#i just think joe should time travel more in AUs and that the two of them should have a really fucking awkward reunion
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Joe & Cleo life is strange AU!
Joe gets time control from a haunted polaroid camera, Cleo reunites with an old friend because of her near-death situations, a storm is brewing on the horizon, and none of the original game’s plot is real here :]
Close-ups and textless version under the cut!
Also rambles are in the tags if you wanna hear art and AU thoughts. send an ask if you want!
#Hermitcraft#Hermitcraft AU#Joe Hills#ZombieCleo#hello you two#LISAU#art out the oven#au wasnt meant to be /r but i have just realised the implications of making them chloe and max lmao#Also! their outfits and roles are swapped around! because i think it fits better#feel free to fuck around w this concept if you want bcs i probably wont be#i just think joe should time travel more in AUs and that the two of them should have a really fucking awkward reunion#in my head im ignoring game plot because it was a little too fucked up to put j+c into#and also theyre in their late 30s/early 40s#this art was a struggle and a half btw. this was 12h across 2 days i think?#super rusty at art and doing low stormy lighting is hard as hell!!#so it looks awful on low brightness screens#it's not perfect but i'm pretty happy with it
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How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 2
A/N: Time for the second chapter in this time-traveling/soulmate AU! This is a reader insert Elvis x fem!reader. I had an absolute blast writing this chapter. I really hope y'all enjoy it!
PS- thanks, as always, to my besties @ccab and @elvisfatass for listening to me scream about this series and helping me when I ask!
Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! Drinking alcohol, lots of kissing, cussing, erections, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie... I think that's all.
Word count: ~5.5k
Maybe he'll just stay with you forever.
******
When you get back to the dorm, Elvis is all in a tizzy over your music. He wants to hear more, so you give him your iPod.
"What is this?"
"It's music. Here." You put the headphones over his ears and push play.
"Your records must be tiny!" He hollers over the sound of the music and you laugh.
"No records. The music is digital."
"Digital?"
"Oh man. How do I explain this? Just trust me. All the music is saved inside this thing."
"How many songs are in it?"
"It holds, like, thousands, but I think I have around 500. I don't buy as much music as I should." His mouth drops open and he looks down at the iPod.
"Can I take this back with me?"
"Absolutely not. But you're welcome to use it while you're here." He has another wave of hoping he never leaves.
"I love this." You can't help but smile at how excited he is.
"Okay, I need to get ready. I'm going to a friend's house for a game night tonight. Do you want to come with me?" He can't hear you over the music pumping through the headphones. You tap on his shoulder and he uncovers his ear.
"Huh?"
"Do you want to come with me to a friend's house for game night?"
"Oh, sure. I don't want to stay here by myself." Truthfully, he doesn't want to spend a minute away from you.
He goes back to listening to his music while you get ready. Watching you fix your hair and do your makeup is endearing to him. You realize he's staring as you swipe on your black eyeliner pencil.
"What?"
"Nothing. You're just real pretty." You feel your cheeks get hot.
"Thanks." You smile nervously. They definitely didn't exaggerate about how charming he is. Still, his presence is comforting for some reason and you'll miss him when you finally figure out how to get him home. That'll be your project tomorrow, though. Tonight's challenge will be introducing him to your friends without him finding out too much about himself.
When you're ready, you look over him to make sure he's not going to stand out too much. You get to his hair and frown.
"We need to do something about your hair."
"I can tell you right now what we're going to do. Nothing. My hair is fine." He moves his hands to his head protectively. He used half of your can of hairspray this morning fixing it. He's not going to let you touch it now.
"Okay, but no one does their hair like that anymore. You need to make it do this." You gesture to a poster on your wall of Joe Jonas with his hair in his face.
"No. Not happening." You laugh and reach up to tousle his hair and he grabs your wrists, laughing with you and hollering, "NO!"
He wrestles your hands back behind your back and pins you up against him. When he looks down at you, breathing heavily, you both stop laughing. The air between you is electric and he starts to lean in. His lips are almost to yours when there's a knock on your door.
"Y/n! Are you ready?" Katie busts through the door and Elvis lets go of you quickly. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were still here."
"Yeah, he's gonna be here for a bit. Is that okay?" You look at her with an awkward smile.
"Fine by me, as long as you two aren't too loud. These walls are thin, you know." You and Elvis both blush and she laughs. "We better go. I need to stop by the liquor store on our way there."
You nod. Luckily, Katie is 21, so you never have to worry about how to find alcohol for your parties. She walks out of your room and you look back at Elvis.
"I don't really drink." He shrugs.
"I know. It's okay. I hope you don't mind if I do."
"No it's- wait, how do you know?" You smile awkwardly again.
"I might've understated how much of a fan my grandma was. I know... things... about you."
"Like what else?!"
"Don't worry about it." You try to ignore your almost-encyclopedic knowledge of him.
"Come on, lovebirds! Let's go!" Katie hollers from the living room. Elvis takes your hand and you head out there to her. He's nervous, both to meet your friends and because you seem to know more about him than he does.
******
"Guys, this is John. We met in Tupelo. He's staying here with me for a while. Be nice, please." You say sternly as you look around the room at your friends. They introduce themselves and shake his hand. Your friend Ashley doesn't waste any time noticing his appearance.
"You look just like Elvis. Man, y/n, you have a type, don't you?" You laugh awkwardly.
"Yeah, John is a big fan of Elvis too. Hence the hairstyle." Elvis soaks in how commonplace it is for these people to talk about him. How do they all seem to know him?
You quickly change the subject before someone says something about him that he doesn't need to hear.
"So, games? I need a drink." You walk to the kitchen with Elvis in tow to fix yourself a beverage. He watches as you look through the liquor bottles.
"What are you looking for?"
"I'll know it when I- ah ha!" You settle on a bottle of Malibu coconut rum. Then, you open the fridge and pull out a bottle of pineapple juice and mix them together in a Solo cup. You take a sip and revel in the sweetness and he just watches you curiously.
"Can I try that?"
"Thought you didn't drink?"
"It's 2007. I think I can live a little." You hand him the cup and he takes a gulp and then looks at you wide-eyed. "That tastes like dessert!"
"You like it?"
"Yes. This one is mine." You laugh and make yourself another drink. This could get interesting.
Katie calls to you from the living room that it's time to start the first game. The evening passes and you play through a board game and a round of charades. He has you make him two more drinks and you notice his laugh gets louder and he touches you more. He's not drunk, but he's certainly feeling a little relaxed. You're not complaining, though, because you've had the same number of drinks and he is looking more and more irresistible.
You settle in to be a team for a trivia game and he wraps his arm around your shoulders and kisses your cheek. You giggle a little and lay your head against him. Katie watches the two of you and smiles. She knows how you've been alone for a long time. It's nice for her to see you happy, even with this stranger you picked up mysteriously in Tupelo.
"Oh, this seems unfair. It's a pop culture card." Your friend Brandon holds up a card with questions to ask the two of you. "Topic is Elvis Presley." Elvis whips his head toward you and laughs. He can't believe he's a whole card in this game. You don't think much of it when Brandon reads the first question.
"What year did Elvis buy Graceland?" Elvis sits up and hollers.
"1957!" Then, it hits you that there might be something on that card that he shouldn't know. Suddenly, you dive across the table and grab the card from Brandon, sending game pieces flying, before he can read the next question.
"Hey! What the hell?" Brandon yells.
"It's uh, an unfair advantage. Just pick another card."
"Seriously? Come on, y/n."
"Pick another card. Please." Elvis looks at you strangely and tries to take the card from you. You shake your head and put it in your pocket. The game continues and you try not the think about the fact that he almost had to answer a question about the year he died.
At the end of the trivia game, you decide it's time to head home. It's after midnight and you're not sure Elvis should have another drink. Katie agrees since she has to drive home. As you're walking to the car, Elvis wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek again.
"That was fun. 2007 is fun." He whispers in your ear. He's obviously a little drunk, but so are you, so you don't argue. Instead, you turn to face him and throw your arms around his neck, stumbling backwards.
"We have a good time." When you get to the car, he presses you up against it with his body and looks down into your face. He leans down and presses his lips to yours gently. It feels like someone has lit your insides on fire in the best way possible.
"Get in the car, lovebirds." Katie yells at you from the driver's seat. He backs off of you and opens the door for you to slide into the back seat together. It doesn't take long for him to pull you into him and kiss you again. This time, it's an open-mouth kiss and his tongue dips in to move against yours. You begin to make out pretty heavily, his hands moving over your body.
"Hey! No sex in my backseat!" You hear Katie holler from the front. You both start to laugh and he kisses down your neck, muttering.
"No promises." Luckily, it's a short drive back to the dorm, so he doesn't get much further, but the elevator ride is not very much fun for Katie. Finally, you're back to your room and you stumble in laughing and kissing in turns.
"Elvis, wait." He pulls back and looks at you with his heavily-lidded bedroom eyes.
"Yes, honey?"
"Nothing, I just... I'm gonna go to the bathroom." He sits on the side of your bed and watches you walk away.
In the bathroom, you go and then stare at yourself in the mirror. You have an opportunity here to live a dream you've had since you were old enough to know what sex is. But it feels wrong to do it like this, with both of you drunk. You steel yourself for how you're going to tell him no and then open the door.
It turns out you don't have to worry about it, though, because he's fallen fast asleep on your bed, fully clothed. You sigh and then go to take his shoes and his belt off. You change into pajamas and climb into the bed next to him, taking a minute to just look at him. He really is as beautiful as you thought he would be. Pictures didn't do him justice. You reach out and run your fingertip across his brow and down his nose. This is a miracle.
Just then, he rolls over and puts his arms around you, pulling you in close to him. He kisses your forehead and whispers.
"G'night, honey."
You settle in for another night in his arms. Tomorrow you need to try to find a way to get him home, but tonight, he's yours.
******
When you wake up in the morning, Elvis groans and pulls you in close to him.
"Good morning." You say quietly. He groans again and you realize he must be feeling his drinks from last night. You go to roll out of bed and he grabs you and holds you tighter.
"No, don't leave." He whines.
"I'm going to get you some water. It'll make you feel better; I promise." He nods and lets you go.
When you come back with the water, he's sitting up on the side of the bed with his head in his hands.
"Thank you." He takes the water and gulps it down.
"You'll feel better after some food. Take a shower and let's go get breakfast." He agrees and makes his way to the bathroom. You have a half-second fantasy of asking if you can get in with him, but you shake your head and get rid of that thought. You need to focus on trying to find a way to get him home.
******
After eating breakfast, you both feel a lot better. You start to brainstorm ideas for what to do.
"What if we go back to where you showed up?"
"That's an idea." He looks down at his hands. He doesn't want to tell you that he'd rather stay, at least for a little while longer.
"Okay, well, let's try that today. You'll need to put your suit from the concert back on. You can't wear these clothes in 1957." He nods and you notice how quiet he is.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I just... I'm not sure I'm ready to go back."
"Elvis, you have to. You don't have a choice." He nods again and looks up at you, reaching across the table to put his hand on yours. He rubs small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.
"Do I have to go today?" The way he feels about you makes him never want to go.
"We don't know how long we might have to get you back. We need to try."
"Okay." He gives you a sad smile, pats your hand, and stands up, stretching and yawning. You make your way back to the dorm for him to change before you head to Tupelo.
******
When you get to the fairgrounds, you go back to where you were when he ran into you, or at least to the best of your memory.
"Now what?" He looks at you anxiously.
"I don't know. I've never done this before. You're the one who time-traveled. What did you do?"
"All I did was come down the stairs of the stage and try to find a place backstage to... well... I was backstage."
"Okay, but was there anything different about this show that hadn't happened before?" He blushes and thinks about the massive erection he had when he came off the stage. Surely that's not related.
"Not really, no."
"Nothing at all?" He looks at you exasperated. You have to remember.
"There was one thing. You really don't know what I'm talking about? Please don't make me say it."
"Oh! Oh my God. Yes. I remember." You laugh out loud and he rolls his eyes.
"I don't think that has anything to do with the time travel." He mutters.
"We don't know that. What if it does?"
"That makes no damn sense, y/n." He puts his hands on his hips.
"Okay, but we need to try to perfectly replicate the circumstances. So, y'know, get after it." You gesture to his crotch and try really hard not to laugh as he stares at you.
"I can't just make it happen!" His face is bright pink and you're about to die from suppressing laughter. You stand and stare at each other for a bit, not sure what to do next.
"Well."
"You could help me." He gets a devilish look in his eyes and you shake your head frantically.
"Noooooo, that's, I can't..."
"You had no problem last night getting me there." Now it's your turn to blush.
"Elvis!"
"It's true! This is your idea!"
"Okay? Never mind. You're right. This has nothing to do with the time travel."
"Now, we don't know that. We have to perfectly replicate the circumstances. That's what you said." He takes several steps towards you and you feel the energy build between you. You look up at him as he gets closer and puts his hands on your hips. "We have to try."
He leans down and kisses you gently a few times before the passion takes over and you throw your arms around his neck and slide your tongue into his mouth. Before you know it, you're both locked in a tight embrace, kissing deeply with your bodies pressed together. After a few minutes you pull back, breathing heavily.
"Is it working?" He shifts his hips and presses his erection into you.
"What do you think?" He kisses you again with a new desperation. There's a big part of him that starts to get worried that this will work. It definitely feels like you're on the right track, even if neither of you can explain it.
But other than a slight electricity and buzzing sound, nothing happens.
You get to the point where if you keep kissing, he's going to lay you down on the ground and have his way with you right there, and he almost does, but another group of tourists comes into view.
"Shit." He hisses and fixes his dick so that it's up under his belt again. You breathe deeply and smooth your hair.
"Let's go. This isn't working." He says a silent prayer of thanks and nods. You head for your car before the group of tourists can spot him and ask to take pictures or something, assuming he's the most effective tribute artist of all time.
In the car, he looks over at you from the passenger seat and smiles.
"So now what are we doing?"
"I have no idea. I'm supposed to go out with my friends tonight. I'm not sure you should come."
"Why not? I promise I won't get drunk again."
"No, that's not it. I just... we're going to a club. I don't think it's going to be your scene."
"What kind of club?" A nightclub doesn't sound so bad to him.
"A hip-hop club."
"Hip what?" You roll your eyes and laugh. Sometimes he sounds like your grandpa.
You rifle through the cds on your visor and pull one down that's labeled "rap mix" with some doodles drawn on it in sharpie. When the bass beat hits, he looks at you with his eyes wide.
"Is this-"
"Music made by Black people, mostly." You cut him off before he can say something indicative of the time he came from.
"And you listen to it?"
"Oh yeah. We don't really... separate... like it used to be. Things have changed quite a bit..." His eyes light up.
"I wondered, since your friends were... not all white..." You forgot that it might've been a little shocking to him to see how diverse your group of friends was last night. Still, he seemed to take it in stride.
"Anyway, we're going to a place where they play this kind of music and people dance."
"I like to dance."
"This is gonna be dancing like you've never seen before."
"Everything here is like nothing I've ever seen before."
"You promise you won't get all weird and judgy?" He puts his hand on his heart.
"I promise. How bad can it be?" You think to yourself that it might actually be better if he has a few drinks first and then put the car in drive.
******
A couple of girls come over to get ready with you and Katie and pre-party before the club. They fawn over how cute "John" is and mix up some Malibu and pineapple. He looks at you sheepishly.
"Can I have one? I won't have as many as last night."
"I'm not your mother. Have as many as you want." You laugh. He grabs a cup and takes a sip, smiling. He stays in the living room on the couch marveling at how many channels are on your tv while you go in the bedroom with the girls to get dressed.
"Y/n, he is SO CUTE. He looks super familiar, though. How did you meet him?" Your friend Nicole remarks.
"It's because he looks like Elvis Presley." Ashley chimes in with her observation from last night.
"Yeah, I guess he kinda does in the right light. I met him when I went to Tupelo." You try to downplay how much he looks like Elvis because he is Elvis. Now it's Katie's turn to jump in.
"I'd love to hear the story of how you met. Because you were only in Tupelo for a few hours. And somehow you came back with this perfect guy."
"Oh, well, I went to the fairgrounds and we just sorta bumped into each other." You leave out the time-traveling bit.
"Shit, maybe I need to go wandering around Tupelo too." Nicole laughs and you pull an outfit out of your closet. You squeeze into the hot pink bodycon dress and slide the black vest over it, fastening the single button up under your boobs. You finish teasing your hair and put on a pink headband with a tiny bow. Your eyeliner is perfect and you're excited for Elvis to see you so dressed up. Once everyone is ready two drinks later, you make your way into the living room to grab Elvis and head to the club.
When he sees you, his mouth literally drops open. Up until now, you've had on jeans and a t-shirt or pajamas. This outfit shows off all of your assets and he's in awe. The other girls notice the way he looks at you and start to giggle. He sets his drink on the coffee table and walks directly to you, never taking his eyes off of you.
"This outfit is... wow." You look around at the other girls just standing and watching.
"Thanks. What?" He shakes his head a little.
"Nothing, you're just gorgeous, honey, that's all." You have the thought that you should just take him into your bedroom and let everyone else go to the club without you, but Katie speaks and shatters your daydream.
"Okay, lovebirds. Let's go. The club is waiting."
******
When you get to the club, there's a line outside but you can hear the thumping bass beat from where you stand. It's September, so the evening is chilly and you shiver in your sleeveless dress. Elvis doesn't think twice before wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm. You meet up with some of your guy friends and make it inside fairly quickly. You let your friends walk a few paces in front of you so that Elvis's reaction will go unnoticed. Once you get to a place where you can see the dance floor, you're glad you gave him some space.
"Holy shit." He looks around with his eyes damn near popping out of his head.
"Okay, you promised. No judgy bullshit." He turns and looks at you.
"This is amazing."
"Wait, really? I figured you'd get all shy and weird because, well, sex." He gives you a disapproving look.
"I've had sex before."
"Well, I know that, but still. I also know how and where and when you grew up."
"Looks like I finally know more about me than you do. Do you dance?" You're pleasantly surprised by his reaction.
"I do. I actually love to dance."
"Well, then, let's go." He grabs your hand and makes a beeline for the dance floor. Once you're out there, you turn to him.
"Are you ready for this?"
"Hell yeah." You turn around again and put your ass on him and begin to grind. He laughs out loud and puts his hands on your hips. It doesn't take him long to figure out how to move with you. This shouldn't shock you as much as it does, considering all the stage performances you've seen of his. You knew he could move his hips. The song ends and you face him, ready for him to say he's had enough, but the next song is one of your favorites. You put your hands on his shoulders and body roll into him.
"Yes, honey, I like this." He leans down and whispers in your ear as you continue to move together. You spend the next three hours either on the dance floor or taking short breaks at the table with your friends before he inevitably grabs your hand and drags you out to dance again.
By the time you leave, you're both so drenched in sweat that his shirt is soaked through and your hair is wild. On the way home, you sit in the way back seat of your friend's suburban and he wastes no time in wrapping himself around you and kissing you. Your friends laugh as you make out like teenagers and Katie hollers.
"Yeah, they do that."
Back at the dorm, you barely notice your friends as they continue the party in the living room and you tumble into your room with Elvis. You can still hear the bass beat from the music in the living room, so you push him into a sitting position on the side of your bed.
You turn away from him, putting both hands on his knees, and grind your ass against him. Then, you bend over in front of him and touch your toes, slipping your shoes off. He reaches out and puts both hands on your ass cheeks and grunts.
"Mmm, don't stop."
You turn to face him and unbutton your vest, sliding it off and throwing it to the side. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your cleavage, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your breasts. You unbutton his shirt and pull it off of his shoulders. Then, you pull your dress up and climb onto his lap, straddling him. You continue to grind against him to the beat from the living room, feeling his hard cock pressing against you as you do. He slides both hands up your thighs underneath your dress.
"Can I?" He looks up at you desperately and you nod. He tugs on the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your head and off. As he looks at you sitting on him in nothing but your bra and panties, he whispers.
"Wow." You lean in and kiss him deeply, skin pressed against his. He leans back until you're laying on top of him in the bed and then rolls over so that he's on top. He leaves a trail of soft kisses down your chest and reaches behind your back to try to undo your bra, but is completely confused by how different the clasp is from what he's seen before.
"What the hell is this?" You sit up and unhook it easily. He shrugs. "Okay, I'll figure that out later."
You laugh and he removes your bra, tossing it to the side. He goes back to kissing your chest, paying special attention to your nipples. You arch your back with the sensation of his warm mouth on you. He kisses down to your hip and then slips your panties down to your ankles and off. Going back to your center, he slides one finger into you and presses it in and out.
"You want me, baby?" He asks, voice dripping with lust.
"Use your mouth first." You respond breathlessly. He freezes and then sits up, looking at you.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry, I-I-I've never..." He stutters nervously.
"Shit, I'm sorry, never mind. I forget how young you are."
"Now, wait a minute. I'm older than you." You don't know how to explain to him that you forget he isn't who he will become yet.
"It's okay. Just keep going."
"Tell me how to do it." You sit up on your elbows.
"It's really okay. You don't have to."
"I want to. Tell me what to do." A thought comes to you. Are you really the woman that teaches Elvis Presley this skill?
"Okay, well, just put your tongue here and move it around like this." You put your finger on your clit and rub it in circles and over the top, pleasuring yourself. You moan softly at the feeling and he nods and leans down, pressing his mouth to you. He starts to move his tongue and you moan a little louder. You feel him smile and he starts to get a little more bold with his movements. He slides his finger back inside you and continues licking your clit. He sucks on it lightly and then goes back to moving his tongue on you. It doesn't take long for him to figure out how to read your body for signs he's on the right track and you feel the coil of your orgasm tighten.
"Oh, fuck, Elvis!" You cry out as the coil snaps and you feel the waves of pleasure crash into you from every angle. He laughs as you come hard on his hand, feeling your walls pulse around his finger.
"Ha! That's never happened before. That was... wow." He looks at you with sparkly eyes and you breathe heavily through the high of your climax.
