJ following him suite.

TJ quietly closed the door behind them and turned around.

He took a deep breath. “Um— I just wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day.”

Cyrus shifted a bit. “Okay...”

They stood in silence for a beat.

“So...”

“That was it.”

“Have you ever heard an apology? Like ever?” Cyrus tried to joke but he knew it came off more bitter than he meant it to.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“So you’ve apologized for not apologizing, but you still haven’t apologized.” Cyrus stated.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re hard to apologize to?” TJ retorted.

“No, actually. This would be a first.” TJ smiled at that.

“Okay. I’m sorry for how i acted the other day. That wasn’t fair to you. I guess I just thought that if I pretended like I didn’t care it’d make things easier but I was... very wrong.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” Cyrus snorted.

TJ looked at his shoes and Cyrus stared at him. “It’s okay. I mean, I guess I understand where you were coming from but it still kind of sucked. I thought you hated me.” Cyrus said.

“I know. I’m sorry.” TJ said again.

Cyrus nodded.

A soft smiled tugged at TJ’s lips before he tore his eyes to his notebook. “Um, good job on your section by the way, I don’t get a chance to say it but yeah. Not that I thought you’d do a bad job or anything because you’re really smart and I’m actually surprised you stuck with me as your partner because—”

“Thanks, TJ.” Cyrus cut off his rambling, laughing quietly. “You did a really good job too. And you pretty much nailed all the dates too so, congratulations.”

“Ha, thanks.” TJ clearly didn’t believe him.

“Seriously Teej,” Cyrus took a step forward and put his hand on the other boys shoulder. “You should be proud of yourself.”

Cyrus saw TJ’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink s he felt his own face burn a little. If nothing else, one thing hadn’t changed— TJ still had the prettiest eyes Cyrus has ever seen.

They were interrupted by the door opening and their teachers face popped through. “You boys are up!” He whispered enthusiastically before slipping back into the room.

The boys looked at each other a again and laughed awkwardly, both still extreme shades of red but pretending they weren’t.

Their presentation actually went pretty smoothly. The biggest issue they ran into was stuttering every here and there, but this was already ten million times better than their practice run had been. Both of them quickly melted into their dynamic and everything else came pretty naturally and they were done in about 3 and a half minutes. The class snapped quietly (as to not disturb the other classes) and they both sat down, continuing the rest of class “sneaking” looks at each other and smiling when they made eye contact every time.

***

Cyrus stared at his phone while his friends talked around him at Andi’s locker. It started with Andi scolding Jonah for not being her wingman earlier on but Cyrus lost tack pretty quickly as his mind wandered back to TJ.

He was staring at his contact in his phone and debating on sending a text. On one hand, he wasn’t entirely sure where they stood now. Were they friends again? Were they just school acquaintances again? They weren’t project partners anymore so should he keep TJ’s phone number? Cyrus could already feel that he was about to drive himself crazy and just pushed aside all his thoughts and typed out a message.

Cyrus: good job on the project today!! all things considered i think we did pretty well :)

Cyrus shuts off his phone and puts it back in his pocket as he tried to ignore the part of his brain screaming at him. He heard about 3 words in the conversation unfolding before him before he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He yanked his phone back out and read the message in the screen

TJ: thanks :) i can’t take too much credit tho, you definitely carried me the whole way through

Cyrus: you’re simply incorrect. you carried me

TJ: i guess that means we carried each other then huh

Cyrus: i guess it does

“Oooooooooo, who ya textin?” Buffy sang, poking at Cyrus’s arm.

“No one!” He tried to say but the smile on his face begged to differ.

“So did you and TJ make up then?” Andi asked.

“Yeah. We talked before the presentation and it helped.” Cyrus blushed harder.

“You should invite him to the spoon with us!” Jonah proposed.

Cyrus looked at all his friends. “Really? Are you guys sure its okay?”

“Of course! Andi’s invited Amber, who’s one more gonna hurt!” Buffy replied.

“Okay...” Cyrus turned back to his phone, his friends watching him intently. Cyrus stood still and cleared his throat aggressively. Catching the hint they all turn back to their own little conversation.

“So, words amirite?” He hears Andi say.

Cyrus: my friends and i are getting some celebratory end of semester shakes at the spoon, if you’re not doing anything you can join, if you want

He clicked his phone off again pretending like nothing was happening because technically, nothing was happening. He invited his friend to get milkshakes with his friends, big whoop. Except everyone had gone silent again and was staring at Cyrus.

“What we’re you saying about words, Andi?”

“Oh, uh—”

Their fake conversation quickly turned into a very real and heated debate about phonetics which Cyrus had invested himself in hoping to forget about the fact that a full minute and a half has already passed and he still hasn’t heard anything back.

Another minute passes and Cyrus was just about ready to call it quits when he felt his pocket buzz.

TJ: sounds fun :) i’ll meet you guys there?

Cyrus: cool :)

They get to the Spoon and see Amber sitting the the largest corner booth in her normal people clothes. She stands up and waves them over with a smile on her face.

“I already ordered some baby taters but I wasn’t sure what milkshakes you guys wanted because I can never remember who likes what.” Amber said nervously as everyone took their seat.

“That’s ok. There’s one more joining us so we’ll order when he gets here.” Jonah reassured her.

“Oh, who is it?”

As if on que, the door rang as TJ stepped inside and scanned the room, and then waving excitedly when he sees Cyrus.

“You’re joking.” Amber laughs in disbelief and stands up again, making eye contact with TJ who’s face drops like hers before they both start laughing hysterically leaving everyone feeling confused and kind of left out.

“Wait... that’s...” TJ laughed before Amber shushed him.

“I didn’t realize you were talking about...” Amber started before TJ shushed her.

“Hey, what’s going on...” Buffy whispered to the two of them.

“Oh, um, Cyrus remember when I told you I have a sister—” TJ said simply, gesturing towards Amber.

Amber turned to Cyrus and smiled and waved weakly.

“No way.” Buffy said to no one in particular as she smiled widely. She was gonna have a field day with this.

Jonah looked like he was about to pee his pants trying not to laugh and Cyrus and Andi were completely stunned and just stared at each other for a second before also laughing, the rest of the group doing the same.

“I hate it here.” Amber joked as she sat down next to Andi.

“I’ve literally never been happier in my life.” Buffy laughed as she moved so TJ could sit next to Cyrus.

“Jonah, why didn’t you tell them?” Amber yelled at him.

“I THOUGHT THEY HAD FIGURED IT OUT! Cyrus has been to your house multiple times how did you not know!” Jonah yelled back.

They dissolved into more playful yelling and despite being way too loud for this little diner, Cyrus still felt happier than he had all year.

A waiter came over after they had quieted down and took their orders. Everyone started talking about something but Cyrus had noticed that TJ’s pinky was touching his own and that was all he could focus on. It was the lightest touch and yet if felt like his skin was on fire. As if that wasn’t enough, TJ must have noticed it too, because he looped his finger over Cyrus’s, making Cyrus’s face heat up involuntarily and he hoped no one had noticed. When Cyrus didn’t move away, TJ carefully flipped his hand over and intertwined the rest of their fingers. Cyrus looked at him but TJ had gone back into the conversation. Cyrus smiled at him and then tuned back in himself.

He never wanted this to end.

He was happy.

———

previous // next

a/n: happy boys for today me thinks 😌 the angst is finally dying down and there’s i think gonna be two more chapters (excluding the epilogue) and our boys are gonna get the happy ending they deserve but for now, they hold hands under the table at the spoon and enjoy the company of their friends. ALSO I WAS LOOSING MY MIND WRITING THE PART WHERE W TJ AND AMBER OH MY GOD i hope you enjoyed lmao

also i’m updating my tag list to make sure the notifications are getting sent and if you want to be added or taken off just lmk!!

tag list:

@secretly-of-course @abg-blah @maybeldontwantheaven @thebisexualweirdo @randomsmilingpotatoes @iam-johnlocked @ohnoitsamistake18 @im-mormon-and-not-straight @unrequitedambi @marriedtobigfoot @fairygclds @c-ristopher @tylercamebackyes @tyrus-is-canon @craftyceleb @ana-lana-ding-dong @dancinglifeboat

#i finished this chapter months ago but was waiting till i finished the next chapter to post it #and i finished that last night and i thought ab waiting a lil longer to post this but i didn’t wanna #ta da #andi mack #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #tyrus fic #andi mack fic #treat you better tyrus au #tyrus au #my writing

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sageblogsthings · 3 years

Text

to celebrate The Crimson Moon reaching 30k as of this morning, i thought that i would share the progression of the opening lines of the book, and talk a bit about how the book has grown and changed in the last year! on july 27th it will be exactly a year since i first started writing this and wow i’m not getting emotional you are aha whaaaat

*cough* anywayyysss!!

draft one: please oh god don't judge me

ok i'm not going to talk negatively about my past writing because it got me to where i am today but. [marge i am looking away meme] if you can't tell, i wrote this when i was going through the existential crisis phase of uni and just wanted to live in the woods, i say like i would not currently move to the woods in a heartbeat asdklfja

at the time that i wrote this i was really happy with it because the writing was fun and, as a result, easy! at this point i was just writing in my down time from uni, and i didn't know what the plot was or what my plans were for the book as a whole. because this was just something i did in my down time, i think my writing took on more of a conversational, stream-of-consciousness tone, and that's part of what made this draft (or start of a draft, i only got like 12k in i think) so easy to write. but eventually, as the plot started to come together and i started to gain more inspiration from sff writers as a whole, i realized that this book wasn't heading in the direction i wanted it to. it wasn't just something to do in my free time at that point, it had taken on a life of it's own. and thus, draft two began.

draft two: electric boogaloo

ngl these lines still slap and i love them. there are definitely things i would change, but these lines will be in the current draft of the book, albeit not in the first chapter and altered slightly. when i started this draft, i didn't have an outline but i had a very clear, cinematic image of how i wanted this chapter to go. i think having that before i started writing helped a looooot, both in terms of prose and just being able to convey aspects of the setting/character in the first paragraph. as i continued writing this draft though, i realized that some of the character arcs didn't make sense or were getting a bit messy, and that, based on the story i wanted to tell, it didn't make sense to start with Xalia. while there are six main pov characters in this book, Vanna really is the main character and i wanted that to be clear.

draft three: this time it's personal actually good

these are the current first lines of the book, and honestly my favorite so far! starting off with Vanna rather than Xalia definitely gives the book a different feel, and it's one that's more true to the vision i have for it. in my opinion, this opening does a much better job of setting up some of the book's themes, which admittedly i'm still figuring out lol. grief and loss are major components of all the character arcs, and are integral to the plot itself. switching to present tense has also been a LIFE CHANGER for me. it's funny because, on the second stab at this book, i kept slipping into present tense, but forcing myself back to past tense because i thought present tense sounded weird. turns out it only sounded weird because it was surrounded by past tense, and now that i've written 3 chapters in present tense i can solidly say that this is the way the book was meant to be written. it just feels like my book now, and i'm so happy with where it's headed!

i also made an outline for this draft of the book, and while i've already deviated from it somewhat to work out plot holes or increase ~foreshadowing~ in certain scenes, getting all of the events out of my head and onto paper has really allowed me to just write because i know that i have a document to refer back to if i get stuck on where the story is headed. making the outline also really pushed me to think about character backstories, most of which i had previously established, but now they've changed a lot to fit together more cohesively and integrate with the plot more clearly. i've also changed a lot of the character designs, and as a result of changing the appearances and backstories of a lot of the characters, i feel a lot closer to them and the story itself. the characters have well and truly taken on a life of their own, and now i'm kind of just along for the ride, telling their stories and loving every second of it!

ALSO!! the last big change with this draft, which i just implemented literally this morning and am so so sooooo excited about, is having first person referral, present tense mini-chapters/interludes! it gives the book a really unique sound and ties into the plot really nicely i think! i feel like the structure and form of the story are finally tying into the story itself and it's driving me insane a little bit askdfjka

as of right now i'm not ready to reveal who the pov and referral characters are in these chapters, because i'm debating between a couple ways of doing things and if i go one way that would end up being a pretty big spoiler! that being said, i got really hyped up about it earlier today and rambled in the spoilers section of my server so if you do want that sweet sweet spoilers content....join my server! ;)

also. i hope u all know that i almost deleted that first snippet about ten different times but transparency in writing and all that, i really do want to show how much this book has grown and changed! even if it's going to cause me immense psychic damage to type up the image description for this but i digress

i think that's all for now, and thank you so so much if you read all of that! the love and support this project has received and continues to receive absolutely blow me away, and i can't thank you enough for being part of the journey! <3

the crimson moon taglist (ask to be +/-)

image descriptions below the cut

[header image description]

the background is a dark castle with a checkerboard-patterned marble floor. the hallway fades into black, with the hint of a figure standing in the doorway. white text across the image reads "The Crimson Moon" in a large, all-caps font, and below that reads "wip update post" in thin, lowercase text.

[image description for excerpt one]

I lay on my back, gazing up at the sky. The weather was absolutely perfect. I could hear the crickets singing, the birds chirping, the brook babbling, all that good poetic shit.

I came out here often, just to get away and pretend like I wasn't a part of the fuck-all society I lived in. How could humans be so ignorant? We live in a world with this, I gestured expansively in my mind at the field around me, how can we not see how beautiful it is? How perfect it is? How imperfect we are by comparison?

[image description for excerpt two]

Xalia strode down the marble halls, the soft leather of her shoes meeting each tile with a cacophony of echoes. This was not the first, second, hundredth time that she had walked these passageways, and yet the chill she felt when contained within their depths never seemed to subside. The looming corridors and billowing curtains always seemed to hide sinister whispers that breathed down her neck and pricked at the tips of her ears. Perhaps it was the High Council, with their unnerving masks and owlish eyes, seeming to know and perceive all — or perhaps it was the knowledge that every time she stalked back towards the exit, she would carry the weight of another’s life on her shoulders, a life that she had to take.

[image description for excerpt three]

Vanna’s mother always tells them that grief is a sharp, biting thing; something that latches its teeth around your stomach until you double over with the weight of it. But for Vanna, that’s not quite right. There isn’t something hidden and tucked away behind the confines of their gut because there isn’t anything there at all. As they walk towards the town well — a spell book in one hand and emptiness in the other — they think that their mother got it wrong trying to describe grief in terms of presence. Grief, to them, can only be absence. The absence of light, the absence of a smile, and the absence of a palm which had curled so perfectly into theirs.

#kit writes #arnora #atlastracking #writeblr #wip update #whoowee this sure got long #i'm just very in my feelings about this wip okay <3 #yknow those stories that grow up as you do?....yeah

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idle-writer · 4 years

Text

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none, mentions of infinity war and endgame (?)

A/N: This is part of my one-shot collections, First. Prompt: first time saying “i love you”. Unbeta’d. All mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy reading :)

The children of Wakanda sure are a lively bunch. You run around outside Bucky’s hut chasing the kids as you play a game of tag. The sound of laughter makes Bucky’s lips turn up into a small smile. He can recognize your voice anywhere, anytime. As he exits his hut, you feel Bucky’s eyes on you and you immediately whirl around to face him. Far too quick, you think when you accidentally lost your balance, beginning to slip and tumble to the ground. Bucky is also quick on his feet, running to your side as soon as he realize what is about to happen. He reaches for your hand, gently, for he doesn’t want to hurt you. Far too gentle, he realizes because he too gets pulled down to the ground.

A look of concern passes through him as you gape at him wordlessly. He props himself in his one arm, eyes scanning you, looking for any possible injury you may have sustained.

You can’t even care about the position you two are in, or that there are children snickering at the background. A hearty laugh comes off your chest when it dawns to you how silly the events are. Upon hearing your laughter, a smile breaks in to his face. Even with your face soiled with mud, grass sticking to your hair, he still thinks you’re beautiful. He shakes his head, muttering an almost inaudible. “God, I love you.”

An accidental slip he instantly regrets when he feels you freeze beneath him. Thoughts of something ending without it being started yet creeps in to his mind. Thoughts that are cut off when something wet and sticky is smudged on his face. Your mud-covered hand is hovering near, a toothy grin on your face followed by another round of laughter. God, he really does love you.

“I love you.”

It was under the beautiful Wakandan sunset, the skies painted in a blend of orange, yellow, and indigo, a few stars peeking out, their light barely visible but they’re there. Just like how your love is there, you don’t say it but it’s there. So when he uttered those three words again, needless to say you are surprised. The first time he said it you think you misheard him. Today’s is a reaffirmation, and just like the first time, you were unable to say it back.

You stare at him with mouth open but no words come out. He gives you a gentle comforting smile, his hand raised to tenderly brush your cheek, “You don’t have to say it back. I just want to let you know.”

