#its been a couple months since i lost all my trust for you in may
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Sold Out for Their Love Story: How I let go of my need for a Happily Ever After for Louis and Harry
(I need to give a bit of backstory before we jump into the ooey gooey sappy love story part. Please bear with me.)
In October 2021 I saw a picture of Harry Styles hand in hand with a woman I didn't recognize (like at all). He looked like he'd rather eat dirt than be near her. That was was the day I fell down the rabbit hole harder than when Harry fell on stage after fighting with the mic wire.
About me: I'm a PR and Social Media Marketing Director. Recognizing a carefully crafted marketing campaign is easy for me and that's exactly what this was. So I did some research because I wanted to prove myself right about it being a PR stunt. What I didn't realize was that I was about to discover one of the greatest love stories of our generation.
I'm Gen X and not Gen Z so I did my research about this awkward coupling on Google and not TikTok (shade not intended, I think). From there, the Larrie gods led me to YouTube and I found the Cosmic Leeds videos. (Side note: pour one out for their 2022 video when you think of them, because Jesus, Mary and Joseph, they have a job ahead of them!)
That led me to Twitter (don't judge - social media marketer here, remember?) and I was legit skerred. (Translation: skerred is southern for scared.) The Twarries are a rare and passionate breed, but it was all me, really. I honestly couldn't keep up! From there I found my way to Tumblr and settled into several months of quiet lurking. It wasn't until a bomb shell that I considered H-U-G-E in the fandom happened. I won't mention names, but a "big" TikTok-er was unlarrying.) *GASP*
I'm not ashamed to admit that my fetus Larrie heart was SHOOK. TO. ITS. CORE. I panicked. Were these two beautiful boys who I had been watching fall in goofy, sloppy, sappy love in hundreds of videos and interviews, possibly not together anymore? I couldn't even imagine such a travesty. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. I had to do something.
I did the only thing I could think of. I took a deep breath and tentatively messaged a blogger here on Tumblr. I had followed her for months and trusted her for her level-headed responses. As I hit SEND on the message, I panicked. Would she ignore me completely? Or worse, just brush me off with a "get-a-life newbie", remark? Who was I but just a newborn Larrie? I was even newer than the pandemic Larries. Yikes! Imagine the shame I felt.
She responded almost immediately and she couldn't have been more welcoming and kind. She didn't treat me like a know-nothing newbie, but listened to my question with patience. She walked me through my first Larrie breakdown. (I've since learned that breaking down is a rite of passage in the fandom.) I now consider her a friend. Always in my heart @twopoppies. Yours sincerely, @Apparentlybychance.
<Insert one of may fav Harry and Louis pics to make sure you're still paying attention>:
Now onto the good stuff: the romance of it all.
(One more tidbit: I'm also a novelist. No, I don't write fan fiction. I leave that to the professionals, but my day job does allow me to indulge in my passion which is writing stories. This is where our sweet boys had me.)
Do I blame Louis and Harry for the fact that I've devoted more time to them than cleaning my house the last few months?
Yes. Yes I do. I mean just LOOK at how stinkin' adorable they are. My god.
As a fiction writer, I see a story in everything and everywhere. When I found Harry and Louis' story and watched with my own two eyes the genuine love they had for each other, I jumped in feet first and landed too hard. I saw the heart eyes and infatuation of the baby boyfriends and was hopelessly lost in their story.
Harry...sugar, wow. Just wow. You were a mess falling all over yourself to impress and attract your golden, bright as the sun, idol. And Louis sweetie, bless your little heart. You spent at least a full year trying to convince yourself this beautiful creature with the soft curls and the potent pheromones that you called "his smell" was real.
We get it. We really do. You both were (are) so smitten. And that feral need to touch each other every waking moment developed into a settled, hard fought, partnership between two committed lovers by 2015. It was breathtaking to watch.
What's not to love about their love story?
That's where I went off the rails. Maybe you see yourself in this, too? Let's discuss.
Story is ingrained in our very beings as humans. Our ancestors verbally told stories to pass down traditions and legends from one generation to the next. This wasn't only because they hadn't invented the alphabet yet, but because they knew that story was the best way to get to the heart of a person. To captivate them.
Harry and Louis' captivated me because it has all the elements of a good story:
No. 1: Captivating protagonists. Exhibit A, Your Honor: Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles. Have you ever seen more gorgeous, sweeter, more talented, more adorable protagonists? No, me neither.
No. 2: Vitriol inducing villain(s): Simon Cowell/Modest Management/Syco. Do I have to say anything else? Here we have our villain, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. The evil entity who want to keep the lovers apart, cancel their love, and crush their sweet spirits because of greed and the strong possibility that Simon isn't getting any in his own life. (Bless.)
No. 3: Magic and glamour: This is the part where story reigns supreme. (Genuinely sorry if that word was triggering.) Here we have two members of a global popstar boy band that had a meteoric rise to fame. They are rich, gorgeous, uber talented and travel to places they can't even pronounce. Not to mention, they look amazing in every article of clothing that has the privilege to grace their bodies. Will they be able to defeat the villain and finally express their love for the whole world to see? Their story is swoon-worthy. No exaggeration.
With all the makings of a good story, we are mesmerized by our star-crossed lovers, raise our swords and vow to see them through to the end. Standing behind us, they will be rescued from the nasty villain and finally be free to ride off into the sunset together to make beautiful music and raise curly-haired, ocean-blue eyed, chubby babies together. And then the famous last words cross the final page of the book: And they lived happily ever after.
Let's all just bask in that moment for a second. Our boys are free to be whoever they want to be. TOGETHER. Isn't that the pinnacle? The climax?
Am I the only one who didn't find themselves right here in this story? I definitely did when I joined the fandom. I assumed that Harry and Louis' total goal was to free from their shackles and ride off into the sunset. Surely, it was imminent. Right?
A year later, I understood why I that was immature of me. I realized that this is no fairy tale and Louis and Harry are real people. They have ambitions and goals and passions and talent and yes, immense, mature love for their partner of over 12 years.
They've been generous to share their love with us and give us signs about when they were happy and signs when they were in distress and needed support. They are still so grateful for our love and support. But I think I have to realize that they aren't ready to ride off into the sunset with their little cherubs just yet. They still have stuff to do. Goals to achieve. Talent to use. And they've chosen to pursue it the ways we are watching. With (nausea inducing) stunts that help them create a story that sells to a wider audience. It's hard for me to watch them make decisions in their lives and careers that I don't agree with or even condone. But, hey, my teenagers do it all the time so why am I surprised?
What I personally need to do for my sanity as a forever Larrie is to learn to trust them. I need to learn to let them tell their own story in the way they want. And if they don't like how their new teams are trying to get them to sell themselves, I have to believe they are strong enough together to do what they need to do to change it - though it may take time. And I need to stop looking for the Happily Ever After just around the corner. I'm really working on this part because if I was writing this damn story, they would have lit a match, set fire to the industry and watched it burn a long time ago. But I digress...
These are some things I'm doing now to release my need for the Happily Ever After and still make me feel like I'm supporting them:
I'm taking their contagious affection, care, attentiveness, hot af sex life, and sappy love declarations and bringing that same energy to my personal relationship. So far, I'm getting a good response. (wink, wink)
Despite facing incredible industry adversity, Harry and Louis are both driven to create art that is as authentic to themselves as possible while realizing that they also have to create something that other people want to buy. I've started applying that philosophy to my own art (my writing) and am releasing the fear of not being good enough. It's made for some interesting stories!
I've reached out to a local organization in my area that supports LGBTQI+ teenagers to support them in a volunteer capacity. I'm not queer myself, but I'm a good listener and I have some skills I can share to help the organization tell their story and build support. Maybe I can't take on a multi-billion dollar industry like the f-ing music industry, but by putting my time into supporting queer teens in my area, I can do something in the name of closeted queer artists all over the world.
I think it goes without saying that I'm also still on Tumblr reading all the posts from all my favorite bloggers enjoying "everything Louis and Harry" both together and individually. Maybe someday I'll get that Happily Ever After. ❤
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Twst for me pls also congrats on getting 1k!
I first chose Jade. He looked interesting. I kept him around for a bit but it always felt like he watching what he says more than a normal person.
When Leona came, I switched to him. Ever since I've had Leona on my screen. He doesn't use a filter and sees the world for how it is. Life really isn't fair. I could relate to him.
Its probably over between me and Jade. Leona already told me that its best not to trust people like Jade. I'm not going to go begging for a lost friendship or get myself in postion that I dont want to put myself in.
To a everyday person I am quiet, polite, and hard working. I dont mind helping out, it keeps me busy when I'm not taking a nap. I have dark sense of humor and pretty cyincal of the world. But I like to see it as seeing reality. Its simply life will never be fair. I like to plan things and enjoy studying battles from history and breaking them apart.
I'm laid back do whatever one you see fit. All I ask is for a happy ending.
Cat-lover Anon
(I hope you enjoy this, cat lover anon. I decided to take kind of a serious route with it, since you seem to be a more realistic person. Hopefully it's still good 😅 also, as a fellow nerd, I adore that you enjoy breaking battles down. I 100% want to see you and Leona face off in a chess match)
A Tale in Which Leona Looks out for a "Friend", and that Friendship becomes something more
CW:Toxic Jade, Jade slander (I'm sorry, I love Jade, but it's so easy to slander him 😂)
You weren't his.
Leona hadn't been close to you at first. He didn't trust Jade, and as Jade's lover, he figured you'd probably be the same as he was.
That is, until the day you were napping in one of his napping spots, and you sarcastically suggested you both cuddle. Never one to turn down an extra source of heat/extra pillow during a nap, Leona had plopped down on the ground and slotted himself in your arms, while snarking back at you about how this was a one time thing.
Three months into being daily nap buddies and you were the best of friends now. While he wanted to be more than a friend to you, he wasn't a home wrecker. You weren't his. And having so many things in his life not be his, he was okay with that. He may not trust Jade, and he was very vocal about it, but you seemed happy, so he wouldn't push the issue past a snarky comment here and there.
Until you were teaming up to infiltrate the fairy gala. Jade had dropped by to give you lunch as Leona was helping you tie some parts of your outfit. The look in Jade's eyes was murderous as he gave you his usual smile.
"I did not realize you were someone to put your hands on another man's property, hosuewarden. I see I'll have to be more careful about my possessions."
All he was doing was innocently helping you with an outfit. And now he was being accused of who the hell even knows what! But he was more pissed that Jade had outright referred to you as a possession.
Luckily for him, you seemed just as pissed about it.
"Jade! I am not a possession!"
"I know my dear, but…"
"Do you really know? Sevens, he was helping me with my outfit! Get a grip!"
Jade eyes glinted sharply, and he moved in closer to you.
"My darling, what if I were to tell you he was madly in love with you? I've let this go long enough, but you shouldn't see him anymore. I don't think it's safe for you."
And with that, you exploded. The yelling and rage, maybe for Leona's sake, maybe for your own, or maybe for the sake of just being tired of being fed bullshit, filled the room, to the point where it caught the other's attention, and they had to step in.
….
Leona was a good friend. He helped you work through the break up. Helped you stand on your own two feet. Gave you encouragement and built you back up. All he wanted was for you to be happy.
A couple months after the break up, you flopped into his nap spot next to him and snuggled in close. He was expecting this to be a regular nap session, and was starting to drift off, when he heard a quiet,
"Hey Leo?"
He grunted back in response.
"I don't think I've ever thanked you for being there for me whenever I need you."
"It's whatever, herbivore."
"No, it's not," you sat back up, and forced him to look into your determined face.
"I know how much energy it takes from you to do anything. And the fact that you are always there for me, always ready to tell things to me straight, means so much to me."
He attempted to roll over so that you wouldn't see how flustered he was getting, but you held him in place.
Although….he had to ask himself if maybe he really did want to have this conversation since he had more than enough strength to fight you off if he truly wanted to.
"Is there a point to this?"
"Yes," you said with a firm nod. "I don't know when it happened, but somehow I fell in love with you, you grumpy kitty cat. And even if you don't return the feelings, I think you should know that at least one person thinks you deserve to have a happy ending."
He laughed dryly. "You know I don't believe in those."
"I don't either. But…." You hesitated, "maybe we can find one together?"
You suddenly pulled away as though your own words shocked you. You pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in them.
"Anyway, no pressure or anything. Just wanted to share."
Leona stared at you for a moment, then sighed heavily.
"If anyone can help me find a happy ending, I guess it would make sense that it would be some silly herbivore with bad taste in men."
You looked up and shot him a glare, but he simply smirked and cupped your cheek.
"Are you truly certain I'm someone you want?"
You nodded, unable to say anything as his soft eyes searched yours. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then threaded his fingers through yours.
"Alright then. Let's find a happily ever after."
#1k followers#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#leona x reader#leona kingscholar#twst leona
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Post #12: UXM issues 123-124 and UXM Annual issue 3
At this point, the idea that the X-Men don’t know Jean is alive is pushing past the boundaries of disbelief. Scott is dating Colleen Wing, and they’ve talked extensively about their pasts, specifically Jean. So Collen thinks Jean is dead. But her best friend Misty Knight, Jean’s old roommate, knows she’s alive? If I heard that my best friend’s old roommate and friend has been dead for months, I think I would check on how she’s doing with the grieving process. But it hasn’t come up once. And from Misty’s perspective, if my best friend was dating my old roommate’s ex, even though I thought they were still together, I feel like I would at least question the situation. Anyway, Arcade is kidnapping the X-Men one by one. Spider-Man is running around trying to warn them, which doesn’t really contribute to the plot, but it’s fun to see him. Important notes- Logan is kidnapped after his dinner with Mariko, and his love for her is bringing out his softer side. This is the first woman he’s ever been willing to make changes for. Also, when Arcade kidnaps Kurt and Peter, they’re with their girlfriends Amanda and Betsy, and Kurt’s not wearing his image inducer. Kurt hasn’t been in New York since the Phoenix Saga, where he was still using the image inducer even on his dates, and it’s a big deal for him to not be using it now, although the only mention of this development was one throwaway line while fighting the Imperial Guard. Kurt needs some focus soon, he’s really been getting pushed aside lately when they’re handing out character development. Speaking of which, Sean’s time with the team has been circling its natural endpoint since he lost his powers, which he knows but is still putting off. But putting all that aside, it’s time for the X-Men to play Arcade’s games. Arcade is kind of a weird X-Man villain. Sometimes he’s used as a way to make the X-Men question reality, but Mastermind and the Shadow King both do that better. He can also be used as a commentary on how the elite profit on the suffering of the marginalized, but Mojo does that too. You could argue that Arcade works better since he’s a human, but they’re both so cartoonishly over the top that I don’t think that really makes a difference. Not that every villain has to serve a specific higher purpose, of course, but different writers and stories have different opinions on whether Arcade should, or whether he’s just an excuse to throw whatever weirdly specific traps the artist wants onto the page. That in itself is a good enough excuse to use him as often as Claremont does, I think. This first time around, it’s all fairly standard villain traps (although there might be something deeper to Logan’s, who finds himself attacked by distorted funhouse mirror androids of himself), except for Peter’s. Playing off his recent homesickness and guilt over abandoning his homeland, he’s been brainwashed into becoming “the Proletariat,” basically a Soviet Captain America trying to kill the X-Men.
Arcade gives a backstory dump to the captive girlfriends, and we learn that he was a trust fund kid who got bored and became a hitman, then got bored of that and started using Murderworld for his hits. There’s definitely an analogy there for rich men who ruin lives out of boredom. The X-Men dodge a bunch more deathtraps until Peter catches up to them. He almost breaks Scott and Ororo’s necks until they get through to him by reminding him of their family bond and love for each other. Together, they all find the exit, and Arcade being a good sport, he delivers them the hostages. Logan wants to track him down, but Scott points out that they can’t find him or make any charges stick, which does add to the rich guy analogy. I feel like I may be reading way to deep into Arcade as a character, but I had fun so I don’t really care. This was a good Murderworld story, although I think the next few coming up in a couple years are much better.
UXM Annual 3 is a standalone story about the X-Men’s journey to the world of Polymachus. It opens with the alien warrior Arkon arriving on Earth seeking Thor. When he’s unavailable, he turns his sights towards Ororo, who’s currently in a Danger Room training session. When she gets claustrophobic and freaks out, she damages the computer, sending the room haywire and almost killing everyone. Afterwards, Scott goes after her and has a heart to heart. Ororo is tired of fighting; she believes in the cause, but she also missed when she used her powers for healing back in Kenya. It’s not mentioned explicitly, but I think this is stemming from Ororo’s recent encounter with drug addicted homeless kids; she’s been reminded of all the problems that can’t be fought, and wants to find one that she can still solve. It’s also a very good moment for Scott, as Ororo points out in her thought bubbles. He’s been opening up more to his team and being more considerate, not just a field leader but the head of a family. She’s interrupted by Arkon’s attack, which ends up on the lawn. When he throws one of his teleporting lightning bolts at her, the X-Men think she’s been vaporized and lose their shit, quickly taking down Arkon. Scott, however, knows how the bolts work, and uses them to bring the team- along with their new prisoner- to Polymachus. They start fighting the armies of soldiers, but when they finally reach Ororo, they find that she’s ready to willingly give her life for the people. To recharge the space rings that give life to the planet, Storm must unleash all her lighting onto a machine, but the strain will kill her. She is not afraid, but Scott has a plan. Logan and Kurt rewire the machine to receive optic blasts instead of lightning, and Ororo instead directs her power into Scott, with Peter as a lightning rod. It works, and they save the planet without casualties. In a very literal sense, it was Scott opening up to his friends that saved them. It’s also a good answer to Ororo’s doubts; as an X-Man, she can still heal, and by working together, they can accomplish more than she ever could alone. This is the first UXM Annual to have a new story instead of just reprints, and it sets the great trend of using these to tell big, standalone sci-fi stories.
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I haven’t told you my entire recent “I think I made a mistake” journey through proxy shopping these past two months, but I recently received a notification that one of my orders got cancelled because it looks like it was sent, but never arrived to FJ’s warehouse (and all thanks to my stupid bad timing: they recently changed locations at the time I ordered it, and there has been some delays here and there about domestic shipping and what not), and it was “out of stock” in the original store.
I got sad about it because, what are my chances of seeing this thing again available just like that... but because I am a little curious (and got a little obsessed about this), I DID find out that by mere coincidence the item WAS JUST restocked in the store it came from (there’s also another copy, but it’s sold by partnership with another store). SURE, it has a slightly different price, but I’m having vibes that this restock is actually the item I originally ordered but got returned :S. I mean, what are the odds, especially since it is a QUITE specific book?
Anyway. I’m... kinda having this whole dilemma of ordering it, AGAIN, through them, even with that slight different price. I just got of a whole 20+ days of worriness of the other item I ordered from that same batch once I was notified it MADE it to their warehouse (and I’m just waiting a little to ship it my way), and I was also refunded the money from the cancelled order. I am considering the risks here because, I have been warned how long this may take to ship domestically, and there’s also their OWN aforementioned delays due to their relocation... then again, going through the same period of waiting, when there’s nothing assuring me that it may arrive to their warehouse (in an inquiry I previously sent, they told me that the item was sent 10 days after the order was made, but I guess it never arrived or it got lost), my own patience does have its limit. The worst that could happen is... this cycle happening again, actually: the item gets sent to their warehouse, due to kerfuffle it never arrives and gets sent back to the store (assuming this is what happened with it), then the order gets cancelled, and I get refunded my money back.
And, I don’t know. maybe it’s my brain being quite active right now at 5 AM but I’m considering other options but, as always, I don’t know other trusted people that could make me this favor (I do know a couple of sources, but never bought through them, or they may have moved away/no longer active in doing this) and the fact I just saw it restocked with only one copy available directly through their online store is like. “YEAH”, maybe I am feeling a little urgent about it, because I do want to get the item, luckily it was restocked, and I have been “????” for the past hour.
Dunno what to do right now, and, yeah, it’s 5 AM, I don’t have anyone else to talk and ponder about this whole thing, lol. I’m QUITE aware of the risks and all that if I do it through FJ, right now (and there’s this conspiracy-like thing tingling in my head about the restocked copy in the store, lmao). I might wait the entire day if possible just to process everything I have on hand.
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Why Am I Here? - Darth Vader
Darth Vader x daughter reader
Warnings: none
Word count: 1,612
Summary: Reader gets “”invited”” to spend some time with the Empire. For reasons only Darth Vader knows, but will he tell? Or keep her guessing.
Authors Note: I’ve been thinking of making a whole series with a similar plot. So I’m trying this imagine out see how people like it. If you do and want to see more like this or with a similar plot comment below or say something in a reblog!
P.S. Its my Birthday Month!!!! YAY!
Masterlist
Star Wars Masterlist
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Y/n stood there confused as to why she was here. Nothing about her should interest the Empire. She never given anyone any clues or hints as to if she is with the rebellion.
But yet they came to her senate booth and asked her to come with them. Not that she would have had a choice anyway. When they brought her to a ship, from there they took her to as they put it ‘Where lord Vader is staying’. When the troopers escorted her to a room, they told her this is where she will be staying. In the room was a huge bed, a big bathroom, and a closet. A closet that was full of her own clothes plus some other outfits that were beautiful. But it wasn’t just the closet that had things she owned in it. It was the whole room. There was small things from her room at home scattered all over. All the thoughts in her head stopped once the door opened to reveal the man that had her brought here.
“Why am I here?” Y/n asked with a strong voice. She truly is curious as to why they took her from her home. “Do you talk or are you just gonna stand there?”
Vader just stood there staring at Y/n before asking. “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course I do. Your Darth Vader.EVeryone know who you are.” She nodded, the look in her eyes was very confused as to why he would ask that specific question. But there was another emotion that Vader couldn’t place.
“Is that all you know me as?” he asked trying to get a sense of how to approach why he brought her here.
“Should I know you as more than that?” Y/n tilted her head in more confusion and also now curiousness. What did he mean by that? Should she know him as more?
“You will be staying here awhile. I hope that this room is up to your liking. We’ll talk later.” With that statement, he turned to leave the room. It was obvious to Y/n that that was not the answer he was looking for from her.
“Wait-” Y/n started but he left the room before she could continue. There were more questions running through her head now than there were before he came in.
^ ^ ^
“Lord Vader requests your presence.” A Stormtrooper stated as he entered the quiet room.
Y/n let out a sigh of annoyance. “You can tell Lord Vader that I decline his request.”
The Stormtrooper left reluctantly. Y/n was sure that was not the answer the trooper wanted. Nor Darth Vader.
After about 20 to 30 minutes the door of her room opened. Low and behold Darth Vader entered the room. Y/n couldn’t help but smirk a tiny bit at the frustration in Darth Vaders walk and demeanor. It was quite comical. “Hello to you too.”
“You declined. What makes you think you are allowed to decline a request from me?” Even though he concealed it well Y/n could tell Darth Vader was frustrated with her previous actions.
“Oh, I know that I’m not supposed to. But it got your attention now didn’t it?” she tilted her head with a smile tugging at her lips.
Vader’s suit let out what could be considered a sigh. “I’m assuming you have something you want to say.”
y/n nodded at his assumption. “I have questions.”