You sit up and push his pants down his legs and off, letting his cock bounce free. You stroke him for a bit and he leans his head back with his eyes closed and mouth open slightly.
"You want to fuck me, Elvis?"
"God, yes, y/n, that's all I want." You pull his hips down to yours and line him up with your entrance. He pushes into you slowly and rests his forehead on your shoulder until he's filling you fully. "Mmm, goddamn." His voice is husky and deep.
You moan softly as he begins to pump in and out of you with more speed. His hips slam against yours to the rhythm of the music still coming from the living room. You fuck like this for a while with him on top of you, but eventually you push him onto his back and climb on top of him, sinking down onto his cock.
"Fuck, yes, Elvis." You start to grind your hips against him, pushing him deeper and deeper and he groans.
"'M gonna come, baby. You feel so damn good." You nod and keep going and he pops his eyes open. "Do I-"
"I'm on birth control."
"What?"
"I'll explain later just don't stop!" He pulls you down to his chest and fucks into you from underneath until he can't stand it anymore.
"Fuck, yes!" He shudders and pumps into you weakly a couple more times. You lay on his chest for a bit trying to catch your breath. Then, you slide off of him and settle in the crook of his arm. He turns toward you and kisses you fully on the mouth. "That was incredible! I've never done it like that before!" You giggle at his enthusiasm.
"Like what? With the girl on top?"
"Yes and without pulling out."
"Oh. Yeah it's a miracle of the modern age."
"Well, I love it. Goddamn, I'm in love with you now." He laughs and kisses you again. You're not sure he's kidding, even though he laughs.
That's when you hear it. The buzzing sound gets louder and louder and you notice that there's a spot next to your bed where the air looks wavy.
"Elvis, look!" He sits up and looks where you're pointing.
"What is that?"
"I think it's how you get home!" His face falls and his heart drops. He wasn't kidding about being in love with you. He can't go now, not after what you just did together. "Get dressed! You have to go!"
"No, I don't want to."
"Elvis, you have to. You can't stay here forever. You have to be... you." You jump out of bed and gather his suit. "Come on!"
He gets out of bed reluctantly and gets dressed, looking at the mysterious portal with disdain. You throw on your robe and sit on the side of the bed. Once he's fully dressed, he pulls you into him and kisses your cheek.
"I'm not ready to leave you." All of a sudden, tears gather in your eyes and a lump forms in your throat.
"I know. But you have to." He pulls back and looks you in the eyes.
"I wasn't kidding about loving you. Come with me!"
"I can't! Elvis, please just go. This isn't going to get any easier." He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He grabs your face and kisses you one last time.
"I'll never forget you, honey." He caresses your cheek and then turns away, walking through the wavy air. He disappears and there's small pop as the portal goes away too.
You sit on the side of your bed and cry, tears falling into your lap as your shoulders shake.
You love him even more than you did before. Now he's real and you'll never forget the days when he was yours.
******
A year later, you go to Graceland for the anniversary of Elvis's death. You never stopped looking for him after he left, but you're starting to lose hope that you'll ever see him again. You do an evening tour and somehow manage to find yourself alone in a corner of the house. You break down crying, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. You miss him with every fiber of your being.
And then you hear it. The buzzing sound. And the air gets wavy in front of you. Could it be? It has to be. You jump up and walk slowly towards the portal, your heart beating wildly in your chest...
******
Chapter 3 coming soon!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley#elvis fanfic#elvis smut#elvis presley fic#elvis presley x reader#elvis x reader#elvis presley x y/n#elvis x y/n#elvis x you#elvis presley x you#elvis presley smut#elvis presley fanfic#elvis fic#elvis fanfiction#50s elvis#how the web was woven
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I Know Places - Joe Burrow
Summary: After months of keeping the relationship a secret from the general public; TMZ decides to exposes the relationship between NFL Quarterback Joe Burrow and WWE Wrestler Y/FN Y/LN… Now the newly-exposed couple has to deal with the aftermath of their private relationship being exposed for the world to see.
Genres: Fluff and Angst (Warning: Mentions of Anxiety) (Secret Lovers AU)
“Just Grab My Hand and Don't Ever Drop it, My Love, They Are The Hunters, We Are The Foxes, and We Run” - Taylor Swift; I Know Places
It should not have been a surprise that the notifications coming from your phone woke you up out of a peaceful sleep and as you turn to grab your phone, with the screen light shining bright on your face trying to figure out the reasons why your phone is going off so early in the morning hours before your alarm.
The alert text messages from your manager confuse you as this morning was one of your only off days that you have during the week where you can relax at home and not be on the roads traveling from different cities to do wrestling shows every week.
Things have never been easy for you since joining WWE as you quickly became one of the company’s most popular wrestlers by winning multiple championships across the three major WWE brands: Raw, NXT, and Smackdown… While the love from wrestling fans is one of the reasons your passion for wrestling continues to grow, the obsessiveness that some wrestling fans have over a young woman in the business is the reason you’re so private about your life.
Scrolling through all the text message notifications before you can unlock your phone, you feel your boyfriend move closer to you and snuggle right behind you while wrapping one of his arms around your waist trying to pull you closer to him as he was slowly starting to wake up out of his peaceful sleep due to your movement.
“Darling… it’s too early for anyone to be awake” Joseph mumbled. “Who is texting you at this hour?!”
“It’s my manager…” you whispered. “I was just about to unlock my phone, it has to be important seeing as she knows today is one of my only off days.”
Finally unlocking your phone, as Joseph tries to fall back asleep, seeing the texts from your manager that woke you up from a peaceful sleep… Your eyes widen as the article link your manager sent to you causes an anxiety bubble to start forming in your chest, sitting up in a panic causing Joseph to groan in his attempt to fall back asleep, you click the article that you never thought you’ll see being written about you and Joseph.
TMZ EXCLUSIVE
WWE SUPERSTAR Y/FN Y/LN AND NFL BENGALS QUARTERBACK JOE BURROW CAUGHT TOGETHER IN PUBLIC DURING THEIR OFF-TIME.
As you read more of the TMZ article, you feel as if your heartbeat is beating out of your chest and the world goes quiet. The paragraphs written by some reporter exposing your relationship with Joseph are in descriptive details of how the two of you met through mutual friends which started forming a friendship that quickly turned into something more once Joseph’s off-season from the NFL started earlier in the year and how you’ve been keeping this secret from all of your co-workers in WWE as you were terrified of how people would react due to the reaction of your last relationship.
Scrolling back to the top of the article, looking at the two photos that TMZ decided to use in an attempt to get more clicks, you easily recognize that the photos were taken at an private party that Joseph and you are invited to attend by Pat McAfee a few weeks ago.
The private party has less than 30 people in attendance and everyone in attendance knew about your relationship with Joe Burrow. In that moment in time, you didn’t realize that photos of you and Joseph were being taken as it’s very clear the two of you were in your own world on the party dance floor but you weren’t thinking about who took the photos, you were more focused on the thought that your private relationship is now a public relationship.
Joseph groans in his sleep once again as the light from your phone is illuminating the bedroom, his cold hands touch your back in an attempt to get your attention causing you to zone out of your thoughts and be present back into the real world.
You quickly turn to Joseph and by the look on your face that he sees due to the light of your phone, the NFL quarterback can easily tell that something was wrong.
“What’s wrong?!” Joseph asks as he’s rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up. “Did something happened in the WWE?!” As your eyes tried to make eye contract to focus on him, your mind is wandering all over the place as your frozen still.
Joseph notices your frozen figure and sits up in a panic to comfort you in his arms while he takes the phone out of your hands, finally feeling free from your frozen form you wrap your arms around his waist and cuddle into his chest as Joseph finally reads the article that has you in a panic state of mind.
The NFL Quarterback carefully read through the article noticing the descriptive details that “insider sources” claimed to know about your relationship and many more photos of the two of you out in the town, holding hands and acting as a normal couple that wasn’t being followed by stalkers who felt as if it was their right to expose your relationship before the two of you are ready.
After the trouble you went through because of how your 2 year relationship with AEW wrestler “Jungle Boy” Jack Perry ended, due to the pressure of being in two different wrestling companies and continuously being stalked by wrestling fans. You faced so much backlash for the how the relationship ended even though it was a mutual decision between you and your ex-boyfriend, but the internet loves picking sides.
Joseph tosses your phone on the bed and wraps his arms around your body, pulling you closer to his chest to give you the comfort that you needed… As much as the rage boiling inside his chest wants him to get on his phone to make calls and to start yelling at his manager for allowing TMZ to leak this information to the general public before either of you were ready for the world to know, all he wanted to do was protect you from the world that has shamed you for being a woman in love that knows her worth and deserves much better than the love that she has received from ex-boyfriends in the past.
Finally after many minutes of the two of you just sitting in silence, trying to comfort one another and realize that the privacy that your relationship had was all gone… You decided to slowly move away from Joseph’s chest, unwrapping your arms from his waist while Joseph unwraps his arms from your body and sitting up to face each other.
The light phone that was tossed onto the bed is still the only light that is illuminating the room and the morning sunrise is barely peeking it’s way through the dark curtains of your shared bedroom.
A text message notification sound cause you and Joseph to look at your phone before you decide to grab it and read the message, it shouldn’t be surprising to see another text message from your manager.
You feel Joseph move closer to you once again as you both read the messages on the screen from your manager that you didn’t read after seeing the text message that was the link to the TMZ article.
The text messages from your manager reads that they’re trying to figure out who these insider sources are claiming to know so much information about your relationship with Joe Burrow and trying to figure out who sent these photos to TMZ. The newest text message states that the reaction from wrestling fans and NFL fans about your relationship is mostly positive, but more articles about your relationship are being spread around by more media sources.
“I’m sorry.” Joseph apologized. A confused look appeared on your face when you turn to look over your shoulder before Joseph continued his thought. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way that I should’ve.”
“Joseph… what are you saying right now?!” You asked, still confused on Joseph’s apology. “None of this is your fault?!”
Joseph sighed. “It was my idea to go to Pat McAfee’s party a few weeks ago-“
“There are photos from other events too. We weren’t caught at the party: These stalkers have known about our relationship for months and TMZ is only just know releasing the articles with all the photos. There are no places that we could’ve hid from them. They found us and took pictures of us at the park, the stores, out walking the streets, at festivals and many more places that we’ve went on dates too… How could we have known that we have been stalked for these past few months?!” you exclaimed as your hands grab your hair to pull and you curl into a ball. Joseph took your hands from your hair and interlocking your fingers together, he knows that when you get easily stressed out that you like to pull at your hair in an attempt to distract yourself from the stress with pain.
“I just- I just don’t understand…” you stuttered, looking at Joseph who notices the fear and worry on your face and the tears in your eyes. “Things were going so good for us; for many months we were able to live our lives together and apart without the judgment from people who think they know us, we didn’t have to care about the things that people who don’t know us thought. we didn’t have to worry about all the things that caused my past relationships to fail.”
As the anxiety bubble is your chest is causing you to struggle to breathe as the tears stream down your face, you turn away from Joseph while letting go of his hands to wipe your tears away. All Joseph could do at the moment is allow you to continue to talk through your feelings of fears.
“We already struggle so much to be together with our schedules, and it’s only going to get worse when the next NFL football season starts.” you exclaimed, looking back at Joseph who had an apologetic look on his face. You take a moment to think about what you said, the last thing that needs to happen right now is for you and Joseph to get into an argument. “I’m sorry… I’m not blaming you I swear-“
Before you could finish your apology… Joseph wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap to be as close as he can be to you as you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him close to him into a hug.
As he rubs his hand against your back and hums a melody of an familiar song, your panic breathing from the anxiety bubble in your chest starts to deflate to match his breathe pattern and as you hold each other closer… It’s in this moment you realize that Joseph isn’t going to leave you, this rough patch that you’re going through in your relationship with him isn’t going to cause him to want to give up and leave.
You’re not the only one who is going through the hard time of dealing with your privacy being exposed to the world by people who only want to make a profit off your names and relationship, while you’re making this situation all about you due to the anxiety you felt after seeing the article with the photos, you failed to realize until this moment that this will affect Joseph too as he has been private about his life outside of football.
After a few minutes of Joseph’s hums of familiar song, the sunrise light is starting to shine through the curtains and the early morning sounds of birds start to chirp outside your window… You pull away from Joseph and he gives you a soft smile before leaving to give you a kiss on the lips.
The kiss doesn’t last long as Joseph’s alarm goes off for football practice goes off, he quickly reaches over to his nightstand to turn off his alarm before his arms hold your waist as you’re still sitting on his lap with your arms around his neck.
“I promise to you, that I will not allow anything to let our relationship falter under pressure; no one in the world is going to stop me from loving you the way that i’ve been loving you for all these past months and how i plan on loving you even more every second of the day until death due us part. This is a promise that i plan on keeping forever, do you plan on keeping the same promise to me?!” Joseph asked.
Being very overwhelmed with so many emotions in the past hour, unable to speak or else you know you’ll be crying in Joseph’s arms (but this time, for a good reason). All you could do is nod your head and pull him close to you once again as you kiss him with so much passion.
You don’t know how the future your relationship with Joseph is going to be now that the foxes was finally caught by the hunters… but one thing you do; is that as long as Joseph decides to stick by your side, the two of you can be able to outrun the predators together and will be able to keep what makes your relationship so special to yourselves without outsiders’ opinions.
Author’s Note:
i hope you enjoyed reading my first fanfiction that has been published on this account. please like, comment, and reblog the fanfiction if you enjoyed the story… it really does help out small writers gain an audience of readers.
thank you for all the love and support! 🤍
#Joe Burrow#NFL#CBF#Cincinnati Bengals#LSU Tigers#Joe Burrow Fanfiction#Joe Burrow Fanfic#Joe Burrow Fic#Joe Burrow Imagine#Joe Burrow x reader#Joe Burrow OneShot#Joe Burrow x OC#Joe Burrow x Y/N#NFL fanfiction#Spotify
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wip update, bc of the moving, the shaking, the posting, etc.
things that are done and ready to be edited and/or posted:
Chapter 4 of the declan + ronan fic (prob early next week bc I have dentist appt + surprise parties + father's day this weekend)
Fitzcrozier genie reincarnation fic! Debating if I'm splitting that one in two or three, but will be coming up very soon
At the rate I wrote amnesia, though it's only just been plotted, I anticipate posting the prequel/sequel to that Roy/Jamie before I leave for my vacay at end of month (it's a twist on 'the team finds out')
And the rest:
The outlander time traveller's wife old guard au which is daunting and scary and every time I open it, I ask myself if I'm ever going to finish it. I might need figure out what I would enjoy most, because it's probably a 50k+ piece and even though it's already at 15k, it just feels so overwhelming
Joe/Nicky crackfic about them being unsuspecting henchmen for Merrick (AU), where they are desperate for work and think this is just a security gig. They make a lot of problems for Merrick and soon they are getting poached
RNM Michael-is-a-jeweler!AU, where there are still aliens, and he meets the man of his dreams (who is getting married). Yes, the inspiration for this is Hallmark
Cowrite with Christi! We officially abandoned the second one bc honestly, see point about the 50k old guard fic -- too daunting, but gdi, determined to get this one out
My Blue/Gansey Pushing Daisies AU (with side Pynch) which is a bit closer to finished than I thought! It just needs some plotty wrap-up scenes and more flirting, but that's the fun part to write
The Hangster Much Ado About Nothing inspired future fic, which is also probably closer to done than I think, but I just work on this one so infrequently. I also need to figure out if I'm really going to keep their call signs in the prose or use their names and I honestly have not decided
I have four different Zukka fics, help, including: Bad at flirting (should be done soon), marriage pact with a twist, timeloop with a twist, and cracky Galavant inspired fare
Annnnd then there's a Xenk/Edgin bc I'm weak
And I say all that, knowing that if another Roy/Jamie idea bit me, this list would just grow exponentially, but that's me
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perennial destiny — fushiguro megumi x gn!reader
synopsis: megumi does not like the concept of soulmates. he wants to be able to choose who he loves—and he chooses you.
word count: 1.2k
genre: fluff, soulmate!au but not really, established relationship, soft!megumi (this is so cheesy fr)
soundtrack: on a clear day by joe hisaishi
a/n: i’m ngl i actually like this lol so i hope you guys do too! tysm @rintaroll for being my beta and for the song rec mwah ily (ew) <3
A light smattering of clouds paint the blue sky in splashes of white, providing you with a little bit of shade from the otherwise bright afternoon sun.
You gaze at the little ducks waddling around on the pond, following their mother’s path. Unconsciously, you feel your lips curl up into a smile.
“What are you looking at?” Megumi murmurs, face turned towards you as he uses his hand to block out the sun from his eyes.
Humming, you give him a cheeky smile. “Nothing.”
He scrunches his face slightly, biting back a smile. He's used to your antics at this point.
Using his forearm to cover his eyes, Megumi sighs contently, shifting the position of his head on your lap to make himself more comfortable. The added weight on your thighs feel comforting, almost. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The two of you stay in silence for a while as you bask in each other’s presence, enjoying the moment. The dark-haired boy plucks a stray dandelion beside him, inspecting it closely.
“Do you,” he starts, hesitating. You hum, urging him to continue. “Do you believe in soulmates?”
You stay quiet for a while, pondering his question. “I think I do, actually,” you admit. “It’s kinda sweet—the idea of it all. I’d like to think that there’s someone out there who’s meant for me, y’know?”
Megumi closes his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering as he considers your answer. He's really pretty, you think to yourself.
“Don’t you think it’s a little bit dumb?” He asks finally.
The bluntness of his words takes you by surprise. You laugh, gazing down at him with a fond look in your eyes. There’s a small frown on his lips; the crease between his brows a little more pronounced than usual.
Carding your fingers through his hair, you watch as he relaxes under your touch, the tension leaving his shoulders bit by bit.
You settle on a simple question. “What makes you say that?”
Megumi sighs, “The whole ‘fate and destiny’ thing. I think not being able to live your life the way you want to is a little depressing.” He purses his lips. “What if you don’t like your soulmate?”
You turn to look at the ducks again, but they were nowhere to be found. Now, the pond was silent, and there were no ripples in sight.
The pleasant smell of earth seeps into your lungs as you breathe in. Never in a million years would you have expected to have this kind of conversation with him.
You didn’t exactly peg him as someone who would be interested in the concept of soulmates at all. A soft smile graces your lips.
“Well, I suppose there should be a system to prevent that,” you squint, “maybe they would make it so that it’s impossible for you to hate your soulmate.”
Megumi clicks his tongue. “That just makes us robots then.”
This makes you grin. “Robots?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, now shy. “If that's the case, you really have no choice in your thoughts and feelings, it simply strips your humanity away from you.”
You stop running your fingers through his hair for a moment and Megumi shifts, nudging your hand with his head to get you to continue. Cute.
Amused, you ask him, “Well, what if soulmates are real, and I’m not your soulmate, what would you do?”
He plucks another dandelion from the ground and inspects it before holding it close to his chest.
“It won’t change anything.” He says, not an ounce of hesitation in his words.
“Wouldn’t you wanna find your real soulmate?” You inquire, the flames of curiosity dancing in your eyes.
Without wasting a second, he sits up, turning around to face you. He studies your face for a second, eyes traveling down the curve of your nose and down to the slight upturn of your lips before returning to hold your gaze.
Megumi speaks, eyebrows furrowed. “No. the fates or the heavens or whatever the hell is controlling our destiny won’t have any effects on my choices. I’m not about to be another pawn in the gods’ game of love. It’s the least I can do.”
And you laugh, light and bubbly; ignoring the fact that your chest feels abundantly lighter after his statement.
“You’re really serious about this, huh?”
His cheeks flare up, the headstrong confidence from a minute ago now gone, replaced by the charming bashfulness only a few have had the privilege to see.
“Well,” he mumbles, “I’m not gonna leave you just ‘cause some prophecy tells me to. I like you. A lot.” Maybe a little too much, but he doesn’t tell you this.
The breeze tickles your face. “Yeah?”
Megumi refuses to meet your eyes, but he continues. “I want to spend the rest of my life with someone I chose myself. Soulmate or not.”
It is not his words that make your heart flutter—it’s the quiet blossoms in his cheeks, the sureness in his voice. If fate was a human, you’re sure that he’d fight her with no hesitation. Heck, even if she was a god, knowing Megumi, he would fight her too, even if it’ll cost him his life.
You watch him twirl the stem of dandelion between his fingertips. He doesn’t blow on it, nor does he make a wish like anyone else would in the presence of the perennial, he simply observes the flutters of white falling from its head.
“So you would defy destiny if you had to?” You ask, knowing exactly what his answer would be even before he utters another word.
“Yes.” his dark eyes are steady, not a drop of uncertainty swimming in its depths.
The soft breeze suddenly feels a little too warm for comfort. “That’s awfully romantic, don’t you think?”
And he blinks at you, but he does not yield. “Well, I just think soulmates are awfully unromantic.” He says, the corner of his lips twitching slightly.
A genuine laugh bubbles out from your chest. “You’re a curious one, Fushiguro Megumi.”
The smile on his lips is a fond one. “What about you?” He props his chin on the palm of his hand. “What would you do if soulmates are real?”
“Ah,” you pretend to think, “you’d be my soulmate then.”
He rolls his eyes at you, but the tips of his ears are dipped in vermillion. “But what if I’m not your soulmate?”
You spare him nothing but a glance, rising to your feet before brushing the dirt off your pants. As you squint at the setting sun, a contented sigh escapes your lips. On days like these, you could fully take in the beauty of the afternoon sky as you observe the shades of reds and golds dancing in the heavens.
“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you to find my one true love.” You hum, biting back a laugh.
The dark-haired boy scoffs and stands up, walking towards you with his hands in his pockets. Half a smile graces his lips as he reaches for your waist, pulling you close. With the sort of tenderness he reserves just for you, Megumi rests his forehead against yours. He feels warm.
Megumi smells faintly of the earth—a product of the hours he spent sitting under the sun with you—along with a hint of the cool menthol shampoo he uses to wash his hair. And together, they create a blanket of comfort and familiarity, one that you’ve grown to call home. You breathe in.
