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hencethebravery · 5 years

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The CC gods have spoken: ‟Alana, you will write at least one more AU for those beautiful, beautiful boys. And it will be about this dumb text post. Forever and ever, Amen.”

“Oh, P.S., make it punk. Thanks, bye.”

+ In the end, he’d chosen the place because to be quite bloody honest it was precisely where you might expect the writer of an obscure indie mag to live. It was an older building (a suitably generous designation), tucked in between the modernist monstrosities of the last 20 or 30 years. Replete with gorgeous, if not ill-kept, accoutrements framing the windows; crumbling steps and a brick exterior in varying shades of red and orange. The aesthetic was rounded out by the kind of neglectful landlord you might expect, a horrid man who frequently enjoyed reminding his tenants that he lived, “out of state,” and they’d have to, “be patient.”

Upon entering you might care to notice that the wallpaper on either side of the staircase seemed to be in a rather unattractive state of damp self-removal; pale, curling pieces that revealed older colors beneath. And then there was the staircase itself, with jade colored steps (in desperate need of a good shine) and an iron railing topped with ancient wood. In a word: resplendent. Inarguably a fine, if lonely, remnant of another age in a city that couldn’t help but move so brutally forward.

He complains about the place often enough, and if he really, really wanted to, he could probably afford to move, but as Jasmine so haughtily observed, why would he want to go and, quote, “ruin his brand like that?”

There was also the matter of the large, smiley handsome fellow that must have lived somewhere in the building, or with his luck, was dating someone in the building.

“Making brief, meaningless eye contact with some nameless man you happen to see in your building from time to time is no reason to freeze to death,” Jasmine had quite rightly reminded him, taking a drag of his cigarette. “You’re a well-respected, well-read journalist in Manhattan. Get a new apartment, Jones.”

Which, sure, she’s got a point, but there’s also the matter of the way the sun shines into his bedroom in the afternoons. The strange, sloping ceilings that he can’t seem to get a read on; the strong, mouth-watering smell of curry and cardamom that breathes through the vents and into his living room. The point is, it’s home, handsome man or no, so when he finally manages to exchange more than a nod with the “nameless man,” his vicious defense of the place only increases.

“The man was so drunk he couldn’t even tell you what apartment he lived in.”

“I’ll thank you to let me have my victories, love.”

It’s a little after 2 AM on a Tuesday in the middle of a particularly merciless February—it’s part of the reason why it’s so strange to see someone else awake, let alone such a broad, smile-prone man that seems to smell of woodsmoke and aftershave. He also appeared to be dead asleep as Killian had attempted the somewhat ill-begotten task of opening his door in subzero temperatures (a fool’s errand, to be sure).

“Buggering fu—” he had begun to mutter beneath his breath, keys jangling against one another between the cold, stiff fingers of his hand when he suddenly heard the gruff, slurred voice at his back.

“This ... fun,” he giggled, looking somewhere over Killian’s shoulder for a moment before finally landing on Killian himself.

“Sorry?”

“This is fun!” he answered, his voice suddenly an octave or two higher, though still sounding as if he had smoked one two many cigarettes that evening.

Having decided that amusing the handsome, fucked up man would be more fun than struggling with his door for another 20 minutes, he decided to engage, clearing this throat before finally replying, “What would that be?”

“Bein’ locked out together,” he managed to say, curling his arms a bit tighter around his torso, “we should hangout more.”

Too accustomed to dealing with the drunken individual that has chosen to use their drunkenness as an excuse to be a miserable bastard, the remark itself is unexpectedly charming, and Killian had to wonder how a man with such a face, hair, and arms, could possibly also be quite so friendly at less than 100% brain capacity.

“Yes, well,” Killian finally managed, “I’m quite... busy...?”

“Nice one.”

“I thought it was charming,” David insists, tugging him closer.

“That’s sweet, but I very much doubt you even remember that part of our conversation.”

“Jus’ give it a kick,” he continued, as if Killian hadn’t spoken, “usually works with mine.”