“You may ask them.” he moved to sit on the couch in the room he had provided her. Waiting for her to start asking said questions.
“Why am I here?” Was the first one and most obvious out of Y/n’s mouth.
“I have my reasons.”
“Are they valid for keeping me here without my consent?”
“Yes” Vader nodded
“Can I know the reasons?” Y/n asked to hope that she could get more than another one-worded answer.
“Soon.” he replied, smirking behind the mask.
“What does that mean?” Y/n groaned, this was getting her nowhere.
“You’ll find out soon.” Vader rephrased
“How far is soon?” she rolled her eyes at his vagueness.
“Have a goodnight, y/n.” Darth Vader stated as he got up and headed for the exit.
“Will we talk about this again?” Y/n asked standing up really quickly off the bed. Heading to follow him out the door.
“Soon.” Was the last word that left the Sith as he left, with the door shutting behind him.
“UUUUGGGGHHHHHHH” Y/n screamed, falling back onto the large bed. This was ridiculous. She was getting nowhere. Y/n had a feeling that she was going to e there for a long while. The least he could do was answer some of her questions if he was gonna keep her there. Hopefully, he will tell her more ‘soon’ as he puts it.
^ ^ ^
“You requested me?” Y/n snarked walking into what looked to be Darth Vaders room.
“I’m shocked you came. Your learning.” he seemed to snark back.
“Yeah, sure. Why’d you call me here?” Y/n questioned while switching her weight to one hip, moving her arms to hug around herself.
“Do you know my history?” Vader asked what was a very random question to the young woman.
“What do you mean?” she tilted her head in confusion.
“Before I became Darth Vader.” he elaborated, turning to face her.
Y/n shook her head, casting her eyes down as she answered. “No. i heard it was forbidden to talk about who you were before. So no one does.”
“To some people it is. Most in fact.” Vader agreed with her statement.
“But your gonna tell me?” Y/n’s eyes widened in shock.
“Yes.” It was a simple answer but it scared Y/n. What happens to people who know? That question just kept running through her mind.
“Am I allowed to know?” She asked after letting out a deep breath that was shaky.
“It’s my story to tell, Y/n.” Darth Vader smiled under his mask at her.
“Right” Y/n let out a light shaky laugh. It was one of their rare moments between them where whatever wall that separated them came down. Which Y/n didn’t know how to feel about. But Vader couldn’t help but feel immensely happy with those moments.
“Before the Empire, I was a Jedi. I didn’t follow the code completely. I was married, in secret to the love of my life. Right before the rise of the Empire, when things changed she was pregnant. I was to be a father. . . . She died in childbirth. Because of me. An I wasn’t there for her. I made a lot of decisions I regret, and that was one of them.” Vader explained, looking solemnly towards the floor as he thought about his past actions.
“What was your name?” Y/n asked once he stopped explaining, Some of the things he had just mentioned sounded very familiar. Her breathing picked up as she waited for his answer.
Vader decided to make a decision to show her his true face. No one has seen his face other than the Emperor since he turned from Anakin Skywalker to Darth Vader. Once the helmet was off Vader turned to face the young woman, maskless. “I think you know.”
“Oh my-” Y/n gasped moving her hands up to cover her mouth. So many thoughts running through her head.
“Y/n-”
Y/n held her hand up to stop him from saying more. “You know. You knew the whole time, and didn’t tell me! That's why I’ve been here this whole time. Isn't it!?”
Vader or maybe Anakin, could see how she was starting to feel upset. Betrayed even. But he knows she’s been held in the Empires custody long enough she deserved to know. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked with a whimper.
“I wanted us to get to know each other first. Establish a relationship before I told you.” he explained, hoping she would understand. But he knew that it’d still probably take time with her. Over the last couple months they have been getting to know each other, just slowly.
“Well, I do know some stories about Anakin Skywalker. My father.” Y/n spoke after letting some time pass, playing with her fingers nervously, aware that things will forever be changed.
Vader- or Anakin nodded in understanding. She had put it together and now she knew why he took her and why he’s treating her the way he is. He walked up to her, giving her a small smile. “I know we have a long way to some with our relationship, but I would like to make this work..” Vader softened his stature trying his hardest not to seem intimidating to his daughter. Not wanting to frighten her. “I’ve missed to much of your life up till now. I’m not missing any more of it.”
Y/n looked him in the eyes still not sure about all of this. But something was telling her that he is being truthful, and that she could trust him. He has protected her since she's been there. “Can you tell me more about my mom? And about you, or at least who you use to be?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. I can do that.” He nodded, and couldn’t help how much his smile grew. The fact that she was willing to get to know him made his heart swell. She wanted him to tell her about Padme, he hasn’t been able to talk about her since he lost her. Maybe they could have a slightly normal father daughter relationship.
#star#wars#imagines#imagine#x reader#darth#vader#darth vader#daughter#star wars imagines#star wars imagine#star wars x reader#darth vader x reader#darth vader imagines#darth vader imagine#darth vader x daughter reader#darth vader x daughter!reader#y/n#darth vader daughter imagine#darth vader daughter imagines#anakin#skywalker#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker imagines#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker x daughter reader#anakin skywalker x daughter!reader#lord vader#lord darth vader
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Blackberry Winters.
PART 1 🌸 PART 2
Namjoon Werewolf Au!!
Pack Head Alpha Namjoon and mate OC!
Arranged marriage sort of?
Pack dynamics / strangers to lovers.
Part 3
“You did not think to tell him no? To demand that you had every right to stay there?” Her mother in law looked disappointed , eyes trained on her as Jiah carefully pulled the blouse of the tunic down over her tummy, frowning when she realized that it didn’t do a thing for her figure.
She felt self conscious, the grey cotton of the tunic making her feel drab and lifeless. Why did she always choose clothes in colors like this? Why did none of them fit her right? Why did she never make an effort to look at least a little good. Her hair was limp, a mousy brown and while it was thick, it had no luster… Why didn’t she use one of the hundred powdered mixtures the village healer liked to give the younger women?
“Jiah, are you listening to me?” Namjoon’s mother said sharply and Jiah jumped a bit, guilty.
“I didn’t want to be a bother..” She said nervously, not sure how to handle her mother in law. On the one hand she seemed to be understanding of her many hang ups, but she also looked impatient and upset, anytime Jiah failed to stand up for herself.
Lady Kim drew herself up to her impressive height and Jiah cowered. She’d hung around enough pack bonfires to recognize that stance and that gaze. The woman was about to give her a piece of her mind.
Sure enough, her voice thundered when she addressed her.
“If you keep viewing yourself as a bother, I’m not sure how others will begin seeing you as anything else. You’re the head alpha’s mate. Your place is by his side, helping him with the crown on his head. It’s not a choice. Your duties are not mine and I am tired of doing them for you.” She snapped.
It stung. Guilt churned and Jiah could feel the beginnings of one of her episodes. The ones that always left her shaking and breathless. Much to her surprise, Lady Kim’s gaze softened at that and the next second she was being drawn into a warm embrace.
“Good lord child, why are you so terrified? Has my family not been kind enough to take away this stark terror out of your veins?” She sighed deeply. “You must not let your fears dictate your life. I want you to live your life, pleasing the person you’re bound to .”
Jiah felt her shoulders sag. Please the person she was bound to. Of course. Namjoon. It all came down to the alpha wolf. And how was she supposed to please him, if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her?
“Yourself.” Lady Kim’s voice, laced with amusement made her jump.
Jiah frowned, pulling back to look at the older woman in confusion.
“You’re bound only to yourself , Jiah. You need to please yourself. To do and be the person you want to be. And then everything else will fall into place.”
Jiah watched as the woman went back to the door, calling for and directing a few more workers as they finished setting up the outer courtyard of her living quarters. Still a little chilled, she grabbed a thick coat from the small cupboard by the door, draping it over herself and tying it together with the sash. She moved quickly to the door, watching her mother in law talk to the workers, looking them straight in the eye , firm and clear in her instructions.
It was fascinating.
Lady Kim’s stance fairly vibrated with power and her voice brooked no disobedience. People looked at her and listened. They saw someone who knew what she was talking about and many a time, Jiah had felt it herself, the comfort of someone reliable. Someone who wished no ill on anyone.
Namjoon’s mother had lost her husband at a young age. Namjoon had scarcely been a babe of two when it had happened and the entire pack had expected the young wolf to lose his birthright as the heir. It was unheard of for a mate to take over the head alpha’s duties but Lady Kim had risen to the occasion with an elegance that had stunned everyone. The woman had met pack leaders and settled disputes, had negotiated boundary conflicts and made elaborate plans for new buildings , all while carrying around a babe that was still fed at her breast.
What was more, she had defended her position against the men who had wanted to usurp it. Mnhyuk and Jaejoon were two of her husband’s cousins, eager to sink their fangs into the woman to mate her, just to be able to get their hands on the pack. They were terrible men , even worse wolves. Their ideas on how the pack ought to be run dripping with archaic ideals and oppression of women.
But Lady Kim had humiliated them, told the whole pack in no uncertain terms that the next pack alpha would be Kim Namjoon. Her son would be raised to rule the pack with kindness and understanding and she would make sure of it.
The tales were told with hushed tones of disbelief and admiration and Jiah had listened to them with hunger and aching. Had felt such a huge surge of affection for the matron , had wanted to hug her and tell her she had done a great job.
And standing here as her daughter in law, she realized that she would be a fool not to listen to her. Not to learn from her. Especially when it was obvious that in the entire pack, the only one who didn’t seem to hold Kim Namjoon on a pedestal, was ironically his own mother.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“ They’re going to challenge you again. I can feel it.” Taehyung said gruffly, dropping the bundle of scrolls on the table and Namjoon flinched, head throbbing.
“That bad?” He asked hesitantly and Taehyung nodded.
“They want you to re-negotiate that treaty about courtesans owning property. Think it would make them quit the profession… if you let them own stuff” Seokjin said quietly and Namjoon bristled.
“They are no different from any of us. They work for their pay too. Why shouldn’t they be allowed to do what they wish with money that they’ve earned?” He demanded angrily.
“You’re a good man Namjoon. A fair one. And you’re striving to build a pack that treats all it members as equals . Obviously people who thrive on abusing their power aren’t going to like that. Especially Minhyuk and Jaejoon’s pups. Those two are terrible.”
“You should accept their challenge and just rip their throats out someday.” Taehyung said firmly AND Namjoon gave him a glare.
“I’m not going to shed blood without cause, Taehyung. Don’t suggest that. Even in passing.” He said firmly and the younger beta bowed politely in apology.
“Where is Jiah?” Seokjin asked casually.
Namjoon glanced at him, brows raised.
“Since when are you so familiar with my mate, hyung?”
Seokjin rolled his eyes.
“She used to come sit with me, when I watched over the herds on the outer pastures. Sweet little thing really. Very funny too.”
That made Namjoon pause.
“Funny?” He asked, completely confused.
“Witty. She would make these clever little riddles and jokes that would always leave me in stitches. We made a game of it. I would give her one of my funny jokes and she would give me a riddle. Is she feeling better now?”
Namjoon who was still kind of struck dumb by the idea of his cowering, reticent mate doing something as…. Normal and friendly as laughing and being witty….. could only stare at Seokjin in confusion.
“I…. Yes. She’s well. We’re expecting a pup.” He said softly.
Both Taehyung and Seokjin went still.
“What?!!! Why didn’t you say that first?!!” Taehyung exclaimed, offended.
“It’s not that important…” Namjoon waved it off, reaching for the scrolls , “ what about the treaties, then? You did tell Jungkook we aren’t changing anything right?”
Seokjin scoffed.
“ Only you would say that these treaties are more important than your own pup.” He snapped.
Namjoon sighed a bit at that.
“I don’t mean that. I’m just saying, what she needs now is to rest and take care of herself and the baby. I’m not what she needs . I’ve arranged for her to stay in some private quarters with the other women.”
Seokjin sighed deeply. After years of being one of Namjoon’s trusted friends, he could feel his heart ache for the younger and all that he hid from the people around him. He reached out and gently placed a palm on Namjoon’s shoulder.
“ Namjoon, you don’t have to do all of this by yourself. Tae and I , we can take over duties a couple of days a week… You can relax… Maybe spend some time with your new wife….”
“She hates me.” Namjoon said softly. “ I spent a whole month trying to talk to her, all she did was tremble and shake. Even when we…” Namjoon exhaled sharply, “ Even in bed , she made me feel like I was some kind of…. Predator.”
Taehyung bit his lips, looking worried.
“You’re not… You’re not going to break the bond are you?” He asked nervously.
Namjoon sighed.
“I’m not. I may have considered it, before . But now… She’s with pup. I can’t do that to her. I don’t want to either.”
“Why did you pick her?”
Namjoon stayed quiet.
“Because you wanted a wife who wouldn’t ask or demand or complain.” Taehyung said distastefully.
“That’s not… You make it sound so terrible. I’m supposed to be taking over pack duties, supposed to renegotiate every single treaty we’ve drawn in the past twenty years, not to mention get the entire pack ready for the winter…. Of course I wanted a wife who would adjust. Have you seen the omegas in our clan? The ones I could court ? They want to leave on trips… They want to visit the neighbouring packs…. They want me to arrange festivities and feasts for every damn thing…. You think I can marry someone like that??” Namjoon snapped angrily. “none of them understand a damn thing about helping me out. They’re shallow and vain. Jiah… I chose her because she didn’t seem like one of them. She seemed like she could understand what it means to be my wife. But I was wrong. I thought she understood my responsibilities and was giving me my space…. Turns out she just thinks I’m some kind of monster she needs to run and hide from.”
Seokjin reached out, patting his back soothingly.
“Namjoon I understand… It’s been hard on you, and you’ve been doing all of it by yourself. Its bound to take a toll. And that’s why I think you should take a few days off, a week. Give us all the instructions. We’ll carry it all out. You can relax.”
“That’s exactly what my uncles want. For me to slack off. They’ll summon the council and want to challenge me again. I can’t afford it. “ Namjoon shook his head.” Not until the babe is born and my position as pack alpha is solidified. I can’t let them use this against me.”
Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged looks.
“Joon-ah….”
Namjoon gave both of them a tired smile.
“I’ll be fine hyung. It’s going to be okay.” He said reassuringly. “ The council’s meeting tomorrow right? I’ll try to go over these tonight.”
“Its already past sundown.” Taehyung said worriedly.
“Then I better ask the maids to keep enough oil for the lamp to last.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What are you doing here?” Namjoon blinked, staring at her like she was out of her mind and Jiah flinched. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. But the sight of him made something curl in the pit of her stomach. He looked exhausted. Like he had been up all night. She wondered if perhaps she ought to retreat. Go back to the private quarters he’d arranged for her.
No. No , you will not chicken out of this.
“ You have a council meeting, this evening. Could I come with you?.” She said softly, watching his face carefully. She tried to read his emotions, tried to look for traces of irritation or anger but all she found was a sort of hopeless resignment. Like he had stopped trying to fight whatever was bringing him down.
“Come with me….?? ” Namjoon stared at her like he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.
She inhaled sharply.
“Your mother told me I could go. As your mate, I’m allowed to sit in on council meetings. She told me it’s a new provision. That you were the one who had it written in. So perhaps, you should… let me come with you.”
“My mother-“ He paused, sighing. “ You don’t have to do everything my mother asks you to.”
She blinked, the words throwing her off. The truth was, she had been the one, tailing the older woman all day, trying to see what she did and how she did it. Lady Kim had merely offered to help her do her duties. She had mentioned in passing, that for centuries , mates hadn’t been granted many rights of their own. Namjoon had spent the past couple of years making a lot of amendments to pack laws and the council hadn’t taken to kindly to all of them.
“ Of course. I just thought that, as I am your mate , perhaps I should accompany you. ” It was a miracle, the way her voice came out, steady . Not at all betraying the nervousness coursing through her veins.
“Jiah…. I’m not sure.” His voice dripped with hesitation and she flinched. Oh, well, no one could blame her for not trying.
“If you don’t want me there, that’s fine.” She said quickly.” I’ll go…”
She turned around, feeling her face burn red as she quickly descended the stairs to the courtyard.
“Jiah wait!!” His voice made her still.
She turned around swiftly.
“I didn’t mean to imply that I did not want you there. I just….Council meetings aren’t short. They tend to go on for hours. Will you be alright?” He asked gently, gaze dropping surreptitiously to her middle.
It took her a minute to understand what he was even talking about.
“I… Oh.” She quickly pressed her palms to her stomach, confused. “ I mean… I may have to be excused a couple of times to relieve myself. I’ve been doing that way more often than usual.” She laughed.
Namjoon’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile and she flushed. Surely, her stern mate didn’t want to hear about her body functions? What was she even doing…
“But, yes. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you. Truly.” She said quickly.
Namjoon nodded.
“Well, then. You can come with me. It’s an hour before sundown… I’ll come fetch you myself.”
“Yes , alpha.” She said brightly, curtsying lightly and immediately feeling like a fool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“They’re called red feathers …” The healer, a middle aged woman called Selma, opened a small earthenware jar to show her the contents. Jiah peered into the jar, catching sight of a bundle of dried flowers and roots.
“These can help me…?” She asked dubiously and Selma gave a quiet chuckle.
“They help you sleep better and also help you relax. They’re good for you. You won’t feel this anxious if you take them regularly.” She said calmly.
“Oh… alright.” Jiah nodded, glancing carefully at her mother in law who was standing elsewhere, looking through an assortment of salves and tinctures. “ Can I…. is this safe for Namjoon?”
Lady Kim stilled, turning around to glance at her sharply and Jiah stiffened. God, her impulsive mouth. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. Just the whole , helps sleep better , had immediately reminded her of how tired Namjoon had looked.
“I’ve already tried to get him to drink some of it. He refuses.” Lady Kim said tiredly. “ He feels that it may affect his mental faculties”
“Auntie Selma?” A high, soft voice rang through the hut and Jiah glanced up. She went still, catching sight of Jisoo, dressed in red velvet and all of her ornate jewelry.
“Ah… Jisoo…you’re back.” Selma said cheerfully. “ How can I help you child?”
Jisoo stared at her, eyes steady and unreadable.
“I need some wild carrot seeds and ginger roots.” She said softly and Lady Kim scoffed.
“I hope the man you’re taking into your bed is not who I think it is , Jisoo.” She growled. The younger woman merely bowed.
“I’m but a courtesan, my lady. I go where I am asked to.” She said softly.
Lady Kim sighed.
“Then perhaps you should go back home. Now.” She said sharply and jisoo flushed and ugly red.
“Your son wants me to visit him for tea , this evening. I was hoping to meet my lovely lady there…but I hear you no longer stay in his hut.” Jisoo turned to her, tone dripping with acid and Jiah swallowed nervously.
“I… I’m…” She couldn’t quite talk, much less think of something to say.
“Because she is with child.” Lady Kim said sharply, a hint of triumph in her tone. “ Namjoon’s child.”
Jisoo had gone paper white, her face pale and bloodless.
“What?” She whispered.
“It’s true. She carries my son’s heir. You know what that means, Jisoo. It means they are bound, for life. I like you. I respect your courage and admire your talents. You are beautiful and you deserve a mate of your own. Do not pursue my son.” Lady Kim said firmly.
Jisoo didn’t respond for a few seconds.
And then she bowed again .
“Like I said, my lady. I only go where I am called.” She said quietly.
She turned on her heels, stalking away and Jiah could only stare after her, heart pounding a bit at what had just happened. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much disquiet. She’d never had high hopes of fidelity from Namjoon. The entire village knew that Jisoo had been his paramour. But now that she had seen how dismissive the younger girl was of her, she felt the unaccountable urge to fight back. To stake her claim.
“You look pretty upset. Don’t let her bother you. Namjoon will not break his vows.” Lady Kim said quietly and Jiah gave her a soft smile, although her heart still raced. She remembered how pretty the girl had looked in all her brocades and velvets. She stared down at her own murky yellow dress. She couldn’t go to the council meeting, dressed worse than a courtesan. Couldn’t embarrass Namjoon like that.
“ My Lady….” She turned to her mother in law. The older woman hummed, returning to examining the shelves.
“What is it, child?”
“Can we stop at the seamstress’ hut on our way back?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whatever Namjoon had been expecting, as he knocked on his wife’s private quarters, it hadn’t been this.
He stared , or to be more accurate, gaped at his wife, completely thrown by her appearance.
She looked…. Cheerful.
That was the only word he could think of, taking in the warm yellow and green fabric of her gown, all with an abundance of ribbons and lace. She had also clearly made some effort to tame her hair.
Not a very successfully attempt, considering the dozen strands sticking out of her bun and curling over her bare neck and shoulders …..but an attempt nonetheless.
Which reminded him.
Why was her neck bare?
“I…. have you forgotten… part of your dress…?” He asked awkwardly, gaze trained on the pale, blemish less expanse of skin in front of him. Too much of it was on display he felt.
“Oh?” Jiah twirled about for a second, glancing at herself. “ Not at all, my alpha. This is how it is.”
Namjoon blinked.
“Right… the night is getting colder. Perhaps a shawl?” He suggested tactfully.
Jiah frowned, sticking a hand out of the door as though to the gauge the night air.
“Really? Feels quite warm to me.” She said thoughtfully.
“It may be cold for the baby.” He said quickly and that made her pause. She glanced back down at her tummy and he wondered what she expected to see, every time she did that.
“Perhaps you’re right alpha….let me be back.” She floated back into the hut and he sighed in relief when she reappeared with a white fleece shawl over her shoulders.
“Shall we go ?” She asked quietly and he hesitated before slowly offering her his arm. She gripped it lightly, and they began the short walk to the main village square where the council usually convened.
“You… You’re better adjusted to this place now?” He asked carefully, trying to find the girl he had taken to his bed. The terrified, nervous , trembling young girl.
Jiah didn’t respond at once.
“I… I’ve been drinking some of Selma’s potions. They help.” She said quietly and he frowned.
“Potions? Potions for what?”
“They help with my nerves. I get scared easily…imagine things ….” She trailed off nervously.” I’m very anxious by nature and it gets worse in a new place. With new people.”
Namjoon considered that carefully. That made sense. Perhaps, that was why she had been so odd.
“The potions help?” He asked carefully and she nodded.
“Yes…that and your mother.”
“My mother?”
“She’s very kind to me.”
Namjoon laughed a bit at that. In all the years he has had people talking to him about his mother, the word ‘kind ‘ had never come up.
“ I’m being honest….she has helped me adapt to this place. To see how things are run. I… I don’t want to be a bother. I want to pull my weight. In the pack. To help in any way I can…”
Namjoon felt a sudden unaccountable fondness bloom in his chest at the innocent words.
“ That’s very virtuous of you.” He said seriously and she flushed.
They didn’t say anything else, continuing the rest of the path in companionable silence Namjoon spotted the seven council members gathered around a blazing fire and lightly stepped closer to her.
“You can stay close to me. You don’t have to answer them. If they try to draw you into any controversial topic, just ignore them. I’ll handle it.” He said quickly.
Jiah gave him a wide eyed, nervous look but nodded quickly, fingers moving from his forearm to his palm , linking with his own and gripping tight.
“I’m here. You’re not alone.” She said quickly and it was ridiculous, how the words actually helped him relax just a little.