“I won’t let you leave.” He mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. His palms feel comfortably warm on your waist; gentle and light, yet sure and heavy at the same time.
There’s a playful sparkle in your eyes as your lips curl up into a smile. “I know you won’t.”
per·en·ni·al /pəˈrenēəl/
(n.) a perennial plant
(adj.) lasting or existing for a long or apparently infinite time; enduring or continually recurring.
a/n: as always, reblogs are highly appreciated! please let me know what you think of this fic, i always love hearing from you all! also: yes, there’s another flower symbolism in this piece lol <3
-> writing masterlist | taglist is in the comments
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen imagines#megumi x you#fushiguro megumi#jjk imagines#❀ —𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄
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of honey and cinnamon | jjk
⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader
⇢ genre: fluff, one shot, slice of life au, enemies to lovers, musician!jungkook
⇢ word count: 14k
⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of terminal illness, mentions of death, themes of grief, slight plot twist, a surprising consumption of sugar, enough cheesiness to last you a lifetime
⇢ summary: what makes a three-day train ride back to your hometown anything but dull and dreadfully long? the answer, and your salvation from a boring trip home, was being stuck in the same cart as jeon jungkook for the entire ride there. unknown to you, he would turn this mundane trip into an unexpected adventure.
♪ playlist: dream a little dream of me - ella fitzgerald, departure - joe hisaishi, a journey (a dream of flight) - joe hisaishi, longing for mother's return - satoshi takebe, the sixth station - joe hisaishi, a town with an ocean view - joe hisaishi, you're in love - joe hisaishi, one summer's day - joe hisaishi ♪
a/n: this was honestly one of my favorite fics to write! ever! it was heavily inspired by studio ghibli movies hence the playlist because i recently binged a bunch of ghibli films (and i do not regret it) so, i tried to replicate the vibes from the movies i watched as best as i could!! :)) i hope you lovely readers enjoy!
They tell you love takes time. If you are patient and attentive enough, it courses through your body easier than your own blood and sinks itself in each vessel and bone and cell. Love will melt into your heart until that is all it knows. And in tales where lovers make grand gestures, like slaying the dragon and giving the moon and the stars and the sky along with the world underneath it and bestowing true love's kiss, it takes an entire story to get to the part where they are in love.
Love takes time, and in that time, there is a series of sometimes likely, and sometimes unlikely, events woven delicately within each minute that leads to the moment you know, you are in love. Traditionally, love makes itself known. It is loud and beautiful and anything but hidden within the ordinary moments used to fill in the gaps between the bigger moments.
This story, your story, existed during the moments in between.
This train station had always emulated such an archaic ambiance. So much so that you believed you'd traveled back in time to when it was first built. Everything felt surreal, when you stepped on the train making a beeline to Cart 102, the floors felt like water; the surface tension clinging just strong enough to keep you afloat not without the occasional toss and turn. You swore it was just the rusted tracks that jostled you, but a part of you knew it was the water.
"Single rider?" The attendant stood at your cart's checkpoint, hand extended and waiting for your ticket.
"Yes, here." You handed him the paper, along with your baggage but kept the book for future entertainment and the pillow because you could tell the seats were no softer than wood.
"The train is fully occupied, so someone will be sharing your cart."
Perfect. If the world wants to do you a favor, just this once, then you hope that it sends you a quiet passenger. One that exchanges the customary 'hello' and 'goodbye' which is the extent of your interaction with them because you were tired in a way that sunk you into your zone of unsociability and on your way back home for the worst possible reason.
And the world did, in fact, do you a favor. It delivered Jungkook to Cart 102. But it just was not the favor you expected.
At first, you believed him to tick all your requirements for the ideal travel companion. Perfectly manicured company with a clear sense of boundaries. For one, he entered with a wall of silence that not only kept a greeting gated in but even the slightest acknowledgment that you were seated right across from him. It was so natural for him to ignore you that you had to glance down at your hand to check if you really were invisible.
He took his seat, stared out of the frost dusted window that reflected the sliding door that separated you and this man from the rest of the train and the world, and sighed. For a moment, he just stared and you thought it would get easier from here. But then he turned to you, and smiled.
"Hi, I'm Jungkook." It was a full smile, one that showed nearly every tooth, which reminded you of a rabbit. That paid enough respect for the previous shouldered entrance, and at first it was cute. Then, it made you feel guilty.
It was a smile you couldn't afford to return at the moment, so instead, you offered back a slightly upturned lip and a cordial nod.
"___." His hands looked strong like they had handled an array of heavy things and had the calluses to prove it. The way he sat made you feel a spark of something.
It was only a few seconds later when you realized that something was an unbridled annoyance. His legs were spread out, having you picturing the times he'd monopolize the space on a crowded bus. Jungkook was probably the type of man who was born with an entitlement that carried through to every part of his life, including the way he sat down on trains and pissed the living hell off of you.
"Like what you see?" Now you were pissed off for two reasons. The way he sat and the fact that you just got caught staring at him; his lap to be specific.
Soon, the two reasons doubled when your eyes returned to the smile on his face that didn't seem to have gone away. He was proud to catch you in the act, and most likely assumed your staring was due to an attraction so gripping that you couldn't help yourself but to stare at his crotch of all things.
"No, I was just..." Your words caught in your throat, because you weren't about to explain why his spread position on the seat had drawn an irritation from you thicker than the blood pulsing loudly through your body. You didn't want him to know you cared enough to be irritated in the first place, even if that meant letting him believe your staring was a form of unspoken flattery. "No."
"Okay, whatever you say, ___." It was the sarcasm this time, and the way he said your name that pissed you off. There was a seed inside you, ready to bury in your gut and grow just enough for you to rip his tongue from his mouth so he'd never have to say your name again.
"You'd think you didn't want to make the person you're about to spend three days on a train with angry, but maybe you're just that dumb." Insulting him gave you instant relief from the headache you knew was about to assume your forehead.
"Damn. Guess you're not the type to take a joke." Jungkook revealed his teeth one by one again, but you didn't describe it as a smile. A smile is something you thought to be beautiful, a physical expression of joy. No, what his face possessed was something sadistic. You were sure of it.
The way he carried himself and voiced his thoughts were more concentrated than arrogance. There was not a word in any language that could properly describe Jungkook. Nor was there a feeling that could render yours into something palpable. And the world had sealed you inside this cell marked Cart 102 with the person who was grainy and slick like quicksand, and just as deadly because you were sinking into him and every feeling he had provoked within the ten minutes you'd known him.
Jungkook was the first person you hated. Beyond every rude customer, every demanding boss, every high school bully, every cut tie, there was Jungkook who wore that heavy medallion of hatred around his neck like he was proud of it.
In all honesty, you thought he should wear it. He earned it. Everyone should know that you hated Jungkook and that it only took him a record-breaking ten minutes to attain the once unattained title.
You began to read your book, however 'read' didn't accurately describe what you were doing, which was staring blankly through the same words while collecting more reasons why you hated this man. It became an obsession of yours in a few short moments, because now you didn't just hate the way he sat and spoke and smiled. You hated how his breathing was somehow louder than the wheels grinding against the metal tracks or how whenever another train would pass by, he'd bring his face so close to the window you could see the warmth of his breath cling onto the glass and form a small, foggy patch.
You especially hated that you could quite literally feel his eyes on you, blistering your skin like the way a magnifying glass would redirect the sun's rays onto a target, which just so happened to be your face. Jungkook was unrelenting; as if he were trying to sear your skin with a permanent brand of his eyes.
Between the rhythmic flipping of the pages that you weren't reading, you were compelled to reprimand him for the staring. Maybe throwing his own words back into his face about 'liking what you see' would do your own vengeance justice. But that might indicate you were thinking of what he said to you this whole time.
"The weather looks so cold. It's practically raining." You moved only your eyes up from your book to study him.
He was looking out the window again, eyes chasing each speck of mist preluding the raindrops that were surely going to fall. It always rained at night.
"Looks like another thunderstorm." You packaged up the gasp that was about to burst from your chest.
For reasons you'd rather not share with a complete stranger you were hellbent on hating, you were terrified of thunder. Not lightning, but the loud crash that followed it. It was the last thing you wanted to experience while bottled up in a train with Jungkook.
"Excuse me." Your abrupt stance interrupted Jungkook's rain watching.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"None of your business." The slam of the sliding door echoed the anger you didn't express before as it snapped shut, fractionating the air you once shared with Jungkook.
You took a deep breath, the air outside felt cooler. The attendant was loyal to his assigned post, which was convenient for you.
"Sir, is there any way I can switch carts?"
"No, full train. And your ticket says Cart 102, so that's where you were meant to be." His eyes were sheltered by his hat, so there was no chance of pleading with your eyes if you couldn't even see his.
"Fine." It was a long shot, one that you didn't have the aim or trajectory for. You suppose he was right. Cart 102 was where you belonged for now. You just couldn't accept that Jungkook also belonged there with you.
Inside, the warm yellow light was beckoning you back in. Through the door, the brightness glimmered out until it was consumed by the dark hall where you stood. Jungkook was looking out of the window again with a rising and falling chest; you could hear his breathing even from behind the door or at least, you could imagine how it would sound.
"If we're going to share a cart, we could at least be friends." Jungkook's suggestion made him too human, too real for you to hate. You wanted to cling on to the idea that he was a horrible person, harboring more vices than the devil himself. But his voice was friendly sometimes, and his smile looked loving, occasionally, when he presented it to you.
"I don't see why we can't just be silent for the rest of the ride."
"Why are you going back home?" For a second, you were shocked enough to forget you were supposed to hate him. His gaze was calm and carried none of the worries yours had. You wondered, just for a second, about all the others who were on the receiving end of his gaze, and if they felt the way you felt when he looked at you. That look that distinguished him from anyone you had ever met.
You didn't want him to be right, because you didn't want the 'why' to be real. The tragedy, the only thing demanding enough to peel you away from your life away from home, should not have been the 'why' that put you on this train. But it was, and it made you angrier than he did.
"How do you know I'm going home?" You injected each word with a sharpness that you hoped would sting Jungkook.
"Well, are you going home?"
"Yes... are you?"
"No, just visiting." His eyes returned to the window, like a refrain in a poem. Always returning to look somewhere out into the beyond.
"Well, you should count yourself lucky." And you returned back to your refrain, pretending to read just so you wouldn't get caught staring at him and listing more reasons you hated Jungkook because that was easier than thinking of what was really bothering you.
"Lucky. Huh." You wanted to know what was so captivating on the other side of the window. What could have possibly supplied his eyes with something that was more interesting than the inside of this train? "Why are you going back home?"
"You already asked that."
"And you didn't answer me." Perhaps it was the stars, and he was tracking them in his mental inventory, examining until they were replicated along his memory the same way they were plotted across the sky. "Why are you going back home?"
"My mom. She's dying." Stars seemed to be a beautiful thing to keep your eyes occupied in a way your mind couldn't be, but you couldn't see past the thick fog and lack of light. "She's sick."
"I'm sorry to hear." His sincerity worked against all the animosity you'd cultivated for him.
How could he see the stars? You were going to ask, but you didn't want him to know what lied beyond the small beacon of light surrounding the train was lost to you, or rather you lost them. You wanted to hate him, so you didn't ask.
"I knew something bad must have happened to get someone like you to come home." That comment certainly suffocated any benefit of the doubt you were going to bestow upon him. Jungkook was arrogant and entitled, and in your most recent discovery, presumptuous and judgmental. Everything wrong with this world. No amount of dashing smiles and considerate questions could change that. You had to remember, you hated this man
"How dare you! How- How dare you assume something so rude!" The cloth of your pillowcase had almost worn through from how tight your fists were gripping them. You felt the fire burning through your nerves, soon about to combust and set Cart 102 ablaze. "I hate you."
It was two in the morning, or at least those were the numbers shining from your watch. The window offered the same pitch blackness that frustrated you, so you decided to give your legs some employment from sitting.
The hall of the train was nearly as dark as the outside; the overhead lights once drizzling down a soft glow were turned off. You wandered down the stretch of the medium but the further you walked, the thinner the walkway felt. Soon, the walls on either side of you were pressed against your shoulders so snugly, you had to turn your body to squeeze through.
"Having trouble?" You knew that voice; you hated that familiar inflections and conceit planted in each word he spoke.
"Can't you see I'm trying to walk?" Squinting proved to be obsolete while trying to see whatever destination was in the distance. "Why is everything so dark?"
"Because, you're not trying." If you could turn around, if these walls weren't beginning to smother your body to immobilization, then you would have run over to him and slapped the smile right off of his face. Because you were trying, you were trying to see this whole time but the dark had infested everywhere.
Unfortunately for you, the walls were connecting closer and closer, as if trying to move through you so they could reach each other and close altogether. But where would that leave you? When the gap was stitched shut, where would you be?
The walls were softer than you thought, but still forceful enough to steal all the air from your lungs leaving you a panicked mess lodged between these unkind walls. And the pressure wasn't enough to kill you, but it was just enough to leave you stuck and miserable.
"Jungkook, help me, I can't..."
Day One
Your dream was vivid enough to mislead you into thinking it was real. It wasn't until your eyes fluttered open, and consciousness spilled into your mind like a gentle breeze that you realized the nightmare was over. The window allowed a soft light into Cart 102, making you more thankful for the day than you had ever been in your entire life. You lifted your head from your pillow placed on the seat that you didn't recall placing there, and now that you think of it, you didn't remember falling asleep either.
You especially didn't remember covering yourself with this wool coat that smelled like the air after a bonfire had just finished browning marshmallows and dissolving wood.
"Someone's finally awake." Then it all came back to you. You wondered why everything felt so tranquil. It was a shame you couldn't enjoy the peace before the omen of annoyance, your special nickname for Jungkook, had returned.
"What time is it?" Your eyes were blinking away the sleep, and when that failed, your hands began to rub them until they were able to prop open fully.
"Eight-thirty. Here." He set down a Styrofoam cup of something hot enough for steam to escape through the open space of the lid. It smelled sweeter than coffee.
"What is it?" Your question came after you had already picked it up to furnish your hands with warmth and your nose with the delectable aroma leaking from this cup.
Jungkook’s smile was hidden behind his cup, already half empty, withholding an answer from you because he wanted to see if you would try it before you knew what it was.
"Don't worry, it's not poison." You figured it could be counted as retribution in the form of a nice pick-me-up for all the irritation he'd caused you, not to mention the fact that even in your dreams, he couldn't seem to leave you alone. No, Jungkook's presence was something that would slip through the realm of your sleep, the only place you thought you could escape him.
You sipped slowly, and the drink inside the cup made a quick and favorable acquaintance with your tongue. The contents were something you'd be able to identify separately, but when combined, they were delicious and elusive all at once.
"Wow, this is great!" The smile escaped faster than a spilled cup of water, and before you could clean the messy evidence of your gratitude, Jungkook returned the same smile, but his wasn't a spill; his smiles were never an accident, and you could almost resent him for it.
Almost.
"You like it, huh? Didn't take you to be a fan of sweet things." Both pairs of eyes were taken by the scenery just on the other side of the window decorated with streaks of the fallen dew drops.
His pride was untamed, and you assumed it was because Jungkook never took any action to dilute his own conceit. You liked to imagine how often Jungkook could arm himself with that smile, that laugh, which you were not too blind in your own despise to admit were both conventionally attractive assets of his, and everyone in a ten foot radius would fall into his hands. The world seemed to rest in his hands, and all he had to do was smile.
Not you, though. You were certain you had polished yourself with enough perspective so you wouldn’t be foolish enough to let something as shallow as a charming smile fracture your walls. Though, it was increasingly frustrating, verging on the point of catastrophe, how difficult it was to convince yourself of this and to ignore the image of his smile, sneaking its way to the forefront of your thoughts after brushing it off seconds before.
It was overcast, and the grey from the sky had permeated along the air below, yet it didn't puncture the vibrancy of the ever-extending grassy plains. They seemed to continue on forever, as if you walked out to the horizon it would take an eternity to find the end of the green landscape. The wind acted as music to which each blade of grass had been dancing an instinctive choreography.
And every so often, a patch of flowers would appear, perform its part, then disappear just as quickly.
For a moment, you wondered what Jungkook thought of the small bits of the world this window was displaying. Did he think it was just as beautiful as you did?
"It's honey, cinnamon, and milk. My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid." Though the view was timeless, you finally broke your gaze to look at Jungkook.
It was hard to imagine this man, the harbinger of almost every ounce of anger you have ever felt in your life, as a child who would drink milk with honey and cinnamon made by his mother. But then again Jungkook's face began to change, or at least the way you saw it morphed into something entirely different.
His bright eyes didn't look like they could be from this world. Not when they seemed to hold everything in his line of vision within them so warmly that it could spread magic over everything around him; like a fairy tale, but this magic rested in the two sockets of his eyes. Something so enigmatic made you want to snap at him just so he would look at you instead, and hold you in his eyes. As though to be held by his eyes would fix all your problems.
"Hm." You looked down at the cup, trying to savor each sip however ultimately failing since the honey melted in with the milk and perfectly heightened each flavor.
Without thinking, you wrapped the coffee-colored coat tighter around your body. It was blissful, sipping a cup of delight inside Cart 102, protected from the prickly wind of the winter while still being vended a view of its beauty. This train ride was almost perfect, if not for the (slightly less) bothersome burden that sat across from you.
"Looks good on you." He didn't have to specify he was referring to his jacket that was giving you comfort.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't-"
"Nah, keep it. You looked cold when you were asleep. You were shivering so much it basically sounded like you were begging for my jacket." Jungkook laughed softly.
Maybe two hours ago you would have been brimming with enough rage to rip his jacket off of you and throw it in his face because it sure sounded like he was pitying you or guilting you into a 'thank you' that you were too petty to relinquish. But now, in the morning that tamed you, stomach digesting a tasty drink given by none other than Jungkook, you let it slide.
Just this once, you thought.
"Well, that was very kind of you. And thank you for the drink, but I don't need some stranger doing me any favors."
"Wow, you sure are stubborn!" He laughed again, even though you had been nothing but uninviting of his advances, he just laughed.
"Am not." You muttered.
"Whatever you say." Just this once, you let him have the last word. Just this once.
One emptied cup of Jungkook's special later and you were energized enough to read, and hopefully retain the story rather than flipping mindlessly through the pages while you fueled your attention with rage.
Jungkook was busying himself, putting thought to paper. The quick ticks of his pencil against the wooden table was enough to earn him a passive-aggressive sigh from you, and you hoped he was perceptive enough to get the hint.
The ticks continued, even spaced out to a consistent pace as if he was beating a drum just to anger you. Your annoyance was once again brimming over, ready to spill into another display of it that consisted of a furrowed brow, a scowl, and a slew of incoherent retorts that had been brewing in your mind.
"Can't you write any quieter?" It hadn't measured up to all the clever insults you had loaded into your verbal weaponry, but it did the job to convey your frustration which obviously hadn't been communicated through your previous sigh.
"I'm not writing, actually! I'm trying to figure out the time signature for this piece. Three-six just isn't right." The pencil once tapping out a rhythm was now tucked between his teeth, and you could tell this was a habit of his from the various other tooth-shaped indents along the end of the pencil.
"Whatever, just... do it quietly."
"Quietly? This process is anything but quiet."
"Then try your very hardest."
"I'll try. Emphasis on try."
Though your eyes had reunited with your book, your curiosity pledged allegiance to what Jungkook was writing on his paper. It took an effortful battle between your urges and your restraint to finally ask him.
"What's a time signature?"
"Kind of like a rhythmic guide. For music. I'm a composer, and I'm hoping I can get this fellowship to work with professionals all around the world!" Jungkook's response came almost immediately after your question and his answer consisted of more information than you asked for, which meant this was something he was passionate about. Either that or he just loved talking about himself. It could have easily been both.
However, from the way his eyes held the world, they seemed to hold the music etched onto his paper the tightest. Like, if he were to let go then he would lose any and all purpose to hold on to anything else.
"You make music? Like songs on the radio and stuff?"
"No, not really. Songs for movies. I want to be a film composer."
"Oh. Is that why you're traveling? To study with a professional?" You surprised yourself more than him with that question.
"No... I, um. I wish that was the reason." Before asking him what his reason was, you stopped yourself from letting yet another question slip from your mouth.
Because you were supposed to hate him. Jungkook made everything difficult, even the notion of hating him was made to be a challenge. Asking him questions, learning about him, making the person in front of you turn into something with more dimensions than two was pointless when in a couple days, you'd leave this train and never see him again. Better to go back to hating him.
It wasn't as satisfying as before. Now that you've acquired some knowledge of who he was beyond an obnoxious seat hog and arrogance asshole, the reasons to hate him were beginning to be outweighed by all the other reasons to not hate him.
So far, you learned he was a musician. A passionate up and comer who gives strangers his jacket when they look cold, and shares a drink of milk and honey and cinnamon because it reminds him of his childhood. Someone who has made biting his pencil into a habit when he was working through a thought, who would often stare out windows and saw all the stars you couldn’t; someone who was quick to try to make friends with even the most emotionally withdrawn people.
Shortly after taking more time than planned on recounting all the things you learned about Jungkook, you felt indebted to him since he only knew two things about you.
You were stubborn and you had a sick mom. Or at least, you believed these were the only parts of yourself he picked up on. The rest were things he’d observed with an attentive eye of which you had not noticed had been studying your mannerisms in the same way you studied his.
When you left the cart abruptly after he mentioned the thunderstorm that was somehow delayed for tonight, he was correct to assume it was because you were afraid of the storm. Now, whether it was the thunder or lightning that rattled you so viciously you had to walk off your fear was yet to be discovered. Jungkook was confident he’d figure it out.
Or, how he watched you when you were sleeping in a way he wouldn’t describe as creepy since it was endearing to see you sleep. In fact, he was doing his best to ignore you, but your muffled groans had revealed to him you were the type to have the occasional nightmare. Again, the dream itself was something he was more than interested in discovering.