Because he’s a semi-stable hundred year old man, and now that he’s given a second chance in life, a chance to say what he wants, a chance to bare his soul to someone on his own volition, he will take it. He didn’t expect you to say it back, and you didn’t, and it’s okay, because as you tightly gripped his hand, and rested your head on his shoulder, an almost unintelligible “thank you” coming from your lips, he knew. You just needed time, and he’d willingly give it to you.

Some people will get offended, but he didn’t. He hums and presses a kiss on the top of your head. Your tense shoulders relaxing as soon as you felt, releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a sense of relief washing over you. He still loves you. _______________

You are just talking with Shuri, thanking her for her help with Bucky's new vibranium arm. She only laughs it off saying how it's kinda became her job to "fix white boys". She suddenly looks behind you, a snide smile forming on her lips.

“Sergeant, you forgot something?”

You turn to see Bucky standing by the door. He looks contemplative for a second before he casts his gaze on you. He doesn’t answer Shuri's question, instead he just makes quick strides to where you are standing. He tilts your chin up with his metal arm, and dips down to capture your lips with his. Pulling back, he whispers those three sweet words.

A lump forms in your throat which quickly dissolves when he brushes his thumbs across your cheek, a silent reassurance that it’s okay.

“Thank you.”

He nods to you, and then to Shuri who is watching the whole scene with a goofy smile on her face, before he turns to leave.

As soon as the door closes shut, Shuri almost half-screamed, half-asks, “What was that?”

“What was what?”

Shuri clears her throat and lowers her voice, imitating Bucky’s, “I love you.” And then switches to imitate yours, “Thank you.”

You roll your eyes at her, and shrugs. She laughs but doesn’t push any further, making you narrow your eyes at her.

She shakes her head at you, “It’s just nice to hear you are loved… …Don’t you think?”

…

Running as fast as you could, you sprint through the halls. Damn his long legs. “Bucky!”

He stops in his tracks and meets you halfway. A quizzical look on his face as he takes in your form. Your hand in your chest as you try to catch your breath while he rubs circle at your back to soothe you. “Bucky, I-“

“Sergeant Barnes?” A Wakandan warrior pops out in the corner, relaying a quick message about a quick briefing.

“I’ll be right there.” Bucky calls out before turning to you. “Doll, you were saying?”

You shake your head. Now’s not the time. “Be careful out there, Bucky.”

He pulls you to his arms, and presses a soft kiss on the top of your head, hand softly running through your hair. He once again whispers the words you feel but fail to say

_______________

Five years have come and go. The Battle of Wakanda has left many wounded physically. The Snap has left many scarred emotionally. Friends and family gone in an instant.

Your brain keeps on replaying the last time you saw him, as you watch his back disappear from your view. The chance to tell him how you feel gone in an instant.

“I didn’t get to say I love him, Steve.”

Steve says your name with a hint of his Captain America voice as if reprimanding you for emotionally torturing yourself.

“He says it to me all the time. I didn’t even… not even once,” you continued. “…and now, I’ve lost my chance.”

Steve lays a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m sure he knows.”

_______________

The sound of birds chirping signifies their return. The mission is a success. They are back. Everyone is back.

You stand frozen in your spot, as you look over at Bucky. His brows furrow in confusion as you assume Steve is explaining what happened. He glances up and catches sight of you. He taps Steve’s shoulder, and makes his way to you, a smile spreading on his lips, blue eyes shining brightly. Your same old Bucky from five years ago. The same Bucky who caresses your cheek and kisses the top of your head.

“Doll?”

But you are not the same you from five years ago. Because now that you are given a chance to let him know, you’ll take it. You’re done thinking it’s not the time. So when he says he loves you just like he usually do, you press a kiss to his lips. A smile lighting up his face when you whispered back the words he waited so long to hear.

“I love you, too.”

_______________

A/N: Thank you for reading! I accept requests for this. Any firsts with Bucky you want me to write? Let me know. Stay safe and take care~ :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #mcu imagine #idle-writer #sebastian stan

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lsmileychanl · 4 years

Text

Stray kids scenarios // cuddling

Summary: How would members of stray kids react to you being really cuddly

Genre: Pure fluff

Warnings: minor swearing (sorry I can't help it T_T)

Pairing: Stray kids x Reader

A/n: Hello everyone! I wanted to say a huge thank you for your support, it really means a lot! Sorry for the slow posting schedule, I’ve been really busy lately. I promise that I will be more active in the future. I hope that this lil scenario can put a smile on your face! Remember to stay hydrated and get enough rest. Ily guys! ♡

_________________________________________

Bang Chan:

Channie, where are you coming home? I miss you ♡

Sorry y/n It’s been really busy lately. I’ll be home soon! Love you, baby!

I love you too!

Seen 11.27 PM

The clock was about to hit late hours of the night, but Chan still wasn’t home yet. You were determined to wait for him so that you could finally have some quality time with your boyfriend. He was working so hard and you really miss him. It was 1.45 AM and you made the critical decision to lay down on the couch. You felt yourself slowly doosing off when you heard the door open.

You jumped in his arms and hugged him so tightly, that you were convinced — any tighter and you would cut his circulation. God, you missed this.

‘’Whoa, hey baby!’’ Chan laughed out. You gave him a soft kiss on the lips. ‘’Welcome home.’’ You looked up to see his tired eyes. ‘’Let’s get rid of those model – eye bags of yours.’’ You took his arm and softly led him to the bedroom. You pouted when Chan didn’t move and gently shook your hand off.

‘’Sorry baby, I need to shower first, I’m all sweaty. Don’t be sad, I’ll be right back’’ Chan gave you one last kiss before heading to the shower.

When he came back, you were already waiting for him with fresh sheets and sheet masks for the both of you. You two ended up talking for way longer than you were supposed to, making fun of each other’s faces with the on and Chan filling you in on all the crazy stuff that happened in the dorms. You realized how late it was when you two heard bird chirps outside. You mentally thanked god that you both have a day off and went to bed. Needless to say you two ended up sleeping till noon.

Minho:

Waking up with lee know by your side was one of the best feelings ever. It was one of those lucky days where he didn't have anything planned for the whole day. Lee know is really touchy with people who he loves and so you woke up facing each other, with his arms securily around your waist and legs entangled together. You felt safe in his hold. While you wanted to stay in his strong hold forever you knew that you have to get up eventually and knowing Minho, he will not be the first one to wake up.

You gave one last look at his relaxed, sleeping face. God, he is perfect. You gently brushed your fingertips along his jawline while thinking of how lucky you were to have someone as precious as him. You gave him a gentle kiss. You felt him slightly smiling against your lips.

"Good morning, baby" you said while gently brushing through his hair.

He let out a slight groan. "Just 5 more minutes..." Lee know said with his slight morning voice. "Or a little longer..." He mumbled while digging his head in your shoulder.

You knew that there was no escape. And so you accepted the faith that you were given and gave into the warmth of his body.

You both loved the feeling of being close to each other and that is exactly what you did.

Changbin:

You looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time, fixing your hair and smiling at your reflexion. You normally didn’t wear anything fancy when going out with Changbin, but today you were really feeling yourself.

Are you ready y/n? I’m waiting for you outside! :)

Just a second, I’m almost done. Can’t wait! ♡♡

You rushed outside to find your boyfriend fiddling with his phone, while leaning against a wall. When he saw you his eyes widened and he almost fell. We love a clumsy man

‘’Whoah, that was unexpected’’ He said while nervously touching the back of his neck. You just smiled and leaned in to give a small, but loving kiss. He deepened the kiss before letting go and leading you to the car.

While changbin was driving, you rested your head on his shoulder. Soft music was playing in the background. You lost track of time and before you knew it, you were already at the location.

You were really comfortable and wanted to stay in that position for a little while longer. You knew that Channie liked acting tough in public and didn't want to "ruin his image". That meant little to no pda.

Changbin gently shook you. "Were here it's time to go!"

"Channie, let's stay like this for a while." You said while playing with his hands.

He just laughed while turning to give you a kiss on the forehead. He was so soft for you. Few minutes passed and it was time to enjoy your date. Changbin held your hand the whole entire time. Congradulations you cracked him

Hyunjin:

Ok, sooo..... phone, keys, food, water aaaaannnd passport. You were ready. You headed out to JYP's building. Even after all these months the same manager never forgot yo ask for your passport, like you haven't vissited this building hundrets of times already. To be completely honest, you still weren't used to the huge building and managed to get lost every, damn time. With the help of a few workers there, you headed to the practising room.

When you found the right room you noticed that the door was already open. You peeked your head in and found Hyunjin all sweaty, sitting on the floor, while resting his head on the wall. You heard blasting music and a cold breeze of air, which was probabbly because he opened every, single window to let in some air, despite the multiple scolds from you about how he is going to get sick this way.

"He must have been practising there for hours... " you mumbled to yourself. You knew that it was hard being an idol. But when you saw him laying like that you got a reminder of exactly how much he puts in to achieve his dreams.

"You know that you can come in right?" You mentally cursed yourself. You got sidetracked by your thoughts and didn't even notice, that he noticed you staring at him.

"Hiii! I bought you lunch. Thought you might get hungry here." You sat down next to him and handed him the food you ordered before. It really wasn't much, but you couldn't trust yourself enough to touch the kitchen by yourself.

"Thank you, y/n! I don't know what I would do without you." Hyunjin kissed you and opened the food. "OMG YOU BROUGHT ME SUUUSHIIIIII!" Hyunjin's face lit up as he engulfed you in a giant bear hug. You laughed at his cute reaction. After he finnished the meal he put the emptied box down and just layed there with you on top of him.

"I love you, you know that right?" He mumbled under his breath while playing with the strands of your hair. You hugged him even tighter "I love you too, Hyunjinnie!"

Jisung:

,,Please Jisung-ah, I will watch literally anything else!’’

,,Commoon y/n! Please. I promise you it’s gonna be fun! If you watch this with me I’m going to be the one bringing the trash out for the next week.’’

,,Ugh fiiiiiiiiine…’’ You grunted.

You have no idea how he convinced you to do this. You hated horror movies. But there you were on the couch, scared shitless, hiding in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck.

Each time you jumped at the scary scene he laughed even harder. ‘’What are you scared of y/n? It’s really not that bad.’’ Jisung smirked devilishly knowing how much the movie affected you. He secretly enjoyed these moments where he could fill the strong, protective boyfriend role and feel your hands helplessly grabbing on his shirt. Also he just wanted to be able to make fun of you smh

After the movie you mentally took note to never watch a scary movie ever again. You were SHAKING and couldn’t help yourself from clinging to your boyfriend. You basically became a human koala bear and followed him everywhere. At first Jisung just laughed it off but then it started to become a problem when he couldn’t even get to the bathroom.

The tickle battle was on. Using the advantage, he ran and did what he had to do. After returning and seeing you hiding under billions of blankets, he felt bad for just running away like that and jumped in the bed with you.

‘’AAAGHHH you’re so cute, y/n.’’ He said squishing your cheeks and giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

Felix:

You just woke up. You didn’t even realize that you fell asleep in the first place. You were chilling at the dorm with the boys so you didn’t know how you ended up sleeping in Felix’s bed. You sleepily rolled out of the comfy sheets and threw on one of his oversized, comfy hoodies and went downstairs.

You found Felix playing games with the other members. He was concentrated on the screen, wanting to prove that he is a good player, while everyone else teased him.

‘’Didn’t you start playing it 4 months before him?’’ Jisung laughed.

‘’Hey, he just got lucky. I’ll beat him next time.’’

You smiled and back hugged Felix placing your head in the crook of his neck.

‘’I think you did great!’’ You said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Felix got scared at first thinking that you were Minho trying to tease him, but once he realized that it was you he relaxed in your arms.

‘’Oh, you’re up already, y/n? I thought that you might hurt your back sleeping on the couch like that, so I carried you to my bed. Did you sleep well?’’

‘’Ugh not to interrupt you, but can you please get a room, we have to protect the children!’’ Bang Chan quietly begged. Felix jumped off the map and lead you back to his bed and you ended up spooning each other to sleep.

Seungmin:

"Seungminni, pleaassee! This is getting ridiculous." You pouted. You're boyfriend decided that it would be funny, to not give you any affection for the whole day. Whenever you leaned in for a kiss, he would dodge it. Whenever you tried to hug him, he managed to wiggle out of your grip. "Nu-uh it's only getting interesting now." Seungmin playfully winked at you and gave you a light pat on your head. Gosh you hate this little game of his. "I swear to god if you keep doing this to me, I will find someone else to cuddle with!" The smile on Seungmin's face disappeared as his eyes widened in shock. "Say sike right now or I will throw hands." (it's getting late and I'm so sorry) You didn't respond and just walked out the room. Seungmin soon followed and grabbed your hand. "I'm so sorry y/n. This was all a joke I really didn't mean to upset you." You saw the pain glisten in his eyes. Immediate guilt tripped over you. But then you remembered about his antics earlier. "Ha! Got you! The only one who I was going to cuddle was Mr. Flower bear. (Mr. Flower bear was a gift from Seungmin, for Valentine's Day. You named him that, because he had a flower crown on it's head.) Seungmin's shoulders dropped as a sigh of relief escaped his lips. "Oh my God, you almost gave me a heart attack. From now on I'm never letting you out my arms ever again." Sweet victory.

Jeongin:

Istg he makes me so soft I'm- You stood there with a big, comfy pillow in your arms. Jeongin opened the door and you were immediately hit with his precious smile and his little claps of excitement. "Hi, y/n! You ready?" It was an intense, late night, pillow fort movie marathon. You two just finished the last Harry Potter movie and having a debate over what's the best spell in the movie. "Common, Jeongin, Wingardium Leviosa is iconic. You can't deny that." "Yeah, but Expecto Patronum is still cooler. Would you rather make something float or see your spirit animal? I think that anyone with the right mind would pick the spirit animal." You sighed in defeat. You knew that he is too stubborn and you wondered why did you even start the debate. "Fine you win, let's watch another movie and then let's go to bed, it's getting late." "No pressure, but the last movie matters the most." You lock eyes with him and understand that a battle for the remote control is coming. You kissed him on the cheek, making him flustered and got a head start. Once he realized what you were doing, Jeongin caught you in his grip and started tickling you. You lost your balance from laughing so hard and right before you hit the floor Jeongin managed to catch your head. "Whoah, are you okay? I'm so sorry y/n, I didn't want you to get hurt." "I'm fine, but now I have the advantage of choosing the movie." Jeongin just showed you his tounge and hugged you tighter. "Whatever. As long as I spend time with you, I'm happy." You laughed at his cheesy line. "Gosh, I love you."

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oohfluffy · 4 years

Text

DDND Ch.19 | KJI

Group: EXO

Member: Kim Jongin

Theme: Fluff | Dancer!AU | Dormmmate!AU

Word Count: 2,262

❀ Chapter 19: He Lied ❀

Two days after your dinner with your family, you always got morning, afternoon and night calls from them.

It is overwhelming.

"Goodmorning, noona!"

You cringed at the attempt of your little brother of making his voice in high pitch.

"G-Goodmorning, Tae. Why so early?" You rubbed your eyes as you slowly stretched your arms.

Obviously, you just woke up.

"Aunt Ji Hyo wants to have lunch together with you. She told me to call you and invite you today."

"T-Today? B-But I have a morning shift—"

"Hehe. She already talked to your manager, noona. Kim Jongdae, right?"

You groaned.

"I forgot how many times I've already asked him for an early dismiss or changing shifts. I'm in debt to him." You sighed, standing up as you combed your hair with your fingers.

"He seems nice though. Does that guy likes you, noona? You seem to get away with anything—"

"Yah! Jongdae-ssi already has a girlfriend and is really serious about her. He's just purely generous, Tae." You scratched the back of your neck as you went to the bathroom to wash your face.

"Yeah right. Anyway, I'll just text you where we'll meet later, noona!"

"Wait, what ti—"

"Annyeong!"

You cursed as the line went dead, irritating you with the sound.

"That kid." You muttered, putting your phone down on the counter when it made a sound, indicating a new message.

7:34 am

From: Tae Dongsaeng

Meet at Winter Heat Café, 1:00pm! <3

"Winter Heat..."

This was where Kai and I ate lunch before.

You quickly shook your head and was about to take a shower when someone knocked on your door.

"Argh." You groaned in frustration as you walked towards the door.

"What—"

"Goodmorning, baby." Kai leaned in for a kiss when you moved away from his face. He pouted.

"What's your business here, dancer?" You asked, grasping at the door knob.

"We're going on a date."

Your eyes hardened at his announcement.