While Killian had developed somewhat of a reputation for, uh... “impassioned manifestations of physicality,” per the press release from his editor, it had been a day and a half since he’d been the kind of person to kick in a door, whether that be in anger or for practical purposes, and he hesitated for a brief moment before considering his far shorter, slimmer, and somewhat homeless look before taking a step back and slamming his combat-booted foot into the blasted thing.

It was to his immediate displeasure to discover that the door remained firmly shut; that his foot ached, and that he had just made a very loud, horrifying noise at 2 in the morning in a building made of walls as thin as tissue paper.

“Shit,” he mumbled, rotating his ankle briefly before turning to face a rather gob-smacked, slightly more sober man.

“That, was, uh—wow.”

“I just didn’t understand how so much power could exist in such a small man.”

“Excuse me—” Killian blushing and protesting over Jasmine’s inelegant snorting, “I am perfectly—”

“Yes, yes, we know, dear.”

Which was precisely when Robin from the down hall had poked his head out his door, hair askew and looking undeniably inconvenienced, “What in the hell are you two idiots doing out here so bloody early?”

“This guy’s got a strong kick,” handsome, drunk stairwell man had answered, attempting to point and failing, “...and I lost my keys at the bar.”

Robin had rolled his eyes before disappearing into his apartment and re-emerging a few moments later with a few pins, muttering and swearing the entire time, tip-toeing across the cold floor in an attempt to spare himself the discomfort.

“Thanks, mate,” Killian whispered as he watched his friend work, “I’ll talk to Gold about the lock soon.”

“It’s fine,” Robin answered, “it’s not as if the man will ever do anything about it.”

He glanced over his shoulder briefly before shooting a look at Killian and remarking quietly, “I see you two have finally met.”

“Not really,” Killian shrugged, scratching at the tip of his reddened ear, “I—”

“David,” Robin exclaimed, a bit more loudly than warranted, turning round to watch David’s eyes pop open, “this is Killian. Killian, David. Now, up you get Dave.”

Killian offered a weak wave, watching, with an unexpected feeling of melancholy, as Robin pulled David to his feet and walked him up the stairs.

“Nice to meet you, Killian,” he heard David shout down the steps, “good moves!”

They began to run into one another far more frequently after that, and not just in their building, but at the bodega down the street, or the coffee shop around the corner.

“Funny seeing you here,” David would laugh, plopping down across from him, drink or danish in hand.

“We live in the same apartment building,” Killian would answer, only sparing a brief glance upwards from his laptop, as both men tried and failed to hide their grins.

Killian had later learned that David had been immeasurably embarrassed by his conduct in the stairwell, and that, despite appearances, “never gets that drunk,” only he had finally completed his degree in veterinary science and had often been told he needed to “loosen up.”

“It’s really alright, mate,” Killian had reassured him, surprised at the surge of desperation that occurred in rushing to insist that he had done nothing wrong and that, honestly, it was quite amusing.

��Still, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he had said in a moment of almost painful earnestness, “I never wanna be one of those people.”

“You weren’t,” Killian answered quickly, the tip of his boot only barely brushing David’s sneaker beneath the table, “trust me. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“My little anarchist.”

“You both think you’re so bloody funny.”

“Yes,” the two of them answering simultaneously, dissolving into laughter at the sight of the “stern” look on Killian’s face.

“So, what is it that you actually write?”

They had been friends for a few months before David had finally started asking Killian about his work in greater detail, and looking back, Killian would recall feeling a bit anxious at David’s apparent lack of interest in his career.

“My mother was a writer,” he explained, “ she was a bit shy about it. I didn’t know if it was something you really wanted me to ask.”

Which was when all of Killian’s anxiety had vanished in a flood of appreciation. And really, why were the man’s eyes so blue?

Killian had started writing for OH, FURY when he had first moved to the city in his early 20s—it had barely had a readership then, which was probably why they had agreed to pay him for his self-righteous drivel. First per submission, and then, eventually, as a full-time staff writer who happened to be good at being incendiary and wicked on Twitter.

“I do articles about the punk scene mostly,” Killian started, “which inevitably leads to the occasional social commentary.”

Solo female artists covered in tattoos, screaming until their voices have grown hoarse; bands made entirely of LGBTQ+ musicians—grass roots organizers, local politicians, really, the possibilities were somewhat endless. He loved it.