And your adorably executed performance of passive aggression didn’t evade him in the way you presumed it did. He heard the sigh and understood exactly what you were attempting to accomplish with that, but decided to act like your effort to shut him up wasn’t completely transparent. Mostly because he wanted you to ask him what he was doing.
Jungkook wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but he enjoyed the way you spoke, even if it was drenched in a thick layer of annoyance. For now, he decidedly stuck with finding innocuous ways to fall back into a conversation with you, to slowly but surely learn all that he could in this three-day train ride.
At half-past three, lunch had been served, consumed, and digested. Jungkook’s plate, however, was just short of being completely gone. Everything had been notably ravaged by him except for the pile of walnuts he picked out of his salad at the beginning of the meal.
“Not a fan of walnuts?” You convinced yourself this question came from a place that was starting to feel queasy from the silence that was more intoxicating than the small glass of complimentary wine you downed a little too quickly.
“Allergic. Nothing too serious, though. My throat gets itchy and sometimes I get a rash on my skin.” You made a mental note that Jungkook was allergic to walnuts, which you stored in the part of your brain that harbored knowledge that was completely useless to you yet you still reserved space for it to be memorized.
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, but it did come in handy when I was in class and didn’t want to be. I’d tell the teacher the cafeteria food had walnuts in it and I needed to go home and get my EpiPen before I died.” The list of things you knew about Jungkook continued to lengthen, and you couldn’t specify when it happened, but you began to enjoy every detail that made the list grow.
You wouldn’t have guessed it would take a single day for you to wish it would never stop growing. But then again, you didn’t realize this at the time.
“And that worked? Sounds like you had your luck laid out for you from the beginning.” Jungkook smiled at this, the same bunny-toothed smile from yesterday, but it felt much different to you now, as if you were one smile away from forgetting your once insistent hatred of Jungkook.
“Yeah, I guess so. What about you? What are your allergies?”
“Other than overly friendly weirdos on trains? Nothing.” It was the strangest reaction to feel proud, of all things, when you were rewarded by his laugh. It was softer than the wind rushing against the side of the train, however his laugh outperformed every other sound in the surrounding area until it was all your ears could focus on.
“Then it seems you’re the lucky one. No allergies. Free to eat whatever you want.” His eyes parceled between the sheet music in his hands and you. Though, it was difficult to pull them back down to his work since this was the first time he had your undivided attention that was not born from annoyance or repulsion to whatever he was doing.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m free to eat whatever. I have standards.”
“Really?” It was his not-so-discreet way of trying to capture all the pieces of you that he could, but from your slow intake of air, it seems as though you weren’t entirely finished with talking to him either.
“Cilantro. It’s absolutely disgusting. And mushrooms. I can’t stand mushrooms.”
“I love mushrooms.” Of course, you do, you thought. He didn’t have to say it, but he most likely loved cilantro as well. And you were most definitely right.
“I suppose you love everything I hate?” Eye contact with Jungkook was more than you could handle ever since his mannerisms stopped annoying you and started intimidating you, so you found refuge in the scenery beyond the window. It never failed you during the day, but at night you would have to scavenge for something to stare at when Jungkook’s eyes were close to stealing your breath away.
“I suppose you hate everything I love.”
It took a careful eye to catch the subtle hints of emotion that even you were too distracted to notice. Jungkook’s eye was trained pretty well in observation of the hidden traces of even the most thoroughly subdued emotions. His eyes were so well versed in gathering the scarce evidence of emotions that it prompted him to ask his next question:
“What are you looking for?”
Now, your eyes were still averted by his, so you held on to the slowly fading daylight while you still could. But, sadly, the window was a distraction of sight, not sound, so you heard his question loud and clear and felt obligated to give him an answer. Even if your answer was pathetic.
“Just looking at the grass. It’s pretty.”
“I didn’t ask what you were looking at, I asked what you were looking for.”
Determining what emotion you let slip through the quiver in your lip was a task Jungkook wasn’t well equipped for just yet. In all fairness, he had only known you for a short while and he still felt disappointed in himself for not being able to know what he made you feel with that question.
“I don’t know.” You couldn’t help the stunned tone of your voice, but that was all that could fuel your words at the moment. “I guess… A distraction. It’s so beautiful out there.”
“Everything looks beautiful when you only have a small amount of time to admire it.” Whatever distraction you were looking for had certainly met your eyes and did its job since you had absolutely no clue he was staring right at you when he said that. That he was savoring the small amount of time he had to admire you.
Jungkook was right, which was a habit of his that he took unrestrained pride in; life was beautiful when you moved through it with such little time to spare. Though slamming your hand in a doorway was something you would sooner do than admitting he was right.
The fabric of time moved in a peculiar fashion when inside a train. You move so fast and yet, not at all, and it is as if there is a tear where the train moves through, and evades the grips of each minute that transports the future into the present and the present into the past. It felt this way the moment you stepped onto the train, so when you checked the time, it didn’t surprise you that it was already an hour before midnight.
The daytime had slowly melted away, carefully, the way ice shrunk inside a glass of water until it combined with its surroundings, and the plains of grass could only exist in your memory right now. The blackness of night consumed everything beyond your window once again, though there was the occasional streetlamp that provided a glimpse of everything you couldn’t see as of now.
What you couldn’t see was nowhere near as frightening as what you were about to hear.
The first flash of lightning felt like a warning. It took a few seconds for the wretched boom of thunder to follow, which was the interval of time you foolishly hoped it would, just this once, fail to accompany that streak of light. That perhaps this train moved quick enough to outrun the storm.
“___? Are you okay?”
You didn’t notice your hands had immediately cupped your ears until Jungkook’s voice was filtered through as a jumble of indiscernible noises.
“Sorry, I just…” Steadying your breath was a toll that required an upfront payment of all your attention, so your previously muted voice and steady tone had gone out of the metaphorical window, along with the rest of your response.
“So it’s the thunder.” Jungkook said softly to himself. It didn’t matter since your hands were being utilized as makeshift earplugs. They seemed to deflect every sound except for the thunder that punctured through your barrier effortlessly.
Before, Jungkook had this preconception of you. From the minute he stepped into Cart 102, he could tell you were the type to carry yourself steadily, the type that supplied their own assurance and isolated their emotions in the same way you isolated yourself. But here you were, hands clamped against your ears, eyes pressed shut and body shaking; this was a surplus of emotions you let seep through your walls. It was expressive enough for any dimwitted onlooker to know exactly what you were feeling: pure fear.
And Jungkook had always been adept to telltale signs of what was buried beneath the obvious emotions. He could tell you wanted to be distracted. You needed help.
It was easier to stifle one sense if you stifled them all at once. If you didn’t want to see, you had to plug your ears and hold your breath. And in this case, to block out the sound, you had to shut your eyes and numb the rest of your body in the slim chance that the thunder wouldn’t penetrate through your poorly constructed firewall.
Suddenly, you felt the space beside you sink lower which meant Jungkook had taken the liberty of invading your space at the worst possible time. It was difficult to focus on blocking out the sound when you could feel the side of his shoulder bump lightly against yours.
“___.” You shifted towards him slowly, waiting for his explanation of why he was on your side of the cart. “Can I touch you?”
You were past your wit's end, spending the last bits of your sanity trying to calm yourself from the second crash of thunder that made your body lift from the seat for a solid two seconds. All you could do was nod, and hope he wasn’t a serial killer that was about to strangle you to death in a moment of vulnerability.
He was working in your favor, just like when he wrapped you up in his coat and set that cup of milk in front of you, he moved in determination to comfort you. And if it weren’t for the dire circumstances, your pride would have refused the security of his arms that were carefully enveloping your body and eliminating the frigid space around you. You hadn’t realized how cold this train was until you were invited into Jungkook’s warmth. He had somehow silenced the storm, and all you had to do was let him.
The third blast of thunder pushed you deeper in his embrace, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly like the lifejacket he was that kept you from slipping below the surface of the angry ocean currents.
“If you couldn’t tell I-” Boom, “I hate thunder.” Your voice came out strained through the fear-induced filter lodged in your throat.
“No, actually, I couldn’t tell at all.” Nine out of ten of your thoughts were concentrated on the thunder, and that one exception was applied towards how annoyingly sarcastic Jungkook managed to be through thick and thin. It was impressive enough that he could subtract the fear even by a small fraction for you to laugh.
“You’re so-” Boom, “You’re insufferable.”
His laugh was noticed through the gentle bounce of his chest that rocked your head more than the actual sound of it. Soon, a hand came to run through your hair and with each stroke, he somehow removed your terror layer by layer until you were afforded with indifference to the storm simply because you were lulled into a half-sleep and were now too exhausted to care about the thunder.
“You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re doing great. Breathe deep.” His chest smelled the same as his coat. A fire burning so brightly, sending the aromas of everything it consumed into the air.
Now your attention belonged to the warmth of his arms, and how he moved his hand through your hair with something deeper than kindness. It was selflessness because he too was scared and tired and in need of rest. Despite this, he used the last of his energy to ward off the threat of a second panic attack.
“Thank you.” You whispered into his chest, and it seemed as though it permeated through his flesh and ribs and absorbed straight into his heart from the way he held you even tighter.
The storm had settled, and the horrors of loud thunder were abandoned for quite some time now, but it felt too comfortable, too perfect for you to be anywhere else but here in his arms. So, what went unsaid was more than enough for him to retract any intention to return to his seat and instead hold you against his chest, where his heart would retain strength from being close to you.
You couldn’t tell if you had already slipped into a dream when you heard him singing softly, or if the melody of Dream a Little Dream of Me was actually being crafted by his voice so beautifully and fell into perfect synchronization with the rhythmic beat of his heart. Either way, you were thankful to bear witness to a sound that reduced the idea of thunder down to something that could never hurt you again, and instead made seeing all the stars the heavens could offer possible even through the darkest nights. You felt a well of tears moisten your cheeks.
In his arms, with his voice, you could see the stars.
Back in the dimmed hallway of the train, you could make out the outline of a figure standing in the distance, waiting for you. Waiting, but about to run out of time. You saw her slowly disappear the way wind would rustle the dying leaves off a tree in autumn. Slowly her body was wilting, disappearing, and the wind only picked up speed.
All you could think to do was run to her, your mother, the shell of a woman you had known and loved your whole life. Her frail body being stripped of flesh as easily as wind undresses a tree of its leaves until there is nothing but branch and bone.
The walls began to close again, and you knew you had to act faster. You had to push past the pressure of closing walls even if they were squeezing so tightly movement became impossible. All at once, the impossible became your burden to redesign into something possible, which was the only thing crushing your spirit more than these damn walls.
You were so close; you held your hand out and—
Day Two
Winter mornings always start the same. Your eyes began rediscovering sight before the rest of your senses flooded into function, then your stomach would get angry for digesting nothing but its own acid until you filled it. And just like yesterday, your pillow cushioned beneath your head on the seat and your body shielded from the rogue winter winds that snuck inside of your cart by the same bonfire scented coat.
“Rise and shine.” Jungkook said from behind the sheet music he was examining. He must have been stealing glances of you every five minutes or so to catch the moment you’d finally wake up.
“Time?” Part of you didn’t want to get up. Part of you, the more persuasive part, wanted to remain tucked under Jungkook’s coat and slip back into a light sleep. If it weren’t for the hot drink waiting for you on the table then you would have done just that.
“Nine. A little later than yesterday.” You sat up eventually, wrapping the coat around you, and for a moment life was comfortable on the train. So much so that you didn’t mind how your hair was in complete disarray.
Jungkook enjoyed seeing you this way. When you had first woken up and didn’t wear the usual veil of detachment from the rest of the world. Your guard had surrendered to your sleep ridden body. He guessed very few people saw you like this, natural and raw and untouched by the pressure to be presentable, and counted himself lucky, just like you would say, to be one of those few.
“Thanks, again.” You said softly into the warm cup between sips. “How much?”
“No. It's okay.”
“But-”
“Seriously! Don’t mention it.” He was firm, but that didn’t stop the gentle smile that crept its way back onto his face. You didn’t know what to say other than the thanks you had already said, so you just kept drinking. It was still just as delicious, but today familiarity was peppered into the milk among the honey and cinnamon which gave it that much more reason to love it.
“You get up this early every day?” You asked, because you were at a loss for words but felt less comfortable without hearing his voice to accompany the brisk, quiet morning.
“Usually I do. I like the morning. It feels like I have the world to myself before everyone else wakes up.” Charming. It was the last thing that came to mind when you would picture Jungkook. Now, however, it seemed to be the only characteristic that came to mind when you thought of him.
Sitting in front of you, half mindedly scribbling notes onto the staff and half his attention expended on sharing the small ways he saw the world, he was just charming. As easily as he once drove a blunt edge of annoyance into your chest, he erased every bit of evidence that he could ever be anything but charming.
“Sorry to steal the morning from you. I gotta wake up sometime.” You felt entirely unpracticed in the realm of light, friendly conversations, and that was evident from the way you wanted to gag at your own response to his. What you thought was a tasteless, almost pathetic attempt at banter was, to Jungkook, another reason to enjoy the morning.
“I’m glad it’s you that I have to share it with.” Jungkook certainly sat higher on the hierarchical scale of wit compared to you, but even that didn’t agitate you in the way it would have before. What was more shocking than that was the fact that you felt the muscles in your cheeks changing your flat lipped expression into a smile.
“Flattery gets you nowhere, Jungkook.” You responded that way only to save face. It was a habit of yours you didn’t realize you were doing until the words had already been deployed by your tongue.
“It seems to have gotten me a smile from you. Those are hard to come by.” You jerked your head quickly over to him, the same grin stained with smugness there to meet your surprised ‘o’ shaped mouth.
He was right again. Your smiles have always been punctuated lately, but you were too busy paddling through every distraction available to even notice.
“Very funny.” Your voice was low enough for Jungkook to nearly miss it. Once the soft tone of your voice delivered to his ears, he looked away from his sheet music to mine through your face like a cavern, searching for the hidden bits of the treasure-like emotions strewn in along the subtle details.
“What’s wrong?” It was a leap of faith, his question, a leap that sent him plummeting blindly into the depths of everything he craved to know about you.
“That thing you said the other day.” Your expression was unreadable to the whole world. But inside the train, the whole world rested just on the other side of the window. There was no reason to come off as impassive, cold, or unconcerned, to care so much about trying not to care. “About going home.”
“Mhm?” You waited to see if he had anything to say, anything to stall what was about to escape from your lips. You knew it wouldn’t take long for your thoughts to go rogue, especially when he made you smile like that.
“I’m angry.” He gave you a look that said ‘no shit’ without having to actually say it. It made you nervous, but still willing to go on. “You're right. I didn’t visit home ever until now. I thought I grew out of it. I thought I became someone too big to fit in a town so small and stuck in its way. But I was never too big, I don’t think I ever actually grew. Because when I got the call, after stupidly ignoring it a hundred times before, I felt like the same child. So scared of the idea of a world without their mother. So, yeah, I’m angry. I’m angry I could be arrogant and stupid enough to think I could live the rest of my life never looking back.”
Jungkook just watched you, with those eyes that held the world. His eyes were holding so much right now when they were looking at you. So much weight from a source he couldn’t define with his own intuition. So much weight, he couldn’t understand how you had been shouldering it on your own this whole time, if he couldn’t stand a few minutes holding it now.
“Going back home.” You scoffed. “It's not about looking back. It was never about that. I think returning to something familiar is almost just as scary as fleeing somewhere new. All your past mistakes and demons that you have to face…”
“Demons. Is that any way to talk about your mother?” It was his way, unique to Jungkook alone, to litter in a bit of lighthearted teasing even when he was supposed to be serious. As if he couldn’t stand to let the air in Cart 102 become too damp with sadness, as if his heart wouldn’t have been able to handle it.
“I made a mistake. I spent too much time away, and now the last way I’ll see her is weak and sick. That’s my demon. My mom was just unfortunate enough to be the arbiter of it.”
Jungkook wanted to tell you that if he could, he would take all your pain away and send it back into the universe to find someone else to harbor it. Someone who deserved to feel a loss so heavy, because he knew just by looking at you that you deserved none of it. But he held his overly romantic tongue for now in regards to easing you into him smoothly. Since he had come such a long way with you, making gentle strides to win your affection, it would be greedy of him to tarnish that by saying something as outrageous as that, even if that was truly how he felt.
“Come with me. I have an idea.” It would have been easy to refuse him, to swat his hand away and never speak to him again for the rest of the train ride. But what prevails after the wear and tear of expecting the worst and knowing the painful and permanent scars it will leave you is the trust of someone who turned scowls into smiles, who held his hand out to you and waited for you to take it kindly.
Those tales they tell about feeling sparks when you make contact with your soulmate were decidedly wrong. Wrong to you, because when you touched Jungkook’s hand, you felt those sparks nestling under your skin and learning its way through the rest of your body. Wrong, because Jungkook was no soulmate of yours, just an unlikely stranger you met on a train once.
And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder, you couldn’t help but hope he too felt these sparks that supposedly meant nothing.
Jungkook pulled you into the hallway, which was brighter than the way it looked in your dreams. At the end of the walkway, there was no ghost resembling your mother, and the walls weren’t closing in, and instead of pushing through alone, you had Jungkook holding your hand tightly, and graciously guiding you down.
“This way.” He whispered, and you mimicked the stealth in his voice through the way you muffled the sound of your feet hitting the train floor, which felt less like water and more like sand with him; soft yet solid sand.
You arrived at an unattended area of the train. The only hint of what Jungkook was up to was that grin. That grin was too playful to be a grimace, and too mischievous to be a smile. That grin that you hadn’t noticed you were looking forward to seeing, the same one you could sense you would miss when the train arrived at its destination. That when he grinned, you finally found the courage to return it. Needing no conditions or second guesses, you were just you, somehow smiling on the train that was taking you to your sick mother. And it was all because of him and his stupid, lovely grin.
“What are you doing? Are we supposed to even be here?”
“Shh, we’ll get caught.” He began to wriggle with the door handle until it opened.
“So we’re not supposed to be here! Jungkook, let’s go before we get kicked off!” To silence you, he simply held his hand up. You pouted your lip but did as he commanded.
Inside the door, there was a collection of all the food meant for purchasing. Your assumption was confirmed that Jungkook had no intention of paying for the bags of pretzels and packets of cookies he was stuffing into his pockets. Hands full with quite the assortment of foods, he looked to you and raised his eyebrows.
“What?”
“Come on, put these in your pockets! Hurry.” He held the food out towards you. There was no convincing him to put all the stolen goods back, and there was no convincing yourself to not go along with his sinfully sweet plan.
The fast-paced walk back to Cart 102 was the most exhilarating thirty-five seconds of your life. Jungkook looked all too calm, like spontaneity fell into his hands naturally or like it was a birthright, belonging to his life from the beginning. Life with Jungkook, even if the short span of time he’d claimed part of yours was fleeting, was the most excited and fearless you had ever felt.
Jungkook and you emptied the haul of food onto the table. For a second, they went untouched only for the two of you to admire your successfully pirated goods. Then, for the first time on the train you met eyes with Jungkook and laughed.
It was the sort of laugh that exercised muscles in your abdomen you weren’t aware that you had in the first place. The kind that began at the top of a hill, and with one push it was tumbling faster and faster, growing louder and wilder.
Jungkook was laughing too, a sound which could qualify as the only competitor to surpass the beauty of his singing. And whatever music he was scribing onto the paper would have to be beyond masterful to sound anything close to as immaculate as his laugh.
“I can’t believe we just committed grand larceny.” The words came out of your throat between fits of laughter, eyes now with an abundance of happy tears.
“Woah there, “‘grand”’ is a stretch. I like to think of it as unlawful borrowing.” The rest of the afternoon was spent with celebratory feasting of your unlawfully borrowed goods. Your favorite was the packs of chocolate mints, and Jungkook had cleverly avoided eating them when he noticed how much you liked them.
When dawn arrived, Cart 102 settled into a comfortable silence, now consisting of you reading your book tempered by a glance out of the window every few pages and Jungkook tapping his pencil against the wooden desk while marking up every blank space on his page. To anyone else, including the likes of you, the page was nothing but a jumble of incoherent scribbles. To Jungkook, it was his next masterpiece; the best idea he made tangible on paper and hopefully soon, audible when someone agreed to commission it.
“Done!”
His remark startled you, being that there had been no warrant for him to exclaim his progress with the music he was working on. You chuckled softly, closing your book and looking back to Jungkook.
“Done with what?”
“This song. I know this one will sell. I just know it! It’s perfect.” Jungkook’s passion was bursting past the seams of his body. “I just wish… I wish I had more time.”
“What does that mean?” Again, all he offered was the same grin, and that was all you needed in order to know he wouldn’t be dropping any more hints on the account of your curiosity.
“It means this train ride is ending tomorrow, and I’ll have too much on my plate to work on anything else. So this right here,” He held up the paper with the same tact one would for a pile of pure gold, “Is my last chance to get my work out there for a while.”
For reasons born from an unidentifiable place, you felt like crying. Last chance. It sounded serious. Something you weren’t ready to know and something he wasn't ready to tell. So, instead of pestering the answer out of him, you let him have his secrets. You let him have all the secrets he had somehow gotten out of you.
And somehow, you were okay with it. Just this once.
Jungkook said he was taking a quick nap. Quick must mean something entirely different where he was from since it lasted about three hours and counting. For someone who had nothing to do but sit on a train all day, he sure was tired. It would have concerned you had it not been for witnessing how much energy he exerted into writing his music, as if each tap of his pencil required the same amount of energy as running an entire mile.
You were looking out of the window, which looked like it had been coated with tar. The departing sun left no remnants of its light and the moon must have been situated on the opposite side of the train, so it was up to the stars to illuminate your view of the world. But, outside the train was dark. Dark, and almost pitch black.
The first few specks were thought to be a hallucination that bloomed from your own wishful thinking. But soon, there were more and more twinkling lights dusting the sky and that outshined any doubt you had before. The stars were so bright and glimmering clearer than you had ever seen. Only something so beautiful, something that ingrained itself into the grooves of your brain to keep forever, could elicit the gasp that came louder than expected.