"Who told you?" You snapped.

"Me. Please?" Kai took your other hand before kissing it with glimmering eyes.

Shit. Not those eyes.

He's totally acting normal as if nothing happened. Going back to last two days ago, you told somethings that are confusing and not really nice.

"Stop, Kai! You can't just do everything you want."

"What do you even think of me? A kissing booth?"

"I-I don't even know what this mean."

But here he is, still smirking like he wasn't affected by any of it.

"I have somewhere to go later, so I can't." You said, managing to find your voice. Kai frowned, letting go of your hand. You almost whined at the loss of warmth on your hand.

He put his hands on his waist as his eyes turned into crescents.

"Where are you going? Who are you going with? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He questioned as he glared at you. You cleared your throat.

"Will you stop asking continuously?" You replied, rolling your eyes. "I'm meeting my father's fiancé and my brother for lunch at 1. Taeyong informed me just a little while ago, so I didn't know about it. That's why I can't go—"

"It's still early, babe. We have..." Kai glanced at the clock near your table. "...almost 5 hours before 1. I'll wait downstairs, baby. Dress nicely, okay?"

Kai winked before walking out of your sight.

You just continued gapping at him when he suddenly went back in front of you.

"I forgot something." He said, making you tilt your head in confusion.

"Wha—"

Kai gently pecked your lips before grinning at your blushing self.

"My goodmorning kiss."

When he was totally out of your sight, your hands automatically went to your wet lips.

He kissed me.

Well, it's not like it's the first time but you were still flustered at his boldness.

"Oh my ghad." You mumbled, closing your door before going back to the bathroom to take a shower.

As you've closed the door, two heads from 4 rooms after yours, appeared.

"I told you!" Sanha squealed, hitting the older's arm. Eunwoo groaned in annoyance.

"So what now?"

"They're totally dating, hyung! Wahh! Dorm mates Romance!" Sanha said excitedly. "I bet they even kissed!"

"Shut up, you tower. Let's head out now. I've got to pass my projects later." Eunwoo said as he wore his back pack.

"You're no fun, hyung."

"At least I'm normal."

"Rude Eunwoo hyung."

♫ ❧ ♫ ❧ ♫ ❧ ♫ ❧ ♫

"Where are we going, Kai?" You asked as he held your hand, leading you to the bus stop.

"Ah." Kai sighed in contentment as he dragged you inside the bus, taking a seat, tugging you down next to him.

"Yah. I asked you—"

"I've always wanted to do this." Kai mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulders.

You blushed, shyly looking around the bus and finding a lot of stares from girls, even old ahjummas.

Kai is really a girl magnet.

You slowly gazed at his face.

His lower lip jutted out like a baby, his eyelashes are long, his nose pointed, his hair so soft and his cheeks so smooth.

But he's only magnet to me.

You inwardly chuckled evilly as you glared at the girls who are looking at Kai with those dreamy eyes.

He's mine, bitches.

Kai nuzzled his face closer to yours, tickling your neck with his hair.

"Stop moving, idiot." You whispered, looking away from him.

"Hmm. You smell sweet as usual, baby."

And your cheeks were on fire once again.

He's gonna be the death of me.

"Yah! Can we just walk? You're dragging me!" You squealed as you held onto Kai's hand. Kai just laughed.

"We're here."

You looked up at the sight before you.

"Woah." You gasped.

"Since it's just past 8 in the morning, there are just a few people here." Kai said with a grin as he excitedly tugged you towards a restaurant near the ocean.

The beach was breathtaking.

The ocean was calmly dancing with the wind as the sand near it gets wet from time to time. The sun was peaking through the clouds, making it not too hot in the morning. A few people are jogging around the place, others are eating breakfast at the restaurant, and some are swimming in the ocean already.

It was a peaceful scenery.

"Do you like it?"

Your head turned towards Kai, who's currently eating fried chicken in front of you. You chuckled, drinking from your pineapple juice.

"Yeah, I like it." You answered, smiling at him.

"I was on the way to work when I passed by this place. I thought, I would like to bring jagiya here someday." Kai said, looking at the ocean with a smile. Your heart melted at the sight.

You blinked your eyes rapidly, trying to focus. You thought of a question, shoving away the awkwardness.

"Uhm. Work? You mean at DanWiMu? Isn't that at the other way of this street? Why would you—"

"Of course. I-It was so long ago, I wasn't used to the ways around here. So, I tried to get familiar with the streets when I was on the way to DanWiMu." Kai explained, smiling at you.

Why does he look so nervous? Is it just me or what?

"Oh." You mumbled, looking away.

"Let's take a walk for a while. We have 2 hours left." Kai said, standing up.

You two walked around the beach, the sound of the waves and the birds chirping were the only background music for this romantic scene. Kai's hand was wrapped around yours, giving you warmth in this cold wind.

Your eyes were only focused on the ocean while Kai's were on you. You noticed that, instantly feeling cautious, you cleared your throat.

"So," You started, biting your lip. Kai's eyes were following your every move.

"Why'd you bring me here?" You asked.

You swear you almost turned deaf because of the silence he gave you. Kai was just staring at you and when you got the courage to face him, he looked in front of him.

"I asked you a question, Kai."

"I heard you."

You were surprised by how deep and serious his voice was.

Not the usual playful and lively one.

"D-Did I say something wrong?" You nervously asked, your fingers itching to grasp his hand tighter.

He might just get mad.

Kai sighed, stopping on his tracks, making you stop too. He slowly turned to you, not breaking your hands' contact.

"I don't want you to misunderstand. I don't want to see those bright eyes turn dim. I don't want to let you see me that way." Kai mumbled quietly as he stared into your eyes. Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"Tell me I'm your devil dancer, Lin. Not anyone else. I'm only a dancer. Yours. Please see me that way whatever happens." Kai whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.

Your eyes closed as you felt his hot minty breath near your lips.

"You're my devil dancer, Kai. I'll see you that way whatever happens." You mumbled, bring your hands on his cheeks.

Somehow, Kai looked so lonely and sad. You just wanted to do everything that can make him happy at this moment.

"You're mine, Jongin." You whispered, staring back in his eyes. Kai's lips slightly curved upwards in delight.

"I'm yours, baby."

Kai completely closed the gap between you and him, bringing your body closer as his lips molded with yours. His hands gently squeezing your waist as you put your arms around his neck.

You slowly pulled away after realizing you're getting out of breath. Your arms still clinging on his neck as well as his hands around your waist.

Kai was wearing his lovely smile while you snuggled on his chest, blush spreading on your cheeks.

You can hear his fast heartbeats, totally in-sync with yours this time.

I think I'm in love with this devil.

♫ ❧ ♫ ❧ ♫ ❧ ♫ ❧ ♫

On top of the cashier area, a wooden plate says, "Enjoy your meals in Winter Heat".

"Dear!"

You turned around and found yourself in Aunt Ji Hyo's arms. Your younger brother, Taeyong, grinning at her side.

"Have you been waiting for a long time?" She asked, leading you to a table for three near the window.

"No, it's okay. I've just arrived as well." You replied, shaking your head.

After spending almost 5 hours with Kai earlier, he made sure you get here safe. He just left in defeat a few minutes ago when you insisted that you can wait for them alone.

"Were you sent by someone? Who? Your boyfriend?" Aunt Ji Hyo started looking around with an excited smile.

"Ah! An-Aniyo!" You embarrassedly said, waving your hands. "How'd you even know that, A-Aunt Ji Hyo?" Aunt Ji Hyo clapped her hands.

"I see! You're still not in a relationship then?" She replied, not bothering to answer your question.

"Uhmm." You looked away, thinking of something to avert the topic.

"Oh! Aunt Ji Hyo, isn't that guy familiar?" Taeyong suddenly said, shamelessly pointing outside the window. Aunt Ji Hyo followed what he pointed at and her eyes widened.

"Omo. That's Mr. Kim! Wahh. He still looks so handsome with those casual clothes on." Aunt Ji Hyo cooed like a teenager. Taeyong just nodded with a curious gaze.

"He lives here? Incheon's not that far but that's hard traveling when he needs to be in a meeting, right, Aunt Ji Hyo?" Taeyong asked.

"That's right. I thought he lives in Incheon too." Aunt Ji Hyo shrugged. "Oh! I'll order our food then. Taeyong, keep your sister company, okay?"

"Ne."

Aunt Ji Hyo stood up with a smile and went to the counter. You curiously looked at your brother.

"Who's Mr. Kim?" You looked back at the window, trying to look for the guy they were talking about.

"Mr. Kim is a young businessman that father favors a lot. That guy is super cool! He just has this aura that will make you drawn to him automatically." You raised your eyebrow at Taeyong in a questioning way. "Yah! I'm a man, noona! Don't doubt your brother!"

You laughed before glancing at the window again, watching as people pass by you.

"As I was saying, he's the son of father's friend in the business world. I don't know much but I've seen him just once in the house last... Hmm." Taeyong cocked his head sidewards in thought. "5 months ago? Yeah. I've seen him talking to father before. I feel like I've seen him here too. I just can't remember."

Your eyes suddenly turned to the other side of the street.

"Kai?" You mumbled, squinting your eyes at the familiar colors of the man's clothes. When you saw his brown hair, you've confirmed that it was really Kai.

"What did you say, noona?" Taeyong looked up at you, noticing you were staring outside. He followed your stare.

"Oh! That's him."

Your head turned to Taeyong, so quick he was even shocked.

"W-Who's him?" You stuttered.

"Mr. Kim." Taeyong answered. "That's him. The one you're staring at." He added as he pointed at Kai, who just got inside the blue Maserati GranTurismo.

He looks different.

He's wearing the same clothes from earlier but his expression...

"Woah, that car's awesome." Taeyong said, amazed.

"Kai..."

No, he's a dancer.

"Tell me I'm your devil dancer, Lin. Not anyone else. I'm only a dancer. Yours. Please see me that way whatever happens."

He lied.

—

❀ Ch.20

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icecoldflames · 5 years

Text

The Pinnae Flower Chapter 4, Part 1

Masterlist

Underneath Sidney’s Cloak?

We have made plenty of posts about this subject. The longest mystery in the Pinnae series, probably. What is under Sidney’s cloak?

If you just Google searched the topic you’d probably find enough posts and theories about it to make your head spin and take you weeks on end to read all of them through.

Previously, we’ve theorized that maybe Sidney was hiding some kind of tattoo that belonged to one of the rouge sprite gangs. We’ve also theorized that perhaps maybe Sidney wasn’t hiding anything under his cloak and perhaps it was the cloak itself that was important. Maybe a dead relatives' creation or a love interest. We also said that maybe Sidney was hiding a battle scar or something like that that he was embarrassed of due to the fact that he’s petrified of dragons and the thought of them.

But now we’ve got a new theory: what if Sidney used to be a fairy?

We’ve all sensed that Pinnae: Spelunca might take a turn to the dark side. What if Sidney used to be a fairy and his wings were ripped off? Maybe by a dragon (which would again explain his dragon phobia). Or another fairy or sprite ripped them off?

It would make complete sense.

Sidney’s cloak is used to hide the remains of his wings. His wings were maybe ripped out by dragons which would have an everlasting effect on him and making him scared of them.

Might I point out an excerpt from Pinnae: Exsul?

The tree is massive. It’s branches are thick and twisty and the leaves look almost too green. It soars above Exsul with it’s mushroom houses and I swear that I could probably see Magus and Parisa.

“Arel, come on,” Sidney calls out to me. When I turn to look, he has begun to climb the tree. The wind is ruffling his hair yet his cloak doesn’t move. For a split second I wonder what’s beneath it. I’ve heard the rumours from the other sprites.

But I shake those thoughts out and begin climbing the massive tree. I wonder how Sidney feels—that small and climbing this thing. I find it huge, I can’t imagine what it feels like climbing this tree while being a quarter my size.

It takes us some time (and some tree bending on Sidney’s part) to finally make it to the top. The sky is so blue I wish I had a camera and I can hear birds chirping nearby. It’s peaceful. It’s the most at peace I’ve been since the fairies’ pinnae flower was cut.

Sidney perches on one of the smaller branches and I sit on a thicker branch to hold my weight. The wind is stronger up here and I wonder what my kite at home would look like flying and soaring through the endless blue.

A raven flies past us and Sidney watches it, enraptured.

“Have you ever flown before?” I ask curiously.

Sidney’s face is shocked when he looks at me—almost panicked—and I wonder what I said that made him react so strongly.

“I mean, you know, on the back of a bird or something.” I add in quickly, trying to make amends. I run a nervous hand through my hair.

Sidney’s face relaxes and he turns to look back to the raven, now only a speck in the distance. “Yes.”

Ah, the famous tree scene. This is such a nice scene for multiple reasons. For one, Sidney isn’t as rude and closed off. It really shows how much Sidney likes Arel. Secondly, it’s just so beautiful.

In any case, we can see that Sidney has flown before. Although Arel suggests on a bird and Sidney says yes, we can all tell that Sidney might not actually mean on a bird.

When Arel first pops the question, he’s shocked. Only when Arel specifies on a bird does he finally relax and answer the question.

Which brings us to the conclusion that Sidney thought that Arel was talking about something else—something that he shouldn’t know. Like maybe how Sidney used to be a fairy with wings?

It would explain so much and why Sidney’s character is so bitter and cold. It also explains the cloak too.

So that’s the new theory for what’s underneath Sidney’s cloak: remnants of wings.