Taking a deep breath, he led her on to the meeting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s Note : i thinks its about time i accepted that this is a full blown fic and not just a drabble. fuck my life.
Note : Red feathers are actually herbal medicines used as anti depressants. So this is just werewolf au equivalent of therapy.
#namjoon au#namjoon werewolf au#bts werewolf au#alpha namjoon#namjoon smut#bts smut#bts au#bts fics#bts fanfics
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☆ hogwarts!au x hongjoong
rivals au, where you're a prefect for hufflepuff and he's a prefect for slytherin [yes this is an hp au, but we ignore you know who <3]
stopping outside the closed gates of the great hall, you take a moment to listen to what should be the silent corridors of hogwarts now that it is well past midnight
for a second there's nothing and then
a small, quaint giggle
you turn on your heel and start toward the place where the little sound grows louder and louder
until you get to the bottom of one of the many winding stairs and mutter a lumos under your breath
the tip of your wand sparks alive and a coy couple entangled in each other's robes stares up at you in embarrassment and shock
one of them reaches to re-do their gryffindor tie while the other tries to smear off any evidence of what they'd been doing from their mouth
"i trust you know you two shouldn't be out of your dorms at this hour?"
they seem like they're relieved to see it's you - but before either can answer a sharp snort comes from the other end of the hall
in an instance, an almost cold gust of wind arrives as hongjoong's face becomes illuminated by the lantern in his left hand
"and i trust you'll be giving these two months of detention and telling professor minhyuk about this rendevous?"
hongjoong's voice is just as demanding as his expression
when he appears, the two lovebirds almost go stark, being caught by you is one thing - being caught by him is another
but you've never really been impressed or rather intimidated by him, you thin your lips and flick your wand back to a dim
"that's a bit much for some late night fun, prefect kim -"
"it's in the rules."
the green snake on his uniform seems to shimmer and in contrast the badger on yours simply stills
"fine. one month of detention and we'll tell the professor in the morning."
the students groan, to which hongjoong throws them a look that shuts them completely up as they slink back toward their respective dorms
you and hongjoong stay by the foot of the staircase testing each other almost
"it's my turn to patrol the great hall, why are you even here?"
you break the tensed silence and he lets go of the lantern so it floats beside him obediently
"that's exactly the reason im here. i know you are rather .... lax when it comes to responsibility so i came by to offer some assistance."
"i don't need your help hongjoong, i know my duties."
he steps closer and you think emerald is in the fleeks of his brown eyes.
such a slytherin, you think, right down to his core
if he wasn't such an asshole most of the time i would even say he's ho-
breaking that thought with willpower, you compose yourself in time to catch his response
"are you sure about that? im guessing if i wasn't here you would have let those two pumpkinheads go scott free."
you put your hands on your hips, and take a stride forward too
"and what about it? you're just angry that people here at hogwarts are getting some and you're so unlikeable no one will even ask you on a date!'
hongjoong's nose scrunches up and you know you've hit a soft spot
in what seems like the fastest second of your life, he is in your face, so close that you can smell peppermint toothpaste on his breath
"just so you are aware, im quite popular - the real one not getting any is you - isn't that right you little hapless hufflepu-"
it takes everything in your power not to push him off by his collar or stomp on his foot
but you know that's what he wants so you simply turn away, leaving hongjoong in his position - frozen - as you skirt quickly out of the hall
what's he thinking, getting all close to me and saying those mean things-
you grumble, coming to a quick stop before the great hall doors again
there's silence and then you realize your heartbeat has jumped significantly
you put your hand over your chest and shush it - sure the adrenaline is because of how angry you are
and not because of hongjoongs arguably handsome face being in such proximity to yours
the next morning, you leave potions only to find a dreadful gift waiting outside the classroom
it's hongjoong, with the two gryffindor students you both caught last night in tow
"we're going to see professor minhyuk."
you stand in gryffindor tower with your hands crossed over your chest
head of the house, lee minhyuk, still dressed in his coaches outfit from quidditch practice is looking between you and hongjoong with a raised eyebrow
hongjoong explains where he caught the students and what they were doing and which rule under which chapter of the hogwarts students handbook they'd broken
professor minhyuk just nods, snaps his fingers and the two students run off again
hongjoong waits patiently for what you think he expects will be praise from the professor but all he gets is a -
"and you two bothered me for this?"
"but prof-"
minhyuk is gone before either of you blinks, the papers and furniture in the tower all ruffle with the aftermath of his disappearance
and you click your tongue when you look over at hongjoong
"he doesn't care about people making out, like i told you - it isn't such a big deal."
"well - the head of slytherin would care to know if someone broke the rules. the rest of these three houses are just jokes."
he makes a turn to head out, but you can't keep your thoughts to yourself
"slytherin's the biggest joke of them all - after alls said and done, what does your house even do well - hongjoong?"
his shoulders go stiff and just like last night, you find yourself once again face to face with him
you hate to admit - even inches away - everything about him is so annoyingly polished
from the slicked hair, to the clear skin, and the enviable strength in his slim frame
"may i remind you that one of - if not the greatest - wizard of all time was a slytherin. and anyway-"
he flicks the hufflepuff badge on your robe with a sly grin
"hufflepuff's don't get to talk. all you are good at is growing plants and holding hands."
something about the last part sparks a flame in your mind and you smile at hongjoong who only glares back in confusion
"you're right - hufflepuff's are great hand-holders, and guess what else they're good at - kissing."
you return the favor and poke the slytherin badge on hongjoong
"bet you haven't even kissed someone yet - and we're already in our-"
hongjoong grits his teeth, you can see the way his jaw kind of locks and ..... for some reason .... the way it knots a weird feeling in your stomach
why is he looking at me like-
"you want to talk about kissing so bad don't you - well fine. consider yourself lucky."
you suddenly feel the weight of his hands on your waist, tugging you in close with no time to spare
pressing his lips, which are so soft it should be a crime, against yours
one thousand spells start to swirl through your mind
alarte ascendare to send him skyrocketing up to the top of this tower
or maybe a melofors jinx to turn his stupid head into a pumpkin
of course none of these get a chance to be muttered, as hongjoong's tongue swipes across the seal of your lips
and you hate that it works, the little action makes your knees feel like jelly, and you start kissing him back
your hands, stiffed at your side are moved by what you are going to accuse is magic, to his neck
and the "i told you so" kiss that hongjoong had planned turns into full-on making out
maybe it's the pent up tension that has lived between you two since your first years
maybe its the curiosity of the other, of someone so polarly opposite
or actually, it's probably just young love that no matter how much you ignore still ignites once there is a spark
that spark being the fact that your rivalry is just an elaborate coverup for the fact that you both have been into each other for a while
you blame hongjoong for being irresistibly hot, and hongjoong blames you for being irresistibly adorable
before you can tip over onto a nearby couch - the door suddenly opens to the tower
in the doorway is professor minhyuk, smug smirk on his face, as the rest of the gryffindor quidditch team tries to pry over his shoulder
"now - what did hongjoong say before, doesn't making out mean two months of detention?"
you snap away from hongjoong who nearly trips over himself as he tries to conjure up an explanation
of course, professor minhyuk just laughs - and tells you two to get out of the tower and he'll pretend it never happened
as you and hongjoong scurry down the stairs in a flurry of embarrassment
he stops at the bottom step and you have to hold yourself up by the banister so you don't crash into his back
when he turns, you notice his hair is sticking up everywhere
"this never happened hufflepuff."
you blink and burst out laughing
"shuttup and follow me to the fifth floor."
you brush past him, taking his hand as he stands agape
but soon enough he's in step with you, laughing too
and when you two don't show up to the prefect meeting later that evening everyone is whispering about what could have happened
"they're probably arguing somewhere and lost track of time."
ravenclaw yeosang quips and he's kind of right
you two have lost track of time, but this time - not because you're fighting.
#ateez scenarios#hongjoong scenarios#hongjoong au#ateez au#hongjoong#ateez#sfw#hp!au#member: hongjoong#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#hongjoong imagines
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Long Fall Into Oblivion (Ezra x reader)
(header by sirtadcooper - check out the whole beautiful set here.)
Rating: Mature.
Pairing: Ezra (post-Prospect film) x f!reader
Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Some swears maybe (think there’s a f*ck in there somewhere, my GOODNESS). A lot of gooey, syrupy, soft fluffety fluff. Author attempts at writing Ezra dialogue. A lot of chewy prose.
A/N: I can’t believe I’m posting this, but here goes. I love Ezra. He is a man of questionable morality and an insufferable tongue and I really shouldn’t. But I really do. I just wanted to give him a try. I’ve softened him up here, putting a few years on him so maybe he’s fluffed up some since the events in the film. Also I just ignored the fade or assumed that aurelac mining was still happening because scarcity/demand. Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to go exploring.
Summary: You take a job as an aurelac prospecting trainee and Ezra shows you the ropes. You’re gonna fall in love with him. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.
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MASTERLIST
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Bakhroma is one of the smallest gas giants in the sector, but as you stand on the surface of the Green Moon, it dominates the entire horizon, pulling your focus, threatening to engulf everything around it. You almost feel sorry for the lush moon as you walk through its undergrowth, so gentle and full of beauty, destined many years after you’re gone to give its life to her.
A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?
There’s a painful, sour ache in your heart as you walk back to the camp in twilight, watching the back of Ezra’s helmet bob along in front of you. You’d spent two days digging that claim only to find the weakest aurelac nest you’ve seen yet, only three viable nodes. You’d dug through one of them by accident and completely melted another like an incompetent fool. Kevva’s ass, you were such a disappointment. Three months in the Green and you still can’t cut a blister out properly. Not even once.
Ezra’s shoulders are wide and tense, his one hand splayed out as he walks, running over the tops of the tall ferns, catching one every now and then only to rip the top away, twirl it between his gloved fingers and toss it impatiently aside.
The other two members of your team headed out on a sling this morning, another two will be arriving in a few days. And you wonder if Ez regrets just not cutting his losses and leaving with them, or at least sending you back in exchange for another kip.
You think about shifting through the comm channels, hoping that he’s chattering away in one of them, switched without your knowledge, but it’s a lost cause. You can hear him breathing on the channel between you. It’s not often Ezra has nothing to say.
________________
You thought your father was leaving you an inheritance. It’s not the reason you took care of him through his illness, but you’d dropped everything to be back home with him through his final months. In a way, it was a blessing, a reason to quit the Dasha factory and the terrible working conditions there, come back home and focus on your dad, relive good memories, just spend time. The reconnection lifted your heart, but his death sank it low again. When you learned he had nothing to leave you but a small house and some old vehicles, you sold what you could and traded in the rest.
Then you had nothing. No family, no job, little savings, questionable future. It almost broke your spirit. But the last few months with your father rekindled your love of him as he told you about his years in the Fringe, mining and prospecting. And your heart had said, “what the hell, let’s try that.” So you listened.
It took some time to track down the right inroads, but you were able to find some ads for prospecting teams, in particular those who were willing to take on members in training for a re-distributed cut. With all provisions included--other than suit and gear, which your father’s inheritance neatly covered--it seemed like just as good of a deal as any, and an adventure to boot.
But the reality was, every team you met with was full of hardened men, and while you were not a soft Central woman, you also weren’t overly versed in weaponry and didn’t know if you could defend yourself out in the Fringe against attack if things got crusty.
You were just about ready to admit defeat when you walked into yet another conference bunker and found your match. The first thing you noticed was that he was standing when you arrived, waiting for you politely rather than manspread at the table. Second were his eyes. Deep, brown, and sad. Maybe sad was the wrong word, certainly it seemed by the lines in his face, possibly by the missing arm, that he’d seen enough sadness, but toward you, it read more as concern. You wouldn’t know it until later when he confessed his feelings about this first meeting, but he was worried you wouldn’t choose him. Ezra had a hell of a time hiring partners. He may have been one of the longest-working aurelac diggers out there, but young kippers saw his greying beard and seasoned diggers saw his lacking arm and they all tended to turn around and walk out before he even said hello. So he’d tried to put himself out there as a trainer, show that he had something more to offer.
It didn’t hurt his feelings when you admitted to him later that those qualities were exactly why you chose him. He seemed the opposite of threatening. And his eyes were bright when he smiled at you. With his thrumming baritone and his Fringe twang and his mixed deck of mosaic words, he had a way of speaking that felt like a fluffy blanket curling around you, your brain vibrating with comfort at every new monologue. He was eccentric and perhaps a little jarringly rough in his humor at times, but there was something about him that you trusted immediately, even though you’d come to learn later you probably shouldn’t have if you were being overly cautious.
Not that your judgement ever came to detriment. Not that he ever proved you wrong that way. Not when it came to you. But the man was dangerous when he had to be in a way you hadn’t initially picked up on.
________________
You hadn’t been out in the Green two weeks before you looked up from the bottom of a dig hole to see Ezra standing over you with a thrower.
“You get down and you stay down, understand?”
“Ez? What--”
“I said stay down! Do not make me waste words on mere repetition!” The fuzzy blanket of his voice replaced suddenly by a snarling, snapping brush wolf, a quick change hitting you like a slap in the ear.
There’d been pops and whizzes as shots rang through and you did as your trainer said, face down, the view of your visor giving you nothing but dirt. Your helmet was a chorus of quick breathing from both of you and sweat rolled down your neck as you begged the eyes of Kevva to look down upon your partner. When the crossfire faded, you’d heard Ezra stalk away. Then there were a couple more shots. Then more footsteps returning.
“You are permitted to stand, trinket. All is well as it can be for us. But not so much for our dearly departed friends.” These words were as soothing as much as his previous ones had burned, and he simply went back to working at the dig at hand as if he’d just come back from taking a leak. It wasn’t until you left the site that evening that you tramped past two rotting raiders, gaudily outfitted with broken face shields, left to let the Green take them.
Ezra whistled as he stepped over them, stopping only to harvest their filters and munition rods, which he tossed your way to stow in your pack, and then continued lazily down the path toward camp. Just another day on the job.
He may be a little peculiar and not someone to trifle with, he may have just killed two people without remorse or further comment, but his lack of reassuring words told you that this was just part of the deal. You wear the suit, you use the air scrubber in the tent, you follow the landing pod instructions as written, and you defend yourself against those who wish to harm you. Survival by any and all means is paramount, mundane, and something he has no qualms with on any level.
There was something deep down inside of you that instinctually pulled you to follow him, not just down the literal path before you, but whatever path Ezra chose to wander.
________________
Before you’d left the station with him, he’d taken you to a thrower range to gauge your skill which was decent in theory, but dismal compared with what he could do. No matter, he still patiently taught you how to properly clean and charge a weapon and the best way to breathe and pull the trigger; “like you’re taking hold of a man’s...well... Just go easy and firm.” He suggested you should come and practice every day before lift off and then hope to Kevva that you didn’t have to rely too heavily on it.
“If I find myself in a coffin of my own suit, then feel free to defend yourself as a final means of preservation. Otherwise, when it comes down to shots fired, best to let me do the dirty work. Might as well keep the blood where the blood has been.”
You’d been a little nervous about sharing a freighter pod alone with him, but Ezra was...well, not so much a gentleman as just a comfortable soul.
He always waited until you were hungry to eat, thinking it rude to eat alone in front of you. He never moved around the pod while you were sleeping, content to keep still with a book in his cot. And if you couldn’t sleep, he was always willing to read to you from whatever impossibly dense old world classic he was digging through for the umpteenth time, letting his voice come up from the deeps and pull you gently under. If you asked permission to turn on the radio, he’d ask you “why Isn’t it on yet, woman,” quietly tolerating your taste in harsh and gleeful babblecore pshcyopop. In the later days of the journey, he’d even come to dance with you from time to time, although both of you were dismal at it and ended up with you in a fit of giggles. It was a sure-fire way to cure a case of the pouts you carried through from the morning fitness sessions when he beat you at pushups. Again.
When it came to privacy in the tight space, he had a habit of turning away without having to be asked or stopping his stream of talk when you went to change clothes, just happily chattering away until you called the all clear. Although he was not squeamish about his own state of undress, should you happen to catch it by accident. While he was respectful of your privacy, he seemed to need none of his own, but neither did he flaunt anything. You might look up from studying the flight manual to notice he was changing into a fresh pair of compression pants, tugging them on haphazardly with one hand, more concerned with telling you the overwhelmingly disgusting manufacturing process of Bits Bars than his own ass hanging out where you might see it. At least he always changed facing away from you which was a kindness.
Until it wasn’t.
After you realized you’d fallen quietly in love with him--a sudden, soft moment on the Green--then you’d admit only privately to yourself that you wouldn’t mind if you accidentally saw a little more than the occasional shirtless attire he might wear around the tent.
But in the pod, the only part of him that had caught your curiosity was his stump, and you’d known Ezra intensely enough over the past couple of weeks where you knew he wouldn’t take offense. Especially if you asked him the right way.
“Will you tell me a story, Ezra?”
“I feel that it is my duty to do so whether you ask me to or not. Shall I choose, or is there something in particular you would like to hear?”
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against his cot, going through his kit, cleaning his gear. You waited until he noticed your lack of answer and looked up to meet your eyes. When he saw that you had put your manual down and were focusing all your quiet attention on him, he stopped his busy work.
When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute. When he knows you seriously need something from him, that becomes his immediate main priority and all else can wait. It’s only gotten more intense since that day, but there is a trust that resides between you when you look into his eyes, gathering your words as he waits patiently every time to hear whatever you’re going to request of him. There’s always hope there in his big browns, always something specific he’s waiting for you to ask, and every day you get a little bit closer to understanding what it might be. But until then, any question is a welcome one, any query is met with his wish to provide.
“Will you tell me how you lost your arm?”
At first you thought you may have gone too far, that maybe you insulted him, as his eyebrows peaked together and he looked down at his hand. But then, “That is a tale that may cause you some consternation, trinket. The Green is dangerous and unforgiving, and there were times I may not have been a man worthy of fair opinion.”
“My father was a prospector, you know. I’ve heard stories. Have you ever killed anyone?”
He clicked his tongue and screwed up an eye, causing the thin white scar on his cheek to twist. Then he sighed and returned to your locked gaze. “To be honest, I have. Though I have never done so with pleasure, I have killed in defense and out of desperation, and it was out of dispatching a man in this way that I came to lose the second favorite of all my appendages.”
“Second favorite?”
“Well, it depends what you classify as a limb.” He huffed a small laugh, a spark in his eye, trying to diffuse the harsh subject in his own way.
His leaning into baseness never bothered you. There was something earthy about it, gritty and rough, but never lewd. You rewarded his crassness with a smile. “Do you plan on killing me out in the Green?”
“I would hope my murdering days are behind me, and if they are not, you would see me aim a thrower at everyone but you in the course of my spree. You are under my tutelage, and for that, I owe you a duty of care. That is my word by Kevva.”
“Then tell me the story. I like your stories. I promise not to judge now-Ezra by then-Ezra.”
A dimple formed on his cheek, a punctuation mark framing the approaching anecdote on his lips. “Then I will declare myself absolved of any sin heretofore and regale you with a clean and grateful heart.”
________________
You can see the tent through the trees and you realize with some horror that it’s just you and Ezra for the next few nights. If he’s angry with you, and this is how he is when he’s upset, the silence will be unbearable.
Even that little girl he helped out here years ago was probably more capable than you. You feel so lost in this moment, and it’s only made worse by his silence. You fumble with your communicator and hit the mute just in time to choke on a sob.
This isn’t like you. You’re not one to cry when things get rough. You hardly shed a tear when your father died. But the thought of that just brings another sob and as acting as your own psychologist you realize that you are experiencing some displaced sorrow, the odd need to please the leading male in your life, the one that’s walking ahead of you, away from you. If he’d just turn around and throw you his worn weary smile, if he’d just start up a conversation you’d know that there was hope for you, you’d know you didn’t give up everything to be here in a job you couldn’t hack.
You gotta stop this. Or it’s going to be an uncomfortable night.
Shake it off.
Once you enter the tent, the usual dance happens. Ezra reaches up to turn on the air scrubber and you unhook his filter tube from his helmet. When he turns to you, you pull open the zipper cover on his suit and start his zip for him before lifting his helmet up and off. He can pull the zip the rest of the way, but you generally pull the left collar down for him so he can get his arm out. He’s on his own from there as you turn to fuss with your own gear.
________________
You remember it starting easily enough. He was telling you a story about the breeding habits of the Tokovian Musk Owl and you could see he was having trouble with his suit zipper, yanking at it and trying to look down at it even though it was under his chin and his helmet. Without another hand to keep the fabric taut, the zip didn’t want to release, so you simply batted his hand away and started it for him. He didn’t even stop his yammering, just threw in a “thank you” somewhere in between “could hear them screeching” and “for a fuck.” He’d right out asked you the day before if you wouldn’t mind disengaging the filter tube just because it was delicate and he didn’t want to mangle the expensive part trying to pop it out one-handed day after day. And while he could manage the helmet fine enough, his prominent nose thanked you for a smoother removal for sure.
It wasn’t the only routine dance you’d concocted.
There was the harness dance.
While dig days were excruciating, you always looked forward to helping him attach the harness for his prosthesis--a kind of rigid pole attached to a shovel so you didn’t have to do all the hard digging alone. There were a couple of straps that came around his torso with multiple latches and you’d come to really enjoy wrapping your arms around him to fit the straps on. Sure, you could do the job just as easily from behind, but if you embraced him at the front, he’d usually raise his arm and let it come to rest around your shoulders while you worked. If you let yourself dream, it would be easy to imagine that he might be pressing you into him just a little bit.
And there was the harvesting dance.
On a dig, you were the one to mix the fazer and Ezra did the pour. He fished the sack, you cut the cord. You sliced the outer casing and held it open while he did the extraction. And with the flesh-covered stone, he told you every time to “hold it like you love it” so he could cut away the slippery blister before cleaning the gemstone.
It was a beautiful harmony. And the only way it worked. Because once on every dig he urged you to do a solo extraction, and on every dig, you pierced the blister and lost that stone. And on every dig, he squeezed your shoulder and told you it was a wondrous try, that he was proud of you, and there would always be another turn. There was no sarcasm, no pity, just a warm smile and ceaseless optimism even though you just lost both of you thousands in pay.
These were the first touches, these shoulder squeezes that ran down your arm on the let-go. Sometimes he would just reach out and grab onto you like a pole to help himself up, or he might stumble off balance on uneven ground and without the counterweight of his right arm he’d throw his hand out onto you to steady himself. He wasn’t beyond lightly touching the small of your back to encourage you down a path or to take your next try at a gem pull.
This was all part of something you’ve secretly named the left-handed-lover’s dance. Basically, that you keep on his left whenever you can in case he needs your help or has the inclination to reach for you. It started out as just trying to be a good partner. Then it became a passing hope that it was more than just a friendly bond. But you were both here to do a job. He was here to teach you to be an independent prospector and you were here to assist and learn. That was evident at the end of the day; once you were both in the tent and out of the suits he never touched you, never so much as bumped into you or grazed your hand in passing an item or clapped you on the arm after a good joke.
But out in the field all zipped in and helmets on, there was nothing more natural than his gentle hand guiding you or reaching for your assistance, including the day you realized you loved him.