“Woah.” It jolted Jungkook awake and you would have felt bad if he weren’t already supplied with three and a half hours of extra sleep.
“What?” His voice was hoarse from being unused for such a long interval.
“The stars! I can see them! They’re so bright, Jungkook. So bright.” The tears began to form in part from the lack of blinking and in part from how happy you were to see the stars. The same stars your mother was probably looking at and the same ceiling of glitter that loomed protectively over you and Jungkook. They were more than just constellations tonight; they were a celestial map navigating you back home and an astronomical assurance that everything would be okay. Even if the worst happened, everything would be okay.
“They are. They’ve been bright for a while. It took you long enough to notice.” Your smile was not yours to control anymore. It was a small price to pay considering you had a world full of stars to last you a lifetime.
“I guess I haven’t been trying as hard to see them as I thought I was.”
And you turned to him, which was the only thing besides the starlit arena above you and Jungkook and the train you’d rather be looking at right now.
“I can’t wait to go home. I miss it so much.” It was the first time you said it out loud, as well as the first time you were able to admit that to yourself.
“I’m glad you feel that way. You should feel that way.”
“Thank you.”
There were a plethora of reasons that prompted that thank you. Far too many reasons that were decidedly unfit for just a single thank you. So, you concluded that the thank you was for Jungkook; for becoming a part of your life. For every decision he made on this train that rearranged your feelings towards him into something pleasant. Something that felt warm and safe.
Tonight, the last thing you saw before slipping away into sleep was all the stars that weren't at your disposal before. Every silvery diamond brandished along the expanding sky was so mesmerizing, you wished you could imprint them into the backs of your eyelids when they eventually lulled you into a calm slumber. That and the memory of Jungkook’s rendition of Dream a Little Dream of Me set on repeat in your head.
This time, you weren't trapped in the confines of a dark train hallway. You were standing in the middle of a grassy field, laden with a diverse collection of wildflowers. The mellow green hues seemed to lift from the blades of grass, stretching into the air around you.
And your mother was there. She wasn’t being blown away by the wind. Just like the sturdy trunk of a tree, she stood with dignity and conviction at the top of the highest hill that provided a view of your hometown; it was the most beautiful you had ever seen her.
“Mom!” The way you were running felt more like gliding, or flying even, because you moved through the wind without a bit of resistance. Your body was frictionless and unstoppable. And when you finally fell into your mother’s arms, it was the most freeing feeling in the world.
“I’ve missed you so much. I thought you were going to leave me.” The blue sky that sealed you and your mom into the earth made a stunning partner for the fields of green underneath you.
“I’m always with you, darling.”
It was difficult to decide whether the sound of her voice or the sentiment behind it made you cry, so you decided not to decide at all, and instead, you simply let yourself cry. Everything was so beautiful, but still not complete.
“Mom, I feel like something’s missing.”
“There is.” She responded, but it wasn’t a question. Your mom was not your mom, just a figment herself cultivated by your own mind. She was one with you, and she knew exactly what was missing.
“Where do I find it?” Her hands cupped your cheeks, just like she would when you were young and crying over a scraped knee.
“You know, love. You know.”
The wind pulled a gentle melody from the spaces between the leaves. A melody you were quite familiar with and grew to love. It slowed, then everything was silent.
Day Three
Waking up came to you in a hurry, as if you shouldn’t spend another second living life through dreams because today was the last day on the train. The last day you’d spend with Jungkook, and possibly the last time you would ever see him.
It was uncharacteristic of you to feel this way. Disappointed at both yourself and your situation. You knew from the beginning that this was a temporary arrangement, and Jungkook was not a permanent fixture in your life. In fact, you used to be thankful for those circumstances because you hated Jungkook.
But, of course, you went ahead and let him in. You let him buy you tasty drinks, hold you during thunderstorms, and offer you a coat, a smile, a laugh when everything felt cold. You let him ripple currents of fun into your life, but that would be giving yourself too much credit, you suppose.
Because it was never a matter of allowing him to do any of this. He did all of those things, and more, all by himself.
What was even more uncharacteristic of you was greeting the early morning before Jungkook. He was sound asleep, with skin being lightly freckled by the glints of sunlight shimmering through the gaps in the clouds. The morning sun was always docile, kindly shedding light in a way that wouldn’t pull sweat from your skin like it did in the afternoon.
You liked the sight of him sleeping, mostly because it was one of the few moments of the day when he was completely silent, and those were rare.
“Better take this opportunity.” You whispered to yourself before getting up, covering Jungkook with the coat, and heading to the concession stand you had raided with Jungkook yesterday.
Wondering if the workers noticed the missing inventory, you idled by the counter before ordering but they all looked too tired to care to serve you let alone realize a quarter of the chocolate mint packs were taken.
“Hi, two warm milks with honey and cinnamon please.” The attendant seemed to appreciate how closely your voice was to a whisper. He sluggishly poured two steaming cups of milk and sleeved them before exchanging them for the money already placed onto the counter.
“Honey and cinnamon are over at the self-serving station.” You followed to where his finger was aimed towards and nodded politely with the two cups in each hand.
You didn’t know why, but imagining Jungkook making this drink himself, instead of ordering it premade, ranked this act as something more motivated than customary kindness. Because getting these drinks wasn’t simply walking to a stand, purchasing, and walking back to Cart 102. There was now an erroneous step you hadn’t accounted for. The act of making milk with honey and cinnamon.
As you scooped a spoonful of honey to mix into the creamy liquid, one of your mother’s many proverbs rang in your ears, as if she was standing right beside you saying it.
“When you make food for someone, it’s just another way to express that you love them!”
It froze you for a second. Recalling what she would say when you would throw together a meal for the pair of you when she was too tired to. She worked so hard as a single mother, so every shortcoming felt like a colossal failure, no matter how little it mattered to you. And she would always say that to you because ‘thank you’ just didn’t cut it.
This was the first thing you made for someone other than your mother and yourself. But, there’s no way it was because you loved him.
Just this once, you thought. Just this once I’ll make food for someone that I don’t love.
You were relieved to greet a still sleeping Jungkook when you returned to your cart. The cart you studied closer, because you were about to leave it and wanted to retain all the details that you could before it became a memory you would only visit when you were feeling reminiscent.
The beige walls, the small table where you would read and Jungkook would compose, the stiff leather seats that you had surprisingly gotten used to, and the large window that gave you a glimpse of the blurry world waiting for you.
Jungkook’s groan snapped you out of your trance. Before he regained full cognizance, you placed the cup in front of him so you’d be able to boast that you had woken up before him and had the morning all to yourself for a moment. That now you were the one sharing the world with him.
“What’s this?” He said groggily.
“You know.” You tried your best to mirror his smugness, the way he would sip his drink after sending a witty one-liner through the air like it was no big deal to him.
Before you became lost in the person you changed into with Jungkook, a person that felt more like a fun costume to wear when you didn’t feel like being yourself anymore, the more neurotic and controlling part of you fell back through when you remembered that the measurements of the ingredients might have been off.
Maybe you had gotten the drink entirely wrong, so your deed would shrivel down to a failed act of kindness. Nothing at all your mother would consider a gesture of love. And that was more frightening than any blast of thunder.
“It's delicious.” Jungkook said out of nowhere, almost as though he knew he was interrupting your thoughts. Breaking them down into a powder thinner than flour, so he could blow all your worries away with one puff of air. He wasn’t lying either, it was delicious.
You spent a gracious amount of time and energy avoiding the book you were meant to finish during this train ride. Instead, your efforts were fully consumed by the last person you thought would ever be the center of your attention. At least, you thought if he were going to be the focus of it, then it would have been because you were mentally berating him for reasons that didn’t bother you much at all anymore; in fact, they started becoming admirable.
“If you could run faster than a train, where would you go?” He asked.
“Paris. Or Italy. I'd just have to figure out how to run on water.” You earned a good laugh from Jungkook with that comment. And finally, you felt like you were beginning to find your niche in conversations, and it relied heavily on sarcasm.
“I’d love to see the day when ___ walks on water.”
“What about you? Where would you go?”
“I would make my legs take me straight to Carnegie Hall and force the organization to play one of my pieces.” Each word was formed by his tongue as if he had that response rehearsed a hundred times over. Jungkook knew exactly what he wanted, and given the chance, he would use any and every asset to get him there.
That alone was why you fell into something deeper than attraction. Why you began to take notice of things about him that weren’t of importance before. And why your intentions to observe how the world designed this man to be so stunningly unique was less cryptic than you’d hoped.
Maybe if you noticed how his white button-up was undone down to his sternum and tucked into the waistband of his slacks tastefully, then your heart would have taken a quicker pace long before now. If you noticed how his jet black hair was gentle and fluffy when it draped over his eyes, then you would have been frustrated with yourself sooner for not seizing the chance to introduce your fingers to its texture. And if you noticed how the ridges along his palm looked perfect to be held in, then you would have savored every second he held you the night of the storm. There was an astonishing number of details about Jungkook, about as many as the stars in the sky, that would have made you mountains more intimidated to even speak with him.
One of the attendants left all your observations of Jungkook scattered when she peaked her head through to give the two of you an update on your arrival.
“Looks like we’ll be getting in earlier than expected!” In theory, that was a blessing. You’d get to finally deboard the train and be with your mother. Though, you’d be lying if some piece of you wanted this train to continue west until there was no more land to travel on; and if you could, you would redistribute each part of this train to assemble a boat, so you could sail Jungkook across the seven seas. “Our arrival will be in twenty minutes! I hope you both enjoyed your trip.”
And if Jungkook felt the same way, he didn’t show it through his polite smile and nod at the attendant.
“We’ll be getting off soon.” He said to you, though you could tell it was his way of interrogating your thoughts on the matter.
“Time moved by so oddly on the train. I didn’t even notice it was already day three.” You paused and took one last glance out of the window. “Funny.”
"It's funny,” He began, and you settled into what you knew was about to be another piece of Jungkook's mind served in the form of his delicate words, “when you're inside a train you don't feel like you're moving. Even though you are, of course. You're moving faster than you would outside of a train. But we feel like we are still because we are moving with the train. When you're in a train, you are moving with time too, so it feels rushed and stagnant all at once. When you're not inside, time moves past you. It feels better to move with time, don’t you think? It feels like you could outrun it if you wanted to, or it feels like you will never run out of time at all. That you and time are equals. But soon, we'll have to get back onto the platform, and time will move past us again, and it’ll feel like we’re running out already."
“You’re right.” You finally admitted. “We’re running out of time.”
We’re running out of time— together, you wanted to say. However, courage and boldness was a currency you weren’t rich in. Unspoken desires and lost hopes were all you had left to tender.
“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, I-” He hesitated as well, because when you looked at him with such wishful eyes, it made what he had to say entirely too real and all too scary. “I really liked being your travel buddy.”
You could tell he was holding back too. That everything you wanted to say to him and everything he wanted to say to you wasn’t meant to be translated into words, that exchanging sentimental smiles was all you and he could afford. Instead, it was better to exist through the language of emotions, floating around the train, moving with time, and eventually, when you and Jungkook returned to the world, those emotions would remain with the train and travel beyond your destination.
That’s why you let them go. Sometimes, a train is only meant to be a train.
“Me too. Though, I have to admit I hated you at first.”
“I know.” He grinned as you etched the most accurate memory of it in your brain as you could.
His stance came unprecedented. The small radio tucked in his bag now sitting on the table, serenading an unfamiliar melody and overtaking the silent air inside Cart 102. Then, came his hand, extended to you just like he had yesterday. Only this time, you didn’t need to wonder what he wanted from you because you would give whatever he asked.
You took his hand, or rather you gave him yours, and followed his gentle tug until it led you to his body, pressing away all the space once separating the two of you. Jungkook’s hand followed the curve of your waist until it landed at the small of your back while you instinctively rested yours on his shoulder.
You and Jungkook swayed to the music until all those words about moving with time became real. The way he held you close had you immune to the passage of time. The soft brush of his breath against your cheek felt welcoming, and you would try your very best to remember the way existing felt when your skin was touching his. It was odd, dancing on a train with someone you didn’t know well enough to call a friend but weren’t estranged enough to call an acquaintance. Again, it felt like you were in between two walls, stuck, trying to out-think your way through a collapsing maze of judgement.
Though, no matter how odd it was, it stopped neither you nor Jungkook from holding onto each other for the last few moments available.
The train must have hit a rock, one you would like to thank because it knocked the two of you over until you had fallen into his lap, laughing so hard your bodies shook. You would have been uncomfortable in this compromising position if not for the sense of belonging fostered in the empty space in your chest while being in his arms.
Jungkook didn’t notice you were detangling your limbs from his until you were already gone, seated across from him in the same spot.
Once, he learned in science class of this phenomenon called ‘afterimage’, which is when your eyes get so accustomed to staring at one particular thing that when you look away, the thing stained your vision in the form of a silhouette, like an echo of something your eyes grew so comfortable seeing that it stayed with you, even when you looked away.
And he knew, even when the view of you sitting across from him in this train wasn’t there anymore, he would carry that afterimage of you, always echoing in his vision like a beautiful melody he couldn’t get out of his head. Not that he wanted to let go anyway
It was sour, the cruelty of letting go. When the train began to brake, it felt like a lifetime of agony. A bitter, unforgiving slap in the face courtesy of the confines of reality, stealing you away from the shelter of a train; a place that made it so easy to be swept up in something as dazzling and impossible as magic. You were onto important things, you knew this, but it was nice to live, even if it were just for a bit, inside something as magical as Cart 102, where you could count on a generous supply of warm coats, milk with honey and cinnamon, and Jungkook.
“Well, our stop is here. Hey, how about we share a cab? Why not save some money, right?” You could only nod, because speaking would have led to tears, which would have led to a failed explanation of why you were crying.
Jungkook hailed the yellow vehicle over, the opening of his shirt widened just an inch too much to let your mind wander.
“You’re going to the hospital, right?” He asked.
“Yeah, the only one in town.” You said, knowing the driver wouldn’t need any more specifics than that. This town was so small there were a lot of singular facilities that made the layout equally difficult to be crammed into and easy to memorize. One library, one park, one church, and one hospital.
As Jungkook went to give the driver your destinations, you packed up the luggage into the trunk. Not too long after, you were side by side in the back of a cab. All you could bring yourself to do was gaze out of the window and watch all the familiar scenes of your hometown pass by, each landmark dousing you with a strong presence of nostalgia.
No matter how sad parting ways with Jungkook was, it was good to be home.
The cab finally arrived at the hospital, and you got out not expecting the other person in the car to get out with you. Perhaps he was being polite and saying goodbye. You knew you would have done the same if his stop preceded yours.
The two of you stood in front of the entrance, gawking up at the tall building that was in desperate need of reconstruction. You turned your gaze over to Jungkook.
“Where to now, Mr. Jeon?” You asked, since this town was small enough, and you were fluent in every secret hiding spot it had to offer, you might be able to visit him if that wouldn’t come off as too invasive.
“I'm here.” He responded just as ambiguously and ever so matter-of-factly as always. This time, you demanded to know more.
“What? What do you mean?”
“It took a long time to find a doctor that specializes in my condition.” Jungkook finally turned to you, his eyes crowded by tears. “My heart is weak, ___. I came here to get better, and hopefully, I do. I'm going to be a famous composer one day, and I’ll need a strong heart to get me to that point.”
You felt angry at him again. For not telling you, because it felt less like keeping something from you and more like lying to you. For telling you, and making it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, that it wouldn’t break your heart into pieces weaker than his own.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was the harsh snap he expected from you, but he was committed to keeping this a secret until he couldn’t because it was easier that way.
“I didn’t want to admit it. I’m scared, ___. Really scared. If I don't get better…”
“Well, you have to! Carnegie Hall is waiting for you and I didn’t waste my time getting to know you for nothing. So, you just go ahead and get better okay?” Your words were coated in anger but layered on top of something compassionate, sweet even. Sweeter than milk, honey, and cinnamon.
“I’ll try.” He grinned again, knowing it would satisfy you for the time being. Grinning, like a goodbye gift.
“You’re an idiot, Jungkook.”
Before you could lose the last word, you gripped your luggage in one hand, the pillow in the other, and made your way into the hospital, leading to what you knew would be countless nights spent at the side of a hospital bed, eating foods you’d rather not eat, and watching daytime cable while taking care of your mother.
What you didn’t know was that a good portion of those nights would be spent with someone else. Someone who resided in the west wing of the hospital.
Someone who would bring your hand to his heart, and ask you if it felt stronger, and you would always reply with ‘yes’, or ‘yes, you idiot’, even when you were terrified that one day your hand wouldn’t feel the tap of his heart against his chest. Someone who would sing to you in exchange for the times you would read to him. Someone who you would leave notes and small gifts for, his personal favorite being the packet of walnuts accompanied with a folded paper inscribed ‘for when you need to get out of class’. Someone who, when he would be having a particularly difficult night, you’d fall asleep holding hands with, and you’d wake him up with a warm cup of his signature beverage.
Someone you would inevitably begin to fall in love with.
A month later, one of two people you loved dearly would walk out with you through those hospital doors. That person was Jungkook. And the melancholy of losing your mother to the battle between her and her cancer would also follow you, and stay with you almost as long as Jungkook had.
A year later, you would return, hand in hand with Jungkook. Every two months. It was the promise you sealed onto your mother's gravestone that you would always return every two months. Even if the weather dispatched the most terrifying thunderstorms, or your work piled a stack of paperwork high enough to reach the sky, you’d still return home.
You and Jungkook placed a bundle of wildflowers you picked on the way to her grave, sitting at the top of a grassy highland, at the base of the granite stone. She was overlooking the world, with a perfect view of you; it made you feel safe that she was watching over you, and she was watching over Jungkook and his slowly recovering heart.
The weather was perfect. The sun blanketed everything beneath it with a generous warmth but didn't restrict the gentle breeze from tempering it. The leaves and grass moved with the wind, but your mother’s tombstone was strong and unmoving, losing no part of herself to the fluid motions of the spring air.
“I kind of like it here.” He said softly, adorning the view of the hilltop with you. It was the morning, and it didn’t feel like he was sharing the world with you anymore. It felt like it was yours to begin with, and he was just lucky enough to be allowed a part of it.
“Me too.” One hand was with Jungkook, and the other was with your mother.
“I think it would be a nice place to get married and raise our children. You know, after I become a world-renowned composer and all.” This would have shocked you if you had not been wishing to hear him confirm these dreams of yours for a while now. “Did that scare you? I didn’t mean to be too forward.”
“No, I think this would be the perfect place to live. Only if it's with you.” Because you knew, something was missing here without him. He made this hometown of yours finally complete in the wake of your mother’s passing.
When you kissed him, he tasted like honey. And he would have told you that you tasted like cinnamon.
It could never scare you, because you were in love.
You were in a debt of gratitude that was deeper than the ocean. There was so much you wanted to say to him.
The town is milk. It is up to you and me, Jungkook, to provide the ingredients that will liven this town of milk into something sweeter, something survivable, something that will continue to sustain a force as powerful as love. Without the honey and cinnamon, all you have is milk. It seems we are the perfect blend of the two to make this bitter place palatable when it hits our tongues. This town needs us together in the same way milk needs honey and cinnamon.
You didn’t say any of those words out loud. You didn’t need to. All you needed to say was:
“I love you.”
And all he needed to say was:
“I love you too.”
#bangtanarmynet#ficswithluv#btsgoldnet#bts fanfic#bts one shot#bts writing#bts fluff#bts x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook one shot#jungkook fluff#bts enemies to lovers#musician!jungkook#of honey and cinnamon#rubycoast
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Part 5 (Parasite Au)
*zooms by on a minecart and grabs you*
Hello, friend!
Yes, more Parasite Au! I love writing this, I’m going to be pretty sad when it’s over. But I’m also excited, cause I’ll be launching an original series after this! (I’ll do a full announcement and explanation post when it’s time) But for now, enjoy this! It’s gonna get ✨suspenseful~✨ (Tw: Drowning and Blood [yeah this one is… something]) Enjoy! -🥝
Early the next morning, Grian woke up. Scar was still sleeping on the other side of the glass, curled on the floor. Grian knocked on the glass and Scar awoke with a start. “Get a move on, big day today.”
“I guess so.” Scar sat up. Zedaph was already in the lab, and he pressed a button which rolled the glass down. “Let’s go, we’re burning daylight.” Scar and Grian exited the cell, walking outside to see that the sun was barely risen. Stress, Joe, and Xisuma, along with a small group of others, were waiting.
“Be careful, both of you.” Stress stepped forward, handing each of them several healing potions.
“And take these.” Joe was holding lanterns. “These should help you see in the fog a bit.”
“Thank you.” Grian said. He watched Xisuma pull Scar aside for a moment, handing him something, a sword.
“Just in case.” Grian heard him whisper. Scar put it in his bag and turned back around.
“We’ll be back.” He said. He and Grian waved goodbye to the hermits who had gathered and took off into the sky, flying to the west. As they traveled further, the bright sky darkened to a darker, gray-blue. Then, as if out of nowhere, a wall of black fog appeared, rolling over the horizon.
“I think we found the place.” Grian said, shivering a bit in the cold air. He and Scar dove to the ground, landing near a dock that was illuminated by a single lantern. Next to it, two boats floated. Scar pulled out a rope and tied them together.
“I’ll go in the first boat, you in the second.” Scar instructed. “Just in case.” He attached the one lanterns that Joe had given them to the front of each boat. Grian climbed into the small, wooden boat. Scar hopped into the leading boat and began to paddle. Soon, they were encased in the dense mist, the lanterns only illuminating a few feet around them. The water was a deep, inky black.
“This brings back memories.” Grian chuckled.
“I guess so.” Scar said, reminiscing. “Weird, huh? Always seem to find ourselves in similar situations.”
“Most of them life or death.” Grian leaned back in his boat.
“Yeah. Funny how that happens.” Scar laughed.