Thanks for reading my loyal plebeians,

Prince Roman Falco

~~~

A couple of days passed before Roman could bring it up. It was late evening and him and Logan were in their hotel room, sitting on their beds while silently looking at the screens on their computers. The TV was on the news for background noise.

“Logan, I’ve been thinking,” Roman began hesitantly, “I don’t think I necessarily want to figure out Raz’s identity anymore.”

Logan paused his typing and looked over at Roman curiously. He shifted his position on the bed and cocked his head to the side. “And what changed your mind now?”

Something told Roman that Logan already kind of knew the reason for the change of heart but just wanted to hear it from him.

“It’s just that, I was there when Jo was trying to flirt with Virgil. And I got to thinking that that’s what Raz feels like—all this unwanted attention that you don’t want. It must get scary, people constantly trying to figure your identity out.” Roman said, trailing off. Virgil’s terrified, pale face was burned into the back of his eyelids and he wasn’t sure if it would ever go away.

Logan pursed his lips and didn’t say anything for a long time.

Roman’s eyes widened as his thoughts came to the startling conclusion: Logan wanted to figure out Raz Keeran’s identity.

Roman knew Logan enough to know that he wasn’t in this for fame like he had been. He was in it for the sake of solving a mystery.

Roman’s favourite series was the Pinnae series. Logan’s was Sherlock Holmes.

Logan wanted to be Sherlock Holmes. He wanted to solve a mystery. And the mystery has presented himself once he was forced to go on a summer trip at Roman’s request.

Logan’s voice came out meek and Roman wouldn’t have believed it was coming out of him if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes. “I really want to find them though.” He looked incredibly conflicted with himself. “But not for fame—for me.”

Roman didn’t know what to say. Was this how Logan had felt when he was obsessed with Raz and finding his identity?

Roman no longer wanted to find out who Raz was. Yet Logan had no intention of releasing the knowledge to the public.

He crossed his arms and legs and then immediately recrossed them. “I’m not so sure about this anymore, Logan,” Roman finally said.

Logan looked flabbergasted. He didn’t speak for a long minute and Roman wondered if he too realized that the roles were now reversed.

They stared at each other, blinking occasionally.

Roman had no idea what to say. If Logan did continue his search, Raz wouldn’t be affected because Logan had no plan to tell the public. But it was still wrong. But Roman would feel bad if he barred Logan from trying to find Raz.

Logan seemed to be in the same boat—unable to speak and unsure what the next move should be.

Finally, when Roman couldn’t handle the thick silence, he managed to form some words. “I...I won’t tell you no but I won’t help you anymore.”

Logan nodded. “Okay.” Was all he said.

To be honest, Logan would probably find Raz quicker without him. He was smart all on his own and Roman got distracted easily. It was probably for the best anyway.

They soon went back to their own business—Roman rereading Pinnae: The New Era and Logan doing whatever he did. Probably research or work from home. Maybe responding to emails.

When Roman finished his book he closed the computer and stood up. He couldn’t stand the silence anymore. Even with the TV on and the clicking sounds from Logan’s computer, it still sounded like an empty room in the dead of night.

“I’m going to go over to Patton’s.” Roman muttered, grabbing his phone and wallet before exiting the hotel room. He breathed deeply as the door clicked shut behind him.

As soon as Roman walked into Patton’s, he wondered if maybe staying at the hotel was the better option because Jo was sitting in Virgil’s spot in the corner.

Patton emerged from the kitchen as he walked in and his eyes immediately looked over to Jo, quietly typing at the computer with such rigor Roman was afraid the computer might break.

“Hey Roman,” Patton said. His voice didn’t have the usual pep it did when he came in.

“Hi Pat.” Roman greeted, trying to walk normally towards the counter. “Could I have some churros?” He needed a taste of home right now.

“How many?” Patton asked, opening the sliding door and gripping the tongs in his right hand.

“Uh, three please.” Roman was tempted to ask if Patton had any edible glitter—preferably pink—but decided against it. He doubted Patton had it anyway.

After Roman paid he found a spot in the middle of the cafe. It’s wasn’t too close to Jo to make him uncomfortable but not too far away that Jo might think he hated her. Which he kind of did. But that wasn’t the point.

“Roman!” Jo exclaimed and both Roman and Patton’s head shot up. “Come here for a moment, I want to get your opinion on something.” Her voice was light—not noticing the tension in the cafe.

Roman glanced at Patton worriedly before taking his last churro with him as he crossed the room. “Yeah?” He prompted, taking a bite of his churro.

Roman glanced at Jo’s screen. The churro went down the wrong way and he began coughing up a fit. The screen. Oh my gosh.

Jo looked at Roman worriedly and Patton quickly hurried over. “Are you alright?” She asked.

“Do you need a glass of water?” Patton said.

Roman coughed one final time, pounding a fist to his chest before saying, “I’m fine. Really. It just went down the wrong way.”

Jo, seemingly not worried anymore now that she knew Roman was fine, gestured to her screen. “You look like the kind of guy to have a knack for dramatic and punchy titles, so what do you think? I’ve narrowed it down to two.”

Roman looked at the screen once again, feeling sweat beginning to pool at his hairline.

AUTHOR RAZ KEERAN: REVEALED

MYSTERIOUS AUTHOR, RAZ KEERAN, FINALLY UNVEILED

Roman felt Patton still behind him.

Jo cocked her head to the side, unsuspecting of everything. “The first one is shorter and gets to the point quicker but the second one is much more dramatic.”

The words came out of Roman’s mouth before he could think them through. “You shouldn’t do this.”

Jo’s eyes narrowed. “Oh. You’re one of those Pinnae fans. ‘Raz should be able to do what he wants.’” Her voice went up a pitch in mocking. “Oh, he should have the freedom to choose, he doesn’t have to be in the spotlight, Raz has his freedom to do what he wants…” Jo gave Roman the death stare and he wondered how someone could be so rude to a practical stranger.

“It’s wrong.” Roman stated once again and it was like Logan’s brain was attached to his own. “Raz does have the choice to choose whether to stay out of the public eye or not. Just because they’re a famous author doesn’t mean they’re obligated to tell their real name and show their face. The public is so cut-throat. You should know this. Raz might not want internet strangers behind a screen picking them apart and stalking them and making them uncomfortable.”

Jo made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes. “Raz Keeran gave himself up to the press and any scrutiny on a silver platter as soon as he published his first book.”

“No he didn’t.” Roman shot back. Was this how Logan felt, trying to smack some sense into him when he has the same opinions as this woman? “Raz Keeran can do whatever the heck they want. Who’s the famous author again?”

Jo’s eye twitched. “If he has the right to hide under a pseudonym then I have the right to tell the world.”

Roman opened his mouth to make a biting remark but Patton beat him to it. “That is not the same thing.” His voice was the sharpest Roman had ever heard from the man and he was slightly scared. “You have the right to wear your hair however you want. No one has the right to tell you otherwise. As a child, you have the right to education. No one has the right to take that away from you. I have the right to express my opinions, you don’t have the right to silence me.”

If it had been appropriate, Roman would have applauded.

Jo pursed her lips. “If I knew you two were one of those fans, I wouldn’t have asked you for your opinions. Although, I suppose it makes sense.” She shrugged nonchalantly and if she had been chewing gum Roman would have expected her to chew it obnoxiously loud. “You are buddy-buddy with Raz anyway.”

“What?” Roman’s voice went hoarse. “What are you talking about?”

Jo put the face of pure innocence on but Roman could see the malice behind her angelic eyes. “Oh? Virgil hasn’t told you?” She put a hand in front of her mouth like she had just spilled something. “My bad.” She flicked her head around, her ice blonde hair smacking Roman in the face.

Roman felt stone cold and rooted in place. It was only when Patton began pulling him away that his feet finally decided to move, however clumsy.

Virgil was Raz Keeran? Virgil? Roman felt shocked and stunned yet, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

That was the reason why Virgil was hesitant about revealing his opinions about Raz. Because he was him.

No wonder he could afford to spend all that money to get 40 of the rock collectables. Because he was a famous author.

Patton dragged Roman into the kitchen. He looked panicked and frightened. “What do we do?”

Whenever Roman needed help he always went to the same person—his best friend Logan. He always seemed to know what to do.

Even though Roman and Logan weren’t on the best of terms at the moment, this dire situation trumped over everything.

So Roman dialled Logan’s number.

“Yes?” Logan prompted, always straight to the point. His voice didn’t sound annoyed.

“You have to come over to Patton’s immediately.” Roman hissed into the phone.

“Through the kitchen door.” Patton piped up.

“Yes. Through the kitchen door.” Roman repeated.

He could head the springs of the bed squeaking and the rustle of blankets on the other end. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? What happened?”

“No, everyone’s physically okay.” Roman said. “It’s just that Jo is going to reveal Raz Keeran’s identity. I don’t know what to do. I panicked so I just called you.”

Roman heard Logan suck in a breath. “What? When? How soon?”

Roman heard even quicker shuffling on the other end then a click of a door. “I don’t know. She asked me for options on a title for her article so I would say quite soon.”

“Keep her occupied until I get there. I’ll be over in a second.” Logan said and then the phone went dead as he hung up.

Roman glanced at Patton, his eyebrows drawn downwards. “You can stay here if you want.”

Jo was still at her computer, her forehead creased and her whip straight hair was pulled up in a messy bun. She was typing furiously. A still full cup of coffee was next to her, no longer steaming.

“What do you want?” Jo snapped, not looking up from her computer. Her voice was bitter and strained and reminded Roman of when Logan was immersed in a project. He always hated when he was disrupted.

“You can’t do this, Jo,” Roman pleaded, sliding into the seat across from Jo. “What are you trying to gain from this?”

“Fame. Glory. The title of first person to figure out Raz’s identity. The first person to get it right...” Jo’s voice trailed off.

Roman cringed—this is exactly what he had wanted back then. It was like looking into a mirror. Except, now he was better. He was a changed Pinnie.

If he changed, surely Jo could too.

“You should know how internet fame works, Jo,” Roman said, honing in his inner Logan, “you’ll be top trending on social media and maybe have a Twitter moment but, in a few days time, no one will remember your name. You’ll have a couple news articles about you but soon they’ll be buried by newer news. You’ll have fifteen seconds of fame. That’s it.”

Jo’s sucked in a breath, pausing her typing for just a moment. “Fifteen seconds is better than what I have now.” And she continued her vigorous typing once again.

Where is Logan? “Come on, Jo. Think about this rationally. It isn’t worth it. You’re ruining someone else’s life to give yourself fifteen seconds in the spotlight. Imagine if someone were to do that to you.”

“That would never happen ever because I will always embrace fame, no matter what.” Jo snapped.

Roman was beginning to get desperate. He couldn’t imagine Virgil being yanked into the spotlight like that. So unannounced and forcefully. So, he pulled out his last card. He reached his arm out and slammed the computer shut, Jo just managing to avoid pancakes for fingers. “What the—“

“—Please, Jo. I’ll do anything. Please. Just don’t tell the world about Virgil.” Roman pleaded.

Jo, who had been about to re-open her computer suddenly stopped. “Anything?” She repeated.

“Anything.” Roman confirmed. He cared so much about Virgil, he would do anything to protect him. “What do you want? Money? Life-long groceries using my pocket money? A personal maid—“

“—I want ‘The Prince’s Crown’.”

Roman blinked. “The—?“

“You heard me.” Jo said icily. “I want your blog. All of it. Forever. I want your followers. I want your email list. I want your place in the Pinnae fandom. And, you aren’t allowed to notify your followers of your absence.” Jo looked defiantly into Roman’s eyes.

Roman’s throat parched and his brain seemed to suddenly stop. “The Prince’s Crown”? His baby? This woman wanted that? His pride and joy?

But, through Roman’s halted yet swirling mind, one thought came through crystal clear. Yes. Of course. It makes sense. His blog was popular in the Pinnae fandom. They sometimes got sponsors. If Jo wasn’t able to get her fifteen seconds of fame, owning an incredibly popular blog was the next best thing.

Roman was tempted to say no. But then he thought of Virgil who chose to write under a pseudonym so he wouldn’t be under the scrutiny of thousands of people.

He thought of Virgil—who he really liked—and thought of that intimate moment in the alleyway when Virgil was touching his shirt. It would affect him so horribly. He could barely take Jo’s advances...what would happen when there were thousands of Jo’s?

While Roman could never really assume Virgil’s reaction to being dropped into the spotlight on his head, he could certainly guess. And guess he did.

Roman’s blog was pretty much his everything. But could Roman really keep his blog while Virgil’s life fell apart because of it?

“Deal.” Roman’s voice felt far away and he noticed Patton and Logan in the kitchen doorway. How long have they been there?

Jo grinned a winning smile. “Thank y—“

But Logan interrupted Jo, mid-sentence. “I’ll create the paperwork.”

“What?” Jo spun around to look at Logan. “Why would you need paperwork?”

“It’s good to have things official.” Logan sniffed, walking closer to Jo and Roman’s table. “And the deal set in paper.”

So he did know about Roman’s deal.

Jo frowned. “You don’t think I’ll follow through.” Her voice was accusative and she pointed a finger at him.

“No, I just think it’s good to have a paper copy of the deal. So you both know the limits and you both have something to show if you break them. It goes both ways,” Logan enunciated.

“Actually, that sounds like a great idea.” Jo chirped. Roman hated her happy-go-lucky voice.

Logan gave a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, just hold on while I go get my computer.”

He was gone and back again in less than a minute and, again, Roman wondered what had taken him so long to get to Patton’s the first time.

They talked through the terms of the transfer what Jo and Roman could and could not do.

The only terms Roman could come up with was that “The Prince’s Crown” had to stay a Pinnae series blog and Jo would never expose Virgil to the press or any other kind of media.

Jo, on the other hand, had many terms. Roman wasn’t allowed to tell his followers of the switch of ownership, he wouldn’t say anything about “The Prince’s Crown”, he couldn’t tell anyone about this he knew personally, the email list had to be given to her, he couldn’t do a lot of things.

“And he isn’t allowed to create a new blog surrounding the Pinnae series.” Jo added in.

Roman had every intention of just nodding and agreeing with everything Jo said like the past terms.

However, Logan spoke up about this one. “Oh, come on, Jo. That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

Jo sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She huffed. “He��s allowed to create another Pinnae relegated blog after...ten years.”

Logan glanced at Roman apologetically.

Roman shrugged apathetically. “Fine by me.”

Logan quickly typed this up. “Is that all?”

Jo thought to herself and Roman braced himself for another term to slap him in the face. “No...I think that’s it.”

Roman breathed a sigh of relief. It could be worse, he thought. It could be worse…

Logan smiled grimly and closed his computer, standing up. “I’ll go print this at the library. I’ll be back soon.”

Jo grabbed her phone. “While you do that, I’m going to book some plane tickets to get out of this dump.” She rolled her eyes and began dialing numbers.

Logan left and Patton must have retreated back to the kitchen so Roman was all alone in the cafe with Jo who was arguing with whoever was on the other end. Roman felt sorry for the poor bugger.

Roman flinched when his phone buzzed in his jean pocket. He unlocked his phone and glanced curiously at the text from Virgil.

Wait until she’s super impatient and seconds from blowing her head off. Then, text me “now”.

Roman read and reread the text over and over again.

What are you talking about?

Virgil’s text came back almost instantly.

Wait until Jo is about to blow her top. Then, text me “now”. Just trust me oh this.

Okay. I trust you.

Roman had no idea what Virgil was doing but he did trust him wholeheartedly.

Jo got off the phone and leaned back smugly in her chair. “I’ve got a plane ticket to Alabama in four hours. Enough time to get to the airport and through security.”

As the time ticked by, Jo’s smug smirk slowly fell away. “Where are they? I thought they were going to print a couple sheets of paper?” Her voice was growing annoyed but Roman could tell she wasn’t an overflowing volcano yet.

More time went on and soon Jo asked Roman to text Logan to see what was taking him so long.

What’s taking you so long? Jo wants to know.

The printer’s malfunctioning. I should be able to get it working in a couple more minutes.

“The printer’s not working…” Roman said. “But Logan said he’d get it working in a couple minutes.”

Jo huffed. “Show me.”

“What?”

Jo sighed and made a ‘come here’ motion with her hand. “Show me the text. I want to make sure you’re not lying.”

Roman flashed his phone screen to Jo who read it over at least three times before finally coming to the conclusion that the text was legit.

More minutes passed. Jo made him text Logan three separate times, Logan not answering either one of them.

“I’m going to miss my plane!” Jo exclaimed, furiously typing on her phone. She had her suitcases surrounding her, ready to go the minute she signed the contract.

Three minutes and 43 seconds passed when Roman finally thought Jo might blow.

She was cursing up a storm and Jo was about to stand up to find Logan herself. “I swear! I am going to find that man and—“

Now.

Roman texted the signal to Virgil and instantly Logan hustled in.

Roman blinked. Had Logan been waiting outside the door all along?

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…” Logan trailed off. He had his computer under his arm and papers in his hands. “The printer wasn’t working so I had to go all the way across town and—“

“Just let me sign the dang papers!” Jo snapped, her arms outstretched and a black ink pen ready in her hand. “I have a flight soon and I still have to drive to the airport!”

Logan gave Jo two sheets stapled together. “Here’s your copy.” He passed Jo another two stapled sheets. “Here’s Roman’s copy.” And another. “And here’s my copy.”

“Why do we need three copies?” Roman asked as Jo skimmed through the first paragraph and skipped through the lines and sentences before signing her name on the two lines. The “I have read the terms and agreements” and the simple “I agree with all terms and agreements”.

“In case one of you guys lose them. It’s always good to have a backup.”

Jo signed the other two copies in record time.

“Good doing business with you.” Roman said, signing his own name on Jo’s copy.

“Can’t say likewise,” Jo muttered, snatching the copy out of Roman’s hands and scurrying out the door.

The cafe felt eerily silent and empty. The fact that “The Prince’s Crown” was no longer his gourged a piece out of his heart. It was gone.

Roman should have been happy. Jo wasn’t going to tell the world about Virgil. And he was.

But his blog was gone.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was just a blog. Just a simple blog.

But it was his blog. Not just any blog. His.

Logan sat down in the chair Jo had just left and Patton emerged from the kitchen.

“I said to keep her occupied,” Logan said quietly. “Not barter away your blog.”

“It’s the only thing I thought of.” Roman muttered, hanging his head and crossing his arms.

The bell rang signalling a customer but Roman didn’t look up.

“Thank you for doing that for me,” said Virgil’s voice and Roman’s head shot up. “Your blog must mean so much to you.”

Roman shrugged, trying to play it off and ignore the aching in his heart. “Eh. I can make a new one in ten years.” He paused. “It could be worse.”

Virgil drew closer. “Seriously though, thank you.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to Roman. He grabbed a copy of the terms of transferral. “Listen, you phoned Logan the first time he came to find me.”

Roman nodded hesitantly, unsure as to where this was going. However, this now did explain why Logan was so slow getting to Patton’s in the first place.