________________
Before you can turn away to strip off your own coverings, Ezra catches your arm, spinning your face into the light. You try to shake him off, not wanting him to catch your eyes puffy from crying and your cheeks still streaked with tears, but his grip is not so gentle now and he yanks you back around to his stormy glare, chin up, brows low. His intensity paralyzes you, rendering you unable to continue your struggle when he catches your eyes with his.
When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute.
His gaze travels back and forth between your eyes, waiting for an explanation, a minute so stringent it breaks you down, dissolves you into the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.
“I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am trying... I don’t know why I’m such a scuffer at this and I know it would only be right to release you from the contract and tell you to send me back but I don’t want you to, I really wanna stay, I really wanna learn and I’m so, so sorry.”
Your words have an immediate effect, softening him, pulling his glare into concern and wonder, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in surprise.
“This is the reason for your heavy mood? You think I am provoked by your proficiency in the field?”
“I crusted up good today and it seems like you’re not happy about it. Just...know that it means so much to me that...I don’t wanna let you down.”
“Oh, trinket, no.” An incredulous huff jumps out of him and his grip on your arm loosens, becomes a splayed warm support behind your shoulder, moving in soothing patterns and you’re instantly relieved that your assumptions were wrong. “You have done no harm in my book. It is not an easy thing to deliver a gem of this ilk into the world unscathed. Your opportunities have been few and scattered and it takes many sticks before a lover becomes a lothario.” He knows the crass humor will make you laugh, knows what to say to lighten your heart, to get you to soften, and bring you into his intimate, conspiratorial mood. “To be perfectly honest, I am selfish to an unrighteous degree, for every gem you burn keeps me in value to you. A worthy sacrifice to guarantee you mightn’t be so quick in your need to fly away from me until your training’s complete.”
This causes a hitch in your breath as you see the welcome turn the conversation he’s taking and you follow the path he’s making for you. “I don’t want to leave you, Ez.”
A smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “Well then I am a happy man. A bargain is struck! Partners it is.”
“Partners it is.”
A moment hangs between you as he rubs his thumb in slow circles on your shoulder. There’s that look in his eye again, the one where he’s waiting for you to ask the question he wants to hear from you. So close now.
Still, you’re unsure. “I guess I’m lucky I found the one person who wants an incompetent partner.”
“No, I do not, nor is it what I have and I must express my objection to your self-debasement. This work is not for the shiny, and you have not once complained about taking on the meat of the digging or the crawl of my schedule.” His hand comes to your helmet shield and he rakes his thumb across it as if he ached to wipe away one of your staleing tears. “Those bright eyes of yours got a penchant for spotting deposits more skillfully than I could ever manage and that’s not something that can be taught; that’s talent, girl. The blistering?” He shrugs. “Even I can’t manage that without the steady help of your fine hands. You may think that your blunders in education are causing us some financial ruin, but our fortunes are creamy. I assure you, we can afford it.”
That look is still there. He’s waiting. “There’s some ‘us’ and ‘we’ in there, Ez.” Your hands drift to his sides, taking fistfuls of his compression suit top, willing him closer.
The edges of his eyes take on the crinkle you’ve come to find so much comfort in. “So there is.”
You’re almost there. You know what he wants. “Why were you so quiet on the walk back?”
“Because for the next few days we are alone here and I have a mind full of questions I do not know how to ask you.”
“Then let me go first.” A yearning happiness settles in his brown eyes; finally. Finally you’ve found out what it is he needs you to request of him. “If I take this helmet off, are you going to kiss me, Ez?”
His eyes close in contentment and he nods, “Yes. Yes, little jewel. Yes I am, that and more. I hope I have inferred correctly that it is your wish that I do so, because I am in free fall. I feel my orbit ending and my pull to you is complete.”
_______________
“A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?”
Speculating days were some of your favorite times, just wading through the brush and looking for the telltale signs and shoots of an underlying deposit. Sometimes you came upon nests of strange groundling insects or flowers that only grew in secret. There were treasures underfoot on this poisonous moon, but if you remembered to look up as well, you might find some dangerous beauties there too.
On that day--the one where you finally understood your heart--you’d looked up to find that you were on a cliffside overlooking a valley, the canopy a million different hues of green, the gas giant looming over half the sky in a big pink and orange semi-circle. There was a fallen log that served as a perfect seat for the perfect view and you knew Ezra wouldn’t mind if you stole a few moments to sit and to take it in. It’s just the kind of thing he’d appreciate. And you were proven right when he came up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he swung one leg then the other over the log, finding a perch next to you, spouting pretty words through the channel link--soft and low--about moons and orbits and obilvions.
“That glowing beauty is Bakhroma. She is quiet and fierce, made up of the unfathomable and the unknowable, always within sight, but out of reach and untouchable unless one would trade the honor with great sacrifice. She reflects the light that is given to her with a patience that is heretofore untold. And the Green Moon upon which we ride follows where she goes like a lovesick fool, spinning around her in a heady kind of adoration, full of secret treasures buried deep down that will ultimately one day belong to her, falling incrementally over eons until he finally loses himself in her, all his glories gladly forfeit to her welcome and inevitable embrace. Alone but together, seemingly eternal, pulled as one by the laws of a mysterious universe.”
The void that came after those words was filled with the beating of your heart, and you were sure he could hear it through the channel.
When he’d landed there beside you, you’d registered how his hand slid off your shoulder, diagonally down across your back, coming to rest at your waist, his arm draped lightly around you. Natural. Easy. Everything was warm--the colors of the sky, the care with which he kept you close as if to better hear the honey sweetness in his prose, the fire burning in your lungs and neck.
Ezra probably didn’t know that you spoke a little Vayok.
Bakh being the Vayok word for adornment. Ornament, Gem. Roma was a modifier, a diminutive. Small. Dear.
Bakhroma. Sentimental bauble. A little jewel.
In other words, a trinket.
All you wanted to do was sit down to take in the view of an entire world for a few moments, but by the time Ezra took your hand and helped you to your feet, all you saw was him.
________________
The helmet is barely off before his lips are sealed to yours in a press of greed. Even if he can’t form words when he kisses you, he can’t help but express his deep relief in a heartbreaking moan. It’s a fight to release yourself from the suit when he keeps pulling you against him and every time you try to get some space between you to work the zipper, he chuckles into your mouth, enjoying the tease and the struggle. It’s simultaneously frustrating and thrilling and you give in for a few moments just to give him what he seems to want so desperately right now.
Ezra kisses like a man starved for air, long, hard, and full of need, peeling his lips away only to come back for another breath of you until his initial want is slaked and he slows, allows for more time between his taking, his mouth starting to mumble against yours, praising you with pet names, telling you how perfect you are to him, how long he’s “fought against my more dubious natures to respect your womanly virtues and take them only when you could see in me a man worth bestowing them on.”
You’re able to use his weakness for monologuing to turn around in his vice-like embrace, finally freeing yourself of the suit and he takes the opportunity to drawl more pretty words in your ear, warning you that “I’m afraid I have been enamored of you overly long and may be extra eager in my attentions. So you just say the word if you need a slow down, gentle one, and I will do my best to comply. Although I will admit it will be a difficult endeavor indeed as I feel I am entering your atmosphere and nothing might quell this burn but finding some drowning place to land.”
Your first impression of him was of a man whose age and temperament and body would not be able to overpower you.
Your first impression was wrong.
Of course, it helps that you are willing.
It doesn’t take long for him to strip you down, and then himself. To kiss you down onto the floor. To find exactly where you like to be touched most and how long it takes for you to break from it. He has so many words for you, so many praises to sing about every part of you that is round or soft or wet, comparing you to things that are sweet and plush or celestial and holy. And when you take his favorite limb in hand--as wondrous as the rest of his body--and guide it to its fit, he plunders and harvests all you have to give him, filing you with himself, for as long as you call for it, as long as you let him. He loves you like he speaks to you: rough and drawn out, full of beautiful tangents and meandering plotlines, but in the end it is beautiful and fulfilling; you may be just a little bit confused how you got to the ending, but you’re completely in awe.
When you lay breathing heavy, staring but not seeing the ceiling of the tent, your consciousness seemingly lifted to see through it to the stars, to the glowing face of Bakhroma, you run hands through rough-chopped hair on a head laying on your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down so he can start again. The air is thick--even the air scrubber can’t keep up with all your humidity--and there’s a halo around each bulb of the string lights just barely illuminating the darkness.
“How long, Ez?”
“Hm?”
“How long have you been waiting for that.”
“Most likely since the day you walked into my interview. I am a man of simple wants and you had all the right parts for my preferences.”
“For real, Ez.”
He tipped his head up to find you. “What you ask has many true answers, and I stand by the first. I have no qualms telling you of my weakness for a pretty succulence and a kind smile the likes of which you possess. But if you are asking when I knew I would have it, well, that may have been the first day you danced. Or when you asked me to read you to sleep. Or when I understood I wouldn’t let those bastard raiders get near enough to take their turn at your qualities when I had not had them myself. Or when you finally saw me as a viable person to drape your affections on; maybe it was that day too.”
“When I finally saw you as....”
“I have read many tomes and verses but none so full of beautiful passages as your face that day on the cliff. There is a difference of knowing and being. I knew the feel of your pull that day, but found I’d been in orbit all along.”
How he can live this way, twist everything into a tossed away poem...it should be exhausting. Yet you feed off it. You breathe it like air.
After another long cycle of frenzied entanglement and violent euphoria, you ask Ezra if he’d like to move to a cot, maybe get some sleep. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk to the dig tomorrow morning,” you confess.
“No need to worry about tomorrow,” he says, wapping his arm around you and dragging you back to him, grumbling into your ear. “We are the only prospectors in this sector and the aurelac will wait. Until our new compatriots arrive, we are officially on hiatus. Recreational mining only. Restricted to the confines of this tent. By order of your supervisor. In the interest of more precious treasures. And I intend to strike it rich.”
“Well. I’m here to assist. And learn.”
“When it comes to this dig, trinket, you are more than competent. I am no longer your trainer. Partners it is.”
“Partners it is.”
The new contract is struck, signed and sealed in kissing and in touch and a long, slow fall into inevitable oblivion.
#ezra x reader#ezra/reader#ezra prospect#prospect fanfic#prospect fanfiction#pedro pascal#soft#soft ezra
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little wanderer ≫ DAY FOUR, BABY STEPS.
this fellow stray cat hybrid has been hanging around jiyu’s condo for as long as he could remember, although jiyu may not have noticed him. the cold winter breeze and jiyu’s open bedroom window prompts him to sneak into her bedroom one night. it was just suppose to be one night, but the gods must’ve been smiling upon him.
PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.
✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @kpopnightingale, @rosesarethebest, @stillcantfindaproperusername, @bonbonhwa, @its-sarah-stark, @sanismybb, @frankenstein852, @peachseok, @woopetals, @exhofayemars, @pvrkacciosan
✧ notes: y’all, i’m so sorry san’s chapters took basically two months—
✧ WARNING: brief mention of death
back。| next。
waking up in one of the guest bedrooms, jiyu wearily blinked a couple times before remembering the events from the night before. letting out a small sigh, she sat up and stretched her arms above her head. i hope i didn’t scare him away for good this time.
the various voices and clanks of pans she could hear downstairs made her curious. she glanced at the clock above the bedroom door. 7:34 AM. she tilted her head in confusion. the five boys usually lugged themselves out of bed by 8 earliest, so what’s got them up and running so early?
slipping out of bed and leaving the room, she peered over the railing to see the five boys trying to cook what she assumed was breakfast. she saw some of them (mingi and yunho) struggling with trying to work the induction stove, while some of them (yeosang and hongjoong) were somewhat messily cracking eggs and whisking them. she swore seonghwa had slumped a little just watching them.
but what surprised her the most was the cat hybrid that had slid over to help yeosang and hongjoong.
“oh, good morning!” yunho happily greeted her with a wave. at his call, they all followed the puppy’s gaze to see jiyu staring at them from the second floor. “did you sleep well?”
jiyu nodded, not knowing what to process first—the fact that the kitchen might have a chance of burning down, or the fact that san was still there. she slowly descended down the stairs.
sensing jiyu’s confusion, seonghwa sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “we all felt bad after your little...talk yesterday,” he admitted, the others nodding along with him. like hongjoong had said the previous night, they all shared blame for her outburst since they all once shared similar thoughts with san. “and it was actually san’s idea to make breakfast...”
jiyu’s eyes widened even more before she moved her gaze from seonghwa to san, who had awkwardly hid behind yeosang. after jiyu left the room, san felt pretty guilty, which was a first for him when it came to humans. it wasn’t until the others had briefed him on their own stories with her did he start to realize that she had been telling the truth. she was right; if she had only taken care of them out of obligation for her career, she would’ve sent them to shelters after they had recovered. but no, she took them under her wing and cared for them as if they were her own children and friends.
“...so considering how you’re doing all this,” she gestured to the eggs, and other various breakfast ingredients lying around the counter, “is this your way of accepting my offer of staying?” she turned to san, or rather yeosang.
san shyly side-stepped away from yeosang. he couldn’t meet her eyes as he fiddled with his fingers. after a moment of silence, he nodded. “...if that offer still stands. i know i haven’t been the nicest, but after last night, i don’t think you’re such a bad person—”
“so you thought i was a bad person all throughout the time we’ve known each other?” jiyu teasingly pressed, keeping up an offended facade.
san’s head instantly snapped up at the realization of his words. flustered, he waved his hands in front of him defensively. “wait—no, that’s not what i meant—”
jiyu burst out into laughter and leaned onto the counter. she never would’ve thought that san would have a change of heart with the way she acted last night, yet the universe is always full of surprises for her. “don’t worry, i was just messing with you,” she explained through her laughs before calming down. “and i’m sorry if i crossed a line last night. it’s just...i’ve had a lot on my mind recently and my emotions seemed to have spilled over. i know that sounds like an excuse but for me, it’s the truth.”
although some of the hybrids in the room had no idea what was bothering her so much, they had to agree with her. ever since she went out with sunwoo the day before, she seemed lost in her thoughts more often or just zoning out.
“it’s alright, really,” san reassured. “i was accusing you of ulterior motives, too so...i think you had a right to at least be angry.”
walking up to the cat hybrid, she softly smiled and held her hand out to him. “so are we good now?”
san slowly clutched her tiny hands in his and gave it a small, yet firm shake. like proud parents, seonghwa and hongjoong looked at the interaction with proud smiles on their faces. as a matter of fact, they all did. they didn’t realize their small talk from last night would actually help san.
taking a good look at the state of the kitchen, jiyu found it amusing how they were all trying to avoid her look, knowing they were guilty of the mess. “now then...do you all need some help?” she asked, stifling her chuckles at how they eagerly nodded at her offer.
breakfast was more lively than it had been the last few days. rather than hiding in his own corner, she could see san communicating with the everyone else, herself included. the others were asking questions and just trying to nudge san to feel more relaxed around them. jiyu didn’t understand how he had a change of heart just over one night, but she was glad to see him progress.
but a question nagged at her from the back of her mind. just who was after san that they beat him to a pulp so badly? who was san and where was he from before becoming a stray? jiyu wanted to ask him so bad to see if she could offer him anymore help, but would it come off as being nosy? would san just retreat back into his little shell?
at that moment, it was like san read her mind. “i think...you all deserve an explanation...considering how i put you all at risk last night,” she nervously said, fiddling with his tail.
“only if you’re okay with it,” seonghwa reassured from next to him.
san took a moment to gather his thoughts and words. “i actually came from owners that were...well-off, you could put it. if i remember correctly, they adopted my parents first, then i was born a few years after. unfortunately, they died when i was seven due to what they told me was an accident.”
jiyu felt her heart break for san. he looked so somber at the mention of his parents that she almost told him he didn’t have to force himself. but san continued to talk.
“after my parents died, the family was so nice to me. they basically treated me like i was their own son. they had a daughter around my age, too...so i even had a friend. i thought i had everything, i thought life was great...” he paused again, pursing his lips as he reminisced his past. “but then one wrong move made me a monster in their eyes.” his ears slumped on his head as his whole figure seemed to shrink. his head was bent down, unable to make eye contact with anyone out of fear that they would reject him like his old family did.
“you don’t have to tell us what you did if it makes you uncomfortable, san,” hongjoong noted the cat’s tensed state, almost as if he was forcing himself to say what he had to say.
san nodded, an action so small and light that you could’ve missed if you weren’t paying attention. jiyu switched to the seat next to him and gently pat his back in a comforting motion. “hey, it’s okay, san. let me tell you, if you’re ever comfortable enough to tell us what you did, i swear on my life that our views about you would never change. all of us here...i’m pretty sure i can speak for all of us when i say we’ve made some horrible mistakes in the past, too.”
san lifted his head up in the slightest and saw them all nod at jiyu’s words. looking over to jiyu, he found her softly smiling at him. “i’m not exactly sure what convinced you to stay with us, but i’ll be sure to help you out in any way i can. and you can take your time with us. take baby steps into trusting us, just remember that we’re here every step of the way. and if and when the time comes that you can tell is what happened, we’ll listen with open ears and hearts. okay?”
san took her words to heart. he felt the warmth of her words, and how she genuinely meant what she said. seeing the others’ reassuring faces made things a lot better, too.
“they told me their story,” san quietly mumbled. jiyu tilted her head in confusion. “how you helped them. i guess that’s what kind of made me take the leap, too.” he confessed.
jiyu stared at the others with wide eyes. she was surprised they even vouched for her. hongjoong playfully snorted before ruffling her hair. “why are you looking at us like that? all we told him was the truth.”
yunho enthusiastically nodded. “yeah! you saved mingi and i from our old owners and the cold.” mingi nodded with a grin, his bunny ears perking up and bouncing along with his nods.
“and you saved me from getting put down,” seonghwa chimed in.
“and you helped me open up and trust again,” yeosang languidly added. it was rare for jiyu to hear yeosang say something as sappy as that since their dynamics was usually a lot of teasing (from yeosang), but whenever he did say something warm, it held all the more weight and impact.
jiyu’s bottom lip started to slightly quiver as she felt herself become overwhelmed with emotions—good ones this time. “you guys are gonna make me cry and it’s only 8 in the morning!”
san snickered. “they weren’t kidding when they said you get emotional a lot, too.”
“they what—!”
“we’re sorry, we didn’t mean it!” mingi apologized while laughing before running away to the living room couch.
“san, that was supposed to be a secret!” yunho playfully whispered before getting a light flick on the forehead by jiyu.
“alright, you all get one flick each, come here!” she mischievously smiled before going after each and every one of them. san just watched with amusement at the scene. ‘she really is like a kid on the inside.’ he mused to himself while mingi’s screams echoed around.
#9th member of ateez#ateez imagines#ateez scenarios#ateez fluff#ateez angst#choi san#choi san imagines#san imagines#ateez san#hybrid au#kpop hybrid au#ateez hybrid#hybrid!ateez#ateez au
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Regrets - Derek Hale
a/n: i think my vaccine microchip came with an inspiration software 🤣🤣🤣 completely kidding lol. but yeah. i came up with this idea fairly quickly and started it soon after :)
•••
“Will you just listen to me?!”
“Derek, I’m trying my hardest! I don’t know what you want me to do!”
“I want you to listen to my instructions and do what I say!”
“I’m fucking trying! But it’s hard to understand what you mean when I don’t know much about fighting!”
This has been happening all morning. Training with your boyfriend Derek wasn’t going well. You were getting frustrated because it was tough to keep up with him, who's been a werewolf his entire life, and he was getting frustrated with you for the same reason, not being able to properly complete the moves he was giving you.
“Are you?” He asks sarcastically. You scoff at him and pick up your bottle of water.
“I am.”
“Because I don’t think you are.” You throw your water down out of anger and stalk over towards him.
“Fuck right off, Derek. You know I am. You know I’m the one who asked for this! You know I’m willing to put the work in to become a good werewolf!”
“I don’t think you’ll ever be,” he states. You are taken aback by his bluntness.
“Excuse me?” You step back.
“I don’t think you’ll ever be a good werewolf. I honestly see you getting killed before you can defend yourself. You’re not retaining anything I’m telling you, so yeah, I don’t think you’re as serious about this as you say you are!”
The room falls silent and you try to keep your tears at bay. Derek turned you a few weeks ago, months after he told you what he really is. Ever since that day, you imagined being like him, being able to have super senses and super strength, everything.
He was reluctant to turn you, after what happened with Paige of course, but he was willing to take a risk, since you’re both older than when that happened. But now, he wasn’t so sure he made the right choice.
“You really think that?” You question in a soft tone. You tried to conceal your hurt, but you knew he could sense it.
“Yeah,” he crosses his arms. “You’re not pushing yourself enough, you’re constantly breaking down crying because of it, and you cut every day short claiming to want to spend time with me as just a couple. But that can’t happen until you learn how to control this!”
Your emotions were going crazy right now. You didn’t know whether to yell back at him, punch him, kick him, or just walk out.
“You know what,” you murmur, picking your things up. “I’ll find another pack, one who actually wants me to succeed and won’t tell me that I’m useless. And I’ll also find another boyfriend, because I’m not going to sit here and be told I can’t have a normal relationship until I’m a good enough werewolf, when the two have nothing to do with one another.”
With that, you give Derek one last glare and walk out of the loft, planning on never seeing him again.
Of course, though, Beacon Hills always brings people back. And that’s how you ended up returning. Scott reached out to you about something called the Benefactor, which had a list that you happened to be on.
Surprise, surprise, the day you come back, things have turned to shit. You were out strolling in the woods, looking for Scott, where he told you to meet him, when you stumbled into a fight. That fight happened to be with the Benefactor and none other than Derek.
You were quick to move into action, throwing the creature off of him. They scurry away much too fast for you to catch a real glimpse of them. Unfortunately, that leaves you and Derek alone.
“Thank you,” he breathes out, dusting his shirt and pants off. You hum and move along, but before you could get away, he stops you.
“Wait, (Y/N)?” He asks. You raise your eyebrows at him and cross your arms. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Mhm.” You are short with your response, not wanting to speak to him much. So, you turn in the other direction and start running, hoping to find Scott along the way. Derek must have sensed you wanted nothing to do with him since he didn’t follow you.
A couple days later, after things settled down in Beacon Hills for the time being, Scott invited you to the pack meeting they were having to go over any information or sources on the Benefactor.
When you arrived, you noticed a few new faces, one of which was a woman with scars stretching around her neck. You immediately noticed her in a shirt of Derek’s, one you wore all the time when you were together.
You felt a small pang in your chest, but being around supernatural beings, you tried to hide it. Scott knew, though. For the time, you push your feelings aside and pay attention to Scott and Stiles running the meeting.
Throughout, you could feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who it was. Every time you glanced over, you caught Derek staring at you, when you were talking and even when you were just sitting there. After a few times of catching him, you give him a hard glare, eyebrows raised in wonder, wonder of why he was focused on you.
The meeting ends and everyone begins to leave one by one or two by two. Braeden had been one of the first few to leave, and you were just heading out behind Scott, the last person. But just as you were walking towards the door, Derek stops you.
Turning around, you face him and tell Scott you’ll be okay getting home. He nods and shuts the door, leaving you alone with Derek in a place that holds so many happy yet painful memories. You step further inside and stop a couple feet in front of him.