“It would be so easy now.” A familiar dark voice whispered in Grian’s ear. “Just to give him a little… push into the water.”
“No!” Grian said aloud.
“Well, yeah, I guess those situations aren’t very funny, are they.” Scar shrugged.
“I- yeah.” Grian shook his head, the voice vanishing again.
“You okay?” Scar asked, turning around.
“I’m fine.” Grian lied.
“I wonder how Jimmy and Scott are doing…” Scar said. “I hope they’re doing alright.”
“I think so.” Grian smiled. For a while, the only sound was that of the paddles splashing in the water. Occasionally, Grian would look over the edge of the boat and make sure nothing was lurking in the water below.
“You could painlessly kill him now. Well, painlessly for you.”
“I won’t!” Grian whispered.
“Did you say something?” Scar whipped his head around.
“Nothing important, just talking to myself.” Grian said nervously.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not hearing the voice, are you?”
“Wh-what? No!” He said quickly.
“Alright.” Scar continued paddling through the ocean.
“Push him in…” Grian grabbed the sides of his head. Without thinking, he plunged into the water. He sunk through the dark water, holding his breath. When the voice vanished, he was about to swim upwards when he felt something grab his foot. He looked down and saw a white hand grabbing his ankle. These weren’t Drowned. They were something else. It pulled him down, and he screamed, silver bubbles rising from his mouth and breaking the surface of the water. He inhaled, foolishly, the salty water filling his mouth. He was being pulled deeper and deeper into the abyss. He thrashed, trying to free himself of the hand holding tight around his leg. He was beginning to lose consciousness, his vision fading to complete darkness, when from above him, a sound snapped him back. Splash. Above him was pair of familiar, forest green eyes, almost glowing in the dark water. And a hand reaching towards him. Grian reached upwards with the last of his strength, but it was no use. The hand was too strong, it was pulling him further in. Scar swam faster now, sword in hand. He raised it, and slashed the hand from Grian’s ankle. Grian went limp, floating in the water, still sinking. He barely felt it as Scar grabbed him and pulled him up through the water, until they reached the surface. Scar hoisted him into the boat. Grian sat up, coughing black water from his lungs. He gasped for air, soaking wet and shivering from the icy water. Scar was drenched, his long hair dripping with water.
“What… on earth… were you thinking?!” Scar shouted, still panting. Grian tried to respond, but was still catching his breath, his chest heaving. He looked down and saw the white hand was still grasped around his ankle. He screamed and ripped it off, throwing it as far as he could into the fog.
“I- I heard- the voice…” Grian sputtered. “Couldn’t stand it… and… jumped in.”
“You idiot, you could have drowned!” Scar scolded him.
“Sorry! It was telling me to kill you!” Grian shot back.
“Then say something!” Scar argued. “I could have used one of the flowers Stress gave me!” He said, holding up a red blossom.
“I didn’t think! You don’t know what it’s like, I just jumped!” Grian protested. This seemed to shut Scar up, as he turned around and continued paddling.
“Are you hurt?” He asked. Grian looked at his ankle, which was a bit sore.
“No, I think I should be okay.” Grian sat up in his boat, still soaked. He shook water from his hair. He had lost his hair tie when he had leapt into the water, his hair now hanging to his shoulders. He sighed, brushing the wet strands out of his face.
“Here, take this.” Scar turned around, handing him a green-and-gold ribbon. Grian took it, running a finger along the edge. It was smooth, made of silk. He tilted his head back, tying his hair back up with the ribbon.
“Thanks.” He said.
“You think he cares about you? You are a fool.” Grian looked at his hands. They were turning to claws before his eyes.
“Scar-” Grian was cut off before he could finish his warning. He lunged at Scar, raking his claws across his chest and knocking him into the water. Scar sunk into the depths. “No!” Grian snapped from his trance and dove into the icy water. Clouds of blood formed around the sinking shape of his friend. Grian grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him to the surface. They floated for a moment, before Grian pushed him into the boat. He sat next to him. “No no no… Scar please… you can’t die…” He said. He pulled one of Stress’s potions from his pocket and poured it over the deep cuts. “Come on, do something!” The wounds closed, only leaving bloody stains and tears in his robes. Grian shook his limp form desperately. Scar coughed, blinking awake.
“Grian?” He rasped.
“Oh thank goodness, you’re okay!” Grian said, hugging him.
“Hey, careful, I’m still frail!” Scar said. Grian didn’t listen, and continued hugging him. “Okay then.” Scar hugged him back.
“Are you alright? You aren’t hurt anywhere else?” Grian asked.
“I’m fine.” Scar said. The boats came to a halt, a scraping sound against the bottom of the boat. They had landed on a rocky, black beach. In the center of the island, a pedestal sat.
“We’re here.”
#desert duo#parasite hc au#grian#gtws hermitcraft#hermitcraft fanfic#hermitcraft#tw drowning#tw blood
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Amphibia AU -- ‘Quisling Marcy’ aka ‘what if Marcy *was* in cahoots with Andrias?’
Whelp, someone was gonna do this at some point so it looks like it’s gonna have to be me.
Marcy doesn’t just betray Anne, the Plantars, Sasha, etc. In this AU, she sells out all of humanity. She was still somewhat manipulated by Andrias, but here, she isn’t simply duped. She’s in proper cahoots with him.
Okay, so this is gonna require some changes to the show’s background.
In this setting, it was a clan of humans who first travelled to Amphibia and who created/brought the box with them. How did they create this wonderous box? Through making a deal with a demonic yellow triangle who does appear to exist at least in the show’s mythos.
With their allyship, Andrias and his friends created the greatest civilisation in Amphibia from the ground up. When the box was stolen by presumably a Plantar ancestor, the humans chased after them, leaving Andrias completely abandoned and their place in history eventually lost to the sands of time.
So Marcy goes through the same emotional turmoil of not wanting to be alone after her parents inform her they’re moving. She steals the box and transports herself, Anne and Sasha to Amphibia for the same canonic reason.
However, when we get to the point where she and Andrias “discover” the secret passageway, that’s where she begins to learn the truth of her own heritage. Here, not only does she find out about Andrias’ “explorer ancestors” but her own.
She is a descendant of the original humans who visited Newtopia. The ones who chased after Sprig and Polly’s ancestor back to Earth.
Andrias begins filling her head with stories and ideas of “spreading the glory of Newtopia to other worlds” and how this could be her and her friends’ destiny as the wielders of the gems.
Andrias: “Can’t you see, Marcy? You didn’t find the box by accident. You were always meant to.”
So now jump ahead to when Marcy reveals the truth in the wake of the Rebellion and Adrias pulling the rug underneath everyone’s feet.
Marcy: “It didn’t start off this way... I did it for us.”
Marcy becomes increasingly erratic and unhinged the more she explains what she did and why. While in the show, Marcy was desperately trying to justify her actions, here she’s attempting to justify something even more horrific and is steadily coming apart in front of everyone.
She says Andrias will leave Earth in “their stewardship”, which means they “can lead the Earth together and make things the way they should be. And they’ll now never have to be apart.”
When she stands in front of the mural of Andrias flanked by pretty wicked looking humans and claiming it’s “their destiny”, cue Grime whispering to Sasha,
Grime: (hushedly) “Okay, Red Flag.”
But of course, Anne and the others are not interested and are even more creeped out and aghast by Marcy’s actions than in canon. So when the battle breaks out, Marcy is forced to fight against them.
Okay, so this is already pretty bad, what Marcy has done. How can we take it up a notch? Let’s press the forward wind button for a few minutes, shall we?
Andrias: “Not so fast! You all have spunk, real chutzpah. But this ends now. Marcy...?”
(He steps aside to reveal Marcy on the ledge in front of the shattered window pane, holding a struggling Sprig in her grasp)
Anne: “SPRIG!”
Sprig: “Guys! Don’t listen to these bullies! I’ll be fine!”
Andrias: “We’ll see.”
Marcy: “Put back the Box, or I’ll do it! I’ll--I’ll...”
Anne: “You wouldn’t dare!”
Marcy: “I gave you this, Anne, and I can take it all away! Now put the Box Back!!”
(Marcy is now holding Sprig dangerously close to the outside ledge. All she has to do now is let go)
Sprig: “Anne, don’t!”
Anne: ... Polly, do what they say.”
(Polly puts the box back and the flying castle stabilizes. The Frobos take Polly and return her to the group and she hugs the remains of her fallen friend)
Polly: “Frobo...”
Anne: (to Andrias) “Okay, dude, you have what you want. Now please, just let him go. He’s my best friend. In this world or any other world.”
(After Anne says this, Marcy’s cheeks flush red and she starts hyperventilating in rage. Sprig notices this)
Sprig: “Uhh, Anne...?”
Andrias: “That’s the thing about friends, isn’t it? The more you love them, the more it hurts when they go. Allow me to demonstrate.” (he looks down and gives Marcy a look to say “do it”)
(Marcy growls and without having to be asked twice flings, not drops, flings Sprig out the window)
Now this is the part in this AU where Sasha really comes into play and gets actively involved in her road to redeeming herself. On the journey to Newtopia, Marcy allowed her pilot Joe Sparrow, really letting her get a feel for riding him. When she led the Rebellion, she had the Toads take Marcy’s notes so she could learn quicker how to use the Box.
Sasha is the one who jumps out the window and calls Joe. She’s the one who rescues Sprig. And she’s the one who, after Anne curbstomps Andrias, swips the Box and just about got it to work and open the portal. Grime is the one who stays behind to hold Andrias off, yelling at her to go while she can.
When Marcy sees them making a break for it, seemingly abandoning her, she utterly. Freaks. Out.
Anne: “Sasha, hurry!”
Sasha: “Wait, where’s Mar—“
VHIRSCHT!!
Marcy is the one who impales Sasha from behind in a fit of desperation to stop them. Sasha weakly apologises to Anne for all she’s done before falling to the ground.
Marcy stands there before them, bug-eyed and stricken with horror. Her hand covers her trembling mouth. She drops her glowing sword, its hideous orange glow lighting up the bottom half of her face.
She looks from it, to Anne and the Plantars and to Sasha.
Then she starts to laugh, which quickly turns into crying, and then into a hideous combination of the two while her hands run up through her hair. The realization of what she’s done, on top of everything else has now well and truly broken her.
Sasha, on the floor, uses her last ounce of strength to hit the right button on the box, and kickstarts whatever comes next in Season Three.
... phew. That was actually pretty fun, I’m not gonna lie. Who knows? Maybe I’ll think of more to add to this as time goes on, or heck, if you wanna contribute or expand upon this, please be my guest.
#amphibia#Disney's Amphibia#Disney Amphibia#amphibia disney#anne boonchuy#marcy wu#sasha waybright#sprig plantar#polly plantar#king andrias#captain grime#frobo#amphibia frobo#amphibia au#au#amphibia true colors#true colors#amphibia spoilers#true colors spoilers#amphibia true colors spoilers#amphibia marcy#amphibia anne#amphibia sasha#alternative universe#evil marcy#bill cipher#gravity falls reference#fanfic#amphibia fanfic#Quisling Marcy AU
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@tvserie-s-world made a lovely moodboard with the tag that Joe would be good at braiding hair and I ran with it🙈
Summary: A moment of quiet somewhere after Normandy.
Alternate summary: Playing it fast and loose with 40s haircare. Aka this should be classified as an AU for how much time alone without interruption I gave them.
steady
Joe looks up from the stack of letters he's reading when he hears her curses.
She’d picked a fine time to start messing with her hair, yanking out the tie and bobby pins in an effort to relieve the headache that had only gotten worse since she’d started working. There was a reason Jo Brandt hated her hair. It didn’t behave. It was never easily corralled into the hairstyles that were so popular, the ones girls would dutifully set their curls for at night. Dealing with it was less of a routine and more of a negotiation.
And negotiate she was trying, just a simple braid that would get it out of her face so she could focus on the work in front of her. The work that right now was even more frustrating than her hair. Her head hurt. None of the words fit together right. She needed more from sources she’d already met with. She wished she were alone, so she could sink her head into her hands and make even stranger noises than the curses under her breath. But Joe was here, across the room sat at the long table with letters, the ones that had piled up during Normandy. He didn’t look particularly at ease either, another cigarette hovering near the ashtray as he watched each movement of hers undo more and more of the part she’d already done.
Jo— She turns at his voice traveling across the room, takes in the look of utter frustration on his face. C’mere.
What?
I got two sisters, you think they never made me do this?
She doesn’t argue, straddling the bench as he moves to sit behind her. He passes her the cigarette wordlessly, lets her drop the pile of pins on the table.
You can sit with me later? he asks, voice a little softer, jerking his chin towards the letters.
'Course. Something he’d started asking quietly lately, when she could. Something they were starting to get used to, sharing silence, the occasional question or smile sitting across from each other or farther. Not quite like this, closer than they’ve been in days.
His voice goes even softer then, and she has to stop herself from shivering. Mind taking off your necklace?
Think I can handle it? There’s no bite to the answer, though she’s sure he'll make a face. She sticks out her hand, waits for his fingers brushing at the back of her neck. She takes the chain and pendant into her lap, warm and worn in her palm.
Woulda just kept getting stuck, he says, and his voice is still quiet.
I’m bad at this for a reason, she starts, and he’s gently unbraiding the last part at the top of her head, braid being a generous word for what it is. You’ll see.
Well how’d you manage before?
Frankie spoiled me.
Ah.
She keeps fidgeting with the medallion, trying to keep her hands from moving back towards his knees, his legs where her fingers would drum on. Looks over towards the pins, his fingers as he reaches for one.
His hands feel tense in her hair, the muscles tight. Callused skin of his fingertips brushing against her scalp. She hears him try and take a deep breath.
Jo, he says, and she stops moving, only to shift her hips and shoulders a second later, tugging away from his hands in the process.
He makes a noise of frustration. And how the hell’d she ever get you to sit still?
Jo makes a face, but she doesn’t move. She had her ways. Most of which were yanking Jo back by the shoulders and calling her names in Sicilian, but Jo doesn’t say that. She can feel him tie off one braid on the left side and then move to the right. French. The style she liked when she could manage it. What she’d been wearing stateside during training.
Smart girl. She takes another tie out of her pocket and places it on the table. Thanks.
He works in silence for several minutes, and gradually she can feel the movement of his hands loosen, the draw of a slow breath. His hands grow steady and sure, the hands she knows, and it occurs to her that if anyone walked in right now she’d blush.
It’s not a chair in a kitchen in Philadelphia, or a tattered couch in Pittsburgh, and she wonders what memories he has, of doing this for his sisters, how they’d teased him, taught him.
Feels like you know what you’re doing, Jo says, and it’s somewhere between a compliment and an apology, an apology for what she doesn’t exactly know.
I told you I did. His voice sounds full of memories.
I should never have doubted you.
He gently squeezes the space between her neck and shoulders. All set.
Wish I had a mirror.
Fleetingly, he brushes his lips at the top of her ear, the lightest noise of a kiss, and then he’s taking back his cigarette. I think it looks pretty good.
I’ll take your word for it.
Maybe not as good as Frankie’s— he starts, and at that her hand squeezes at his knee, reaches to pat at his hip. How lucky she feels now. How unbearably lucky.
Can these wait? she asks, eyeing the stack of letters as she turns to face him. I think coffee first. He nods, something like relief in his eyes.
Lead the way.
#tvserie s world#quick little thing#jo's tag#shoshi writes#oops ???#this was never a thing for them and then.#also i have postwar thoughts but lets not get ahead of ourselves
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Wholesome BatFamily Fic Rec’s
Hey All, so here is my BatFam Rec List you all have been asking for! Lol jk no one has asked for this, but I made it anyways! So here are my All-Time Favorite BatFamily Fic Recs, for the most part these Recs are all rated either “G” for General Audiences or “T” for Teen and Up Audiences. So basically, all these fics focus on family dynamics and relationships rather than slash or anything like that. These are all truly amazing fics so give your Kudos and love to the authors! And remember to always read the tags before you read the fic!
And So This is Christmas by DragOnstOrm
Summary: It's not that Alfred isn't happy with his job. It's just that sometimes he really wishes that he had known what he was getting into when he signed up for it.
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 1,901
My Comments: Folks, stories don’t get much more wholesome than this fic. After reading this fic I was left warm and happy. Also, it stars my boy, Alfie, which is usually extremely rare for fics. Loved that we got to see Alfred’s perspective in this! Great fic!
Bedside Manner by @fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Sometimes Bruce forgot just how great his kid was.
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 2,985
My Comments: Anything @fishfingersandjellybabies writes is truly fantastic, but I particularly loved this one since it delved into the sweeter side of Bruce and Damian’s relationship that we don’t get to see often (especially in cannon). I love me a good hurt/comfort fic 😉
Bet on it by @lysical
Summary: Even Damian could admit that his older siblings occasionally had their uses.
"I need your assistance," Damian said, voice low and tense.
"No," Jason replied, and hung up.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 2,495
My Comments: Lysical writes some of the best BatBrother Fics out there, folks. So if you want some wholesome and hilarious Bat sibling bonding, then look no further! Bet on it, is one of my personal favorites of Lysical’s. Great writing and great characterization!
Blood in the Water by MishaBerry
Summary: We all do stupid things when we are lonely, and in faraway lands, we hardly expect the consequences to follow us. Bruce certainly never thought twice about an American woman in Jaipur after one night with her. He hardly expected to see her ever again.
The universe, on the other hand, had different ideas, and the tides of time and chance brought Tim Drake to Bruce's life over and over again.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 181,939
My Comments: FANTASTIC AU! One of my favorite Tim Drake centric fics, but still has plenty of the rest of the BatFamily. I also love that we get to see Tim as his sweet six-year self. This story has it all, great characterizations, good plot, angst, fluff, and BatFamily bonding 😊
Cracked Foundation by @cdelphiki
Summary: The last thing Damian expected to happen when he ran away from home was to spend a day crammed into a small space with Jason Todd. His father's second son was a black sheep. An outcast. An angry, insanity driven criminal who enjoyed screwing with the batfamily in every way he could. At least, that's what Damian thought. Maybe he was wrong about Todd.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 20,902
My Comments: This is a brilliant fic that examines the relationship between Damian and Jason. I absolutely loved this fic and never wanted it to end. I truly wish there were more Jason and Damian Fics out there, I think it’s a character duo that isn’t explored nearly enough. If you love Damian and Jason brother bonding fics, you’ll love this one and if you’ve never read a bonding fic between these two brothers, you may just find a new love!
Five Times Jason Todd Saved His Brothers, and One Time They Saved Him by laceymcbain, reena_jenkins
Summary: “Did you know I was in here, or did you just blow up the place for fun?”
Damian didn't need to see Todd's face to know he was grinning under the helmet.
“It's not really a rescue unless something blows up. But if Bats asks, it was completely necessary."
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 6,923
My Comments: This fic is BatFamily feels to the extreme. Jason Todd deserves love and this fic gives it to him. LOVED IT <3 <3 <3
Fly By Night by @lysical
Summary: Damian is thirteen. Sometimes he even acts like it.
"This is an injustice," were the last words Damian had spoken to his father all day.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 2,889
My Comments: Another great Fic by @Lysical! This is just a plain ol’ fun Fic, y’all. Great Bat Brother love in this one and it also features my sweet summer child- Jonathan Samuel Kent. Trust me you will love this Fic, it is hilarious and all around good stuff 😊
A Good Place by @lemonadegarden
Summary: Damian Wayne is kidnapped and sent back years through time. Together, he and Father – who's only been Batman for a mere six months –must figure out how to return him to his own time.
Over the course of the next week, Damian discovers that Mexican gangsters do not mess around, that social workers find Bruce annoying, that Bruce might be a little messed up, and that crystal chandeliers create the fondest memories.
Oh. And Alfred has hair.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 36,903
My Comments: LemonadeGarden is one of my All-Time favorite authors, so anything written by them is brilliant. But A Good Place will always be a favorite of mine, it is by far my favorite Damian & Bruce centric Fic out there and is something I have read over and over again. I love getting to see a younger Bruce interact with Damian and in turn, Damian interact with him. It’s overall great and has a fantastic plot!
Let There Be a Bruise by @audreycritter
Summary: Damian is a child who should not have the scars he does; Bruce is a father who has plenty of his own scars, but still wishes he could take his son’s, too.
The silver lining is where they find each other— a broken son and a broken father, putting each other back together.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 3,656
My Comments: Audreycritter is the master of Damián & Bruce Hurt/Comfort fics. I honestly would recommend all of Audrey’s fics, so check them all out! But this one will always be a favorite 😊
Life Happens by @cdelphiki
Summary: While walking home from an event at Wayne Enterprises, Tim and Damian are kidnapped and sent to an alternate dimension. In a world where superheroes are merely comic book characters and the idea of the multiverse is only a theory found within the pages of science fiction, how are Tim and Damian going to return home? How long will they be stranded on this strange Earth? And will the boys murder each other before they figure it out?
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 176,966
My Comments: Hoo-boy, folks. I don’t even know where to start with this Fic. I honestly get teary-eyed thinking about how beautiful it is and how much I loved this one. My favorite Tim Drake and Damian Wayne brotherly bonding Fic EVER. I would almost describe this Fic as a love letter to the characters Tim and Damian, in the sense that the author captures their characterizations beautifully and tells one of the best stories of growth and familial love I have ever read. It’s fluffy, angsty, humorous, and full of BatFamily feels. And don’t worry, there is plenty of Dick, Jason, and Bruce as well (If not a little later in the story). I would run to this Fic, if I were you.
Life, if Well Lived by CaptainOzone
Summary: Jason wakes up from a time-travel mishap to find Thomas and Martha Wayne hovering over him.
Just another day in the life, right?
...Not quite.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 10,758
My Comments: A Fic that destroyed me in the BEST way possible. Tears, so many tears were shed during this fic. The best Hurt/Comfort fic I have ever read. Extremely unique in the sense that Martha and Thomas Wayne are two of the main characters and boy did I love it! I can not stress how AMAZING this Fic is. I never knew I needed this fic in my life until I read it. I wish I could re-read it for the first time all over again. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE IT!