“And here I was thinking that music and politics were two different things,” Dave had responded somewhat sheepishly.

“Oh, Dave,” Killian had grinned, his gaze falling to the flannel-armored, rosy-cheeked man before him, “I have so much to show you.”

They had kissed for the first time in the middle of an amped, sweaty crowd; beneath dim lights and with the feeling of a bass guitar pounding rhythmically in their chests.

“Alright, stop,” Jasmine interrupts, her eyes suspiciously bright.

“Jasmine, love, are you... crying?” Killian asked incredulously, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue.

“Of course not,” she answered, sniffling, “I just want to make sure I have all the details right for my speech.”

And so it was, much in the same way the city around them seemed to move at such a damnably fast pace, so too did the two of them, having been halfway to love before the band had struck their first chord.

“I’m gonna miss this beautiful garbage dump,” David remarked, the both of them standing hand-in-hand on the sidewalk on a cold night that felt, somehow, familiar.

“Quite right,” Killian agreed, turning to admire David’s profile in the light of the lamp above their heads, “without providing such poor quality of life, we never would have met.”

“I don’t know about that. I was working up the nerve.”

“Sure you were, love,” Killian laughed, tugging on his soon-to-be husband’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

#ouat ff #cc ff #cc fanfic #captain charming #cc: saved my life #@hencethewriter #holy shit.#i did it.

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bangtanx130613-blog · 6 years

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Step by Step - BTS Fan Fiction (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3 - 2.5 word count

A couple of months since Jin and Yoongi's visit to the cafe. The new year was approaching and we were right into the midst of the coldest weeks of the year. Although it was incredibly cold these days our cafe also hit it's busiest hours. Thanks to the holidays, tourists from different parts of Korea and from all over the world would find themselves wandering in in search for a hot meal and drink. Working at a cafe has it's privileges I thought to myself and I make myself the third hot cup of spiced cocoa I've had today. It was only 5:37pm and it was one of those little precious moments in the day where I wasn't bustling between table to bar. "Young Jae do you want a cup of cocoa? I can make you something else if you want." I say as I turned into the kitchen and see Young Jae plating up another order. "Nah, Haneul you alone is enough to drink the damn place to bankruptcy if you keep making drinks for yourself." He retorted as he handed me the plate.

The dinner crowd that night was especially bad as we had a large group of tourists who walked in none of whom spoke a lick of Korean. I tried my best at saying some phrases in English to the customers but they all seemed to have very particular requests and kept sending orders back and forth with me and Young Jae desperately trying to keep up with their requests. God our menu's items all have pictures, how hard can it be?! Dealing with those customers have left me completely drained that night. The cold weather and heater really doesn't help keep me awake either.

"Young Jae I'm so tired... Can you close up today?"

"Yeah sure, you just go ahead Haneul. Rest well and I'll see you tomorrow."

Still kind of dazed from that group of customers I made my way down from the streets and dragged myself to the station. Half awake from the sharp winter wind, the train arrived just as usual and I grabbed my phone to plug into the music which I liked to listen to. My phone. Why can't I find my phone? No, no ok I just need to check my pockets this stuff happens all the time. I must've misplaced it to the left pocket when it's usually on my right. It's still not here. The train just left, only two more trains until the last one. I throw my backpack off my back and rummage through it. Still not here. I take out all of the contents of my bag and examine each thing that I pulled out. Still not here. I turn my bag upside down and give it a couple of shakes. Still not here. The next train was approaching. One more train until the last one home. Shit well now I'm wide awake. I must've dropped it in my half asleep stupor as I was leaving work. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I can't afford to miss the train I literally live on the other side of Seoul, it's not like I can just take a leisurely walk back home. It'd be morning by the time I make it back and my wallet deeply disagrees with me taking a taxi back home as well. What can I do... Well I guess I can always buy another one after I finish saving up for at least a good half a year... The last train approached the station and with a heavy heart and equally heavy steps, I got on.