“What?” You snap, noticing the slight wince in Derek’s expression. He sighs, saying nothing.
“Is there any reason you asked me to stay? Because if not, I’d like to get back to my hotel. I’ve had a long fucking day.”
“I’m sorry,” he begins. Your eyes narrow at him in confusion. “I’m sorry for what happened a few years ago. I didn’t mean to diminish your abilities and possible future as a werewolf.”
“Then why’d you say it? Why’d you tell me I would never be a good enough werewolf? Which, by the way, I’ve succeeded in, thanks to my new, welcoming pack.” Again, he winces, realizing how much pain he truly caused you.
“I was angry. I was still trying to deal with the death of my sister and the Darach that was terrorizing Beacon Hills at the time. I was so stressed out and overworked, I just needed you to do good so we could go out and help the pack.”
“That still gives you no excuse to tell me I’m going to be killed simply because I was overwhelmed with the amount of information given to me in such a short amount of time.”
“I know, I know. And I really am sorry.”
“I don’t forgive you.” He sighs and steps closer, not too much to alarm you but enough to let you know this conversation isn’t over.
“Is there anything I can do to possibly go back to what we had? Or even just friends? Can I gain your trust back?”
“Derek, I-”
“Ever since you saved me the other night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. The first time we met in rainy New York City, our first date, the first time we kissed, the first time you slept over at my place. And I’ve been remembering how awful I felt for letting you get away so easily when I could have fought to keep you to stay. When I realized you were truly gone, I haven’t forgiven myself either.”
The more Derek speaks, the more you miss him. You missed the times where he wasn’t yelling or screaming fighting techniques at you. The times where you’d cuddle up in bed and just talk, or not talk and just lay in each other’s arms, recharging from a hard day. The days where he woke you up to breakfast in bed, or takeout and movie nights at Scott’s when him and his mother were gone.
“I-I don’t,” you stutter. You could feel your strong facade fading quickly. One of his infamous Derek smirks would make you fall right back into his arms.
“You know I can hear your heartbeat and smell your nerves,” he teases, and of course, that damned smirk making its way onto his lips.
“I know, and I hate that about us.” He chuckles and comes to a stop right in front of you, only a foot away. He keeps himself from pulling you into his arms, and you keep yourself from pouncing on him.
“I missed you,” he whispers. “Actually, I still miss you.”
“I missed you too, Derek.” You couldn’t believe you were admitting this. Derek had consumed your thoughts ever since you left, sure, but his words always played back in your head, making you not miss him as much. But now, standing face to face, you truly did love him and love being with him.
You two remain silent for a moment, when Derek reaches up to cup one of your cheeks with his large hand. HIs thumb strokes your cool skin and you can’t help but lean into his touch, getting lost in his beautiful green eyes.
“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, his eyes darting between your own and your lips.
You didn’t answer him only because you found yourself leaning into his body, wrapping your arms around his body and trailing your hands up his back. You crash your lips into his and he deepens the kiss almost immediately.
“Mhm,” you groan as you pull away for a moment. His hands don’t leave your cheeks.
“What?” He gasps for air.
“What about Braeden?” He furrowed his eyebrows and looked around.
“What about her?”
“Aren’t you two dating?”
“No. Did someone tell you we were?”
“She was wearing a shirt of yours at the meeting, so I figured.” He chuckles and glances down between your bodies, slightly embarrassed.
“No, we aren’t dating. We may have slept together a couple of times, but it’s nothing more,” he assures you. Still, you’re skeptical.
“Are you sure?” You push once more. He nods, a small smile on his face as he admires you.
“You’re the only woman I want.”
#derek hale#derek hale imagines#derek hale x reader#derek hale imagine#tyler hoechlin#teen wolf#teen wolf imagines#imagines#fanfiction#fanfic
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“Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...”
Johnny Depp’s NEW INTERVIEW!
Last saturday, August 14, The UK Times, released a new interview with Johnny for the Sunday Times section. It was realized sometime earlier this month, in London, probably on the same day he and Andrew Levitas were recording for the Q&A for the “Minamata” release in UK.
This is Johnny’s first interview since the UK trials in London last year, and released three years after Johnny’s major interview for the British GQ Magazine.
Here Johnny and Andrew Levitas speaks about “Minamata”, his future as actor and a thing or two about his personal life, although he cannot talk about the court case.
For those who couldn’t read yet, here is the FULL interview:
Enjoy.
***
“I’M BEING BOYCOTTED BY HOLLYWOOD”
Johnny Depp has a new film out this week. In the opening scene his character, the real-life photographer W Eugene Smith, says, “I’m done. I’m tired. My body is older than I am. I’m always in goddam pain. I can’t trust my f***ing dick any more. Constantly in a foul mood. Even the drugs bore me.”
I ask Depp if Smith’s despair resonated with him. Depp stops. Rocks back and forth. “That’s interesting,” he replies with painful hesitation.
“I didn’t approach playing Smith in that way… Although you bring your toolbox to work and use what is available. Having experienced...” He stops again. Depp takes any questions that might refer to his calamitous libel case last year slowly, in a mumbly, croaking drawl. “A surreal five years…”
In the film Smith needs to revive his reputation. In real life Depp’s task is even more daunting. Thanks to the judgment, everyone can call him a “wife-beater”. Now he must convince a Hollywood still convulsed by #MeToo that he’s not toxic — and that any attempt to rebuild his career is a risk worth taking. This is Depp’s first interview since the case.
We are speaking over Zoom, Depp in his London home, in front of a gold-framed painting. The 58-year-old is wearing a lot of clothes. Earrings. Floppy hat. Sunglasses. Bandana. Scarf. Checked shirt over a T-shirt with an indiscernible slogan. If you saw him on the Tube*, you might think he was off to work at the London Dungeon*, to play most of the characters.
PS. For those who are not familiar with British words:
* Tube = British slang for London Underground, the subway trains.
* London Dungeon = is a walk-through experience that recreates scenes from London's scary history in a mixture of live actors, special effects and rides.
Depp resumes, talking in broken sentences about the new film, Minamata, in which Smith, via Life magazine, exposes the brutal mercury poisoning of Japanese villagers in the early 1970s.
“How do we do this?” he asks rhetorically, meaning how to speak about the elephant in the Zoom. “Well, there’s no way one can’t recognise the absurdity of the mathematics.” He grins. “If you know what I mean?” No. “Absurdity of media mathematics.” He talks in riddles. “Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...”
He trails off again. He is holding a big brown roll-up of some sort. “What the people in Minamata dealt with? People who suffered with Covid? A lot of people lost lives. Children sick...Ill. Ultimately, in answer to your question? Yeah, you use what you’ve got. But what I’ve been through? That’s like getting scratched by a kitten. Comparatively.”
Last July, I went to the High Court in London to watch Depp on another screen — a video from the socially distanced court where the Hollywood star was losing a libel action against The Sun after it called him a “wife-beater”. It was the grottiest showbiz trial of the century. There were photos of the actor passed out in a foetal slump, socks on show. One lengthy exchange involved faeces. Another urination, inside or outside a house, after a violent night with his ex-wife Amber Heard.
This had all been going on for a while. In 2016 Heard applied for a temporary restraining order against him. The couple had long endured a narcotic, booze-filled, childish relationship, but that does not matter — 12 incidents levelled against Depp were proved, said the judge, and abuse is abuse, regardless of how badly they both behaved. Depp wanted to appeal, but the court said no. Next April in the US he has a $50 million defamation case against Heard relating to an opinion piece she wrote about being the victim of domestic abuse. It may be his last roll of the dice.
In the 1990s Depp was a sensitive heart-throb. Cooler than DiCaprio, edgier than Pitt. In this past year he has been stripped of his status and dignity. On day three of the trial Sasha Wass QC, representing The Sun, asked Depp about daubing a penis on a painting. He could not remember. “That would be quite a big thing, painting a penis on a picture?” Wass asked. “Quite a big thing?” Depp asked.
It was a well-delivered line, but Depp was on show. Performing. Now he is more timid, less lucid. His people say he cannot talk about the court case given the looming US trial, yet it hangs over everything. The director of Minamata, Andrew Levitas, is also on our call — as a pub trivia aside, Levitas is married to the Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins.
The two men clearly get on. “With regards to journalism, it was important for us to put across in the film the power of truth,” Levitas says. Depp nods. “The responsibility of journalists to look after citizens of the world. [Our film] coincided with the moment important publications had to put Raquel Welch on a cover to get enough eyeballs to sell enough ads in order to put something meaningful inside. A result of that is clickbait — it’s destroying the purpose of journalism,” Levitas continues.
“You said it beautifully,” says Depp, one of the world’s most pinned-up men, who built a career on magazine covers. “I couldn’t say it better than that.”
Last month Levitas wrote to MGM, which bought Minamata for the US market but decided not to release it. He accused MGM of being concerned that “the personal issues of an actor in the film could reflect negatively upon them”. Then the letter got really strong. Levitas accused MGM of failing in its “moral obligation” to release the film and said it needed to explain to the victims “why you think an actor’s personal life is more important than their dead children”. He then attached Smith’s photos of ghastly deformities that shocked the world 50 years ago.
“It’s important that the movie gets seen and supported,” Levitas says. “And if I get an inkling it’s not going to be, it’s my responsibility to say so. Where it goes from there? I don’t know. But we have responsibility to these victims . . .”
You can see why he’s passionate. The film is good. MGM bought the film because it is good. Depp is good too. He disappears into the role, far from his more recent pantomime parts. It’s being released worldwide, just not in the actor’s homeland.
Depp, who also produced the film, interrupts. “We looked these people in the eyeballs and promised we would not be exploitative. That the film would be respectful. I believe that we’ve kept our end of the bargain, but those who came in later should also maintain theirs.”
“Some films touch people,” he adds. “And this affects those in Minamata and people who experience similar things. And for anything…” He pauses, as he does. “For Hollywood’s boycott of, erm, me? One man, one actor in an unpleasant and messy situation, over the last number of years?” He trails off. “But, you know, I’m moving towards where I need to go to make all that…” Again, he trails off. “To bring things to light.”
The fact, as I think Depp knows, is that for his career, the court that matters is not one of law, but public opinion. On social media, where a lot of minds are made up, Depp’s good reputation will always outweigh the bad, thanks to his frequently blinkered fans.
Outside the High Court, as Heard arrived, I saw Natasha, 30, yell: “Get hit by a truck, Amber!” She is extreme, but the persistent way his fans demand that others think their idol is a saint shows a career revival will happen. After all, most filmgoers do not follow his private life at all. To them, he is Jack Sparrow, Edward Scissorhands. To them, he is a star — and a star can take an awful lot of heat before it burns out.
“They have always been my employers,” Depp says of his fans. “They are all our employers. They buy tickets, merchandise. They made all of those studios rich, but they forgot that a long time ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m proud of these people, because of what they are trying to say, which is the truth. The truth they’re trying to get out since it doesn’t in more mainstream publications. It’s a long road that sometimes gets clunky. Sometimes just plain stupid. But they stayed on the ride with me and it’s for them I will fight. Always, to the end. Whatever it may be.”
Depp will talk like this for ever — about his “truth”. Minamata is the last film Depp has listed on the industry site IMDb, where actors usually have half a dozen in development. So, yes, fans of the actor can see Depp in a new role now — it is a return, but is it a relaunch? The film was finished in 2019, way before last year’s court case. Is that it? His last film? He thinks and looks off to his bookshelves, at biographies of Betjeman and Olivier.
“Er...no,” he says, eventually. “No. No. Actually, I look forward to the next few films I make to be my first films, in a way. Because once you’ve...Well, look. The way they wrote it in The Wizard of Oz is that when you see behind the curtain, it’s not him. When you see behind the curtain, there’s a whole lot of motherf***ers squished into one spot. All praying that you don’t look at them. And notice them.”
I would ask him to explain, but I am not sure he is an explainer. Watch this space, I guess, but he is already taking a first step back. After we speak, it is announced Depp is getting the coveted Donostia award at the San Sebastian Film Festival next month. Some people are just too famous to fail.
~ Interview by Jonathan Dean, in London, for The Times UK (released on August 14, 2021)
#Johnny Depp#New Interview#Interview#Minamata#Justice For Johnny Depp#I Believe Him#Johnny Depp is Innocent#The Times UK
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Tor - Rogue, Chapter 3| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)
Summary: A little bit of Mando pov for you all!! It’s a shorter chapter, just kind of the same as the previous but from our Space Dad’s point of view this time. Though there may be a little hint of your decision at the end…
Warnings: Injury detail/blood, swearing, angst? Hints of fluff?
AN: There’s a very small ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ reference to a certain Dornish prince and his nickname in here too. Wonder if you’ll find it? 👀
Also, thank you to @ithinkwehitametaphor for sending me the gif! i couldn’t for the life of me find it and you honestly saved my life
Wordcount: About 3465
Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo
Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl
Mando’a Translation: Tor – justice
He always thought it would end like this. Never in some big blaze of blaster fire or with his ship, but in some back alley, bleeding out, alone.
Hell, maybe he deserved it. He’d killed enough people to warrant this end, slumped on the floor, too weak to save himself.
He didn’t deserve a warrior’s death, a Mandalorian’s death. Not after all he had done.
Of course, it was his duty, his honour as a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter but… that sacred Creed did nothing to stop the thoughts that plagued him at night, the whispers that hissed in his ear during his waking hours.
He almost laughed at himself.
The Creed was all he had.
Until…. Until the kid had come along.
Until he saw that little wrinkly baby in the crib and… it had all changed.
He couldn’t kill it, him, couldn’t take it back to the Client or his Clones.
One look at that damn little silver ball, and eveyrhting went straight out the window.
Fuck the Guild code. He would never kill a child, an innocent being that couldn’t even talk, could only make those little cooing sounds that even he had to admit were adorable.
Rescuing him… it had given him something to live for. Something to fill his days and a reason not to go hurtling helmet first into danger with no regard for his own safety.
Except… well, no. That wasn’t strictly true was it. He’d become more reckless since that moment, the rules that his bound his life for so long were slowly coming undone bit by bit. All of which made him so reckless, so… desperate?
You only had to look at the sheer amount of people lining up for his and the kid’s head to prove that.
So maybe he didn’t always make the smartest decisions, but they were still alive, weren’t they? Had friends to help them if he needed it.
In a short time, he’d gone from being Judge, Jury and Executioner, to being the person that people called when they needed help. Sometimes people didn’t even call him. He just showed up and offered his services.
And truth be told… he liked it. He liked people looking at him with hope and admiration, rather than fear and jealousy. He liked the way people fussed over the kid, asking if Mando was taking good care of the child. Like they were a family.
A Clan.
The sigil on his armour said as much. Him and the kid. A unit of two rogues.
That’s what it all came down to, in the end. Everything was to keep Grogu safe. That’s why he stuck to the Outer Rim, taking jobs that would draw him further away from those that relentlessly hunting them, those who wanted to harm the Child. Besides, he needed the credits that came with the big jobs. Taking care of the little womp rat was expensive. Not to mention there was always something falling apart on his ship.
So, when that guy in the hood had cornered him in the bar, given him the fob and told him about the bounty that no one could catch, he’d taken it without a thought. He’d had so many over the years that were supposedly uncatchable that the word had nearly lost its meaning. And this stranger had obviously sensed that, explained that it was true. Reeled off the sheer amount of hunters that had been sent that way, Imps, Trandoshans, Empire workers, IG-11 robots, even another Mandalorian. After hearing that list, Mando had expected some high-level bounty. An escapee from the deepest pits of the darkest prisons, someone who had done terrible, terrible things.
So… when he’d activated the puck, and the hologram of a woman’s face had come up… he was shocked. This woman… she was beautiful. Still young. She didn’t look like she bathed in the blood of her enemies, or killed children and babies, she looked… well, not exactly harmless. There was a glint in her eyes even on the hologram, a spark that warned of danger, promised pain to anyone that tried to hurt her.
A survivor’s look.
Something niggled at him, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It might have been hesitation, but he ignored it. The bounty over her head was enough that he could take Grogu to one of those sanctuary planets and lay low for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. The kid deserved it, to be able to play and explore.
And himself… Maker, he was just so tired.
So, he’d pocketed the puck and the fob, didn’t ask who the client was, went back to the Crest and then he was on his way to Sorgan.
Maybe it would take him a little longer than usual to bring the girl in, but it was nothing that he hadn’t done before. After all, stealing back the kid, breaking into a prison, everything else that had occurred recently… this was a walk in the park.
He still believed that, right up to tracking you. Even when he chased you.
He had to admit, he did love it when they ran, even if his back was killing him.
Something about the chase, the frantic fear of the prey as he hunted them down, the conclusion inevitable. It thrilled him.
But… this felt.. different.
You were different. You fought like it was a dance, whirling across the clearing and around his punches like there was a song only you could hear. And you were taunting him, laughing as you did. You lived for this, like you had been bred for it. No… you’d been shaped by it, shaped by the choice of cowering or turning into a wolf. A wolf, like those he’d seen in Lothal.
You were strong, you fought well, he had to give you that much. He knew he would have to work for it, but with the promise of safety lingering, he matched you move for move, determined to hold this out as long as it took.
He’d read your file, read what had happened and used that to his advantage. The words had come easily, even though they had stirred something inside him, perhaps a mirror of the feelings he was encouraging in you.
But then… then you just gave in. Straight away. And not like the others did. Not in the way that they had, thinking it would make him go easier, change his mind.
No, you had completely, utterly given up. He saw it in your eyes. Saw that survivors glint gutter out, a wolf tamed back into her cage with her tail between her legs.
And… it threw him. He had touched something, caught something deep within you as he taunted you. Something broken… that again whispered to his own deepest thoughts. Like calling to like.
He’d ignored it, pushing that thought back into the part of his minds where his darker thoughts lay slumbering – for now. He’d carried you back to the Crest, shackled you to the wall and had made to leave you there.
Only, he had seen that the wound on your shoulder was torn open again, ripped by your fight and his jamming with the rifle. It was bleeding through your tunic, and even with unconsciousness heavy in your body, you still looked somewhat pained.
He’d hovered there, staring at the bleeding wound and having some kind of internal battle.
It wasn’t fatal. It was just a recent injury that had torn open. You’d be fine. He nodded, turning around and making all of one step.
But. A Trandoshan had been the last person to hunt you. They relished in the hunt, had probably fought dirty and used a poison. It might be infected. What if you died on his way back to dropping you off? Or got really, really sick?
Nevermind. The messenger for the Client stated you had to be brought back alive. Alive didn’t mean whole. He carried on walking, trying to focus again on something else… only to pause a couple of metres away.
Help her.
The Mandalorian had turned back around to look at you, a frustrated grunt slipping from his lips. He moved through the ship, grabbing a med-kit and then practically stormed back to you, nearly ripping your tunic as he’d eased up the sleeve.
It wasn’t too bad, a deep wound but it hadn’t been infected, yet. He cleaned it up, spraying it with the last of his bacta-spray and binding it with the last strip of bandages. He’d have to get some more soon, dig up some credits from somewhere.
A cruel reminder of why he took this job. What you were. A bounty. That’s all.
Muttering a string of curses, he finished binding your wound, wrenching his hands away and then made his way back upstairs.
A bounty. A means to an end. The way to getting a break that his aching body craved for.
He was hunter. You were prey.
That was the mantra he had to keep repeating to himself when he’d brought you up to the cockpit.
Had to keep repeating when you were teasing him, which simultaneously ground on his nerves but also made his skin tighten in a way it hadn’t for a while.
It had been a long time, so long since he’d that kind of verbal play with someone.
Hell, it had been a long time since he’d had any kind of play with anyone. He just didn’t have the time anymore, not with Grogu and not when everyone knew who he was. How could you trust someone enough to sleep with them when nearly everyone wanted to kill you?
His new mantra had echoed in his head when you began to verbally poke at him, hitting home about being lonely. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you knew you’d hit a nerve. But thankfully you stopped.
But not before that broken thing had called between you again. Your words were spoken with too much ease and casualness, someone who knew all too well the loneliness and starvation for touch and companionship.
Maker, he had to get rid of you soon.
It had almost been a relief to find the small bounty on this planet. You’d been asleep, the kid asleep too so he’d gone. He didn’t need to wake either of you up, you knew why you were here - he’d told you so this morning.
Besides, it was a small planet, easy prey to catch when everyone here feared the dark. He’d be back in a few hours.
With the way he was so wired, he’d probably be back in two.
That’s the way it was meant to happen.
Track down the bounty, disarm, bring him back, freeze him in carbonite and Mando would have you back in the sky before you’d even woken up.
And it had happened that way initially. He followed the sharp tailed bounty from the fighting pits to a cantina. Had to sit and listen as he boasted about some girl he’d bedded the night before and had screaming his name. He then, of course, launched into detail of said night, drawling about this girl in such a derogatory way that it took all his training and restraint not to just shoot this creep in the head there and then and be done with it.
But, the Mandalorian had endured it. Sat there for an hour or so and then followed him out into an alleyway. Mando kept hidden as the bounty had spoken to a friend, talking about another girl he’d seen. Apparently, this one was even better than last night. He had it on good authority that this girl would be game for anything he wanted to do and more.
And then Spikey had started describing again, in detail, what he would do. And Mando had been disgusted, angry that this creep was talking about a woman this way, such sick and derogatory things. Spikey’s friend asked if this ‘slut’ had a name.
And then…
Your name. That’s what he said.
And that’s when it went wrong.
Your name had barely come out of this animal’s lips when a red haze clouded over the Mandalorian. Everything in him screamed violence and his body went on autopilot, attacking this vile waste of space matter so quickly he hadn’t had time to breathe. Mando didn’t even notice the friend bolt, running away. He was just so focused on taking down the bounty, ripping him apart for what he’d said about you. This one would be brought in cold. He would say that it put up a fight, tried to kill him so Mando acted in self-defence.
His previous mantra of the last two days was forgotten, overtaken by a need to defend you, make sure this guy stayed the hell away from you. Bring him down, freeze him in carbonite and get off of this planet. He fell back into that haze, relying on his skills and instincts.
Except… except that when the haze cleared, he wasn’t leaning over the body.
No, he was the one being pinned against the wall by the bounty, with a strength he hadn’t realised Spikey possessed. What the fuck was he?
Escape training came to him now, but before he could disarm and kill, the bounty began to spew those vile thoughts about you again. About how Mando was keeping you tied to a bed, for his own pleasure. How he was going to take you, ask to keep you, use you-
And then for the first time in his life, Mando forgot his training. He forgot about blocking and defensive maneuverers. He forgot about the myriad of weapons on his body, the Whistling Birds, the flame-thrower.
He reached out in a blind fury to throttle this creep.
He left himself open to attack.
That was the first time he royally fucked up tonight.
Pain had suddenly become a living thing in his side and waist as he slid down the wall, and then his only thought wasn’t of survival, it was of the kid, and you.
You were back in the ship, both of you safe at least. Maybe you would know how to fly, know how to get yourselves out of there and run, escape. That’s what he’d hoped. You were smart, you were a survivor. You’d take the initiative and get yourselves out. Besides, he might not have admitted it, but he trusted you with Grogu.