“And I came through the back with Logan and heard everything.” Virgil’s shoves his left hand in his hoodie pocket and ran his right hand through his hair nervously. “And then I got the idea…” he trailed off.

Virgil passed the paper to Roman. “It isn’t much but...sixth paragraph.”

Roman took the paper and counted down to the sixth paragraph, reading the middle sentence.

Roman Falco will be able to create a new Pinnae series-related blog in exactly one month after the signing.

Roman blinked to make sure it was true and wasn’t a trick of the light.

But it was still there—in ink. On the official papers.

His heart soared. One month. That was nothing compared to ten years.

However, Roman thought of Jo and what she could do if she figured this out. This wasn’t one of the terms they had agreed on. “What about Jo?”

Logan smiled and pointed to the line where Jo had hastily scribbled down her name. “The line she signed says she read the terms of agreement.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised and he looked between Virgil and Logan. “Oh my gosh.” He said. “Oh my gosh.” He repeated.

24 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

game of survival, chapter 1/? (branjie) - holtzmanns

AN: Not quite sure how this one has happened, but here we are! Hopefully it’ll be a fun ride.

“Two hundred fifty thousand, starting. Negotiable based on how fast and cleanly the job is done. It should not, under any cost, be traceable back to me.”

“That’s the primary goal of a hit job, is it not?”

The man’s eyes narrow at the drawl from the woman in front of him, seemingly unbothered by the looming bodyguards flanking his sides. She stares back, blue eyes unflinching and facial expression one of almost boredom.

“I need her gone, sooner rather than later. She’s not going down any other way.” The man takes a step forward. “Do we have a deal?”

The woman doesn’t move. “Five hundred thousand, with a hundred and fifty thousand of that deposited upfront in my account by 8 pm tonight.”

Her lip turns up at the man’s resulting growl. “You’re asking me to kill a congressional candidate, one adored by the public and for whom support is only growing across the country with every passing day. You didn’t think it was going to cost you?”

There’s a pause, as the man mulls over her offer. She waits for the answer that she inevitably knows will come.

“You have a deal.”

It’s not her typical job.

Brooke stopped taking the contracts that messed with her conscience years ago. It’s debatable, though, if she still even has one.

But she has her own system, to keep herself intact. She only takes jobs where she knows that the person has done harm. Where the world will be better off without them in it. Corrupt political figures, drug kingpins, even abusers if the person that hires her can meet her monetary demands.

Brooke has a reputation. She’s whispered about, her name brought up whenever a clean job is necessary.

She only takes the worst ones. The jobs that don’t stay on her conscience, the ones where she can calmly pack up her rifle after a clean shot and walk away without a look back.

This job is different - Brooke doesn’t take it because she wants to. She takes it because she has a chance to make more on this one hit than she has on her last ten, and because she owes very, very bad people money who have very, very bad consequences for those who don’t pay up.

She’d be crazy to do it even if she didn’t have a conscience. The target is Vanessa Mateo, a fucking political powerhouse and overwhelming public favourite whose brash style and fiery comebacks have spawned many a viral video already.

Brooke doesn’t need to be overly involved in politics to know that the woman is unstoppable and has made herself many enemies in the process. After all, one of them has hired Brooke.

She feels a phantom tug on her questionable morals. Vanessa Mateo is a politician, part of a population who by definition are not considered exemplary, but she probably has not done anything worthy of ending her life by Brooke’s standards. Brooke ignores it for now.

Brooke is not a bad person – that’s what she tells herself, at least. She’s Robin Hood, were he to go after lives instead of riches. Putting down the powerful in the name of the less fortunate. It’s a description she’ll go back to after this job on Vanessa Mateo, after she gets the money and saves her own ass.

The key to a successful hit job is the combination of a multitude of factors.

First is the background research on the target. Getting into the target’s head, into their lives, into their past.

Brooke spreads out the information that she collects onto a well-used bulletin board in her apartment, mapping out Vanessa Mateo. She pins up her social circle - her immediate confidantes, her friends, her coworkers, her rivals in the race, each photo connected by string and forming a complex web that weaves and stretches across the board. She dives into Vanessa’s past, her schooling, her connections, trying to figure how exactly she rose up in the political ranks faster than anyone’s ever seen. Who the blame of her future death can be pinned on.

Next is learning about the target’s habits, their day-to-day routine, where they spend each and every hour of their day.

It requires watching from afar. Patience. Scoping out where they grab coffee, what time they leave work, when they get home. Where ‘home’ actually is.

The first day that Brooke spies on Vanessa, she hears her voice before she actually sees her. It’s loud and gruff, carrying as she talks to an aide that is hurrying to keep up at her side outside the Capitol Building. Her team follows close behind, a flurry of loose papers and cellphones pressed up to ears, oblivious to the pedestrians that they’re barging past.

It’s not difficult to see that Vanessa is in charge. Brooke watches from her bench as her team trails behind her like puppies, scrambling to follow the orders that she barks at each one of them. She’s the shortest of the group, her heels clacking as she climbs the steps to the Capitol Building with ease.

Brooke maps out the rest of Vanessa’s schedule as the week goes on, eyes on her every action from afar. Despite the nearly six foot build and blonde hair, Brooke is inconspicuous. She moves quietly and blends into crowds, her eyes on Vanessa while giving no one else any reason to look twice at her.

Which leads to the next component of a successful murder for hire: location, location, location.

The gears in Brooke’s mind begin to turn based on where she has seen Vanessa go throughout the week. Is the best place for the deed Vanessa’s campaign office? Vanessa’s apartment building, with no security or concierge to keep out non-residents? The gravel path along the park two blocks away from her home where Vanessa faithfully jogs every morning?

Brooke scouts out each of them, planting bugs to overhear the conversations that occur inside. She worms her way into nearby buildings and looks for vantage points in their windows from where her rifle would be able to provide an accurate shot. She maps out possible getaway routes, ways of abandoning the scene of the future crime without a trace.

After all, to catch a prey, a predator must be prepared.

She ultimately decides on Vanessa’s campaign office as the scene of the crime. Vanessa appears to arrive at the building each morning precisely 45 minutes earlier than the rest of her team, coffee already in hand. A perfect amount of time to get the job done and leave a bloodied mess for her employees to find. Brooke finds the perfect lookout point from which to shoot in the form of a multi-story car park across the street that is still under construction.

A killing shot is only successful if it happens at the right place, at the right time. So Brooke waits, scopes out the layout of Vanessa’s office, bides her time with her eye glued to the viewfinder of her rifle every morning as she waits for the perfect moment, for a perfect shot to the head to line up.

Brooke is almost going to miss Vanessa, which comes as a surprise. She’s been infinitely more interesting to listen in on and watch than any other of Brooke’s past targets. Her interactions with staff, while maintaining her clear leadership position, are interlaced with comical swear words. Her clashes are a lightshow, Vanessa raining down on rivals who dare to cross her with absolute decimation.

Brooke’s sure that people will mourn. Not only the general public, who have started seeing Vanessa as a ray of hope in a current wasteland of politics, but also the individuals around her. The intern that brings her lunch, that she makes sure to thank every time. The secretary with whom Vanessa spends five minutes of her day with talking about The Bachelorette after a new episode airs. She treats them all with a surprising amount of respect while still maintaining her iron grip. Brooke has to give her that.

But it’s almost time for Vanessa’s end. Brooke needs the money, and someone has to pay. Brooke doesn’t want it to be herself.

She’s in the carpark on yet another morning, yawning into her viewfinder as she watches Vanessa a few blocks away. She’s striding up the street and towards her office with coffee in one hand and her phone in the other while furiously typing out a message. Brooke hopes that she can get a fucking clear shot today, she’s tired of the early mornings. She’s used to working at night, making bodies drop under the glow of streetlights. Not with birds chirping above her head.

As Vanessa gets closer to the office building, Brooke takes the chance to check over her equipment again. Viewfinder in place, silencer positioned for minimal noise of the shot, rifle loaded. She’s methodical in her examination; following a routine she’s had her entire career. She’s about to get back into position when-

Wait.

There’s talking.

Not Vanessa, but from inside her office. Vanessa is still outside.

The voices travel to the earpiece in Brooke’s ear, the bug that Brooke planted in Vanessa’s office continuing to work.

“Quick, over there-no not there, you dipshit, leave it under the desk.”

“You don’t think someone will fucking notice it if it’s under the desk?”

“They’re gonna go kaboom before they even realize what they’re looking at. Set the timer.”

Brooke comes to two realizations at once.

First, she’s never had others try to kill her target at the same time as her. It’s new. An interesting twist.

Second, fuck, fuck , she can’t let them kill her first, she needs that money goddamnit-

She’s running before she even realizes what she’s doing, bursting out of the car park and down the street and running head fucking first into none other than Vanessa Mateo herself.

“Shit! So sorry about that ma’am, let me help you get that-”

Vanessa tries to dab at the new coffee stain on Brooke’s shirt with a tissue, oblivious to the way Brooke is staring at her because she’s right there, closer than she’s ever been, all strong perfume and brown curls falling around her shoulders and her nearby office building is about to explode.

“This morning really started off on a rough note, huh? Hope it gets better for the both of us.” Brooke recognizes Vanessa’s political voice, the one she puts on for potential voters and funding backers.

Vanessa doesn’t notice as Brooke starts to tug them in the opposite direction from Vanessa’s office, continuing to inspect the stain damage on Brooke’s shirt near her collarbone instead as she walks.

“-Anyway, take my card, send me the dry cleaning bill for your shirt. I can cover it.” Vanessa grins at Brooke before turning back in the direction of her office. “Great meeting you, truly.”

No, no, no-

“Wait!” Brooke’s voice comes out more louder, more forceful, than expected, and Vanessa turns back in surprise.

Brooke doesn’t know what to say after that, not thinking she’d get this far. It is a blessing in disguise when she only has to dither over her words for a few seconds before the inevitable-

Boom.

Her arms around Vanessa are immediate, pulling her close and shielding her body away from the direction of the office. The flames are already licking up the sides of the building when Brooke lets Vanessa go, coffee stains and bumps into strangers long forgotten.

Brooke slips away while Vanessa is staring at the falling debris from the building in disbelief. She packs up her things at the car park, watches how Vanessa cranes her neck back and forth, to presumably look for her.

Brooke is good at disappearing. She has a talent of being able to slip away, leaving a mess behind for others to come in and clean up.

She’s angry as she watches the building burn, the bugs that she planted inside no longer working after being fried to a crisp. But she’s more so confused. She knows Vanessa has a lot of political enemies. But who else wanted to straight up kill her?

It’s messy. The explosion has made things messy. Vanessa has seen her (something that has never happened with a target, should never happen with a target), she now knows what Brooke looks like. Was searching for her in the aftermath.

It’s going to make Brooke’s job of killing her a lot harder, not being an anonymous face to her target. Especially if she needs to apparently compete against others to do it.

tumblr: plastiquetiaras

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #assassin au #game of survival #holtzmanns #tw upcoming violence #submission

63 notes · View notes

worldwidebt7 · 5 years

Text

“Han River, Seoul”

[MEETING YOU SERIES]

》Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

》Genre(s): [Fluff] [Reality] [Slow-Burn] [OneShot]

》Words: 13,338

》Rating: T

》 Warnings: Minimal Cursing

》A/N: Ah, my debut fic! I attempted writing fics before, but it never turned out quite right, so I hope that this will be received well~ It… turned out much longer than I originally anticipated… I’d like to say that it’ll be the longest in the [MEETING YOU] series, but I can’t promise anything. I always get carried away! I wanted to start with Joonie because… well, honestly it saddens me at the lack of Namjoon writings… Plus this was based off of a dream I had, and also written for a friend~ There’s lots of meaning for me in this story, so please read it well!

[SUMMARY] Sometimes the world creates the strangest coincidences— on a day where hoods are pulled up and eyes are cast down, your gaze meets a familiar stranger’s. In that fleeting moment, you thought perhaps you were dreaming; it had been no different from any other day…

For the first time since arriving in Seoul, you woke up without the blaring of your alarm. You preferred this— the natural awakening of your body rather than the jarring coercion of loud ringing frightening your senses to alertness. Today, the sun did not shine cheerfully through your window, nor did the birds chirp their happy songs through the air. No, today there was the gentle patter of rain against the glass at the foot of your bed, more than likely what had woken you up from your slumber.

You loved the rain normally— it was calming and it made the rest of the world smell sweet if only for a moment. But as you sat up, pushing your comforter from your body, you are painfully aware that you do not have a vehicle, and therefore must walk to work in the chilling rain. With a sigh, you tenderly step onto your bitter floor, jumping a bit at the feeling of it against your warm feet. You only pause for a moment though before you’re up and preparing for your day.

You had gotten your license to teach English overseas six months ago and we’re happy to accept a job in the heart of South Korea in Seoul. It had been your top choice after all, you most certainly weren’t going to turn it down. You had been living here for a little under a month now and w still in the process of adapting to life here.

At first, it was difficult— between jet lag and homesickness it had been rough getting settled. But when you began your job two weeks ago it had gotten a bit easier. You were able to connect with some of your coworkers, a few of them being from America or Canada. You were still not all that proficient at speaking Korean, so talking to your Korean coworkers was a struggle; plus you were still relatively new, so you figured they weren’t quite sure what to do with you yet.

So, you mostly kept to yourself, regarding your coworkers with respect when you passed them in the halls and promising ‘next time’ when you were invited out for drinks after work. You knew you should probably accept, make friends and all that, but you were still getting used to your new routine and couldn’t quite seem to shake the exhaustion that slipped over you at the end of every day.

Today seemed like an exception though, as you cheerily tugged your pants on, mouthing the words to “COFFEE” by BTS as it played in the background through your stereo system. You have always been a fan. Since 2014? Maybe even since their debut, you couldn’t be sure. You’ve loved them for as long as your memory would allow, and they were a large reason as to why you wanted to teach English in Seoul— not because you expected to meet them necessarily; but because they had introduced you to such a beautiful language and culture that you would have otherwise written off.

The Korean language was truly beautiful, you couldn’t deny. And their culture was so similar yet so different for that of the U.S. that it had intrigued you the moment you became exposed. You wanted to be a part of it— the culture. You wanted to know the language that so enraptured you. It was a struggle, yes, but you were willing to put forth the effort for the culture you had become so ensnared with. The sacrifice was easy.

Your playlist continued with features such as Zico, GOT7, and BIGBANG gracing your ears, but you had an aching for Bangtan this day, and you found yourself skipping any other artist to listen to their genius, moving to their beats and symphonies like it was your oxygen. You couldn’t explain it, the effect their music had on you. But it made you feel... at peace. Like no matter what else happened around you, this world you had created between BTS and yourself would always be there, waiting for you should things in reality get too much to bear. You loved it, this sanctuary.

You slipped on the matching blazer to your ensemble and hastily made your way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast— a simple berry smoothie with some toast. Simple it may be, but you were thankful to have just that. Money had been tight since moving to Seoul and, as much as you knew it would happen ahead of time, it was impacting the groceries you were able to buy. Rice, frozen fruits, and veggies were your accumulative diet for the last month. You couldn’t complain though— you were in Seoul. There wasn’t much more you could ask for if you were being honest.

After drinking your smoothie and scarfing down your piece of buttered toast you popped in your headphones to begin your commute to the school you worked at, not daring to step foot outside on your long trek without music. On a rainy day such as this, you chose your mellow playlist— consisting of songs such as “House of Cards” by BTS, “Body” by Mino, and “I” by Taeyeon. You had just recently added the entire “mono” playlist by RM, and it was the perfect music for a day such as this. You found yourself putting “forever rain” on repeat as you made your way down the path next to the Han River.

It wasn’t a bad way to get to work, you mused— seeing as you could’ve been forced to take a crowded bus through the city to get to your destination. Walking next to the river was cleansing as you made your way to the strenuous environment of your job. You were able to prepare your mind and soul before walking into what you knew was a class of young adults that really were not interested in you whatsoever.

The rain was light enough that you didn’t feel the need to bring an umbrella, but you still pulled the hood of your jacket over your head to try to salvage what little you did to your hair. You still kept your head up, peering at the uninhabited paths before you. Perhaps it was American confidence that kept your head high— you’ve noticed that it was customary to keep one’s gaze to the ground when walking in public here in Korea. There were some habits you just couldn’t shake.

The sound of the rain was just enough to drown out the sounds of the city, leaving you with only your music and the static noise of the rainfall. As wet as you were, you were at peace, happily making your way down the path next to the river, glancing at said body of water every once in a while, to soak in the sight of it swollen and angry against its banks.

After one particularly long stare you shifted your gaze back to the path before you, catching movement from your peripheral. Another figure stalked casually in front of you, hands in his pockets and sweatshirt hood pulled over a baseball cap. You could faintly see dark hair sticking out from beneath the cap, but there were no other distinguishing features visible from your viewpoint, as he also had a mask covering the bottom half of his face.

He was tall, you noticed— a full head taller than you at the very least, and a bit taller than you expected the average Korean man to be. He had a certain presence about him, as if he were born to stand out as he desperately tried to disappear into his surroundings. It was strange, you thought; why you would be so focused on a man dressed so plainly.

As you got closer you began to notice the shape of his face, round but narrow at the same time— clearly someone thin with a larger frame. His damp sweatpants clung to the swell of his thighs, displaying that he was fit and toned with lean muscle mass. You quickly pulled your eyes back to his covered face, not wanting to linger too long on his built lower half.