As I was sitting on the train, completely shooken by the fact that I've lost my phone another throught struck me. My wallpaper. My phone wallpaper was a picture of me, Young Jae, Jin and Suga. Now I've done it. Anyone who picks my phone up will definitely make sure it ends up somewhere online now. I'm so stupid if only my wallpaper wasn't that damn photo why was I so dumb to have changed it to that?! I could feel my throat closing up and tears stinging my eyes. Each laboured breath that I took was beginning to get caught in my throat. I came to Seoul just looking for a better life than what I could've gotten back home but here I am now, completely fucked over because I was dumb enough to let my phone drop somewhere. Not only have I ruined my own life I've also ruined Young Jae's and most likely Jin and Suga's too. I supressed a sob as I think back to what Jin and Suga asked of me before they left. Don't let people see, don't let people find out these pictures even exist. I don't know what's going to happen to me, I'm probably going to get sued by their company. I don't even have money to replace my phone so soon nevermind be able to stand against a lawsuit involving members of BTS. I'm so sorry I caused all of this trouble before it even starts. I deserve everything after this. I gave up thinking about what will happen and simply let my tears stream down my face silently as I continued my way back home.

As I walked back to my little studio apartment, tears dried up in icy streaks across my face. I sat down on the floor against the door. Here's the beggining to my downward spiral in life, I thought to myself. Realizing I didn't have my phone I set an alarm on the clock beside my dresser. If things can still be fixed then I'll do what I can first anyways. I'll wake up early tomorrow morning to go to the cellphone company and deactivate my card and then... and then... I don't know... Maybe get the cheapest replacement phone that I can... Just one of those bricks that do nothing but make calls... God I'm so pathetic. I lay down restlessly on my bed, a million thoughts racing through my mind and I soon exhausted my mind until I feel into a light sleep.

The ring of my alarm clock scares me to my senses. I hastily get ready to head out to the cellphone company as early as possible. The staff were rolling up the gate in front of the door when I was already waiting outside. I quickly explained the sitation of how I lost my phone and how I would like to deactivate my card asap and the staff did exactly to help me do so. Filled with a brief sense of relief I then asked for the cheapest phone model and network plan to be my temporary replacement for now. This is going to be a tough couple of months but I was determined to make it through. Besides it's been less than 12 hours since I dropped my phone and deactivated my card, I think I should be safe. The whole process took no longer than an hour and with no time to waste, I headed to work.

"Good morning Young Jae, wow you wouldn't believe what happened last night I dro-"

"Um Haneul I kind of guessed."

"No."

My eyes widens and I felt all the muscles in my body tense and then completely fail me the next after. I collapsed on the table next to me. The feeling of pure dread poured into my body and I could feel that violent wave of emotions hitting me at full force. This was like last night all over again. No. This isn't real no. I stared downwards in shock. Young Jae continued talking.

"I saw the news via Line this morning and I tried calling you but I guess that was dumb huh..."

His sentence trailed off as I failed to give him any more reaction than just a wincing sound. This time I was full out crying with each sob racking through my body. My entire being was feeling a burning sensation as I trembled to cover my face. This can't be. This can't be. I don't know when but Young Jae had started patting my back and handed me a napkin which was simply being crushed in my hands instead of being used to wipe my tears. An hour or two must've passed since but I was in slightly better condition, still looking completely shooken up but at least I was sitting in a chair and not a table. I could feel my pulse pouding in my eardrums as my sobs died down. Young Jae had set up all the tables and did everything by himself this morning. I looked blankly at him as he turned the sign on our door around to show that we're open. A couple minutes later some uninvited guests showed up. A man with a large camera on his shoulder, a smartly dressed woman with a mic, another man with a clipboard and some other equipment. No. I can't be seen like this. I just can't be seen. I scurried into the kitchen and Young Jae saw the terrified expression on my face. "Please... tell them to go away." I croaked at Young Jae. He looked at me and took a deep breath before heading out. I leaned against the door as I listened to the conversation outside.

"Hello are you here to order anything?" Young Jae asked with an air of professionalism. The lady spoke up to him.

"Oh no sorry, I might get some drinks for my crew here later but I was hoping to interview you and that girl in the photo that went out viral last night. We're from SBS by the way."

"I'm sorry ma'am this is private property and we do not welcome filming of our staff without their permission and our boss' permission. I must ask you to leave if you're not ordering anything."