And then like he’d fucking summoned you… there you were. Launching into Spikey Tail’s side and getting him away. He could only watch as you engaged him in the fight, taunted him with that same tone you’d used on him. Only this time, he could watch you.
Beautiful.
There was no other word for it, as much as he might not have wanted to admit it. You fought like it was a dance, that prowling wolf in you giving way to a viper, striking and falling back with all the grace of dancers he’d heard about performing in Coruscant.
He was almost breathless as he watched this deadly game – though that might have been the blood loss and blow to his head.
He thought he might be sick when the sound of your ribs shattering bounced off the slick metal walls, the muffled cry of agony it tore from you.
But still, the taunts kept coming, and he couldn’t help himself when you complained that Spikey Tail talked too much. You had possibly two broken ribs and yet you were still a cocky little shit. The impressed, huffing laugh that came from his lips was loud enough to be heard by you.
And that was his second fuck up of the night.
What started as an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest as you turned and smiled at him, had immediately frozen his lungs as Spikey slammed you against the wall, strangling you.
Fear shot through Mando, colder than his body had begun to feel. He tried to get up, tried to help you but he couldn’t move. His limbs wouldn’t respond to him.
He couldn’t save you.
He was going to watch you die defending him.
Just like his parents.
No, no, no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do that, not again. He swore against his body, gathered every remaining ounce of strength that he had and reached for his blaster, just as those sick comments of degradation and ugly lust began to fall from your attacker’s lips.
All he needed was to give you an opening, just one tiny opening and you would do the rest.
Spikey’s lips were creeping toward yours, fear bursting in your eyes as you scrambled for the vibroblade sheathed against your thigh.
An opening, that’s all he had to do.
And he did. He managed to haul his body back from the edge of death long enough to shoot the guy in the back.
You took your opening.
He saw the flash of your vibroblade, heard the muffled, wet noise as it sunk into his bounty’s neck.
The guy fell to the floor in a dead weight. You dropped too and he managed to see you gasp for air, assure himself you were mostly okay before that flame of energy guttered out so quickly, he saw stars.
Darkness hovered around the edges of his vision as he felt his life slip through his fingers – literally, his other hand was pressed to his side in an effort to try and staunch it but he didn’t have the energy to.
This was it then.
The way he would go.
Nothing noble, or heroic.
Bleeding out in a back alley. The creatures in the dark would take him soon enough.
At least you would be able to take the kid and run now. At least there was that.
And then he felt hands knocking his way, significantly smaller hands push into the wound. He couldn’t even make a noise of pain; it didn’t hurt anymore. His vision cleared again and there you were once more, leaning over him with blood sprayed over your face, falling from a cut on your cheek.
No. No.
What were you doing??
You were supposed to escape. You were supposed to flee the mess he’d bought you into and take the kid and run.
He tried to speak, to convey these thoughts to you but his lips had stopped responding. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. But somehow, it was like you got what he meant.
Your hands began to lift, and he had a weak wave of relief that was marred by the fresh soaking of blood that oozed out of his side. How much had he lost now?
Too much, by the cooling temperature of his body and the trembling that had begun.
He had come close to death before, so many times before but this felt different. This felt like he was losing something. Something that was just within reach but he hadn’t had the chance to grasp at yet. And it was being wrenched away, taken from him and trickling over the stones beneath him in a deep, scarlet puddle.
Maybe he’d begun to hallucinate too, because you were back, leaning over him, hands pressed into him again like they could stop the blood. He lifted his eyes and something in him curled up and panged when he saw that you were already gazing at him.
Gazing right into his eyes.
How you knew where they were, how you looked through the blackened visor without seeing, he didn’t know. But he could read the war raging inside of you, the battle off stay or go.
Go.
Mando tried to talk again, but only managed a faint noise, a croak that sounded so pitiful, he might have cringed at himself had he not started to hear a ringing in his ears. Time was nearly up, ticking away his life and that glimmer of something.
So, he instead just looked at you. You were clearly not made up yet, so he did something selfish.
He put his life in your hands.
If you left him here to die, he deserved it. It was justice. Justice for every ounce of pain he’d caused. The grief he’d doled out to mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children.
Justice for the life of treachery he had all but dumped Grogu into.
Justice for letting his parents die for him and not save them.
But, if you let him live…
Then he would try harder. He would repent for his mistakes.
He would make sure you were dropped somewhere safely. You couldn’t stay with him, he wrought death and destruction to those around him whether he meant it or not
But he could take you somewhere safe, maybe to Greef and Cara.
Then he would hunt down whoever came after you next, giving you the respite that he was going to keep for himself.
They were the options.
A deserved death, or a new determination to set right his mistakes.
These thoughts swum through his hazy brain at a surprisingly rapid pace, only a few seconds worth of time as he still watched what you would do with this choice. He could see that you understood, understood the choice he had selfishly bestowed upon you.
Only it was too late.
Heavy darkness thundered over him in an unrelenting tidal wave and with a choked gasp, he was dragged under, so deep he might have imagined your arms winding around his battered body, hauling him to his feet as much as you could.
His brain giving him one last reprieve, perhaps, or maybe a cruel taunt to what might have been before he was sucked under and everything went numb.
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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#din djarin x force sensitive! reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#the force#star wars#the mandalorian#rogue#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal
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Lost & Found
Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)
Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment
Word Count: 1.6k
a/n: *long sigh* finally. This story has been haunting me for months now. I was so tempted to just go crazy and start uploading it because I love it so much. But If I’m uploading this, it means that we’ve made it to the promised day! Yay! You guys, I think this may be one of my favorites. Which, if we’re being honest, all of my works are my favorites. But this is everything.
That is all. Please read and enjoy. Let me know your thoughts, I’d be overjoyed to hear from you.
Chapter 1. Unbreakable Bond
It was easier than I thought it would be; breaking the bond. Perhaps I was just desperate enough. Practically begging on my knees as I stood outside the dingy apartment building, knowing that this was irreversible.
Wanting it to be irreversible.
The woman’s name is Christina, and she gives me a wary look as she explains the cutting process. Her own severed thread is a testament to her underground business. I trust her.
“I need you to be absolutely positive about this,” she warns. “There's no going back once I cut the thread. It will be nearly impossible to find your soulmate.”
That’s the least of my problems. I know that it’ll be all too easy to check in on the whereabouts of my soulmate; after all, he rarely goes anywhere without it being broadcasted to the entire world.
“Burn it.”
Warning me about the impending heat as she pulls out a blowtorch, I hear her sigh. Christina gathers up my thread and places it delicately atop a metal slab.
The little warehouse attached to her apartment offers little distraction; there are a few scattered tools laying about and nothing else but dull gray walls. In a time like this, a distraction would be nice.
“Do you ever regret it?” I ask, an uneasy turn of my stomach pushing the question out. Christina pulls her faceguard down, gesturing for me to look the opposite way. My shadow takes up the entire wall as she fires up the blowtorch.
“Me?” I can feel the heat of the fire, but I refuse to flinch. “Not really. But I do feel a bit bad for my soulmate.”
I frown at the gray wall. “Why?”
Christina shifts to get a more direct angle on the thin red thread that hangs from my finger and extends to disappear under the door. “You’re not the only one who is about to lose a soulmate today. At least it’s your decision.”
Staring at the unforgiving gray wall, I have plenty of time to mull over her response. However, the second I begin to worry or feel sorry for my soulmate, I remember the sweaty palms and crippling anxiety from earlier.
As Christina takes a step back after nearly thirty minutes, turning the blowtorch off, I turn to assess the damage. Frowning at the still intact thread, Christina snorts.
“Don’t move.”
She takes a lofty hammer in her hands, bringing it down hard on the thread. I gasp as sparks fly into the air, my thread tightening around my finger and pulling. Grabbing my hand, I struggled to remain upright on the stool.
“We’re almost there!” Christina huffs, bringing the hammer down again and again. Sparks continue to fly, one landing on my shoulder and burning a small hole in my shirt. My hiss of pain is cut short as the pressure on my finger suddenly loosens, nearly causing me to fly backward since I was straining against it.
My breath comes up short as Christina removes the hammer from atop the thread, and I see what happened.
The formerly vivid red hue fades to a dull color, almost a brown-red like dried blood. I watch as the frayed ends begin to retreat, one end slipping off the table and disappearing under the door.
I push off the stool, ripping the door open just in time to see the red thread glinting under the moonlight, drifting away on a breeze. Retreating to its other half.
Glancing down at my hand, I hold up my finger where the other frayed end stops just a few centimeters away from the base of my finger.
“Yeah, it’ll stay like that,” Christina says as she comes to stand beside me. “Unless you want me to burn your finger off…?”
I give her a dry chuckle. “No, thanks. It’s alright like this.” I tilt my head, marveling at the fact that I’m looking out into the world without my thread obscuring my view. “So...will his thread just disappear?”
Christina shakes her head. “Your threads, while cut, still mirror each other. So his will look like yours in a few minutes when it catches up to him.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.”
She invites me back inside, offering me a salve for my aching shoulder that was burned, frowning as she tells me that it will most likely scar.
“I’ll just consider it a souvenir,” I mumble. Christina laughs.
“That’s the spirit.” She passes me a mug of apple cider, sitting across from me at the same metal slab she calls a table where my thread was severed. “So, do you know who your soulmate is, then? Is that why?”
I take a long sip of the cider, my mind instantly replaying the scene from hours earlier. “I know who he is. Although, I wouldn’t say that I cut it because of who he is. He’s a great guy, actually. Top notch.”
Christina raises her brows at me. “Really? What makes you say that?”
I pause to look at my frayed thread, the string of fate loved by the world over. The thread that I always thought would bring me joy beyond belief, but made me realize that it would be better to let go.
For him.
“Do you know BTS?”
Christina sets her mug down with a loud bang. “Do I - of course I know who they are. Why?” Her expression turns to horror. “Why?”
I wince, taking another sip of my cider. Holding my hand up to display my severed thread, I wiggle my finger. “Park Jimin.”
✂
Jimin is in the middle of his dinner when he feels a sharp tug on his red thread. Chuckling at it, he holds his hand up for the thousands of fans watching his live to see.
“My soulmate is acting up, I think.” He watches as the comments flood in, most everyone mourning the fact that they are not his soulmate. A few people tease him about it being them on the other side of the thread, and while he knows that they’re simply joking with him, he can’t help the increase in his heart rate.
If only.
The thread tightens around his finger, making him hiss in pain. “Ouch,” he mutters, pulling back against the thread in order to sit still. “Sorry, everyone. What were we talking about? Oh, right. The concert today -”
Jimin whines as the thread pulls even harder, nearly causing him to spill his drink. Pulling back as hard as he can, he gives the camera an apologetic smile.
Then, his eyes widen as an idea strikes him. “Do you think I should follow it?” He asks excitedly. He hasn’t ever heard about people’s threads pulling them in the direction of their soulmate when they’re not even in the same room, but maybe she’s here, staying at the same hotel-
“I’ve gotta go!” Jimin shouts, blowing a kiss with his free hand before promising to visit everyone again soon. “Thanks guys!” Ending the live, Jimin shoots out of his chair, barely remembering to grab his room key before bursting out of his room and into the hallway.
Following the pull of the thread, he grins as he follows it to the elevator. Punching the button as hard as he can, he jumps from one foot to another as he waits for the doors to open.
“C’mon, c- bingo!” Sliding into the elevator with a gleeful shriek, he ponders for a moment before deciding to hit the ground floor.
Jimin’s cheeks are red with excitement by the time he reaches the lobby of the hotel, not even noticing when a couple of the bodyguards that escorted them to the concert venue today see him and immediately start following him.
“Mr. Park!” One of them calls. “Mr. Park! You can’t just leave without some form of security!”
Jimin hardly spares him a glance as he bolts for the exit where his thread continues to pull him. “Then follow me!”
The bodyguards chase after him into the night, exchanging concerned glances as Jimin follows after his thread like a convict on the run.
They nearly tackle him as they round a corner he just turned a few seconds prior, stumbling to a stop as they see Jimin standing still in the middle of the empty road.
“Mr. Park,” one of them pants. “Where are you going?”
Jimin stays completely still, the sudden lack of tension from his thread causing his heart to stop. Glancing down at where it’s wrapped around his finger, he feels the exact moment his heart stumbles to a stop.
Floating on a breeze, he sees the other end of his thread. Skimming along the ground like a plastic bag tossed about by the wind.
“What is it?” Jimin breathes out, the question leaving his lips without his consent. “What is it?”
There’s a chill that settles over him as the thread comes closer and closer, making Jimin retreat almost as though he could stop it from reaching him.
“No!” He yells, taking another step back as the end of the thread now arrives at his foot. “No! Not like this!”
The bodyguards watch on with disbelief as the thread works its way up to Jimin’s hand, slowing to a stop just below his finger. They’re continually glancing down at their own threads, making sure that they aren’t about to stumble upon the same ugly fate.
But it’s just Jimin with the cut thread. It’s just Jimin, who falls to his knees with a dull thump. Staring down at the thread, raising his shaking hand and grasping the frayed edge.
“Are they…?” One young bodyguard asks. His senior shakes his head.
“No. The thread turns gray when they die, remember?”
“Then what happened?” He asks again, eyes wide.
His senior sighs heavily, heart breaking at the sight he’s only ever heard stories about. “They must have found someone to cut it.”
The young bodyguard gasps. “Cut it? Is that even possible?”
Jimin’s sobs answer the question for him, the sound echoing off the buildings. One by one, lights turn on in the surrounding apartment buildings as people wonder what the commotion is all about.
Jumping into action, the bodyguards swarm Jimin, picking him up and supporting him between the two of them. Jimin’s body is weak and limp as he shouts and sobs.
“C-come back to me.”
next
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masterlist
taglist: @taylorroe3 @dreamcatcherjiah @thecaffeinatedscribbles @onewoneman @moon-write @marianeamine @missseoulite @preciouschimine
#park jimin#jimin x oc#jimin soulmate au#bts soulmate au#bts angst#jimin fanfiction#jimin imagine#bts imagine#jimin angst#bts series#bts red string of fate#jimin red string of fate#jimin x soulmate#bts x soulmate#bts fluff#jimin fluff#jimin x reader#mochi#baby mochi#btsarmynet#bts army#bts x army#park jimin soulmate au#jimin sad#sorry I think#it'll get better?
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500 Followers Celebration!!!: Part 1 (La Squadra Backstories)
Hey! Thank you so much for 500 amazing followers! Every single one of you mean so much to me!
Part 1 of this celebration is, as the title suggests, my headcanon backstory for each of La Squadra. As some of you know I was at some point in the process of writing a full multi-chapter fic on this, but since that unfortunately never came to fruition beyond the first couple chapters, here is a shortened version of the stories that were originally planned.
Part 2 is going to be a little something I wrote a while back but never felt brave enough to send to more than a few people. That will be seeing the light of day soon. ;)
Risotto
Risotto Dante Nero was born in a small, poor farming village in Sicily, somewhere in the vicinity of Catania. His parents were a young, dysfunctional couple who weren't ready for a kid in the first place. Seeing their newborn son had 'evil' eyes was the last nail in the coffin for them, and they gave the baby up to his paternal grandmother when he was only days old.
Despite being shunned by his family over the aesthetic defect, Risotto was able to form a close bond with his older cousin, Domenico, who would eventually move in with him and his grandmother after being disowned by the family himself. Domenico helped Risotto find friends, and was the main reason why the next few years were the happiest in the young boys life.
Unfortunately, Domenico was struck and killed at age just 19 by a drunk driver, a millionaire from Milan who on top of his intoxication, was driving incredibly fast. Risotto never recovered from the grief; his personality was altered drastically and he eventually dropped out of school. His grandmother indulged him in his revenge fantasies, believing that he would never seriously carry them out. This proved the biggest mistake of her life.
At age 18 Risotto left home to hunt down Domenico's killer. Despite the years of preparation he was in way over his head and was eventually forced to make a deal with Passione for the resources he would need to break into the mansion and not get caught. But the newly initiated mafioso found that revenge did nothing for his grief. Now, he simply had nothing to work for.
Risotto fell into a deep depression for the next two years, doing his duties as a low-ranking soldato for Passione but feeling utterly empty inside. It became so dire that after becoming injured in a fight with a stand user, he welcomed what looked to be his impending death.
But Risotto did not die that day, being saved by an associate of the gang and rushed to hospital. After hearing word that Risotto had defeated a stand user, Prosciutto became interested and approached Risotto for help with a hit he had been assigned to. Risotto agreed and Prosciutto developed a liking for the young man. A few months later, when Prosciutto was tasked with forming a specialised squad for assassination, he remembered Risotto and requested he become the team’s captain. Risotto was put through at once for receiving a stand, and was seated at the head of the brand new La Squadra di Esecuzione.
Prosciutto
Maiale Crepuscolo was born the daughter of a powerful Don in Naples, and his much neglected wife. Raised in luxury, he came to resent his callous father, especially when the man continued to behave adulterously despite his wife’s failing health. The death of Mrs Crepuscolo was a huge blow to her 16 year old son. It was around this time that Maiale discovered his male identity and chose a new name for himself: Prosciutto.
Mere months after the death of his wife, Don Crepuscolo married his pregnant mistress, a young woman by the name of Loreta. Despite the circumstances, Prosciutto and Loreta got on very well together, and the young man confided in her about his transgender identity, to be met with her full support. Any faith that Prosciutto may have had in his father before was immediately lost when Loreta was thrown out onto the streets by her new husband, along with their infant son Pesci. His sole reason for doing this was that he had become tired of her, and the baby's crying.
Without his father’s knowing, Prosciutto continued to wire Loreta and Pesci money through his hefty allowance, and counted down the days until he could graduate highschool and become eligible for his mother’s inheritance. The very day he gained access to it, he cut his father off for good.
The next few years of Prosciutto’s life were the best. He went to a prestigious university to study politics and afterwards found work as a journalist. With his father no longer an issue, he medically transitioned and upped the money he was giving to his half-brother and former step-mother. Everything was going perfectly.
At age 24, Prosciutto received a visit by members of Passione, who informed him they had annexed his father’s gang and killed him. As much as Prosciutto insisted they had been estranged for years, the men maintained that Prosciutto was still considered a threat, and could only be allowed to live if he joined the gang. Worse, they threatened him with Pesci’s life. Prosciutto knew he had no choice.
Over the next few years, Prosciutto worked his way up. By age 27 he was granted the privilege to develop a stand, and was quickly pushed into the assassination business as a result of its deadly power. At that time, Passione had no designated assassination team, and individuals ordered to carry out hits had to go running around for volunteers if they needed help on a mission. This is why Prosciutto had sought out Risotto.
When the order to form a hitman squad was given, Prosciutto was initially primed to become the captain. However, he was strongly against taking this role, as Loreta was starting to show signs of chronic illness and Prosciutto wanted to make sure he could still take care of Pesci if it became necessary. Tasked with finding an alternative, Prosciutto initially approached his old friends Sorbet and Gelato, who had been part of the squad sent to confront him after the death of his father and had kept in touch out of pity. The pair were cleared to join the team, but were not trusted by the team’s superiors to become captain. And so, Prosciutto turned once more to Risotto.
Sorbet and Gelato
Sorbet and Gelato could not have been born in more different circumstances, the former in absolute poverty, and the latter in comparative privilege.
Sorbet’s mother was by no means a bad woman. It was just the case that through her crippling addictions and mental illnesses, she was in no means equipped to care for her 6 children, forcing Sorbet, the eldest, to pick up the slack. Though he loved his siblings the young Sorbet resented this role and was easily tempted by a street gang at age 12, who offered him escape from his miserable life through drug peddling. Sorbet began to drift from his family more and more. He soon disappeared from school, and became completely estranged from his mother and siblings.
By age 17 Sorbet had developed a reputation in the gang for ruthlessness, and was approached by its leader to carry out a number of assassinations. He soon became the group’s designated hitman, and was paid generously for the role. He was still however, functionally homeless.
Gelato was born to an upper-middle class family in Minsk, Russia. The youngest of four boys, his parents had been hoping for a girl, and their resentment only grew when it became clear the young Gelato was both autistic and ADHD. He suffered from extreme emotional neglect.
When Gelato was 13, the family moved back to Italy where his mother was from. Though he preferred it here, the problems with his family continued and Gelato was eventually kicked out at just 17 years old.
Following the word of a friend, Gelato made his way to Naples and found work running an illegal bar for a street gang in exchange for a room to sleep in. The same gang, incidentally, that Sorbet was working for. The two first exchanged words when Gelato found Sorbet beating up a patron who had been abusive to him, and decided to join in. Within weeks, they were lovers.
One night, while Sorbet and Gelato were asleep upstairs, the police raided the bar. In a panic, Gelato shot two, and Sorbet took out a third. The fourth got away. Knowing they would be hunted, the pair begged refuge from their gang but were denied. They were not a powerful enough syndicate to deal with something of this size. And so, with only each other, Sorbet and Gelato fled Italy.
They were on the run for two years, passing through just about every country in Europe at least once. As a means of surviving, they took on assassination contracts from local gangs and became very skilled, but of course this only turned up the heat to catch them. Eventually, it got too much, and in a final desperate bid to avoid capture, the pair went back to Italy to plead their gang to reconsider.
What they found now in charge of Naples was not their gang, but Passione. A capo by the name of Pericolo listened to their story, and agreed eagerly to dissuade the police from pursuing them in exchange for their loyalty to the new gang. Sorbet and Gelato agreed at once, and developed stands soon after.
Formaggio
A Naples Boy through and through, Formaggio was born in the central city to a large, loving family. Owing to their poverty, all the aunts, grandparents and cousins lived in one house. Although many were part of the mafia, it was always stressed to the children they were under no obligation to choose such a life. Nonetheless, many of them still did.
One night, Formaggio’s eldest brother Miguel sneaked off from the house, telling nobody but Formaggio. His goal was to seek initiation into Passione. The young Formaggio pleaded to come as well, but was told he was not ready yet. Miguel returned a couple of hours later, carrying a metal arrowhead. He told his brother that something unexpected had happened, and he needed to go now, but it was vital Formaggio told nobody of this meeting. He promised it would all be worth it in the end.
Years passed, and Miguel did not return. Then one day- a hastily-written letter, addressed solely to Formaggio. In his final message, Miguel apologised for the absence and announced that he did not expect to survive the next few hours. However, if Formaggio wanted the answers to all that had transpired, all he needed to do was recover the arrowhead that he had last seen Miguel with all those years ago. Most likely, it would have been returned to where he found it, address enclosed. Saddened and eager to understand what had happened to his brother, Formaggio followed the instructions and broke into a heavily guarded warehouse. He found the arrow, just as Miguel had said, but failed to understand how this could solve his problems.
Formaggio looked for a way out of the warehouse, and was suddenly set upon by the guards. He ran for the exit and tripped, impaling himself on the arrow. Little Feet came forth at once, stunning the guards. Not wanting to deal with whatever that was, they called in Risotto and his newly built execution squad, based nearby, to deal with it.
Fortunately, the assassins’ skills were not needed. In spite of the circumstances Formaggio met the assassins with charm and cooperation. Risotto phoned his superiors to see if killing the man was really necessary, and they agreed it wasn’t, provided Formaggio became Risotto’s business. An agreement was reached, and Formaggio was inducted into the hitman squad. It would take two more members for Formaggio to piece together what had happened to his brother.