Now only feet away, you could see past the bill of his hat where the bridge of his nose laid, still mostly covered by the face mask he wore, but still more features than you were previously able to view, and you suddenly found yourself wishing to make eye contact with him, if only to nod in awareness at his presence instead of simply awkwardly passing each other as if you were former friends who were no longer on speaking terms. With this in mind, you continued to keep your gaze locked on the skin visible between his hat and his mask, hoping he’ll pick his head up in time for you to acknowledge him.

As if hearing your thoughts, before the last moment of passing you he looked up, eyes locking with yours and you stared meaningfully at his eyes. There was something... oddly familiar about them. Something you couldn’t quite place. Was he a student of yours? A coworker? You know you’ve seen those eyes somewhere before... but where? You scanned the rest of his face in urgency, trying to find the clue that pieced the puzzle together in your memory. And at the slight raise of his eyebrows you found it— you did know those eyes. You had seen them many times, but never in person, never right before you.

Your heart rate picked up in realization, and you’re sure your face showed it too as you watched his eyes widen a fraction more. He knew that you realized who he was, and he seemed... uncomfortable with that idea. Luckily for him, you weren’t one to gush or make a scene— even when it came to one of the biggest celebrities in the world. And as you tried to calm your raging heart, you nodded towards him, acknowledging his presence, and giving a silent promise to not reveal his identity, even though there were no other eyes to witness him strolling about.

The two of you never broke eye contact, and with only a moment of delay to ponder your gesture, he too was nodding back, a silent thank you for keeping his identity clandestine.

This moment between you two lasted mere seconds, but an eternity etched into your memory. It was almost like a dream— who, really, could say that they came into contact with one of their favorite artists of all time and had an intimate, wordless conversation with them? It was too good to be true. You had to have been mistaken. It couldn’t have been him... but you knew those eyes... those legs... that walk... that aura. Everything about him was exactly how you’d expected it to be when you imagined what it would be like to see him in person as you watched him on a screen. And the look of slight panic on his slightly exposed face when you assumed it was him was almost more than enough confirmation... No, no... you couldn’t assume. But... what if it really had been him...

Had you really just walked by Kim Namjoon?

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You arrived at work with a mystified look on your face, walking to your desk with seemingly no purpose. Your coworkers watched you curiously, as it was the first time you had arrived with an unfocused glaze in your eyes. You tried to make a point to be focused on your tasks immediately as you walked through the doors of the school building, but today you couldn’t think much about school. You had a certain member of Bangtan on the brain.

Your coworker, and probably the person you considered your closest friend in Korea, Erin, approached you with caution. “Y/N...” she began, “...you, uh, you feelin’ alright?” She questioned with true concern. You blinked and looked up at her, broken out of your own world.

“Huh?” Was your only reply. She quirked an eyebrow at you.

“You good? You didn’t even say hi when you walked in...” she stuck her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing towards the door. Your eyes flickered to the doorway before resting on her gaze once more. You blinked a few more times before replying,

“Oh, uh, yeah...” you stated unconvincingly, awkwardly looking back at the bag you brought with you as you began pulling out binders and notebooks. “I thought I saw...” you paused again, rethinking your next statement. The reason Erin and you had become such good friends was because you had seen her Hoseok phone case and asked her about her love for BTS. You bonded immediately through the group and she became the easiest person for you to talk to, however she was quite passionate about the Kpop scene. If you told her you thought you saw Namjoon.... “Never mind. It’s nothing; I’m just being an air-head today.” You laughed, tossing your bag beneath your desk.

She continued to stare at you for a moment before shrugging and plopping down at her desk next to you. “Alright... but if you need to talk to someone, you can always come to me, you know that right?” She picked up a mug from her desk and took a sip of what you could only assume to be coffee. You smiled at her— she had a very forward personality, but she had s kind soul, and for that you were thankful. Without her, you would probably never have found a semblance of ‘home.’

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The rest of your work week had gone by without incident, but you found yourself constantly dwelling on the “what if’s” of your encounter a few days before. Now it was Friday, and as you walked to work, as you had every other day this week, you wondered if you would run into the mysterious figure in the baseball cap and face mask. You hoped to get a better look at him this time if by chance you did, but you knew that there were slim odds of encountering him a second time if he were who you thought him to be. If it had been, with his busy schedule, it was probably a rare moment in time where he hadn’t been required to go to the studio. Still, you hoped for it— to be the only one who walked past him knowing his identity, keeping that secret safe within the confines of your heart— you couldn’t have written a better fan-fiction yourself. Just the thought of it made your heart flutter.

Ah... but... perhaps you were getting ahead of yourself. It wasn’t as if you were completely sure it was him in the first place, and you couldn’t forget that you hadn’t actually spoken to him— as much as your silent conversation had left an impact on you, he had probably forgotten all about you at this point.

You tried to shake the ridiculous swell of hope rising in your chest, walking forward with purpose as you reviewed the lesson plan you had created for the day in your head.

There were many other people present on the path next to the Han River this morning; the sun had finally broken and dried the puddles of the rain storm from the other day. Joggers, cyclists, and other commuters passed you now and then, never making eye contact with you as he had that day. Perhaps it had been an oddity, since it had only been the two of you on the path that day. Or, perhaps, it really had been a dream. It had happened so fast, you only remembered the moment of your eyes meeting with precise accuracy, as you would when waking from a dream. The rest had become a blur in your mind, no matter how hard you concentrated on the details.

You found yourself lost in thought as you unknowingly caught up with a figure that had been walking in front of you. It wasn’t until you were nearly right on top of him that you realized there was another presence there. You jolted out of your trance just in time to about flat-tiring the poor man, but not with enough grace that you didn’t manage to trip over your own feet.

“Shit—” you cursed under your breath, reaching out to grasp something to center you once more. Unfortunately for the individual in front of you, he was the only thing around to brace yourself on, and your small hand fisted into the back of his sweatshirt, tugging it down a bit. You could feel him freeze immediately, and for a moment, only for a moment, you were thankful he didn’t keep walking. And then you were nearly too embarrassed to speak. You released him once you had your bearings and began stuttering like a fool.

“S-s-sorry! Ah! No— uh—" your brain scrambled to remember the Korean word for ‘I’m Sorry’ as he turned to look at you. Just as you were able to peer at his face you blurted out what you hoped to be the right phrase. “미안해...요...” you trailed off as you saw that familiar stranger’s eyes, looking at you, wider than before, and your voice caught in your throat in panic. Only one thought coursed through your otherwise blank mind: ‘Oh dear God…’

You’d done it this time— your absent-mindedness had just caused you to embarrass yourself on an unimaginable scale; you had just grabbed the back of, who you believed to be, Kim Namjoon. Fear freezing you at the imminent doom you currently faced, your heart felt as if it were going to burst within your chest and your stomach twisted uncomfortably. Why fate would be so cruel to you was beyond your understanding and you suddenly had an overwhelming need to flee as his gaze burned down on you, not in anger, but in a similar look of awe. Legs tense and shaking, you manage, somehow, to take a step back away from the figure, somewhere in your mind realizing that remaining any longer in this awkward state would subsequently cause a scene and you didn’t want to draw attention to the idol who simply only wanted to blend in at this moment.

You straightened yourself, trying to look relaxed (and surely failing), before giving a slight bow, murmuring another ‘sorry,’ before taking a step around him to continue on your way. His gazed followed you as you passed him slowly, eyes trained on your heated, red face— a furious blush that you were certain had moved over your ears and down your neck. You dared a peek up to make eye contact with him again, nodding as you had the other day. He blinked as if the small gesture had broken a spell before nodding back, then quickly turning on his heel and pulling his cap further over his face, walking in the opposite direction he had been going before you had nearly run into him.

It was a chilly day, yet you found yourself sweating profusely, and even as you left the path that paralleled the Han River to cross the street leading into the city, you couldn’t calm your raging heard that hammered almost painfully behind your ribs. You could hear the blood rushing through your ears— had that really just happened? And why were you reacting like this when you weren’t even completely sure that it was the RM that you saw twice now? As much as your brain tried to reason with you, your heart betrayed all logic; somewhere in your soul you were painfully aware of those eyes. Eyes that you knew well, despite never bearing witness to them in real life.

Being a fan of BTS, it seemed, was never a casual affair. Their intense presence on the internet made them impossible to avoid, and, soon into your rise as an ARMY, every time you logged onto any sort of social media you were (pleasantly) bombarded with their faces. As an international fan originally, you were used to only being graced by them through screens— a sad reality that all international fans were forced to live at some point in time. But you were glad to appreciate them in whatever method you were provided, even if it meant never seeing them in person.

As a result, you had become overly familiar with their faces, but as it was the general downfall for most of the fandom, you weren’t exceedingly embarrassed. You had never expected to meet them anyway, so there had never been any harm intended. You had no delusions about someday falling in love and dating the world-wide idols, and, as nice as it was to daydream of an impossible scenario such as that, you did not pine after them with romantic affections— they were your idol group to love and support with respect. Plain and simple.

Still, the sudden meeting of the leader of your beloved group had your heart racing in a way that you could not have prepared for, and you wondered if somewhere along the lines your love for them had become deeper than you could have ever imagined. You cursed at your over-emotional tendencies as you forced your feet to move faster towards your destination.

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Erin was yet again staring at you with interest. You had walked into work frazzled-looking; your cheeks painted in pink, breath coming out in small gasps, and a distant look in your eyes that screamed distress, but in what way your friend could not tell. The rest of your coworkers were oblivious to our state until you slumped down against your desk, hands on your head and foot tapping relentlessly as your eyes remained unfocused. Unable to continue watching you, Erin rolled over to you in her office chair and raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, what’s up?” She said, leaning her elbow against the arm of the chair and perching her chin in her hand. “This is the second time this week you’ve wandered in looking freaked out, what’s going on? It’s like you saw a ghost.” You internally laughed at the comment— it felt like you had seen a ghost. There was no rational explanation for either meeting you had with the man currently consuming your thoughts. You sighed and leaned back in your seat, hands falling to your lap.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” Not that you were particularly willing to let slip that you had run into Kim Namjoon twice yet; you felt like you should keep his secret walks along the Han River to yourself for the time being. You still weren’t one-hundred percent sure it was him for one, and on the other hand if it really was him, you would feel responsible if he were to get swarmed by fans while he was trying to relax should you tell anyone.

At your response, Erin merely shrugged and began scooching back over to her own desk. “If you say so. But if it starts getting worse, tell me, alright? You’re starting to freak me out…” She mumbled, beginning to type on her computer once more. You gave another heavy sigh, before turning your computer on as well to begin working. As you began reviewing your lesson plan for the day, you felt the corners of your lips begin to turn up.

As stressed out about your encounter this morning as you were, you were also irrepressibly ecstatic. And this underlying happiness had your heart beating in a different, more pleasant way. How many fans could say that they’ve met their idol casually on the streets not once, but twice? What’s more, you felt incredibly fortunate to have been aware that it was, in fact, an intimate moment in his life. A moment where he was no longer RM of BTS, but just Kim Namjoon, walking alongside the Han River in Seoul with his thoughts. How often does he get the opportunity to do that, you wondered? He was always in the public eye— always the leader, the speaker, the face of the most well-known Korean boy group in the world. How many rare few moments in his musical career has he gotten to be “Kim Namjoon,” and you had witnessed two of them. You felt entirely blessed for those moments.

You realized that you had a sort of obligation to keep those moments to yourself now. Who were you to ruin the time Namjoon had to just be Namjoon? You glanced at Erin thoughtfully. She’d be pissed for sure if she ever found out you kept this from her, and you would be punished for it in one form or another (she’d most likely begin by screaming animatedly at you and hitting your arm repeatedly to get her point across before making you buy her dinner). You shrugged defeatedly, accepting this fate should she ever find out. You wanted these secret moments to stay secrets for a while longer.

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You had spent the entire day on Saturday writing lesson plans for the upcoming school week cooped up in your apartment. Erin had tried to convince you to go out and get drinks with her and your other coworkers, but you still weren’t feeling particularly social yet and resigned to staying in that night and mindlessly watching some drama with a takeout dinner. Thankfully you had been able to figure out how to set up English captions on your television, even if they weren’t entirely the most accurate. Not that you were truly paying attention— You really only wanted background noise to your constant daydreaming of the peculiar instances where you found yourself face-to-face with someone you only ever dreamed of seeing in person. You went to bed that night feeling excited for the upcoming week, hoping that you would have another opportunity to see the masked man with the intense, familiar eyes.

Your Sunday morning was the same as all the others that you had spent in Korea. Coffee before nibbling on a slightly fancier breakfast of yogurt, fruit, and granola, then some light exercise in the comfort of your own living room. Gyms in Korea were outrageously expensive for your tight budget, so even if you would have liked to go, you simply could not afford it. After stretching you got dressed and prepared yourself for a quick trip to the grocery store to buy essentials that you had run out of over the course of the week, which meant another walk along the Han River. You had never been so excited to buy groceries in your life.

You grabbed your empty backpack and keys and skipped out the door, more pep in your step than you’ve had in months. You knew being hopeful would probably leave you disappointed in the end, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to see him again, even if you would only simply nod in his direction as you had the first encounter the two of you had. Rationally, you tried to calm yourself,

‘Don’t get too excited; you may not see him ever again,’ you reasoned, ‘there’s no excuse to get upset if you don’t see him.’ Still, you knew you’d be disappointed.

The trip to the store was without incident as you walked along the river glancing about at the faces that surrounded you, looking for those familiar eyes among them. They hadn’t been there of course, as you guessed, and you lost a bit of your vigor on your way home. You had bought simple things like vegetables, apples, coffee, ramyeon, and a small jar of peanut butter, all of which you put in your backpack save the apples. It was getting close to lunch time and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it back to your apartment.

Thus far on your way home, you haven’t had much better luck finding those eyes. Thankfully, your hunger was a small distraction from the disappointment swelling in your chest. You knew better than to expect things, but who wouldn’t become hopeful when a wistful encounter turned into something seemingly more than just chance? You sighed and opened the plastic bag holding your apples, digging through it to find a piece of fruit that seemed appealing to you at that moment. As you pulled one out, your clumsiness got the better of you as you nearly dropped it.

“Shit—” You say as you fumble with your damned lunch, barely saving it before it becomes a bruised mess on the ground. You grumbled under your breath as you lift it to your mouth to take a large bite, and as you do so, you happen to flick your eyes over to a figure sitting on a bench on the side of the road. And you’re met with those eyes again. You pause mid-bite to openly stare, realizing he had just seen you struggling with a piece of fruit. He stared back at you with recognition clear in his eyes and a hint of… amusement? You look away, taking in the large mouthful of apple with a bit of struggle and chew quickly before swallowing. Once you’re no longer impaired with apple in your face, you look over again, pink faced and awkward as you adjust the plastic bag in your hands. He has yet to take his eyes off of you and you feel as if your body is on fire.

This time, you offer him a small smile along with your typical nod, which is all you expect in return. The response you get, however, takes you by surprise. You had already started walking again when he quickly ripped his gaze from yours to look at the surroundings and you were just about to look away as well, figuring he was done with you. But at the last moment, he locked eyes with you again and slyly slipped the mask down his face, stopping your heart for more than a beat. He was more breathtaking in person than you could’ve ever imagined, and the small smile that graced his plush lips in response to the one you sent him was almost too much to handle, his dimples becoming visible from the action. The fangirl within you squealed in delight as it was finally confirmed that you had, in fact, been running into the RM, but you did your best to stay composed on the outside. You couldn’t, however, stop the gleam in your eyes and your smile spreading brightly across your face even more.

The corners of his lips twitched up a bit more at your expression and he gave you a nod as well before pulling the mask back up to cover his face once more, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing from the bench. You almost froze in your spot at the movement, but when he turned to walk in the opposite direction as you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Your pace had slowed a bit in the shock of it all, and you could feel your face burning from the smile that was carved into it.

It was him— and he had willingly given you his identity in the open. And that smile! You never knew smiles could be like that! And it was a smile you never thought you’d get to see. You couldn’t stop the excitement running through your veins at the recollection of his face— his dimples, his pink lips turned up into a smile, the perfect bridge of his nose… you repeated it over and over again in your mind, inscribing it into your memory forever. It was the most innocent, yet intimate moment you had ever experienced. It almost felt like he trusted you in some tiny way, and you felt blessed by this small thought.