I heard some more exchanges between the two and some shuffling and footsteps and then the door bell. Although I heard the door open I didn't hear it close, there was some commotion following after so I peeked out of the little window from the kitchen door and saw what has happened outside the cafe. Huddles of reporters and journalists with audio and video recording devices were crowded around the entrance and littered between then were groups of young girls who looked clearly upset. Oh no. I ducked back down immediately, it was clear what was happening right now. I heard Young Jae yell out something and then close the door. A bit more shufflinng and he came back in and joined me in the kitchen.

"Haneul... All of them are asking for you to go out there... Honestly this is stupid but I tried my best to get them to leave, I put the blinds down from the big window and glass door out at front hopefully they'll leave soon." He slumped down next to me and started dialling on his phone. "Gotta let good ol' Mr. Jung know about this I guess." He dialled our boss and he spoke on the phone there was an especially loud voice outside as someone pounded on the door. "I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK TO MISS HANEUL AND THE MAN INVOLVED IN THIS SITUATION RIGHT NOW. THIS IS PUBLIC RELATIONS FROM BIGHIT ENTERTAINMENT. I REQUEST TO SPEAK TO YOU BOTH PERSONALLY." I opened the kitchen door meekly and peeked at him through the blinds. He was right up against the door so the press outside would be unable to see me as I came up. I quickly unlocked the door and behind the blind as I opened the door and let him in. Without wasting time or his words he immediately asked.

"Right, I believe you are miss Haneul? Where would your friend be?" He asked calmly. I gulped and replied.

"He's in the kitchen calling our boss right now. I'll go get him." I went in and fetched Young Jae as he was finishing up the call with our boss. Seems like Mr Jung is going to head over to the cafe right now... that is if he can get past the crowd...

"Please take a seat Miss Haneul and Mr ...?"

"Young Jae." Young Jae sat down and I awkwardly shuffled my way into a seat, as if I was the outsider here right now.

"I'm Kim Chul Soo. Now I'm sure you're both aware of the events of what has happened recently. I'm here to make sure that we reach a desirable agreement about how his story is going to be told to the world depending on how this all unfolded. Provided that this conversation is happening in the best interests of both parties, please tell me the complete truth of how it happened and I will do my best to make this incident go and smoothly as possible. I will also be recording his conversation for future reference if needed." He explained and I began on my story of how Jin and Suga decided to visit the cafe and how it has spiralled into this mess because of one mishap I've made. The man nodded as I continued to sob every once in a while of my retelling. At the end he took a second before he began speaking once again. "I see. Well this shouldn't be a big problem on your behalf as losing your phone was purely an accident and I can tell how upset you are over this whole ordeal. Although it does complicate things that we have sole pictures of just you and Jin being spread across the internet. As unfortunate as it is, we aren't so concerned about the pictures of Suga and Mr Young Jae over here as two men posing together for a photograph is less of a controversial thing as opposed to a male celebrity and another girl." I blinked as I tried to digest everything that was going on and he asked me another question. "Now I must ask, was it your idea or Jin's idea to be taking photos of the two of you together?"

"It was my idea! Please don't put any of the blame onto him. I'm willing to take the short end of the stick if this is how we need to sort things out. I got them into trouble thanks to a selfish and unreasonable request that I made. Please do not punish him or Suga, I will take full responsibility." I blurted. His eyebrows furrowed at my response as if I've now further complicated things. "To be honest, I still have to check in with Jin and Suga about their version of the story. Perhaps we should organize a meeting between the four of you to sort this all out once and for all without going back and forth between parties." He nodded as he spoke and that's when our boss, Mr Jung came in through the kitchen door. Shocked as we all were at first, Mr Kim invited him to sit down and listen to the proposal being made at the moment and both parties came to an agreement. After another lengthy discussion followed and it was decided that Young Jae, Mr Jung and I were to head to BigHit Entertainment's office at the end of the day to sort things out once and for all. Until then we are to stay silent against the press and continue to do our best to not show ourselves to the public eye until this issue is resolved between both parties.

#bts fanfic #rm fanfic #jin fanfic #suga fanfic #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bulletproof boys #step by step #fanfiction #fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfiction

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