Ghiaccio
Ghiaccio was dealt an awful hand in life. Poor, and with parents that hated him, he had little respite as a child. He was autistic, but never diagnosed, and had visual impairments that were never addressed. His fondest memory was of a bizarre couple he met as a child, a dark-haired, dour man and his blond lover, who kept him company after his mother walked away from him in anger at a shopping mall. She came back, unfortunately.
When Ghiaccio was 15, a frantic knock sounded at his door while his parents were out. Answering it nervously, an equally frantic man stood on the other side brandishing an arrow-head. He introduced himself exhaustedly as Miguel and begged for shelter- he was being chased.
Before Ghiaccio could answer a squad of men burst onto the porch and attacked Miguel, dragging him out of view. Ghiaccio was thrown to the ground and told in no uncertain terms to speak of none of this to anyone. It wasn’t until later he realised the arrow had accidentally slashed him.
At that time, Ghiaccio’s soul was not fit to manifest a stand, but it was close. And so, Ghiaccio began to suffer the slow, agonising fate that some in his position fall victim to, his half-manifested stand slowly sucking the life from him. His parents didn’t even have the heart to call a doctor.
Two months into this agony, Ghiaccio heard something outside his room. His parents. They were talking about what to do if he died. He’d had enough. He snapped.
And so, Ghiaccio’s soul reached the point where it was strong enough to bare a stand fully, after having already partially manifested one. This unheard of situation created a stand with no physical form, but unspeakable power. A surge of ice broke out around the house without Ghiaccio even meaning it to, killing his parents at once. His sickness gone, Ghiaccio got up from the bed. What the hell had just happened?
Convinced he had lost his mind, Ghiaccio fled, but left a trail of unexplainable events behind him. Realising they were dealing with an unaccounted stand user, Passione had Ghiaccio hunted down and propositioned to join them. Terrified and with no other idea of what to do, he agreed. With a stand like this, there were only 2 options: La Squadra and La Unita. La Unita had no interest in an impulsive teenager, so Ghiaccio was sent at once to La Squadra.
The group was reluctant to house a teenage boy as an assassin, but took him in nonetheless. Formaggio was grateful for the crumbs of information Ghiaccio could give about the fate of his brother. Sorbet and Gelato couldn’t shake the feeling they’d seen the boy before somewhere.
Illuso
He was an only child. There was nothing particularly wrong with his relationship with his parents, but nothing particularly right either. There just… wasn’t a connection. They were a middle class family, well to do but nothing special. An arrogant boy, Illuso struggled to make friends, though he did become somewhat close with a boy in the year below him named Formaggio, for a short time.
When Illuso was 15, his parents came to him with a proposition. A distant relative of theirs was in possession of a large castle, but could not pay for its upkeep any more. The man had asked if Illuso would be interested in becoming a live-in caretaker, to be paid less than industry standards but still a lot by the standards of a 15 year old boy. Illuso agreed at once, and moved out of his parents home in a matter of days.
At the castle, his loneliness only grew. The place was closed to visitors and had no inhabitants apart from his new employer, who even then only lived in the castle 4 days a week. Illuso thought he was okay with this life, but the effect on his psyche was indisputable.
Then one day, the castle had a break-in. Illuso was accosted by a young man named Miguel, who had been squatting in the cellar for days and believed the castle was abandoned. The pair came to an understanding, and Miguel proposed that in exchange for his silence, he would give Illuso something amazing. He pricked him with the arrow.
Thrilled with his new power, Illuso agreed to keep Miguel’s existence a secret and the pair co-existed for many years. Illuso learned that Miguel had stolen the arrow from a gang named Passione, after discovering its power and making the decision to take it on impulse. Passione is still hunting him, hence the need to hide.
But eventually, they found him nonetheless. Illuso and Miguel tried their best to fight but it was an uneven battle. Miguel fled with the arrow, chased by one half of the attacking squad, leaving Illuso to deal with the other half.
But against all odds, Illuso survived, using his stand to eliminate the attackers one by one. Eventually the last attackers gave in and fled, The next people sent to confront Illuso came with a deal: join Passione, and all will be forgiven.
Despite his stand’s power, Illuso’s superiors disliked his attitude. After a few months of being thrown between teams, he was saddled with La Squadra.
Melone
The middle of three children, Melone was born to an upper-working class family in Florence. His parents were eccentric-academic sorts, who encouraged Melone and his sisters to act without regard for social convention. Though intelligent, Melone was never quite top of the class due to his inability to stay on task. Still, he got into a decent university and had plans to become a gynaecologist.
In his second year, Melone was approached by a poor couple seeking antenatal care for their pregnancy. As they explained, they were in a gang and could not go into public care for fear of their identities as criminals being discovered. They pleaded Melone for whatever rudimentary checks he could provide, just so they could have some assurance their baby was okay. Melone agreed, and met with the couple several times.
Over the course of the next year, Melone gave similar services to a couple more women who were recommended to go to him by the first patient. It was only a matter of time before the university discovered what he was doing, especially once he started stealing equipment to improve the quality of his examinations. Melone was expelled and referred to the police, but one of his patients got Passione to bribe away his charges. Unfortunately, this put him in their debt. Melone told his family he was simply going away for a while.
Melone languished around in Passione for a while. Though he did receive a stand, its lethal capabilities weren’t immediately clear, and so he remained in the lower ranks. His main respite was the bar scene, in which he got to mingle with many of Passione’s members from different squads. It was through here that he met Illuso, Formaggio and Ghiaccio of the execution team, and formed a friendship. Through them he even formed links with the group’s leader, Risotto.
The team were eager to help Melone advance to a better position, and aided him in exploring his stand. Eventually, he discovered how lethal baby face could truly be, outshining everyone’s expectations. Risotto was pleased to welcome him into the team.
Pesci
By the time Pesci was 13, it was clear his mother’s illness was terminal. Initially reluctant to involve him around the team, Prosciutto increasingly allowed Pesci to stay with them while his mother was at the hospital, since there was nowhere else for the young boy to go. As much as everyone tried to comfort him, he was terrified.
Two years later, it was clear Loreta was in her final weeks. Pesci dedicated as much time as he could to being with her, sleeping at her bedside more often than not. It was here that he first felt the strange occurrences begin. It would be subtle at first, the peculiar feeling of his mother’s heartbeat in his hands as he drifted off to sleep. It was comforting, then. It assured him his mother was still alive. Then, it got weirder, a long string extending from his fingers and into his mother’s chest. He thought he was just sleep deprived.
When the fateful day came and Loreta’s heart monitor stopped, Pesci felt a surge of panic. Desperate to find some proof this wasn’t really happening, his stand burst forth from his body and shot its hook into Loreta’s chest. Unfortunately, it was all for nothing. Loreta was dead.
As Pesci held the rod in his hands he realised this was far too real to be a hallucination. He could sense everything, the fading metabolism of his mother’s body and the vibrations in the floor. As the nurses confirmed the death, they could not see it. Why couldn’t they see it?
Prosciutto came into the room. With one look, Pesci knew that his brother could see the rod as well. He panicked and ran.
Prosciutto tried desperately over the next couple days to get in touch with Pesci. He knew exactly what had happened- clearly the boy had summoned a stand from the anguish of his mother’s death and had freaked out in confusion. That’s all completely understandable, but if Pesci isn’t informed of what his new power means soon, he could get himself into serious trouble. Especially if Passione found out.
And so, Prosciutto set off with Risotto to hunt Pesci down, eventually finding him at a run down park near his childhood home. Prosciutto comforted him and explained he knew what was happening, but if everything was going to be okay, he had to go with them.
#la squadra#la squadra di esecuzione#formaggio#illuso#prosciutto#pesci#melone#ghiaccio#risotto nero#sorbet and gelato
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So Many Fanfics So Little Time
This is just my list, I have seen so many (but if you want to use it it’s all yours too!). I’m not a writer. But I am a hell of a reader. Voracious one might argue. I just wanted to track my progress through the weeds of the absolutely never ending supply of Destiel and Cockles fanfic.
Read on if you want to see what I’ve read, and what I’ve thought. I am but one person with opinions - some of them may be unpopular - some of them you might agree with, but if you find something you haven’t read here, I encourage you to do so.
Honestly, this is just so I can track what I have read already, and when my friends ask, I can reference something easily. I have found some different fics on all kinds of ‘best of’ lists all over the interwebs. And I love recs - so rec away friends.
As someone who reads a solid 40 novels a year typically, I don’t come by the “I read a lot” innocently. I do actually read a LOT. When not reading fanfic (a new obsession, all things being fair), I usually read a lot of Fantasy/high fantasy, romance/erotica, and or YA (yeah, that was a bit of a ride no?). So from this one might digress that I like fluffy, cute stories, complicated and supernatural/paranormal type stories, and I sure do not shy away from violence or smut (or maybe violence with smut? *smirk*).
I have read all of these in the last 2-3 months (I will continue to add as I go). I had never read a fanfic until 2-3 months ago. A lot of these wonderful people are on here, and I mean you no offence by not directly tagging you - I’m still learning how to actually properly use this site. Links to AO3 are included (and I love you all).
These aren’t necessarily in any real order - I did read T&S first, followed by 91W, and 4LW...after that it’s just a shit show of Long or Short, Destiel or Cockles - smorgasbord. Some of these are the most popular Fics out there, and others I’ve never seen recc’d anywhere (just sort of accidentally happened upon them). So let’s get to it, shall we?
Twist and Shout - ok look. I understand the stigma associated with this one, but it was the FIRST one I read. It was the ball that shot me down the hill, and I haven’t stopped since. So. I loved it. I CRIED like a baby. SOBBED. It was not the quality of the writing but the way the story was developed and delivered. I have Never Cried Like This Reading a Story IN MY LIFE. It’s a rite of passage. Read It and have an opinion - it doesn’t need to be mine.
Author(s): gabriel, standbyme https://archiveofourown.org/works/537876/chapters/955188
Ninety-One Whiskey - aka 91W, it is mentioned so much, and is SO worth the read. I continued my dive into the war fics (not typically my bag really and here I was reading 2 in a row). There are a couple of followup stories as well to this series (and yes, I’ve read them all). Although I’ll say that the original is my favourite. I often got lost in a bit of the War/Tactical descriptions, but would recommend it to anyone anyway. Ugh...the “stolen moments”...they were at the same time tragic and the most amazing things ever. You feel me? no? go read it.
Author: komodobits https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362190/chapters/5214500
Four Letter Word for Intercourse - aka 4LW. OMG just, OMG. I loved this story. I loved it so much. I think I read it in a day. Devoured it. It’s so HOT. Just read it. If you haven’t you’re missing out. LEMME AT IT. I loved “knowing the secret”, and had some major anxiety about that realization dawning (I had to take a breath, and be like, no, no, this is gonna be a mess, but it’s gonna be SO GOOD - I was not disappointed). There’s more than one work here too - read them all. PLEASE.
Author: bendingsignpost https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086839/chapters/37568591
Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You) - This was the first Sobs one I read, but it sent me on a spree. this is the Memory Loss one. I have one piece of advice here - read everything by Sobsicles. You can thank me later...just go to her page, and fucking sort to supernatural (or not, read it all!) I’d list them but I’d fucking seriously be here all day. Also, her tags make me laugh so hard.
Author: sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022945/chapters/57796885
Orpheus - I love this one too, Tattooed!Cas, my LOVE. paired with Mechanic!Dean, my HEART, #help. Read this one in one evening as well. (I was on a roll). It’s a one night stand that turns into more (much like my last relationship)....hmm...maybe this is why I was pulled in - although to be fair that is the last similarity to my shitty love life! I do not remember how I stumbled onto this one (tattooed Cas may have been the draw...tbh). Read the warnings though, there is some triggering stuff in this one - but if you can handle it, it’s definitely worth the read.
Author: sysrae https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364347/chapters/5220227
Have Love, Will Travel - Can you say no to Stripper!Dean? Cause I sure as hell cannot. Typical sort of character development here with Dean having trust issues, and Cas being painfully awkward...(but in like a super cute way?). Would Recommend.
Author: squeemonster https://archiveofourown.org/works/565455/chapters/1011747
The Inexhaustible Silence of Houses - Change of pace here...It’s got a nice twist. I didn’t actually clue into how it was going to end until very near the end (maybe I was being oblivious), when the realization came over me and I was...man. I was DONE IN. I hope that doesn’t spoil (I need some kind of way of remembering them). Voiceless!Cas Hunter!Dean
Author: Askance (doomcountry) https://archiveofourown.org/works/560268/chapters/1000755
Adagio - This is super short, and super cute. Honestly, I would read the whole thing just for the last line. It’ll take you less than an hour if I remember correctly. Go, I’ll wait. I squeeed. did you?
Author: noangelsinthegarrison https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397248/chapters/2928145
Any Little Heartache - super easy read (not in a bad way, but in a ‘you’ll fly through it’ way). It’s mid-length, not graphic, but really fun hospital AU. HeartSurgeon!Dean / Nurse!Cas - enemies to lovers anyone? Fuck you to Fuck me? yeah. YUM.
Author: followthattardis https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143376/chapters/11838311
Ad Astra - This is another short(ish) one, just one chapter. And by that I mean that this is written like a very long poem. Cas as a star who has visited Dean many times over the years of his life, that culminates in 4x01 barn scene. It’s ‘awe’ sad. ‘puppy dog eyes’ sad. The writing format took me a bit to understand what was happening - it’s my lack of poetry knowledge, not the writing.
Author: nhixxie https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013491
Ad Astra Per Aspera - This is a cute story. ESL writer, no judgement. I found this while looking for the one above, and thought the premise looked cute - and it was. Misunderstanding leading to Dean realizing he’s actually Bi. Miscommunication leading to realization.
Author: Riverchester https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354336/chapters/28101816
Psalm 40:2 - Time travel post-canon Cas and Pre-series Dean. If you’re wondering how that works, strap in for this ride, it’s well worth it.
Author: unicornpoe https://archiveofourown.org/works/30786425/chapters/75992444
Addicted to You - Warlock!Dean/Incubus!Cas - accidental ‘mating’ (I actually really don’t like that word, but there’s sort of no avoiding it in this situation). Cute story. When you drunk dial a succubus and get an incubus instead...Whatever will we do?
Author: Ltleflrt https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387346/chapters/9959288
A Glimpse Beyond - End Fix-it. Not yet complete, 10 chapters so far...I want MORE! Reliving memories Dean/Cas & Sam/Eileen.
Author: NorthernSparrow https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731689/chapters/67875925
Cas-ti-el - Please I want more...It’s like the story just started. Please write more of this story!! 1 chapter, it’s a trope prompt challenge, but I want it to be a full on story of its own. Imprinted names of their soul mates, Dean doesn’t understand his (because it’s in a different language)...I’m frustrated by wanting this story to keep going.
Author: Valinde (Valyria) https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941591
Our Bodies, Posessed by Light - another short one. Not going to lie, this one took a little getting used to, and I can’t say that I enjoyed it too much for the sole purpose that the premise gave me the willies. Cas has to vessel jump - ends up in Sam...I got through it, it had a good ending, but yeah, sorry. This just wasn’t for me.
Author: obstinatrix https://archiveofourown.org/works/260289
Peanut Butter Pumpkin Wedding Cake - Waiter!Dean / Writer!Cas - This is so effing cute, just misunderstanding after misunderstanding bumbling around like the couple of dorks that they are. It’s only one chapter. 100% would recommend.
Author: Sparseparsley https://archiveofourown.org/works/223962
Destiel, Actually - This is another super cute story, 5 chapters. Gabriel playing a singular role in putting Dean and Cas in awkward positions to push them together. I fucking DIED at “oh, I am the sub” - needs context, but I guarantee you that you’ll laugh out loud...
Author: Bexism https://archiveofourown.org/works/399934/chapters/658398
The Smell Before the Rain - This was my first A/B/O - a big apology to all those who are into mpreg and whatnot, this was my lesson that I am not. this was not for me. Also - I’m a firm Cas (Alpha/Dom) believer, and i’m good with switch Cas, but it’s hard for me to take him being the full Omega here, when paired with the rest I just couldn’t do it. I finished it, but, not my thing. I know now.
Author: jscribbles https://archiveofourown.org/works/22355230/chapters/53406127
Crazy Diamonds - This is another short one, only 3 chapters - it’s a body swap for Dean, 4x02 him and 2018 him swap places (assumption that 2018 him is “with” Cas). It’s a super cute little story.
Author: pantheon_of_discord https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151642/chapters/37738631
The Breath of All Things - Wheelchair!Dean / Volunteer!Cas. This is a lovely story, typical Dean self-hatred etc. Triggering for those with suicide warnings. It had me in tears at the end. There’s a really spectacular quote near the end that I found so romantic I screen grabbed it.
Author: KismetJeska https://archiveofourown.org/works/994750/chapters/1967519
Kind of a Forever Deal - SummerCamp!AU This is just a really cute and fluffy summer camp AU. Which is so different from 91W (That’s right, check the author)! I was a little disappointed with the ending, but otherwise really enjoyed this all the way through and was loving all the discovery and young characterizations of all the characters.
Author: komodobits https://archiveofourown.org/works/999291/chapters/1978478
Everytown, USA - Best way I can break this one down? Wanderer!Dean (listless and without a place in the world, he ends up in a small town...), Twin!Cas (that leads to some fun things). There are a number of points where you’re gonna yell at Dean for doing stupid shit (that are very much in character for him to do), you think, well, yes, obviously you’re going to do that you silly fucking boy [affectionate]; but whyyy? (but we know).
Author: aileenrose https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797559/chapters/3854836
Chalk and Chainmail - HighSchool!AU, Cas is an artist, Dean LARP’s - it’s cute and angsty.
Author: lemonsorbae https://archiveofourown.org/works/804704/chapters/1517551
A Little Patience - Ok. you want smut? This is your story. You want Kink? This is your story. I actually did not finish this. It got a little carried away in my opinion. It was VERY panty kink oriented (which, while essentially canon isn’t really my kink) so, if you want that Panty Kink on full display? Go forth and enjoy! it is thirty something chapters, I got to the mid-twenties I Think.
Author: riseofthefallenone https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750058/chapters/3739232
Control - I REALLY ENJOYED THIS. Which is saying a lot for someone who has already admitted that a Subby Cas isn’t really my HC - so to so thoroughly enjoy a Sub!Cas story? (maybe it’s the tattooes...*wink*). It’s an AU where Cas is the head of a company - Dean is a callboy I guess, for lack of a better term. Just read it.
Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden https://archiveofourown.org/works/31156601/chapters/76993217
More (I copy pasted the next lot from my google doc, I’ll flush them out later - no i wont...)
Teach Me (short) - movie night in the bunker, things get a little carried away
Author: Chiyume https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961327
You Light the Spark (in my bonfire heart) (short) - when cas doesn't realize that dean is unaware of his feelings, super short, super cute Author: noangelsinthegarrison https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193910
Communication Breakdown (short/cockles) - dean ends up in Jensen's head while he films the confession scene, no sexual content
Author: jujubiest https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669601/chapters/72951339
Look What You Made Me Do (short/cockles) -
- Vegas Con 2020 / jensen comes out with a song
- cute short - no sexual content
Author: green_blue_heller https://archiveofourown.org/works/30251592
Full House (short/cockles) - reimagined version of the rented house story - putting it in order (so to speak). funny / cute / fluffy not explicit
Author: n_nami https://archiveofourown.org/works/30855827
Cyber Sex (short/cockles) - anastiel https://archiveofourown.org/works/31467086
- shameless post GISH Fest zoom call porn
- Short (very short)
It's Complicated (cockles) - gail_morgan https://archiveofourown.org/works/31434938/chapters/77747519
The GISHtake (short/cockles) - MellyCrazyCoconut https://archiveofourown.org/works/31508099
- cute short post GISH zoom
- oops "babe, really?"
(10.02.2021 updated) Since last update: New reads - Fuck i’m gonna be here all day - there’s not gonna be as much gonna be NO detail in these breakdowns...sorry! This has now just become a “what i’ve read list” as opposed to a Rec list...