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Your Monday had flown by in a blur of excitement, the events of the previous day keeping you on cloud nine for a full thirty-six hours. Erin was disturbed to say the least— you had looked like you were on the verge of a breakdown just the previous Friday, and now on Monday you seem to be a completely new you, filled with energy and spunk that the other woman had yet to see from you. She eyes you suspiciously the entire day, asking you what had made you so chipper on such a gloomy day such as Monday.

You wanted to tell her, you really did, but a larger part of you wanted it to stay unknown. This was a moment that you had shared with Namjoon, a moment that no one else needed to be privy to. And you were perfectly content with that, the memory becoming like your own happy pill to give you energy when you felt you were lacking.

It was the end of your workday now, and Erin still refused to let up on your blissful state, saying it was unnaturally cheerful.

“Seriously Y/N,” she pressed, “what the hell happened? Your mood swings are seriously freaking me out!” The two of you were back at your desks in the teachers’ office space, shutting down your computers and packing your things. You looked over at her and rolled your eyes, chuckling at her dramatics.

“It’s really nothing, Erin.” You told her, repeating what you had been telling her the entire day. She was a persistent one, that was for sure. But you were stubborn enough to withstand it. She let out a groan and threw her head back, crossing her arms and looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had just about tuned her out when she let out a loud gasp, making you jump. You turned to her to see her staring at you with wide eyes. “What?!” you asked in exasperation.

“You met someone!” She exclaimed, and you froze. Quickly, you realized she meant someone as in a ‘romantic interest’ and not the leader of world-wide idol group BTS, so you let out a sigh that turned into a relieved laugh.

“No, Erin, I didn’t meet anyone.” You shook your head and slung your backpack over your shoulder. She eyed you with a crinkle in her nose, seemingly not believing you.

“Well somethings going on with you…” she muttered, gathering her things as well. “I’ll figure it out eventually.” You laughed again as the two of you made your way out of the building. You parted ways when you turned to the sidewalk that would take you to the pathway parallel to the Han river. You said goodbye, Erin promising to figure out your secret as you wandered off with a wide smile on your face. She seemed adamant, but there was no way she could guess what actually happened. You fell asleep that night as happy as when you woke up.

The next morning, you woke to the familiar sound of rain against your window. Gradually coming out of the grogginess of sleep, you slowly smiled, remembering what had happened the last time it rained. The grey skies seemed more welcoming than they ever had before, and the rain seemed to call you out from beneath your blankets as you sprung out of bed. You threw on your favorite playlist and began to get ready for the day, singing and dancing about your apartment, not even pausing when you needed to brush your teeth. You were a ball of wonder that could not be contained, and, honestly, you couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy before in your life. And it was all because of a small smile, from a familiar stranger.

You made your way out of your apartment, still bopping to the music playing through your headphones as you made your way outside. If it wasn’t for the face that you were on your way to work and needed to keep up a professional appearance you wouldn’t have even put your hood up this time, finding it a perfectly pleasant idea to feel the rain on your face. You stepped onto the path leading you to work down the Han River and you found yourself alone on the path as you had the previous week when it was raining. Seeing this, you had little reserve when it came to humming and skipping along to the songs that played, randomly singing out the lines that you knew in English and Korean alike.

So lost in your own world, you didn’t notice that someone had come up beside you, keeping pace with your chipper steps. When you did notice though, you nearly jumped out of your skin, releasing a squeal and flailing your arms a bit in surprise. Your head whipped around and you stared wide-eyed at the man next to you, knowing immediately who it was from attire alone. You halted in your tracks, still in awe at what was happening, and after a few steps, he slowed and looked back at you, clearly amused at your antics. He continued walking, but raised an eyebrow at you, as if asking you if you were going to continue on as well. You quickly follow, wordlessly following him until you were in-step with him again. You both broke your gazes, him looking forward while you took to looking at your feet. It was silent for a moment, and you turned down the volume on your headphones so you could hear his footsteps falling next to you.

Again, your heart picked up a wild pace, violently aware of his close proximity and the fact that he was voluntarily walking beside you. You tried to walk naturally, but you found yourself having difficulty remembering how to breathe properly, let alone how you normally walk. What was happening right now? Were the two of you really walking side by side like… like friends? Your brain began getting fuzzy, but your trance was quickly broken by the sound of his deep voice—

“You recognized me right away, didn’t you?” –speaking perfect English nonetheless. You suppressed the urge to choke in response to hearing him speak, and simply snapped your head around to look at him with eyes the size to saucers. Your breath hitched as you tried to formulate a response when he spoke again, “Thanks for not… uh…” he waved his hands around a bit as if trying to describe an action as he thought of a particular word. Realization lit up his eyes as he continued. “…freaking out.” He finished, looking down at your shocked face. You saw the cloth of the face mask shift a bit and you assumed that he was smiling. You swallowed your nerves best you could to try and answer him because— dear God— Kim Namjoon was trying to have a conversation with you and you’ll be damned if the best you could do was stare at him like a deer in headlights!

“Uh, y-yeah, I mean, n-no problem.” You squeaked out with some success while managing to slide a smile onto your lips. Was it just you, or was the rain suddenly boiling hot? Like really, really hot? He gave you a small nod before releasing you from his gaze and you let out a shaky breath as you looked at the path in front of you again, trying to get your heart to beat regularly again. He gave you no opportunity to recover, however.

“So…” He started again, hesitating a bit. You looked back up at him; he wanted to talk with you more? “…you know me…” He said, as if it wasn’t an obvious fact already at this point. “…can I…” He hesitated again, looking at you briefly before shyly turning away. “…know… you…?” Holy shit— what kind of magical alternate universe was this? You blinked at him, catching onto the timid tone of his voice, as if he was uncertain of his wording or the question itself or possibly both. Either way, your face immediately flushed red. Kim Namjoon was… bashful? You couldn’t comprehend how absolutely endearing that was and it took you a little longer than you would have liked to formulate a response. You felt the energy around him tense in nervousness and you realized that you had just been staring at him silently. You responded in panic—

“I’m Y/N!” You said quickly, and you watched his shoulders relax a bit at the sound of your voice. You swallowed again, not knowing what else to say, but determined to make him feel at ease with you. And that’s when the word-vomit began; “I-I’m sorry for being so awkward. It’s just that I’m— and you’re— and— y-yeah…” You wanted to smack yourself in the face for not being able to form a proper sentence. “I j-just… never thought that… uh…” You were suddenly nauseous as you felt the embarrassment rise into your throat. ‘Shit.’ Your mouth was abruptly dry and you babbling making you cringe visibly. “I-I just w-want you to b-be comfortable…” You said in a voice barely above a whisper. You glanced back up at him to see him looking at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Comfortable?” He repeated— not in a ‘what does this word mean’ kind of way, but in a ‘what do you mean’ kind of tone. You bit your lip in contemplation, still not fully believing that you were having an actual conversation with Kim-motherfluffing-Namjoon.

“I-I didn’t— don’t— want you to feel like you can’t come back here,” you gestured to the river with you hand, “just because I know who you are…” You chewed on your lower lip some more, feeling his gaze on you still. “J-just because you’re… well… you’re human too… so, you don’t have to worry about me.” You finally get out in spite of your scrambled thoughts. None of what you have said to him has been a proper sentence, and you’re not even speaking Korean— you’re speaking English, your native language, which you’ve been speaking your entire life. How is this single man able to erase your brain by simply walking next to you? “I won’t tell anyone you walk here.” Finally, a complete sentence. You let out a breath and smile at him.

He blinks at you before he looks forward once more, also letting out a breathy sound that resembles a relieved laugh, the cloth of his mask crinkling again as if he were smiling. He fidgets with the bill of his cap as he cutely watches his feet and you feel your heart swell at the sight. You can’t stop your smile from growing into a wider, more relaxed state as you let out a light giggle. You knew he could be cute, but for him to be abashed like this in front of you… was he trying to get you to fall in love with him?

Before you knew it, you were where you needed to veer off towards the city, and you regarded the sidewalk with utter disappointment. You looked over at him, still surprised that he had walked with you all the way here. Lightly clearing your throat to get his attention, you pointed at the sidewalk as the two of you approached it.

“Ah… t-this is me— I-I mean this is the way I need to go.” You internally groaned at yourself; why couldn’t you stop stuttering? You watched as he eyed the adjacent sidewalk in front of you and then returned his gaze back to you, only to nod a bit, stuffing his hands into his pockets. You nodded back with an unsure smile, trying to find a way to will yourself away from the beautiful man that just walked with you all the way through the part of your commute next to the Han River. Your resolve to go to work was wilting quickly. “I-I…” You shifted to face him completely, getting a good look at his frame for the first time since he walked up beside you. You smiled warmly, “I’m really happy that I got to talk to you.” And you genuinely were. This small conversation that you had with him was more than you could’ve ever asked for. He let you see a bit of himself that is saved for his life outside the cameras and the lights and the cheering fans. And for him to give you that… it was a feeling indescribable. You gave him the slightest bow to show your appreciation, one last smile, and then turned around to begin the rest of your commute to work.

But with your back turned, you had been unable to see him nervously shifting on his feet and rolling his shoulders. He messed with the cap under the hood of his wet sweatshirt again, clearing his throat before quickly speaking.

“Uh—!” He started, loud enough to catch your attention as you whipped around at the sound. He stood a few feet away, looking rather uncomfortable with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing his neck in a nervous fashion. He looked at the ground for a few seconds, “Can we… can I…” he cleared his throat again, then finally looking at you, those familiar eyes boring straight into your heart. “…can we… walk… together again…?” He sounded so uncertain, so nervous, so small, that your heart nearly burst. Did he realize what he was doing to you? From the looks of it, he clearly didn’t; he seemed just as anxious as you were. Your face picked up color again as you blinked, coming out of the trance he put you in. And you couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face.

“Yes! Ah—” You shifted a bit in embarrassment from your outburst, glancing down at your feet before looking at him with a softer, yet no less bright, smile. “I-I’d like that.” A silence fell between you, but it was far from uncomfortable as you watched his eyes crinkle up and his mask crease from a wide smile that you knew was gracing his full lips. Again, your heart fluttered and your smile turned into a full grin that you ultimately failed to contain. You were even more unwilling to go to work now, but you knew if you didn’t then you’d end up standing in front of this perfect man grinning like a complete fool. So, against everything screaming for you to stay with him, you gave him a friendly wave, which he curtly returned, before turning and nearly bouncing away in happiness.

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When the next two days passed and your new— friend?, acquaintance?— was nowhere to be found, ‘disappointed’ was nowhere near a big enough word to describe how you felt. Not that you were expecting to see him every day, but your hopes had soared to a new altitude and was now impossible to keep in check. Kim Namjoon, the Kim Namjoon, wanted to walk with you. Although you were still uncertain as to what that included— would you also be talking? Getting to know each other? Or did he really just mean walking next to each other when you made your way to work? One thing that worked in your favor with not seeing him the last couple days was that you now had an opportunity to mentally prepare yourself for whatever these future meetings between the two of you would offer. You played scenarios in your head, acted them out in the mirror, and practiced ‘normal’ things to say to him.

You didn’t want to treat him like a celebrity— that first time the two of you spoke had caught you completely off-guard and you were a little dissatisfied in yourself. You didn’t want to play yourself as a fan talking to their idol, you wanted to be able to talk to him as just a regular person that you met along the Han River. Yes, a regular, beautiful man that made your heart want to leap from your breast. Totally normal.

And suddenly it was Friday again, and your morning routine was mundane as usual. You ate your plain breakfast, dressed in your plain work-clothes, and walked out of your plain apartment to see the usual plain road you take next to the river every day. And there, sitting on a plain bench was a not-so-plain man, dressed in jeans, a high-neck sweater, and an un-zipped hoodie while donning his usual face-mask and baseball cap. You inwardly swooned, seeing him sitting there staring out at the water.

You slowly approached, but were unsure as to what was expected of you. Do you walk right up to him? Or do you acknowledge him as you pass and let him catch up? Oh God, you didn’t prepare for this part of it! Why was something so simple so complicated in your head?! As you were caught up in your thoughts, your eyes locked on to the figure on the bench, he by chance glanced up, catching your gaze in the deep of his eyes, which were much less a stranger’s now.

At your advance, he stood from his seat on the bench to wait for you. Your face flushed in response and you sent him a smile, feeling more and more nervous the closer you got. He really was something else; he wasn’t dressed in an eye-catching fashion, or standing in an attention-grabbing way, but the space around his form had a pull about it, as if everything around him gravitated towards his being, including you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, even as you strode up beside him and paused, smiling shyly. He smiled beneath his mask as well,

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice sending electricity through you and throwing your heart into overdrive. You gave a small giggle— and God you couldn’t believe you giggled in front of this man— as you shifted slightly trying to regain your composure.

“Hey,” you said back in a quieter, lighter tone. You were suddenly wrought with nerves as you tried to think of literally anything else to say to him. What happened to all of those lines you practiced in the mirror of your bathroom? Gone— your mind was a complete blank. “Ah— s-shall we…?” You wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear. However, he just nodded and gestured outwards with one of his hands, indicating that you should lead the way. You smiled gratefully and took a step forward, Namjoon following suit. For a moment the two of you walked in silence. You would have started the conversation if you were sure he wanted to talk. Or if you could fish through enough of the static in your brain to find a comment comprehensible enough to actually speak. If you had been sitting, your foot would have been going into fidget-overdrive. It was then that the man beside you cleared his throat and slipped his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Um, so…” He didn’t look down at you this time, but as you peeked up at him you noticed a pink tint on the visible skin of his cheeks. “You’re American?” he asked, even though you guessed he probably already knew that you were. He must’ve asked simply… because he wanted to talk to you. Your heart stuttered and you let out a breathy laugh,

“Yeah,” Finally, a response where your voice didn’t shake. “I’m from New York.” You weren’t sure what else to say, seeing as the last time you tried to fill the silence between the two of you, you had ended up babbling incoherent nonsense, and you weren’t particularly looking to repeat the same humiliating performance. So, you put on a tight smile and shot quick glances up at him, hoping he’ll catch your hint. He bobbed his head a bit in a nod, registering your response.

“I really like New York.” He replied, then silence again. You both began to fidget at your own awkwardness and it was then that you heard a deep sigh followed by yet another grunt of his throat clearing. “Sorry…” He said, reaching up with his left hand to rub his shoulder slightly. “I wanted… to talk to you, but…” He let out a breathy chuckle. “…this is awkward, isn’t it?” He shifted his eyes to you for a split second before gazing back at the road. You didn’t know if you should feel bad, or elated that he felt the same way you did. You didn’t want it to be awkward, it’s just that you yourself was awkward and it seemed to manifest every time you tried to make a good impression. So, in light of the awkward atmosphere, you decided to play off of it, hoping some humor at your own expense would lighten the mood.

“Not as awkward as me almost falling on top of you the other day.” You cringed lightly at the memory, but let out a soft laugh and grinned through it. You began to relax when you heard him mirror your laugh and saw his face mask crinkle again. You let out a sigh of relief that turned into another laugh, finally feeling as if you’ve said something right.

“I was so… shocked,” He said, and you could hear the smile he still held on his face. “I thought a fan had grabbed me.” He shook his head as if to illustrate how unnerved he had been at the time. You smiled and bit your lip,

“Technically, a fan did grab you,” You shrugged playfully, slightly raising one of your eyebrows when you looked up at him. His deep laugh hit your ears again, more pronounced this time, and you felt your cheeks heat up and your heart skip at the sound. You couldn’t help musing on how beautiful it was.

“You’re right, you’re right,” you could see a playful glint in his eyes when he peered down at you, and you were glad to see that he was relaxing too. “But since it’s you… it’s okay.” If your face hadn’t been pink before from the sound of his laugh, it was brighter than a cherry-red Ferrari at the utterance of those words. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs and you found yourself short of breath. Oh sweet Jesus— was he doing this on purpose? He was an idol, it was his job to know how to rile up the fans, but something about the way he stared at his feet daring only to glance at you for no more than a split second at a time made you believe that he was indeed being sincere. And you were sure you were about to have a heart attack. You exhaled a silent breath to sedate your heart’s nervous thumping before speaking again.

“I really am sorry about that…” As if you hadn’t already made it obvious from the profuse apologies that had left your lips at the time of the incident. You were of mostly clear mind now, so you could better express your remorse for having accidentally yanked on the back of his sweatshirt that day. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” You fiddled with the bottom of your shirt, trying desperately not to re-imagine that time. He laughed again, and you found yourself wishing that your days could be filled with that sound.

“It’s okay,” the smile under his mask was obvious now, and a light blush dusted at his face. “You were… your Korean was… cute.” He muttered, shrugging as if trying to act like the statement was nonchalant, but the almost unnoticeable twitching of his fingers in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he nervously picked at the inside fabric told you he understood how those words could be interpreted. And it set your body ablaze. You could feel the fire rushing through your veins as your palms began to sweat and your body tensed, trying not to show your reaction to his sudden comment.