My Brother’s Keeper by Forever_A_Thief
Summary: The boy had two options, two roads stretching out before him: stay with Mother, and become the greatest assassin ever known to man, or go to Father, and become a masked vigilante fighting for justice in a city drenched in darkness. Damian looked at these two roads, these two lives he could lead, and decided on a third path for himself instead. He chose his own road.
Jason never let himself think about the kid he had left behind at the desert compound all those years ago. When Talia never got in touch with him after his return to Gotham, Jason had assumed he had just been forgotten like he had been in Gotham. But then that kid, his little brother, showed up one night and Jason couldn’t just continue to push him to the back of his mind. Not anymore.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 43,907
My Comments: Did I mention I love Jason & Damian fics? Well I do and this one is beyond FANTASTIC. Overall great Bat-Bros fic that I would recommend over and over again. This fic is Damian and Jason centric but it does involve the rest of the Bat Family too. I love seeing all the brother’s bonding in this fic and the overall family feels 😊
Of Owls and Assassins by Cirth
Summary: "Dick," Bruce says, not entirely sure how to react, "who is that?"
Dick blinks at him from his place on the workout mat. There's a broken plate with mac and cheese strewn all over next to him, as well as what seems to be Bruce's old G.I. Joe action figure from the attic. It looks like a child's imagining of a murder scene. "My owlet," Dick states.
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 853
My Comments: The adorableness of this Fic is off the charts. I love AU’s where Dick is a Talon, but this one will always hold a very special place in my heart since Dick is just so pure in it. Forever a favorite <3
Party Games by @lemonadegarden
Summary: I can't believe you got into a bar fight at two in the morning. And now you're all in prison. The night before your wedding. What the fuck kind of a family am I marrying into?” Selina said.
Bruce Wayne goes to a series of bachelor parties, each one worse than the last. Set in the same timeline as We, So Much Older, but can be read as a standalone fic as well.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 12,659
My Comments: Okay, so technically this is a Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Fic and even though the plot premise revolves around their upcoming wedding, I wouldn’t really consider this a “slash” fic. There is definitely more BatFamily vibes with this fic. It’s hilarious, fun, and oh so wholesome! I love this fic beyond measure and even if you aren’t a fan of the BatCat ship, I highly suggest you give it a shot for the amazing BatFam moments.
Second Chance by @cdelphiki
Summary: When Talia al Ghul watched her toddling son start his training, his awful, grueling training, she had an epiphany:
The League of Assassins was no place for children.
(Or: Talia realizes training literal babies is abuse and gets him out of there.)
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 6,461
My Comments: This is the Talia al Ghul we deserve! This is the Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne deserves! THIS IS THE TALIA AL GHUL, DAMIAN WAYBE DESERVES! Loved this fic, great Talia al Ghul characterization. It’s the Talia that could have ben before DC slaughtered her character.
Running Headlong into My Arms by gleesquid
Summary: Bruce doesn’t like to credit one thing for saving his life, but if he did, it would be Haly’s Circus that Friday night in September, just as summer was beginning to die.
(He'll always be a sucker for kids with sad eyes, no parents, and more fight than the world knows what to do with.)
Or: in a universe where superheroes don't exist, Bruce Wayne finds his family.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 54,231
My Comments: I feel like this fic is a right of passage into the BatFamily fandom, so if by some chance you haven’t already read it, I highly suggest you move this straight to the top of your reading list. It’s a classic and has everything you could ever want in a BatFam Fic.
we are not alone in the dark by @audreycritter
Summary: Damian has a flashback on a family camping trip.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 2,218
My Comments: A BatFam camping trip, need I say more? One of my favorite hurt/comfort fics involving Damian. We get to see some super sweet moments between Bruce and Damian, and Damian and Jason. Loved it.
Where You Go, I Follow by @fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: In some world, Dick Grayson was never revived by Lex Luthor, and was probably better for it.
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 1,427
My Comments: BROKE MY HEART, but in the best possible way. I cried both sad tears and happy tears for this fic. LOVED IT! I have read it at least six times (I’m going read it again after I post this rec). A fantastic Dick & Damian story. I also love the title; it captures the mood perfectly. I’m always a sucker for fics that are inspired by songs, this one was inspired by ‘I Will Follow You’ by Toulouse!
Video message incoming by helenabertinellis
Summary: The League are just wrapping up their meeting when a call comes through the Watchtower servers.
It's for Batman.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 1,228
My Comments: I consider this a classic BatFam fic, so I will be shocked if you haven’t read it, but on the off chance that you have not read it, GO READ IT NOW. It’s humorous and all so wholesome 😊
Yesterday’s Voices by @lemonadegarden
Summary: While trying to take down a drug cartel that deals with memory altering drugs, things go awry, and Batman wakes up with no recollection of the last five years.
As a result, his family must now race against time to find the antidote, while also having to deal with a Bruce who still thinks Jason is Robin. A Bruce who doesn't recognise most of them. A Bruce far less jaded and cynical than the one they're used to. A Bruce who still cares.
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 49,000
My Comments: Surprise, surprise another amazing fic by LemonadeGarden. I will be shocked if you haven’t read this fic yet, but on the off chance that you haven’t, I am telling you now, to RUN to this fic. It will forever and always be my MOST FAVORITE BATFAMILY fic out there. I honestly wish this fic never had ended, it’s one that will always hold a special spot in my heart. THIS IS THE BRUCE WAYNE WE DESERVE.
For More Fic Recs Check-Out:
BatFamily Fic Recs part 2
BatFamily Fic Recs Part 3
BatFamily Fic Recs Part 4
BatFamily Fic Recs Part 5
#batman#batfamily#BatFam#batbros#Bat Brothers#Bat Family Fic Recs#batfamily recs#batfamily fics#dc fic#dc fic recs#batman fic#batman fic rec#bruce wayne#dick grayson#Jason todd#Tim Drake#Damian Wayne#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne fanfiction#batman fanfiction#dick grayson fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#tim drake fanfic#damian wayne fanfiction#nightwing#redhood#redrobin#robin
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wordless pt.1
jeon jeongguk / reader
genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst
rating: mature
words: 4.1k
warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention
a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D
Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.
Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five
Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.
Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.
Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.
Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.
He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.
However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.
Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.
(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.
Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.
“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”
Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.
He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.
“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”
“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.
Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.
“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”
Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”
“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”
“Hate my brain.”
“Today, we hate it.”
Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.
“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”
You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”
“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”
(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.
Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.
Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.
“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”
It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.
“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”
“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.
Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.
(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.
For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.
With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.
A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.
“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”
Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.
“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.
“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.
“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.
“Miss me?”
“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”
You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”
“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”
“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”
“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”
(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.
“You.”
“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.
“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”
He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”
“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”
Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.
“Y/N-”
“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”
He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”
“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.
(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.
Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.
He gets up, anyway.
Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.
Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.
(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.
Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.
It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.
The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.
Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.
Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.
You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.
“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.
(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.
There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.
On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today.
Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.
“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.
“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.
“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”
Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”
Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”
“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”
“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.
“Me too, but not these ones.”
“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”
“It hurts.”
“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”
Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.
“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”
You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”
“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”
You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.
“All better,” he assures.
“It feels better already.”
“Mm. Magic.”
(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.
“So, I was at a school fayre today.”
“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.
“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”
Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”
“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”
Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”
“Yep. You.”
“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.
You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.
“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.
“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”
“It’s for me?” he asks again.
“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.
Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.
“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.
“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”
“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”
You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”
“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.
“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.
(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.
Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.
He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.
“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”
“Can’t you just make it?”
“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.
“Oh. Makes sense.”
“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”
He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”
You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”
“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.
“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”
(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.
He’s tired. You’re tired.
The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.
You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.
You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.
#im sick of myself and my brain making new fics instead of finishing current ones#oh well#jungkook scenario#bts scenario#jeongguk scenario#jungkook x reader#bts#bangtan#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#bts jungkook imagine#jeongguk x reader#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungkook#jjk#bts mafia au#sugar daddy au#wordless
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Infinity is just the beginning (1/?)
Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity
Rating: Mature
Tags: Nano Kojiro / Kaoru Sakurayashiki, Kaoru Sakurayashiki / Shindo Ainosuke (one-sided), Langa Hasegawa / Reki Kyan, Alpha / Beta / Omega Dynamics, Fantasy AU no one asked for, Miya Chinen is Joe’s son and I mean it, Miya Chinen is an illegitimate child, Forced marriage, Political marriage, Elf!Cherry, Demon!Joe, Elf!Adam, Carla is half-human / half-Elf.
Words: 2141
Kaoru Sakurayashiki knew his value and his place as an Omega Prince. He might have been born as a High Prince, descendant of the great Sakurayashiki House, which rules the Sun Elvish Kingdom, but at the end of the day, beside his lineage, he was still an Omega, a child who cannot ascend the throne. Of course, for his whole life he was treated with the respect and care he deserved, being prepared to become a suitable First Prince, until his brother, Langa, was born. The small Alpha has quickly taken his place in the line, but Kaoru was not angry with that. He loved his brother deeply, maybe even more than he loved his parents.
The High Prince, after his baby brother was born, got the freedom he never knew before. He was growing up, throwing himself into his studies. He was spoken to be the wisest of the family, more intelligent even than his grandfather, who was believed to be the greatest king in the history of the Elvish Kingdom. Many thought that if only he wouldn’t have been born as an Omega, he could have achieved even more. Kaoru was not only brilliant, he was brave and he was a visionary. He was not afraid of combining magic with technology, creating weapons and useful tools.
If he would had been born as at least Beta, he could have lead the army. But Kaoru was not concerned about that too.
The reason behind that was the Moon Elvish Kingdom’s Prince, Shindo Ainosuke. They met when they were both six years old. Firstly too shy to talk to each other, soon they realized they share a lot. Their parents were friends, so Kaoru and Shindo spend a lot of time together growing up. At some point, Kaoru was charmed by a young Alpha. They even shared a messy, a bit tipsy kiss in the garden, during some party. At that time Kaoru knew that one day he will marry this man. The Union between Sun Elves and Moon Elves, an alliance against the Demon Empire. Shindo, the Alpha, would lead their army to the victory on the battlefield, and he, Kaoru, would lead the rest of the country as his Consort. The mere thought of them, living such a bright future, was enough to send shivers down his spine.
One can only imagine Kaoru’s confidence, when at the day of his 19thbirthday, he was summoned by his father to his study. Omega Prince already knew the news: he will get married soon, in less than a month, in order to seal the alliance. He was more than ready to leave his title as a Sun Prince behind and become the Consort of the Moon King. Kaoru could only imagine new opportunities, lying in front of him. He was dreaming big.
“My King”, he said, greeting his father with a little bow. “You have requested my presence.”
“Yes, Kaoru. Sit down please.”
Kaoru sat in front of his father desk. He enjoyed the atmosphere of the King’s study. The room could be a little dusty, but it smelled of pine trees and lemon. One of the servants put a cup of tea in front of him and left quietly.
“I think you are aware of the topic we need to rise today, Kaoru.”, his father looked a bit tired. His hair has turned white few years ago, but they used to be the same color as Langa’s.
“Yes, father.”, Kaoru said respectfully. “I know my duty as a Prince. I will marry the King.”, he said with a little smile on his lips. Of course he would marry The Moon King. Shindo was his friend, and now he will become his husband and lover…
“I am pleased to hear that, my son. I must admit that I was worried at the beginning. You were not raised like other Omegas and I was expecting you to rebel against my decision.”
“My King, I could never. The Union of two Elvish kingdoms will bring peace-”
“Kaoru, wait,” his father interrupted him. “I think you got the wrong idea, my child. You are not going to marry King Ainosuke.”
His world fell apart. Kaoru opened his mouth a bit, like a fish out of water, unable to breathe. He must be dreaming some nightmare. It could not have been real. Marrying Shindo Ainosuke was his destiny. There were friends, they would make such a good couple… It could not get worse.
“The Moon King was not interested in your hand,” his father explained. “Moreover, I think our Langa should marry Ainosuke’s younger brother. You, my child, you will marry The Demon King.”
Oh. So it could be worse.
“What-.. Father, please. Think about it again,” Kaoru said, pale and shocked.
“You have told me you know your duty, Kaoru. Your marriage will ensure the peace between us and The Demon Empire.”
Kaoru was thinking fast. He had to do something in order to stop this madness. There had to be a way for him to avoid being wedded to the barbarian Demon King. He needed to contact Shindo quickly. If The Moon King will hear about this, he would definitely change his mind and marry Kaoru, the Omega was sure about that. Ainosuke would never let Kaoru be taken away to The Demon Empire, moreover, to be married off to the brutal Alpha. He had a month, a whole month to cancel this insane plan and came up with a better one…
“Our guests will be here tomorrow, Kaoru,” his father said, as if he knew what was going through his son’s head. “Both The Demon King and The Moon King. We are going to sing a pact and then you will marry Nanjo Kojiro, The Demon King, and our Langa will be engaged to Prince Reki.”
“What?”, Kaoru could felt his lips moving on their own. “Aino.. The Moon King knew about that?”
“Of course he knew, Kaoru. It was his plan after all.”
“Master, are you alright?”
Carla’s quiet, emotionless voice brought him back to reality. Kaoru did not sleep that night. He was betrayed by the whole world. All his plans, dreams, ideas… All was destroyed in one moment. Both his family and his friend sold him to The Demon King. He was a tool, a bribe to The Demon Empire. Of course, he understood the reasons behind that. Langa, an Alpha, had to marry and Omega, so Prince Reki was a perfect candidate. And there was not a need to unite two countries with two marriages, so the spot for Kaoru’s husband was left open. Selling him off to the Demons were the best idea. Even if he dies, not matter how and when, Demons will be shackled with the pact. Moreover, if he dies after he gives birth to the Demon King’s heir, the child will link two counties even harder.
“Master? You look…”
“Terrible, I know”, Kaoru replied, looking at himself in the mirror. He was dressed in furisode, white with cherry blossoms embroidered at the bottom of the sleeves. His pink hair was carefully combed and Carla put a cherry blossom hair pin into it. She also put a little make up on his face, to cover dark circles under his eyes.
“Worried. You are worried, my Lord,” the girl said. She learned about the future of her master and decided to go to the Demon Empire with him. Kaoru saved her few years back and it was her duty to protect him. “And I am no surprised.”
Kaoru looked at her in the mirror. Carla’s skin was darker than his, she had black hair and purple eyes. She was half-human, half-elvish. Many would despise her, but Kaoru found her pretty, smart and loyal. He could not imagine his life without her anymore.
“Thank you, Carla. I think we should get going. Our… guests… will be here soon.”
“I overheard the guards, Master. The Moon King and his people are already in the Capital. The Demons were spotted near the border, they will be here in less than an hour.”
Less than an hour and he will meet his future husband. Less than a twelve hours and he will be married to The Demon King. Less than a day and he will be mated to the barbarian King. In less than two days, he will leave the Sun Elvish Kingdom ans travel up north, to The Demon Empire. He would be lucky if he dies in the meantime.
Kaoru was scared. When he was thinking about being wedded to the Shindo, he was a bit nervous, but sure that their intercourse would be gentle, sweet even. He was dreaming about The Moon King caressing his body, worshiping it before they connect with each other. Kaoru was dreaming about children, with blue or pink hair, running around and making their lives even more meaningful. Now he was scared that The Demon King will force him every night to sleep with him, force his body into his until Kaoru will give him an heir. He will simply fuck him, like a whore.
“Master, you are…”
“It’s fine, Carla. I’m ready.”, the Omega Prince said, wiping a tear from his cheek. He was an Omega Prince, who knows his duty. His life and his body do not matter, if he could buy a peaceful life for his people with it.
Kaoru stood at the top of the stairs, when Demons arrived. He was holding his head high, forcing a little smile on his lips. He will never show his fears and anxiety to those, who were around him. For them he was a definition of the perfection, and Kaoru was more than ready to uphold his reputation. He could be falling apart on the inside, but on the outside he will never show.
Of course, the first person he spotted, was The Demon King himself. Riding the biggest horse Kaoru has ever seen in his life, the Alpha was dressed all in black. He had green hair, which makes him look like a giant tree. When The Demon King came closer, Kaoru saw small horns at the top of his head, partly hidden inside of his hair. The Alpha was smiling lightly, with such confidence, that it made Kaoru annoyed.
The Omega Prince was not small, but when the Alpha dismounted the horse, Kaoru straightened up. It did not help much; he still was smaller than the Alpha and the top of his head reached slightly above the place the heart should be, if The Demon King had one.
“I shall welcome you, my guests,” Kaoru’s father took a step towards the Demons. Elves and Demons have not met since the last war. Kaoru knew his father and The Demon King must have exchanged letters, but this… This was a milestone in their history.
“King Sakurayashiki,” The Demon King smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”
When the Demon moved his hand, Kaoru was sure he is going to stab the Elvish King. But instead they simply shook their hands as a greeting. Then the Demon welcomed The Moon King the same way. He exchanged few words with the nobles, at the end finally standing before him.
“I hope,” the Demon King smiled to Kaoru’s father, “That his is your precious son.”
“You got it right, Lord Nanjo. This is my older son, Kaoru. The one who is betrothed to you.”
Kaoru felt a lump in his throat. He was glad he hadn’t listened to Carla and haven’t eaten anything, because at that moment he felt nausea. What a great beginning it would be, if he throw up on his fiancee feet.
The Alpha was big. Bigger than any man Kaoru knew. His shoulder were large and Omega was sure that The Demon King could kill anybody with his bare hands. For what reason he had a sword, attached to his belt, if he clearly does not need it? Moreover, he smelled like a danger. A mixed scent of sweat and sandalwood.
“You wasn’t making this up,” the Demon King said, “When you wrote me he is beautiful.”
Kaoru felt anger, boiling inside him. Does the Demon Lord think that he is deaf? He was talking with his father about him, without actually speaking directly to the Omega! Disrespectful ogre, Kaoru thought, but bit his tongue.
“Good afternoon, my dear Prince”, the Demon King finally spoke to him. “Forgive me my surprise, but you are breathtaking.”
Kaoru used his fan to cover half of his face, forcing a small smile. You were fine breathing and talking nonce just a second ago, you brainless gorilla, he thought.
“Welcome to the Sun Elvish Kingdom, my Lord.”
I hope you will die during this trip, Kaoru added in his mind.
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Hear me out, a hunger games au where joe and nicky are tributes
Joe is in District 8, I figured since he's got a more artistic side he would be with the textiles district. Plus they're the more rebellious district and actually the first one to rebel in the books
Nicky is in District 1, because of course
Joe doesn't really know how to fight that well, so he mainly hides and sets traps street smarts
At the cornucopia, Nicky is able to snag a longsword, and Joe being fast is able to grab a scimitar, not that he really knows how to wield it
One of the traps Joe sets takes out two of the tributes that Nicky was teamed up with
Nicky manages to eventually take Joe by surprise when he's trying to set up a trap
Some how, Joe manages to get a good fatal hit in with his scimitar, but Nicky also gets one in as well
They both die
But before they're picked up and the canons go off, they wake up
Everyone watching goes nuts
Nicky is confused and irritated when he wakes up. Unsure if he really did die or not. So he just kills Joe again and as he starts to walk away, Joe wakes up
Joe is absolutely terrified for what this could mean for him
Nicky thinks he'll be declared one of the victors and the capitol will shower him in praise
The gamemaker decides to start a fire that traps the both of them, causing them to die from smoke inhalation
They wake up in the middle of the cornucopia and there's a message that rings loud and clear "if you can kill the tributes from district 8 and 1 for good, you will be treated better than any previous victor"
Its now everyone against the two of them
Joe thinks they should stick together, Nicky goes off on his own instead
Joe follows from the shadows and watches as five tributes go against Nicky
Nicky kills one but then they overtake him and spear him in the chest to a tree
Joe watches as Nicky comes back to life, only to immediately die again and again
Joe sets a trap for the tributes and takes out most of them, as he goes to free Nicky, Nicky dies again just as he pulls the spear out
One of the tributes he had hit with his trap was only knocked out, so its no surprise when they grab Joe, dragging him to the water where he's held under to drown again and again
Nicky finally comes to, and Joe is no where in sight, but he remembers seeing him trying to help just before he died. He hears splashing and follows it
Nicky kills the tribute, pulling Joe out of the water, saving him
They decide to work together after this, Nicky teaches Joe the basics of how to use his scimitar, Joe teaches Nicky how to set traps
As time goes on, they grow closer
Nicky learns how Joe's district is treated. He grows to despise the capitol
They both die a few more times, and by this time Nicky had lost any and all sponsers
They're finally the last two standing
They're taken to the capitol where they're told they'll be treated as victors but they now must do anything and everything the capitol asks of them or they'll hurt their families
This includes agreeing to fight in all upcoming hunger games until one or both of them dies for good
They and their families are moved together into two separate houses, They're kept near each other so the capitol can keep and eye on them
They eventually grow even closer, a relationship between them blooms. They both care about each other and each other's families. They train and work hard where they can in secret
They also begin working towards starting a rebellion against the capitol as they travel to each district during the victory tour
By the time the next reaping comes, and Joe and Nicky's names are automatically read off to be tributes, all hell breaks loose
#the old guard#the old guard au#tog au#joe x nicky#imagine being immortals during the hunger games#you'd feel unstoppable#but the captiol wants control so of course they'd threaten you and your family
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hey it's wednesday and I don't wanna think about personal shit, so let's go over my WIP folder!
roy/jamie ex-husbands fic, which only exists bc I heard blame brett and wanted to write a fic - first two chapters are done, but need editing. I keep being lazy. it should have been posted two weeks ago, but by the time I do post, the third chapter will be done?
roy/jamie reality show au, because I wanted to use a quote from yonderland in a fic ("it's a big decision, maybe you should sleep with it")
zukka big bang! I ... should write more, but I have a while, so I'm good and I hit 10k, so whatever
zukka prince & the turtleduck au, probably going to go on backburner until a couple other things get finished
such as the zukka time travel fic, which will probably get focus once the ex-husbands is done
and then there's a modern supernatural zukka au that needs to be plotted but it involves genies, lawyers, and antics
I want to do something for zukka week, prob just one thing, so I should pick and plot at some point
there's a crack-adjacent pynch & sarchengsey I just started, which is fun and honestly will prob come up next after the ex-husbands bc it's a short one
oh and a malex wedding-weekend au that is a remix of a ficlet I wrote once before
and then there's the joe/nicky massive time travel au, which is already over 20k, but at this point, idk what's going to happen to it. something. maybe I will finish in five years. maybe.