“I-I’m not very good at Korean yet…” stammering as usual, your earlier confidence streak came to an abrupt end when the word ‘cute’ slipped through the lips of the man walking casually beside you. He looked down at you, and you’re again made aware of just how much taller he is of you.

“It’s good I know English, then, huh?” He teased, and God your heart should have stopped. How you were still breathing was beyond you and— wait, you were breathing right? As if to check your lungs, you discretely but a hand near your diaphragm, relieved to feel it shift beneath your fingers shallowly. Quickly nodding in response, you smiled at him before realizing you were at your destination to depart from the road along the Han River. Your destination where you were forced to part from Kim Namjoon. He noticed as well and slowed his pace as the two of you neared your veer-off point. You hesitantly looked at your feet and came to a stop in front of him, turning to face him in order to part. “Ah, this is where you leave…” He muttered, glancing around a bit as you nod at him. He pauses a moment before reaching up and sliding his mask off his face and under his chin, letting the elastic bands behind his ears do their job. Your voice caught in your throat at the sight of his face bared to you once more and you tried to soak in the sight of it once more. Surely someone so beautiful couldn’t be standing in front of you, smiling down at you as if you had known each other all along?

Your eyes snapped to his mouth when his tongue flitted over his lips to moisten them. Sweet Mary Mother of God, he wasn’t thinking about kissing you, was he? Why were you thinking about kissing him? He’s an idol for the love of God, there’s no way he’d kiss you! You felt panic rise in your chest, but it was immediately squelched by his soothing baritone voice. You weren’t much too surprised to find a twinge of disappointment when a kiss didn’t come, but your daydreams expected too much from reality. “I’ll… see you again?” He asked, as if he were nervous that you wouldn’t want to spend time with him once more. Your eyes lit up at the question and you sent him the brightest smile you could muster.

“Yes!” the cheer in your voice almost made you cringe, but you were pleased to see his face brighten at your answer. Ah… could he be cuter? Such an expression on such a manly face was more than you could handle and you felt your brain turn into euphoric mush at the sight. He embarrassedly looked down at his feet, trying to rein in his smile before slipping the mask back up his face to rest on the bridge of his nose. He looked back at you, his eyes still shining. You were doing no better trying to control your appearance as you laughed lightly, waving at him as you took a few steps towards the path. He pulled his hand out of his pocket to return the wave and it was then that you slowly turned around to continue your walk to work, where you knew you were going to be more than a little bit distracted.

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Over the next week and a half, you saw your new, secret idol friend often on your way to work. It wasn’t every day, not that you had expected it to be, but the days where you did see him were better than the last. You would step onto the path at around 6:15am every morning and immediately look to the bench that you had found him waiting on after he had asked to walk with you. Some days it was vacant and other days there were strangers relaxing in the brisk morning air. But on the days you loved most there was a familiar figure, wearing familiar clothes, with a familiar baseball cap and face mask covering his stunning features. He would look up at you when he noticed your approach and stand, patiently waiting for you to reach his side before falling into stride with you.

He always waited for you on that bench— it had quickly become your marker on whether or not you would be graced by his presence that day. And you always hoped to see his lean figure lounging back looking out at the river or hunched forward tinkering on his phone as he awaited your appearance. It didn’t take you long to recognize the bench as the one he had been loitering on the day he saw your small skirmish with the apple, and had even brought it up in one of your conversations:

“I remember this bench,” you had said to him thoughtfully during one of your morning walks. “You got to see me nearly fist fight an apple.” You shook your head laughing, even though you were embarrassed by the ordeal still. He laughed too, remember the shocked look you had on your face as said apple hung out of your mouth.

“I remember.” A deep breath escaped his lungs. “Actually—” he started, fidgeting a bit and looked over at him with a puzzled expression. “…I was waiting for you… that day too…” He lightly cleared his throat out of awkward discomfort and his cheeks were painted over in pink. Needless to say, yours were too.

You had also mentioned to him one time that you also walked this same path Sundays when you were going to purchase your groceries for the week, and he put forth the notion that he would meet you on Sundays as well. You told him that he didn’t have to once learning that some weeks it was the only day off he was granted, but he simply shrugged, explaining that it was relaxing to be with you. You pretended to hesitantly accept his offer then, excitement growing within you as the two of you set a time and you couldn’t help but think that it sounded much like planning a date. You met on the next three Sundays at the same time.

To say that you were not just walking, but living on cloud nine was an understatement. No daydreams or fantasies could have prepared you for the events of your life in Seoul. Erin still badgered you about your constant chipper mood, demanding to know who it was that was making you so happy— you had even gone out with her and your coworkers a few times in the last couple of weeks. Only on Friday nights though; Sunday mornings were reserved and you didn’t want to have to be nursing a hangover during one of your walks with Namjoon. One night your friend had managed to get you intoxicated enough that you almost spilled your secret, but your heart was thankfully stronger than your brain that night and you had simply held out a drunken finger to her lips and shushed her, shaking your head and saying in slurred words “It’s a secret.”

That indefinitely set her off for the next week, and she constantly hounded you, trying to guess who it was. But the truth was far more unbelievable than anything the imagination could come up with, so you always simply laughed and managed to hold off her curiosity until the end of the day. It wasn’t until recently that you realized that you had already been in Korea for three months; two of which were filled with memories of walking alongside the Han River with the BTS idol.

Over the course of your meetings, you had become accustomed to the sound of his voice, his stride when he walked, and small mannerisms that made Namjoon, Namjoon, and after your initially star-struck mind had cleared enough to notice these things, you never truly felt like you were talking to an idol. He was just a man that you were slowly getting to know, and slowly falling in love with.

The moment you felt the twinge in your heart become a full-blown ache, you knew you were in trouble. Early-on in your meetings, you had made yourself promise that there would be no romantic feelings attached. You should have known better than to make empty promises to yourself. How could you not fall in love with him? Especially once you had the opportunity to learn about him yourself on a personal level— it had been inevitable.

You had to constantly remind yourself to quell your feelings for him each morning before you knew whether or not you’d be seeing him that day. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable with obvious affections towards him. Whatever fragile friendship the two of you had created the last two months would surely be over if he caught any indication that you were interested in him as more than a friend.

There were times though that you saw a small glimmer on his face that made you wish that he felt the same towards you. Wished, hoped, that he could possibly regard you in the same way. Alas, you knew better. Any rational human being would know that Kim Namjoon is an exceptional man with exceptional talents and who deserved an exceptional woman. You, much to your chagrin, were not exceptional. You knew that you were not a good fit for the beautiful idol, no matter how much you longed to be. And even in the small moments where you see the little gleams within the dark depths of his eyes when they looked at you, your brain was quick to remind you of this fact and the disappointment set into your gut immediately.

You never let these emotions deter you from enjoying your time with Namjoon, however. Every moment with him was pure bliss and you never once found yourself dwelling over your disappointment when in his company. He was an easy fellow to talk to, to laugh with. He was witty, funny, and awkward in the most endearing ways a person could be. His personality meshed alarmingly well with yours; almost like the two of you had been destined to be friends. And you were content with that.

Today was Sunday again, and at 7:30am you made your way to the bench where you know he’d be waiting. You hummed happily, wondering what the two of you would be talking about today on your slightly longer trip to the market. You had allotted about twenty minutes of your morning before leaving your apartment to do your routine emotion-check to make sure you had the ability to mask them well enough to keep them from the man you saw sitting comfortably on the wooden bench overlooking the river. You smiled as you picked up your pace to a light jog before stopping in front of him where he was still seated. ‘Odd,’ you thought, ‘he’s usually standing before I can get to him.’ You tried not to let it bother you too much, but you had a habit of over-thinking things. You tried to push your concerns to the back of your mind, telling yourself that everyone has their off-days. Luckily it wasn’t too long after you planted yourself in front of him that he looked up at you with smiling eyes, mask crinkling in a similar fashion, and stood up.

“Ready?” He asked, to which you smiled and nodded. As the two of you turned to begin your stroll, you took a quick once-over at his attire for the day, noticing that it wasn’t his usual laid-back lounge clothes. He was in a long black sweater that reached about mid-calf and beneath it he wore a simple white tee that was tucked neatly into black ripped jeans. A statement belt adorned his hips and clearly expensive grey Timberlands gave his look a clean feel to it. His usual baseball cap was replaced by a black snapback with ‘YOUTH’ written across the bottom of the bill, leaving the only thing you recognized was the white mask covering the better part of his face. He looked good— very good. You almost pouted when you tore your gaze away from him. Still, dressed like that, was he going somewhere?

“How was your morning?” He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him, trying to register the question he just asked you. Your mouth moved before your brain could come up with anything cleverer—

“Good, the usual,” You almost groaned at the simple response. It’s been two months, why were you regressing in your communication skills with him? But as you glanced back over at him, you took in his outfit again. “You’re dressed nice today,” you spoke, blushing a bit at your own compliment. “Are you going somewhere?” You blink at him with curiosity when he pauses longer than usual. He looks hesitant to answer, but gives a light sigh when he seems to realize that he can’t avoid having the conversation.

“Yeah, actually,” He started, his shoulders slumping a bit as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I… ah…” he tilted his head to the side and his brows furrowed a bit. He still hasn’t looked back at you. “…I wanted to tell you sooner, but…” Another sigh. “…we’re… I’m leaving. To America for a tour.” He finally glanced at you, the look in his eyes slightly solemn as he tried to express his melancholy about the situation. You felt your heart drop into your stomach like a rock at the thought of him leaving, and you knew that your face mirrored your distress. You tried to recover quickly by sending him a small smile.

“That’s good though, right?” You tried to cheer him up by pointing out the pros of the circumstances. “You’ll get to see your fans in America— they love you.” You almost wanted to add in ‘me too,’ but decided strongly against it. “Plus, you can do things that you can only do in the U.S.” He nodded in agreement, but he still seemed conflicted. You hummed a little, trying to come up with another positive point, but another question nagged its way to the front of your mind. “Um… how long are you going to be there?” And now you were hesitant with what you said, mirroring his uncomfortable guise and looking at the ground.

“Ah… a month…” Another rock hit your gut. Four weeks without your walking buddy? Four weeks without the person who made your heart beat erratically with adoration? Four weeks without Kim Namjoon? You tried your best to hide your distress, but knew you were failing at it when he withdrew his hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck.

“Oh…” was all you could say. You tried to breath normally, but panic was setting into your bones and you tried to calm yourself by releasing a shaky breath. “W-when do you leave?” You almost didn’t want to hear the answer.

“This afternoon…” He gazed at you apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” You were upset, how could you not be after finding out that he was leaving for a month in mere hours? Though to be fair, the two of you hadn’t known each other for very long. It wasn’t like he necessarily owed you an explanation, and you understood that. It was his courteous nature that made him tell you in the first place, and that same nature that lead him to feel apologetic for only telling you now. You kept your gaze to the ground, almost afraid that you’d start to tear up should you see his face. When did you become so emotionally involved with this man?

“It’s okay,” your voice was quiet, but resolved. It was okay, really— it wasn’t like he had much choice having to leave, and it probably wouldn’t have been easier for you had he told you earlier if you were being honest. You peeked up at the road in front of you, seeing where the path took you upwards on a flight of stairs towards the direction of the grocery store. This is where you left him. But this time it wasn’t for a day or two. No, today, this is where you would leave him for the next thirty days. Or more, even. Who knew when the next time the two of you would be able to see each other? Or if you’d ever see each other again?

Thinking about it was doing you no good, but you knew that the time to say goodbye was here. You chewed on your bottom lip as you worked up enough nerve to turn to him and he mirrored you, hands still in his pockets for the time being. You both stood in silence for what seemed like ages, neither one of you wanting to sat those dreaded words. As each second ticked by, you could feel yourself becoming more and more emotional and you knew you would burst into tears in front of him if you didn’t walk away soon. You looked at the ground again as you pushed pebbles around with the tip of your shoe.

“I guess…” you started, hoping that your voice wouldn’t crack or get stuck in your throat. “…have fun in the states…” You smiled at your shoes, wishing that you had the courage to send that smile to him. Wishing you had the courage to tell him that you didn’t want him to go. Wishing you had the courage to tell him those taboo feelings that squeezed at your heart this very moment. But all of those things would make his leaving harder, and with one last small surge of bravery, you took a step around him, muttering, “…I’ll see you around…” even though you knew you wouldn’t. Goodbye was just too hard to utter.

As you ascended the concrete stairs leading away from the Han River and Kim Namjoon, you didn’t see that after only mere steps, said idol stopped walking and turned back around to face the direction you were walking. You didn’t see the nervous shuffle of his feet, or the way he lifted his snapback briefly to run a hand through his dark hair in frustration. And if it weren’t for the hurried footsteps following you up the stairs, you certainly wouldn’t have seen him climbing after you.

“Y/N—” He said in a flustered tone. You whipped around to look at him, shocked to hear him so close to you. He was taller than you, but being a few steps behind you left him at eye-level, and you were able to easily peer into his brown orbs, widened slightly in panic. You were both frozen for a moment, mutually a bit shocked at his actions. After the silence dragged on for a second too long you spoke up,

“Y-yeah?” was all you managed. You heard him inhale deeply before he reached up and yanked the mask off his face to have it rest beneath his chin. He had a hint of worry in his eyes, but the over-all expression he showcased to you was serious, confident; the way you imagined he would look on stage. He had been so goofy and bashful most of the time with you until this moment, this was a new expression. And it sent heat to your core immediately.

“I…” he swallowed, “I want to see you again… keep seeing you… after I get back…” Another wave of shock numbed your body— this… did he really say that? You opened your mouth as if to reply, but you quickly shut it when you realized that no sound was produced. He continued, “Can I… meet you there again?” ‘There’— you knew he meant the bench. His bench. You continued to stare.

“Y-you…” your stuttering has seemed to come back in full force much to your disdain. “…yes…” You managed to squeak out softly. Yes, you wanted that. You wanted that more than anything. You wanted to ask him about his tour, how it went, if he had any difficulties, if he had fun. You wanted to keep learning about him, laughing with him. You wanted to keep falling in love with him, even if he never returned your feelings. “Yes; I want to see you again, too.” Your voice was firmer this time, fractionally mirroring the look on his face.

Relief washed over the concern in his eyes at hearing the response he had hoped to hear and you had been glad to give it to him. A small smile spread across your lips as the corner of his turned upwards. And you thought that you could contently stare at his smile forever, but in a split second, you were seeing stars instead.

You hadn’t seen it coming— it was too abrupt, too unexpected, and you were caught completely off guard. He had taken one quick step forward, leaning towards you in the process and catching each of your hands in his before pressing his plush lips to your cheek. Your mind reeled at the sudden and new development, and all you could focus on was the warm tingle that spread from his soft lips to your skin.

He, Kim Namjoon, was kissing you— granted, it wasn’t a kiss that could be shared between you, but it was one that he was giving, which was just as precious an act. The combination of the kiss and the way his hands gently held yours seemed to say ‘thank you’, ‘I’ll come back for you’, and ‘you are precious’. Your heart was just about to leap from your chest when he detached from your cheek; but he never let go of your hands. He stared into your eyes, abashed at his own forwardness, but his gaze was intense nonetheless. You couldn’t feel it, but you knew that your face was sporting a strawberry-esque color and a shocked expression. Your lips twitched into a smile. This was, to a degree, an affirmation of the impossible— this extraordinary man, a man of many talents, of many names, but, ultimately still, one Kim Namjoon, harbored affections towards you. To what extent, you couldn’t be sure, but this was more than you could had ever imagined possible. And you didn’t need a confession of undying love; an act as simple as this was bigger than words.

“I’ll do that properly next time…” He said, his voice deeper and smoother than it had been a moment ago and it sent chills through your body, the implication of ‘properly’ going over your head in your shocked state. “I have to go,” He said, giving your hands a light squeeze. “I’ll see you soon.” You gave little squeeze in return before he stepped back and his hands slipped from yours. He smiled at you; a pure, genuine smile, with warmth flooding his eyes before he tugged the mask back up his face and turned around to descend down the stairs. He looked back at you only once when he got to the bottom and gave you a small nod, much like the ones the two of you had exchanged in the beginning of this rather odd relationship. You smiled brightly at the gesture and nodded back, after which he gazed at you only a moment longer before turning and walking away.

You watched him leave, studying his retreating figure and recording it in your memory. You never thought it would have ended up like this, your life in Korea. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought a situation like this possible; not for you. Yet, here you were, watching Kim Namjoon walk away after placing the most meaningful kiss to your cheek and promising a future reunion. ‘Next time…’ you thought to yourself. Ah, what would ‘next time’ hold here at Han River, Seoul?

[END]

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