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Old Guard hc #56
Prompt number: 17 - “Give me a minute or an hour”
Fandom: The Old Guard
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff
AN: @flamingbluepanda encouraged me to write a Psych AU for this prompt
Joe cranes his neck to get a better look at the body. The puncture wounds are interesting, each one spaced at least four inches apart, all at differing angles, both in entrance and position meaning whatever killed this man wasn’t just a random attack. If they were closer, Joe would have thought they were bite marks and maybe they are, but the last time he checked, there were no animals in the ocean or on land with a bite-radius that large and teeth spaced that far apart. At least, there’s nothing alive today that has a 34-inch bite-radius.
“You getting something, Mr. Kaysani?” Chief Freeman asks.
Can it be? The bite marks are looking to be more of a match the longer he stares at them. “I’m…getting something,” Joe says, snatching the yellow pad and a pen from Andy and ignoring the small huff of irritation she lets out.
He starts with a brief outline, it’s been a while since he’s drawn one of these and he has to use small strokes to get the head right.
“Wait, I think this is a boating accident,” Andy says, and Joe briefly looks up to see her point at the body. “Head trauma from…from falling off the boat. Hit a motor maybe?”
The eyes are tricky. Should they be looking straight or at the viewer? Joe decides the viewer for a more startling effect.
“The wounds on his back, they were caused by a…by an industrial crab trap. Yes, a crab trap. Or a whale. A lonely whale that got lost from its pod and traveled East, West. Saw our floating guy from below, thought it was a seal and…you know, had a little chomp.”
The teeth are definitely not his best work. The teeth to mouth ratio are way off and they’re definitely not as uniform in real life like he drew them. It’ll have to do for now. He adds a little shading to the drawing, giving it a more realistic appearance.
“A whale?” Booker slowly asks, when it seems like Andy is finally done with her explanation.
“What’s your guy got?” Nicky immediately shoots back, coming to his partner’s defense.
Joe can practically hear Booker’s smug look, “Watch and learn, Genova. Watch and learn.”
“Alright Kaysani, show me what you got,” Chief Freeman says.
Joe blows on paper and holds the pad to his chest, hiding his drawing from a peaking Andy. “First of all, I would like to say that this is not my best work. It’s a very rough sketch, the shading isn’t finished, the torso is a little plump and the teeth are…they’re not completely accurate. If I had more time, I would’ve definitely given them more shape, more individual characteristics. If I had my druthers, I'd have done this in charcoal.” Booker gives him an understanding nod and Joe would high-five him if he was standing right next to him, “You know what I’m talking about! Almost nothing beats a good charcoal drawing-“
“Mr. Kaysani!” Chief Freeman interrupts, crossing her arms and tapping her feet. “The verdict?”
Joe dips his head in apology, “Yes! Look, the key was in the puncture wounds,” Joe says, using his pen to point at said wounds. “They’re very unique puncture wounds. So unique in fact, that I was able to draw a semi-accurate profile of our attacker.” Chief Freeman gives him the look that says ‘Well? Get on with it’ and Joe turns the pad around and smirks at Andy.
Both Andy and Chief Freeman do a double-take and lean forward to get a better look. He resists the urge to flinch. It’s really not his best work and it shows. After a second of intense scrutiny, Chief Freeman shakes her head with a slight scoff and stalks off.
“Chief? Where are you going?” Joe calls out, still holding his drawing up. The culprit is right here! Well, not here here but here on paper. She’s halfway up the beach already and doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge he spoke. Great.
“Nice work, Kaysani,” Andy says, snatching her pen and pad back, a pleased look on her face, and runs to catch up to the Chief.
“A dinosaur?” Booker asks, mouth downturned, fingers working the buttons in his sleeves to roll them back down to a more professional length. No, we were supposed to get fish tacos after this. “Jesus, Joe. You couldn’t have shot for something in the last million years?”
Joe places his hands on his friend’s chest and steps in his way, “Give me a minute, or an hour to prove it was a Tyrannosaurus rex.” Booker shakes his head, the disappointed look doing funny things to Joe’s stomach, pats Joe on the shoulder, and steps around him to leave.
Great, just great. Even his best friend didn’t believe him. Joe rubs his temples, he can feel a faint throb and he hopes that it’s just a regular throb and not a foreshadow for a migraine.
“I thought the drawing was pretty good.”
Joe drops his hand and turns around. Nicky has that faint smile on his lips that Joe’s still trying to figure out if it means he likes Joe or likes likes Joe. He’s already made it obvious on multiple occasions how he feels about Nicky.
With Nicky’s looking at him like that, it’s so easy to smile. “Thanks!” And because no one else is here to witness his humiliation, he makes his smile a little more flirty. “You know, I can always use a live model.”
Nicky cocks an eyebrow at him, the faint smile still there, maybe even a little wider if Joe’s not delusional. “I’m going to go calm Andy.”
“Don’t die, I’d hate to miss your pretty face.” A light blush creeps up Nicky’s neck as he nods and jogs back up the beach.
Joe doesn’t stare at Nicky’s ass. He doesn’t, because that would be rude and Nicky is more than a beautiful body.
It’s a good thing the only witness is a dead body.
Joe turns back to the dead body. “Definitely not a boating accident.”
—
Joe slumps against the growing mound of dirt. He’s exhausted. He feels like he completed an Iron Man and climbed Mount Everest twenty times. Who knew being shot at could be so draining? To make matters worse, the throb from this morning was a foreshadow. His eyeballs are going to explode any second now with how strong his head is pounding. He digs his knuckle into the valley between his eyes until it hurts, it’s a different hurt than the one going on behind his eyes though, that it feels strangely good.
Joe sighs, at least one good thing happened today; he was right about the body. It’s a real shame he doesn’t have ‘Use a 20-year-old Tyrannosaurus rex model built by a 9-year-old Booker to solve a murder case’ on his bingo card. He would’ve been the only one to mark it down.
A bottle of water is placed on his lap and Joe opens his eyes, a ‘thanks, Booker’ on his tongue. Except, it’s not Booker standing above him, it’s Nicky.
Joe musters up the best smile he can despite feeling like death has crawled its way inside him through his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Your head’s been hurting all day,” Nicky says, crouching down, a small frown on his face. He pulls two packets out of his pocket and holds them out to Joe. One’s red and the other’s green. “I didn’t know if it was a regular headache or a migraine, so, I got both.”
Joe stares at the two packets. Nicky bought him medicine. Nicky saw that he was hurting and brought him something to feel better. Joe swallows the lump in his throat, reaches out for the red packet. “Thank you,” Joe says, brushing his fingers with Nicky’s.
The corners of Nicky’s lips tick upwards, “No problem.”
Joe tears the packet open and dumps both pills in his hands before tossing them into his mouth. Nicky has the bottle of water open and held out for him and Joe takes it with a grateful nod. Even though he swallows the pills on the first gulp, he finishes the whole bottle. Only when he’s done, does he remember that Booker might want some too.
“I gave him a bottle too,” Nicky says and that’s a sign, right? That has to be a sign of how amazing they would be together. “The pharmacist said those pills should work in 15 minutes.” Joe nods, he’s intimately familiar with the wonders of Excedrin. He would’ve taken one around lunch if they hadn’t been following another lead at the time.
“Thank you,” Joe repeats, closing his eyes again even though he wants nothing more than to stare into Nicky’s gorgeous blue eyes. He hears and then feels Nicky settle beside him, no doubt getting his suit all dirty, and he’s doing that for Joe.
“Is there anything else I can do?”
Joe shakes his head, “You’ve helped a lot already. We just have to wait now.” Joe resumes his earlier ministrations, digging into that spot that hurt but was a better hurt than the one inside.
Cold fingers slide over his own, “Don’t press too hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” Nicky chides.
Joe grabs Nicky’s wrist and guides those cold fingers until they’re covering his eyes. Relief instantly hits and Joe presses those cold fingers harder against his eyes.
“Should’ve gotten an ice pack,” Nicky mutters to himself.
“S’fine, your hands are working.”
They sit in silence as they wait for the pills to kick in. Every few minutes, Nicky switches hands and Joe doesn’t even have to hold his wrist anymore. He knows how hard to press and it’s nice. It’s really nice. He can almost ignore Booker digging in the background and the occasional splash of dirt that rains down on both of them.
“Never thought my poor circulation would come in handy,” Nicky jokes when the migraine finally subsides.
Joe grins and reaches out to press a kiss to both palms. “They were lovely.”
“Please tell me I’m not going to have to listen to you two flirt the entire night,” Booker calls out from the hole. “I don’t want you two ruining my discovery.”
Excuse me?
“Your discovery?” Joe asks, crawling over the mound to look down at Booker. He’s made an impressive amount of progress. Probably only six more feet before they hit the skull.
Booker stabs the shovel into the dirt, both of his hands coming up to rest on his waist. “I’m digging, so yes, my discovery.”
Joe makes an outraged sound, “I found the right hole!”
“It wasn’t a hole! I’m making it a hole!” To prove his point, Booker picks up the shovel and tosses the next scoop at Joe.
Joe should’ve seen that one coming.
“Alright, I’m going to go home. Have fun digging, boys,” Nicky says and when Joe turns around, he’s brushing dirt off himself. “I’ll see you later?”
Joe nods his head probably a little too enthusiastically, “Definitely. Thank you again for the pills. I’d still be dying if you hadn’t have come back.”
Nicky smiles, the small one, and one day Joe’s going to see if he can get him to grin ear-to-ear, lips stretched so wide his cheeks will hurt. But not today. Today, he’s going to make history by being the first Psychic Paleontologist.
Nicky dips his head again and yeah, Joe hates to see him go but he sure as hell loves to watch him leave.
That ass is definitely better than a charcoal drawing.
A new spray of dirt rains down on him and that’s it.
It’s a shame no one is there to hear Booker’s loud yelp as Joe tackles him to the floor. Oh well, it’ll live rent-free in Joe’s mind forever.
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LoL Chapter 38- Potions
Masterpost
A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)
Redland, the capitol city of magic, where the hermits hope to gather the supplies they need if they hope to survive the Hangman’s Playground. While Etho and Stress are gathering potions, they meet unlikely allies- with closer ties than they expect.
______________________________
Redland stretches to the sky, the quirky nature of magic on full show even in the architecture of the city. Towers peaked with rotund pinnacles, painted bright and distinctive colors. All levels of the city are full of the bright, baubled roofs. The main street and busy sections of the city are perfectly manicured, hedges with vibrant flowers and verdant greens, but when the hermits look down calm alleys and quiet streets, nature has settled against the brickwork and grown between the cobble, nature filling in with it’s own eccentric accents.
The hermits wander through the city, an eclectic town full of wandering walkways, silent speakeasies, and unique universities. The schools of magic sit across from each other, students of offensive magic having lunch with students studying performance arcana. Bright banners wave in the breeze. Shops are full of any and every kind of item, a bazaar of the magic and mundane. Some shops boast large inventories, enchantments made enmasse and sold to large crowds- glamors were a favorite. Others host the antique and unique. No rhyme or reason what they hold, useless lamps next to powerful staffs.
TFC turns to Xisuma. “Can you divvy up the gold? We can cover more ground finding supplies for our mission if we separate.”
“What I wouldn’t give for that sky kid’s magic right now.” Xisuma sighs, digging out the gold and handing it off to various groups of hermits.
Stress and Etho glance at one another. “I think we’re gonna look for some potions firstly. If we go to the alchemy academy, I’m absolutely positive we’ll find somethin’.”
“And if not, we can… convince a student to help us get what we want.” Etho pats his back, feeling his kusarigama tucked in his light, silent material.
“Don’t forget to ask about the ingredients!” BDubs shouts as the two walk away, towards the bright green and yellow tower that holds the school of potion brewing. “Silvershade is not the same as Shadesilver!”
Stress shakes her head, and challenges Etho to a footrace through the city. He accepts with a grin, and they take off down the main avenue. She laughs, feeling a sense of freedom in how strong the magic is in the city. Redland embodies everything magic is. It’s natural, it's eclectic, it’s bright, it’s unique. And every flower blooming in between the cobblestones, every shop full of mysterious wares and magical amulets, is full of that spirit.
She turns her head, calling back to Etho from over her shoulder. “I’m gonna win, try an’ catch me!”
From beneath the midnight blue mask that covers Etho’s nose and lips, a coy grin appears. He’s given Stress the lead, only to shock his friend when he wins. His mismatched eyes glimmer with mischief, and he turns. Running straight into a tree.
Straight into a tree’s shadow. He leaves the plane of existence, and skids on his feet as he enters the shadow realm. Grey, calming mist dances through shadows, and his feet tapping through puddles of water across the floor. In all the time he’s spent in this realm, he can never truly understand it. He doesn’t know why it’s so misty, impossible to see more than a few meters in front of him. Or where the mist comes from, dancing in the darkness. Why it’s damp, like a rain had just occurred. He’s never seen it rain here. He also has no clue why it smells funky in here. Like a wayward explosion matched with rotten fish. Is there even anything more than a puddle around here?
No matter. Etho’s winning this race. He takes off in the direction he and Stress were running, feeling himself pass through buildings, hedges, even people in the other realm. It’s a tingly feeling in his belly. Once he’s sure he’s made it to the alchemy school, he casts his magic, tossing it in front of him to reenter the mortal realm.
He passes right through it. He stumbles and crashes to the floor, not so ninja-like. “Dammit, no not now!”
There’s no discernable shadows for him to jump through. The sun must be tucked behind a cloud. Too big a swath of darkness for him to use, too general. He paces, tossing a circle with every turn of his heels, running through each time. He did this to beat Stress, being a badass and a bastard. He specializes in that delicate balance of the two. But instead, he’s stuck in the stinky shadow realm, and worse he lost the footrace.
His spell casts again, but when he walks through this time, he’s met by the blinding bright light of the sun. And Stress’s gleeful cackle. “You cheated! None of that magical stuff!”
“What does it matter, it didn’t work.” He states, but he’s smiling all the same. Etho runs his hand over his white hair, tugging it away from his face so he can see the alchemy tower in full. “Should we check the shops first? What are we even looking for?”
“Queen Erlea said we’re gonna need some healing potions and deterrents for the forest. I can assume mental and emotional potions are in that category.” Stress counts along the street full of potion shops, before spinning around and letting fate decide where they search first. A bright green shop, the window filled with potted plants and chaotic cats. Stress squeals at the sight of the kittens and bolts to the shop. Etho follows behind, grabbing the door before it can slam back to it’s jamb, without disturbing the sunbathing felines.
They peruse this store. And the next. And the next. Finding healing potions was easy, and with Etho’s aggressive bartering they’re even discounted. Bottles of bright pink liquid, bundles of travel sized form- gummy chews easy to pop into one’s mouth-, and tiny tinctures full of potent life saving potions.
But no matter what store they enter, how many times they ask or persuade, no one sells mental potions. Some say they’re pseudomagic, others that they’re too hard to create. And after being kicked out of another alchemy shop, Stress and Etho are sitting on the sidewalk, bouncing ideas across each other.
“Maybe we don’t need them? Maybe the others will find supplies that can do the job?” Etho offers.
“Or perhaps we can search Joe’s library to find something else.” Stress flops back, ignoring how she blocks the sidewalk as she stares up at the sky. “Where can we get mental barrier potions but Redland?”
“Why not try making them ourselves?” Etho looks over, gazing at the Alchemy tower. “I bet that school has every book, ingredient, and setup ever invented. We’re clever and smart, we’re hermits after all. If no one makes them, we’ll make them ourselves.”
Stress reclines up to her elbows, squinting her eyes. “Yer right, Etho. Think you can get us into one of them potion rooms of the school?”
“Do I think I can? I know I can.” Etho snickers. They walk through the open doors of the school, bustling past students young and old, human or kipling or insectia or even bacca, boy or girl or otherwise. Etho pulls down his mask to fit in with the crowd, though his hair always sticks out. Stress keeps close to him, glancing around the halls. For a second, she swears she sees someone looking at her, but she ducks her head and keeps moving. They turn a cornerl, following the signs for potion labs. Listening for one room to be empty. Etho stops at the doorway of one. Closes his eyes, and walks through a shadow.
But he returns from where he entered. “No, no it’s all dark in there! Why don’t they have anything boiling, any lamps or anything! What kind of lab is this?”
“My lab, and what do you plan to do with my laboratory?” A strong, clear voice cuts through both hermits like a knife, and they both freeze. Maybe if they don’t move, the voice will move on. But instead, another voice rises up.
“You’re hermits, are you not?” A younger, sharp voice drawls. “I was told about you. Didn’t expect two of you bitches to be sneakin’ into my professor’s lab.”
Etho makes a bolt for the nearest shadow, but he passes right through the shadow and back into light. Stumbling down the hall, he’s dragged back to the professor and student combo, while Stress is turned around to face them. Etho taps his fingers. “We were just… looking around! Trying to find the bathrooms.”
The student looks up at the professor, eyebrows rising from a serious face. He nods, clasping his hands behind his back. The student grins, tucks a lock of black hair behind an elongated ear, and snaps her fingers.
“We’re sneakin’ inta the lab to make potions!” Stress claps her hand over her mouth. She didn’t mean to say that. Why did she say that? “No one makes what we need to enter the Forest of Memories!”
“The Forest of Memories? Red said you were batshit crazy, but that…” Etho picks up his head, vaguely recognizing the name.
“Well, you could have just asked for my keys.” Sylaeus shrugs, producing a ring full of mismatched keys and dangling chains. “Selene, be a dear and get these two my Encyclopedia of Potions. I’ll start up the burners.”
Shock registers on both hermits faces, but Selene dutifully saunters down the hall, turning and entering a large door in the passage. Stress walks into the lab, admiring the collection of jars, half finished potions, and ingredients kept in the room. But Etho no longer has the inclination to enter. “Why are you helping us? We just tried to break into your lab.”
“If you need a potion that badly that you would try to break into my office, you must need it for good reason. Adventuring into the Forest of Memories is one hell of a reason at that.” Sylaeus ignites a flame beneath a long, complicated series of funnels, tubes, and flasks. He tempers the flame, fire glimmering of his intense gaze. “Besides, it means I get to teach more about potions.”
Selene returns with the book, hefting a tome as large as her torso and twice as thick. “So what the hell kind of potions are you guys going to make?”
“Potions that will negate our fears and dampen the effects of the forest?” Stress tries her best to repeat what Queen Erlea suggested. “Maybe some repel potions as well?”
The long eared mage hauls open the book, flipping through the pages with intense, glaring eyes. She stops, turning it around for Etho and Stress to see. “You had to request the most difficult potions to fucking make. It’s a damn good thing I spent the past month gathering more than enough supplies for you to use.”
And with the guidance of Sylaeus and his student, Etho and Stress get to work. The careful art of alchemy came naturally to both hermits- Stress’s attention to detail let her see exactly when the right shade of amber for the potion appeared, while Etho’s perceptive training and patience guide him through finding just the right mixture of Silvershade and shadesilver. Even Sylaeus complimented his new students on their fine work.
“While we’re waiting for the mixture to cool, would either of you like a drink?” She waves her hand, and four cups appear before them. The professor grins, swiping a drink and guzzling the never ending cup down.
“My student’s finest mixture.” Sylaeus grins, patting his apprentice on the top of her fluffy, long mane of hair.
“Is it a healing potion?” Etho questions. “Or maybe a stamina potion?”
“Lemonade. Sip sip bitch.” Selene retorts, deadpanned.
“Miss Selene, are you a multi-mage? You used telekinesis to drag Etho back before, but now you used summoning magic.” Stress takes a drink, shocked to watch that her cup is never ending. “A-and some kind of spatial magic?”
“Selene here is my best student for more reasons than one. Not only can she brew better potions than even master alchemists, but she also spent years studying magic until she gained power of her own.” Sylaeus sees the confusion on the two’s face, and lets Selene fill them in.
“I was born without magic.” She states. “It’s rare, but it happens. I wasn’t ready to give up on myself yet. I spent days and nights, studying every book I could get my hands on, watching the other kids use their magic. With enough time and dedication, I found the power within myself. Whatever magic I study, I can create.”
Stress has tears welling in her eyes by the time the story is over. “What a lovely tale, an’ look at you now! All that persistence and never givin’ up paid off!”
“I’m sure Selene could have lived her life without magic, or have chosen a darker route to gain power. But it’s her own magic, and she’s a proud S-Class wizard!” Sylaeus beams like a father, a teacher proud of his student.
The potion behind them starts to rapidly shift colors, and all four descend upon it to add the last ingredient- prismarine shards shed from a guardian. Etho wonders where Selene got such a prized ingredient, something most kiplings aren’t willing to part with.
In a puff of smoke, the potion stabilizes. Selene corks the bottle, writing in scrawling handwriting of it’s intention, and hands it off to Stress. She also guides them out, an orb of soft white light guiding them down the halls of the academy.
Etho’s reminded of one other person who had seemingly unlimited types of magic. “You know… Magistrate Dolios claims to be a multi-mage, but his magic is a lot like yours.”
“Watch it, asshole.” Selene growls, opening the door and letting them out of the Alchemy tower. “I think we both know that the magistrate lies about everything. Perhaps that includes how he got his magic.”
#hermitcraft#light of lairyon#lol#hermitcraft au#hermitcraft fanfic#wizard hermits#wizard au#wizard etho#wizard stress#wizard selene#wizard xiumsa#ethoslab#stressmonster#xisuma
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