Love, All Alike (Pt. 1 Love, All Alike) - Phantoms_and_Foxgloves https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555599/chapters/10370646 - Though The Stars Walk Backward (pt 2 Love, All alike) - Phantoms_and_Foxgloves
And this, your living kiss - opal_bullets https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083927/chapters/42744872
Come On, Let's Strike a Match (Domination and Submission: a love story pt 1) - anyrei & queerwerewolf *** https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722478/chapters/62458810
- Playing With Fire (D&S: a love story pt 2)
- We Kiss and the Flames Get Higher (D&S: a love story pt 3)
- Sparking That Old Flame (D&S: a love story pt 4)
Cinderwings - bendingsignpost Cinderella!AU** https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847041/chapters/29336421
Linden - fleeceframe Swan!AU** https://archiveofourown.org/works/33126730/chapters/82236118
No Netflix, No Chill (short) - dorian_they https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764966
Can't Drink You Away (short) - dorian_they https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785792
Jensen Totally (Does Not!) Snore (short RPF) - Dorian_they https://archiveofourown.org/works/30315717
Dean Ships It (short) - dorian_they https://archiveofourown.org/works/30349434
All about control - wingless https://archiveofourown.org/works/9151930/chapters/20791243
Aesthetics in Autoerotica (pt 1 Aesthetics in Autoerotica) - relucant https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885544 - The Ties that Bind (pt 2 Aesthetics in Autoerotica) - relucant
Let's take a drive - sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/32581027/chapters/80819581
Enchanted ink - castielslostwings TattooArtist!Dean TattooArtist!Castiel AU *** https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043622/chapters/55109530
The bones beneath our skin - darknessbound https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633754/chapters/59515804
The Plot (RPF) - Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795588/chapters/6274970
The Gentle Force with which you Take Me (RPF) - Phoenix_Ascended https://archiveofourown.org/works/32110120/chapters/79549183
According to all known laws of Life (Pt. 1 Cursed Metaphors) - sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207901 - and he's back (with a mind of his own) (pt. 2 Cursed Metaphors) - sobsicles
Six hundred sundays (and many more) - sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/31158776
Aching in the Absence of you - sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/31832977/chapters/78811378
gorging myself on you, still can’t get full (insatiable) (Short) - sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/32203291
memories bring back memories (bring back you) - sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022945/chapters/57796885
Dream Come True (short) - bendingsignpost https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071159
tall grass - aeli_kindara https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127040/chapters/30030726
asunder (Short) - rageprufrock https://archiveofourown.org/works/62115
Apheresis - bendingsignpost BloodDonor!AU ** https://archiveofourown.org/works/32674783/chapters/81056680
we always were but never knew it - frightfullyrude https://archiveofourown.org/works/32698324/chapters/81119503
In this Louisiana Bar (Short) - fleeceframe https://archiveofourown.org/works/31764487
The Hitchhiker's Guide to Alternate Universes - n_nami https://archiveofourown.org/works/32687929/chapters/81092785
my heart a compass - lagaudiere https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629951
Unsound Inverses - sp8ce (not complete) https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836881/chapters/73413300
The Jensen Mistake (RPFish) - fellshish https://archiveofourown.org/works/31950169
tell me about the dream (Pt. 1 Kids are coming home) - playedwright https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984813/chapters/68544450
It's handy to know (FIMMF Themed ;)) - RosaMarloes https://archiveofourown.org/works/31761322
So Says The Sword - komodobits AngelTrueform!AU** https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597892/chapters/28695592
Communication Breakdown (RPFish)- darkshrimpemotions (jujubiest) https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669601/chapters/72951339
Carry You Home - Casloveshisfreckles https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982637/chapters/65862916
In the Shadow of your Wings - Enochian Things (Salr323) https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531294/chapters/17121655
When Harry Met Sally (RPF) (Pt. 1 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood https://archiveofourown.org/works/7622347/chapters/17351845
- Eight Dildos (RPF) (Pt. 2 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood
- Attention, Please (RPF) (Pt. 3 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood - Boat Trip (RPF) (Pt. 4 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood
A Winter's Tale - NorthernSparrow https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654327/chapters/5930561
A Close Shave - NorthernSparrow https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090167
r/supernatural - renrub (short) https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626783
sam reads destiel fics - rebshome (short - funny!) https://archiveofourown.org/works/33721624
Angel Cookies - noxsoulmate Chirstmas!AU ** https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729640/chapters/26427765
Under The Midnight Sun - NorthernSparrow Arctic!AU ** https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690645/chapters/39143677
Bron-Yr-Aur - mrbluesky (Short) https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225335
The Dean Winchester Beat Sheet - saltyfeathers https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258594/chapters/45800209
The Meaning On My Skin - saltnhalo https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005378/chapters/42538133
Red Right Hand (Pt. 1 Murder Ballads) - Duckyboos https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306110/chapters/9760008
- Are you the One that I've been waiting for? (pt. 2 Murder Ballads) - Duckyboos
Riptides - sharkfish https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230426/chapters/30263556
Damn Fine Ride - Cimorene105 (pt 1 - rodeo) Cowboy!AU** (I’m a horse girl, sue me...) https://archiveofourown.org/works/14342340
- My Face Just Does This, Sometimes - Cimorene105 (pt. 2 rodeo)
- The Kinkiest Thing I've Ever Done- Cimorene105 (pt 3 rodeo)
- All Signs Point to Love - Cimorene105 (pt. 4 rodeo)
- Monster Love - Cimorene105 (pt. 5 rodeo)
- My Man, The Siren - Cimorene105 (pt. 6 rodeo)
- A Pain in My Ass - Cimorene105 (pt. 7 rodeo)
Astrolabe (terra incognita pt 1) - reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348812/chapters/7326794
- Drollery (terra incognita pt 2) - reluctantabandon Winter_of_our_Discontent
- Rubrication (terra incognita pt 3) - reluctantabandon Winter_of_our_Discontent
Go Down With This Ship - PorcupineGirl https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023642/chapters/18370474
Fire and Ice - Castielslostwings (Firefighter/Paramedic AU!) ** https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286295/chapters/55768486
The Structural Similarities of Hunters and Onions - Faster_Than_the_Speed_of_Sound (Short) https://archiveofourown.org/works/33383101
Castiel Novak's Office, This is Dean - emmbrancsxx0 https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411336/chapters/53545840
Out of the Deep (out of the deep pt. 1) - riseofthefallenone - MERMAID AU! ** https://archiveofourown.org/works/548878/chapters/977676
Dean (and Cas') Top 13 Zepp Traxx - pantheon_of_discord https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909440/chapters/24256989
I'll Be Good - LittleAngelCassie https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118334/chapters/9282234
Kenosis - CastielsCarma (Short - part of Destiel ABC collection) https://archiveofourown.org/works/30411720
#fics#fic recs#fanfiction#ao3#cockles#destiel#dean and cas#jensen and misha#one track mind#supernatural#please send me recs#read more fics#this is my new obsession
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petal to the metal ✿ jjk
✿ pairing: jewelry-maker jungkook x florist reader
✿ genre: idiots to lovers, fluff, slight bits of crack and angst
✿ summary: every sunday, the farmers’ market took place in the center of town. vendors from near and far traveled to sell their crafts, their produce, their teas. as the local florist, you figured that running a booth each weekend would boost your business and bring in new clients. at least, those were your reasons in the beginning. but, now? now, you returned just for the handsome jewelry-maker whose booth was next to yours.
✿ word count: 7k
✿ warnings: pg15, slight innuendo, mention of alcohol, noona!reader, mutual pining, memes, vmin as teen prom dates, chaotic 2seok + joon as jk’s bandmates, scheming yoongi as reader’s assistant, sweetheart jungkook tries his best but doesn't succeed, one (1) make out scene uwu
✿ beta’d by: the gracious phia @meowxyoong
✿ banner by: the talented queen of banner-making maggie @kimtaehyunq
People, to you, are not unlike bouquets of flowers - uniquely complex with traits grown and cultivated throughout the years and brought together to form meaning and personality. It is far too often that you assign flowers to the people you meet in passing.
The boy running down the sidewalk chasing a butterfly is a blooming bunch of crocus (youthful gladness) and daisies (innocence).
The young woman storming out of the cafe after dumping her coffee on what you assume to be her ex is a flurry of peonies (anger) and black-eyed Susans (justice).
You find your flower assignments to be a fun way to pass the time when sitting alone in a coffee shop or walking along the beach.
They are decidedly not fun when you are caught staring unabashedly at a beautiful boy as imaginary petals of acacia (secret love) and daffodil (new beginnings) rain down upon him.
The second his dark eyes flick up to meet yours, you whip around and pretend to be preoccupied with your display of forget-me-nots. The irony is not lost on you as you rearrange the already pristine pale-blue petals. You are more likely to forget your own name than to forget the image of the boy’s crinkly-eyed smile.
God, it’s only the first hour of the first Sunday of the Summer Farmer’s Market, and you are like this? Things are looking more and more dire by the minute.
Your small beachside community holds the annual Summer Farmer’s Market every Sunday from the middle of May until the end of August. Not only does the market attract tourists, it boosts your own business and earns you year-round customers.
Founding Of Fern & Freesia Flower Co. has been one of your proudest achievements to date - perhaps second only to chugging a beer faster than a misogynist on a bar crawl. Now in your third year of business, you feel accomplished in the slow but steady growth of your shop. You have poured your heart and soul into your business, leaving little time for other endeavors.
Hence, you’re wary of your growing fascination with the owner of the neighboring stall.
When you had rolled up earlier with your overflowing cart of flowers, you had set up shop next to a jewelry booth full of gleaming silver and vibrant stones. It hadn’t been until a clang and a muffled curse sounded from the neighboring stall that you noticed it’s owner.
The first thing you had noticed was his outfit - all black clothing with boots that looked like they could stomp through steel. The second had been his adorable pout as he fiddled with a couple bracelets he must have just dropped. And the third - the third had been his hands and the gentle but steady way they fashioned the jewelry back in order.
The opening rush had distracted you from your growing interest for a bit; but the early birds have all since scattered, leaving you alone in between an old woman selling honey and a cute boy selling handcrafted jewelry. Now that you have thoroughly embarrassed yourself by being caught staring, you figure you should at least attempt to busy yourself.
You flutter around your stall, checking on flowers and rearranging errant blossoms.
“H-hey, do you have any tiger flowers?” A soft, sweet voice calls to you from one stall over. You pause in your movements. That can't be who you think it is... But when you turn your head to address the speaker, you find yourself face to face with your mystery boy.
Magically, you manage to blurt out a semi-coherent response, “Oh, hello! No, I don’t have any tiger flowers right now… I do have some tiger lilies?” You gesture to the orange be-speckled bunch in the corner of your stall.
“Oh,” The boy deflates a bit, but then perks back up, “Well, I’m Jungkook. I make jewelry.” He gestures to his collection behind him. “It’s more of a hobby, actually. I’m a vocalist, but I really like working with my hands part-time.”
Your eyebrows raise, and Jungkook blushes profusely. “I didn’t mean it like that!” He whines, his bottom lip jutting out slightly.
You decide to take pity on the boy. Grinning slightly, you extend your hand across the buckets of flowers in between you both, “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m (y/n), and I really like working with my hands full-time.”
Grabbing your hand in his, Jungkook returns your grin. “(Y/n),” He mutters almost absentmindedly as he keeps pumping your intertwined hands up and down. You don’t have it in you to stop him, especially when he keeps looking at you like you just told him the secret to eternal life.
A throat clearing jolts you both from your reveries. Two teenage boys stand there awkwardly. One fiddles with one of the cut stems you discarded in a hurry earlier.
“Oh,” You reluctantly pull your hand away from Jungkook’s warm embrace. “Talk to you later?” You shoot him a wry grin before turning back to your customers. You don’t see the death glare that Jungkook sends the two boys as you greet them warmly.
They request matching boutonnieres for their prom, and your heart swells as they both argue over which flowers they think would fit the other best. One suggests yellow roses, and you can’t hold yourself back from interjecting, “Oh no. Not yellow roses.”
The two of them glance over at you, almost looking shocked to find that you are still there. “Why not?” The taller boy asks.
“They represent infidelity,” You say with a shrug, “But that’s just semantics. You don’t have to read that deep into it if you don’t want to.” Just because you follow the language of flowers closely does not mean that everyone and their mother did as well.
The shorter boy practically throws the yellow rose back in its bucket. “What are you trying to say, Tae?” He shakes his head in mock disappointment at his partner, “I trusted you.”
“Shut up, Jiminie,” The boy you now know as Tae rolls his eyes and turns to you, “Do you have anything that means, like, the opposite of that?”
“Yes,” You smile at the pair and bustle over to the flowers you have in mind, “If I may make a few suggestions…”
Ten minutes later, the two boys shuffle away from your stall with matching cosmos (joy in love and life), baby’s breath (everlasting love), and ivy (fidelity) boutonnieres and with matching grins. You gaze wistfully at their interlocking hands and the quintessential picture of young love they represented.
“You’re good at that,” Jungkook comments, fiddling with one of the earrings dangling from his quickly reddening ears.
“Hm?” You question, your eyes still lingering on the cute couple you had just assisted.
“You’re good at showing people exactly what they want – even if they hadn't known it yet.”
His words capture your attention. You know he’s referring to the two teens that you had just helped, but you can’t help but wish he had been referring to himself. However, before you can even respond, it is his turn to get pulled away by a prospective customer.
The rest of the day flies by. This isn’t a surprise to you as the newness of the market always tends to draw waves of people on the opening day. You and Jungkook only get to exchange some shy glances and small smiles with each other.
That is, until your floral assistant Min Yoongi arrives.
You have a running joke that Yoongi is simultaneously your best and your worst employee. He is your only employee after all and a headstrong one at that. You used to drag him along with you to the early hours of preparing and setting up for the market, but you have long since learned your lesson that Yoongi is decidedly not a morning person. You shudder at the mere thought of it. Now, you only ask that he arrives in the late afternoon to help you close down.
Yoongi greets you with a typical head nod and a half-hearted wave. “Hey, boss lady.”
You shoot him a half-hearted glare, “Hello, worst employee of the month.”
The sound of a gasp draws your attention back to Jungkook’s booth where he is openly gaping at you with wide eyes.
“Oh, Jungkook! It’s just a joke. He’s my only employee,” You laugh nervously as Yoongi gives you a side-eyed look that says ‘you’re acting weird, dude, and I don’t like it’.
“Ah,” Jungkook beams at you, his eyes sparkling adorably, “I see, (y/n). For a second I thought you might be one of those people that gets off on being mean.”
Yoongi spits out the sip of coffee he had just taken. Jungkook turns bright red for the second time that day as he blinks in confusion, “What? What did I say?”
“Nothing!” You pinch Yoongi’s side in an attempt to shut him up, but that boy never listens to anyone but himself.
Walking the short distance to Jungkook, Yoongi lazily extends his hand over the barrier of flowers, “Min Yoongi.”
“Jeon Jungkook,” The boy grasps Yoongi’s hand firmly and squints at him quizzically. “Have we met before?”
Yoongi shrugs in a typical Yoongi fashion, “Dunno, maybe? You do look a little familiar.”
Suddenly, Jungkook drops Yoongi’s hand and snaps his fingers, “You were at last year’s Battle of the Bands! Your rap was legendary! I remember talking to Joon about it all night…”
The two boys quickly descend into a musically driven conversation, leaving you to slowly pack up your flowers and intermittently stare as Jungkook passionately talks about his main craft.
After the fourth time you look over at the pair, you catch Yoongi’s eye. He’s staring at you with a maniacal glint in his eye. Oh no. He slowly looks back and forth between you and Jungkook. No, no, no. An ominous grinch-like grin grows on Yoongi’s lips as you can practically see the light bulb go off above his head. You are done for.
And not a second after Jungkook packs up his trinkets and bids you both goodbye for the day, Yoongi rounds on you. “FBI! Open up!” He mock-yells, cupping his hands around his mouth.
You splutter out an indignant laugh and shove him playfully, “He’s at least 21, Yoongs! You have to be in order to rent a booth here.”
Yoongi continues to playfully tease you for the rest of the time you spend together loading the flowers into your truck and then unloading them at your shop. You only hope your crush is not as obvious to Jungkook as it is to Yoongi...
You and Jungkook spend the next two Sundays observing each other, exchanging small greetings, and chatting in between customers. Slowly, you begin to learn bits and pieces about Jungkook.
You learn he’s the lead singer in a band with his friends, he boxes to stay active, and he loves to eat. In turn, he discovers that you’re two years older than him, your life basically consists of flowers, and you read crappy romance novels in your limited spare time.
And as the weather warms even further, you find out that he has a plethora of tattoos winding up his arm. Though you tease him about his love of black clothing despite the soaring temperatures, you cannot help but admire the way his tanned skin glows against the dark color and makes the tattoos pop.
You swear you glimpsed a flower inked on his forearm but you couldn’t be certain. Perhaps it had just been the combination of your growing crush and your overactive imagination.
The weather burns even hotter still when he begins to call you ‘noona’.
“(Y/n)-noona, what do you think of this necklace?”
“Noona! Let me carry that bucket for you. It looks heavy.”
“Do you want to go out with me sometime, noona?”
Okay, that last one had just been wishful thinking; but, a girl can dream.
Meanwhile, Yoongi continues to poke fun at you and your growing infatuation. He had even arrived early for the first time in his career just to get in some extra roasting time. God, you wish Jungkook had some embarrassing friends to help ease the amount of times you had to physically turn away from the boy because you were blushing too hard.
And, finally, on the second Sunday in June, you get your wish.
“Ayo, JK!” A booming voice sounds from halfway down the long row of booths. A smattering of uproarious laughter follows the exclamation.
The boy in question sighs before shooting you a helpless look. “My hyungs are visiting today. I love them, but they’re…” He trails off, “They’re a lot.” Jungkook steps out in front of his booth to get ready to greet them.
The shouting gets closer and closer until three boys break out of the throng of the crowd and approach Jungkook with large smiles. You blink in awe at the sight of them. Do all good looking people really flock together? You’re beginning to think so as you try your best to subtly check out Jungkook’s friends.
The loudest one playfully greets Jungkook by throwing fake punches at him. He’s tall and lean with broad shoulders and a face that looks like it could make anyone give him anything if he so much as glances at them. He reminds you of white hyacinth (beauty) and lemon (zest).
The tallest boy shakes his head fondly at Jungkook as he greets him through the other’s antics. You barely stifle a sigh as he grins and shows off the cutest set of dimples you’ve ever seen. He practically screams pear blossom (comfort) and polyanthus (confidence).
The last boy has a smile that makes you almost have to squint because of its sunshine-like radiance. He also has on the most colorful and fashionable outfit you’ve ever seen, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s had design experience. He is so white jasmine (amiability) and lupine (imagination), you think.
Before you can assess further, you’re pulled away by a long-time customer. As you prune and arrange their requested flowers, you can’t help but notice that the stall next door has grown suspiciously quieter.
Hushed whispers carry in the wind.
“That’s your noona?”
“Shut up, hyung!”
You hastily wrap the bouquet for your customer and bid her farewell with a smile. You barely have time to take a breath before three boys appear before you with a fourth scowling behind them in distaste.
“So you’re the flower noona that Jungkook always brings up,” The sunshine boy speaks first, tilting his head as he peers down at you.
“The flower noona, huh?” You shoot Jungkook an amused glance, only to find him with his face buried in his hands, “Maybe I should rebrand.” You grin and introduce yourself to the three boys who you discover to be Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok.
Soon you find yourself wrapped in a conversation with Namjoon while Hoseok and Seokjin gather flowers to make their own bouquets.
“Yes,” You nod your head at Namjoon’s question, “Some flowers do have multiple meanings. Take geraniums for example. The pretty pink oak-leaf geranium symbolizes true friendship, while the just as pretty scarlet geranium signifies stupidity.”
“And what does baby’s breath represent?” Hoseok crinkles his nose in distaste as he fiddles with the flower, “You smell bad?”
You crack up and open your mouth to answer, but Jungkook cuts you off. “No, Hobi-hyung, they represent everlasting love.”
Blinking at him, you nod, “Yes, that’s right. How did you know that?”
Jungkook mumbles something incoherent as he scuffles his heavy boot across the pavement.
“What?” You furrow your eyebrows, ears straining to pick up the decibels. Why is he speaking so softly?
“He knows because JK eavesdrops on you all the time, (y/n),” Seokjin lets out a squeaky laugh, “He also downloaded a flower app on his phone to study. I even caught him making flashcards—”
Jungkook jumps on Seokjin’s back, slapping a hand over the older boy’s mouth. Meanwhile, your heart feels like it’s about to burst into a whirlwind of lilac (first emotions of love). Good god, your feelings have leveled up.
Namjoon and Hoseok pay for both their flowers and Jin’s, as the older boy is still preoccupied fighting off an embarrassed Jungkook.
“It was really nice meeting you, (y/n),” Namjoon smiles at you.
“Yes!” Hoseok beams, “Also, please tell your friend Yoongi that we want to collab. Kookie is too shy to ask him.”
You promise that you will and wave goodbye to the two of them as they drag a breathless Jin along with them. The older boy shoots you a wink as he is pulled along into the crowd and disappears.
“Sorry about them, noona,” Jungkook mumbles, looking down at his feet, “They like to embarrass me.”
You melt at his cuteness. “No, don’t apologize. Your friends are a whole lot of fun.” You can’t help but tease him, continuing, “And they were very informative... Do you really pay that close attention to me, Jungkook?”
“Aish!” Jungkook yelps, grabbing a bucket of red roses and hiding his face behind it. “Noona!” He whines, his large eyes peering at you over the red flowers, “You’re just as bad as them!”
“Oh, am I, Kookie?” You emphasize the new nickname of his that you just learned courtesy of Hoseok.
“Did they tell you to call me that?” Jungkook sets down the bucket of roses and looks like he is about to take off in pursuit of his three hyungs.
You grab his arm to prevent him from doing so. It’s warm and solid, and the physical contact sends a tingle across your skin. “They didn’t tell me. I just noticed Hoseok called you that once. If it bothers you, I won’t call you that again.”
Jungkook relaxes. “No, you can call me Kookie,” He says in a small voice.
“Thank god,” You grin and squeeze his arm once before releasing it, “It’s so cute!”
His responding squeal of ‘noona!’ can be heard throughout the entire market.
The following Sunday, the market is cancelled due to the tropical storm swirling up the coast, bringing with it a disappointing blend of rain and an absence of Jungkook.
You probably should be concerned at how rapidly your feelings for the boy are developing, but you aren’t. How can anyone not love him? It’s impossible, in your opinion. Even your grump of an employee likes Jungkook, and Yoongi likes very few people. You aren’t even sure if you make the cut most days.
Sipping your peppermint tea, you gaze out at the rain and wonder if Jungkook misses you just as you’re missing him. Does he feel anything for you?
You know he at least equates you with his friends; but is that all he sees you as? If so, you would respect that, albeit disappointedly. With a sigh, you turn back to your copy of “The Art of Jewelry Making: An Introduction” and pretend just for the day that your feelings are reciprocated.
One week later, you are scrambling. Somehow you had managed to sleep through all five of your alarms, and now you are so, so late.
Your truck’s tires squeal angrily as you whip into the first empty parking space you spot outside of the market. Where will you even set up today? You quickly grab your buckets of flowers as well as all the other supplies you’ll need. Will there even be a booth left for you?
You push your cart up the rows of booths and get more and more dejected at each turn. Finally, you decide to at least visit Jungkook before you dejectedly head back to your truck. You are in dire need of his sweet smile and positive energy.
The wheels of your cart bump and wobble over the uneven gravel. God, why couldn’t Min Yoongi be a morning person? You grumble as you wind the final corner to where your usual stall resides. You stop in your tracks.
Your usual booth… is empty? You blink multiple times in case this is just a beautiful mirage. Nope, it’s still open, it’s wooden tables bare.
Almost as if he senses you, Jungkook practically runs out of his stall towards you. “Noona! You’re here!” And before you can even answer, he sweeps you into a tight hug.
“Hi, Kookie,” You sigh, bringing your arms around his neck. You can’t resist the urge to bury your face in his chest. He smells so nice, like fresh soap with a hint of heady musk. Reluctantly, you release him, realizing you’re both blocking most of the pathway.
“I-I saved your booth for you,” Jungkook blushes and looks down at the ground. He shifts his weight from left to right and then glances up at you once more. “I hoped you were just running late. I didn't want to miss seeing you two Sundays in a row. You would not believe how many people I’ve had to fight off.”
Your heart swells at his words. “Aw, thank you, Kookie. You missed me that much, huh?” You reach up to ruffle his hair as you pass by him, lugging your cart along with you.
You miss the forlorn expression on his face as he gazes after you and mumbles, “Yes...so much.”
With Jungkook’s help, you manage to set up your booth in record time. You thank him profusely, but he just shrugs it off by saying that you would do the same for him. And you would.
Around midday you text Yoongi and ask him to bring food for Jungkook as an extra way of saying thank you.
Rather than respond with a normal yes or no, Yoongi just sends you a sea of smirking emojis. You should’ve known that Yoongi would (correctly) read too much into it. The boy is too smart for his own good.
Quickly sending back the gif of Hades from Hercules turning his flames from blue to orange in anger, you glance up to find Jungkook staring at you with a peculiar expression.
“Noona,” He begins, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
You choke out a laugh that sounds sad even to your ears. “No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”
Jungkook perks back up, “I just thought you might be arguing with them. You seemed to be angry texting.”
Letting out a more genuine laugh this time, you reply, “I’m just texting Yoongi, Kook. He’s being his usual difficult self.”
“Oh,” Jungkook grins, “Well then don’t punish him too harshly. It’s fun to see you all riled up.”
Punish?
Riled up?
You blink rapidly at the boy who seems to have no idea how much his words affect you. Trying to brush off the images flowing through your mind, you decide to fight fire with fire – even if it had been unintentional arson.
You take a step towards him, “You like seeing me all riled up, Kookie?”
“Uh-h, yes?” Jungkook eyes you warily as you continue to approach him. He even takes a step back, only to bump into his table of jewelry.
You stand toe to toe with him as he is effectively trapped in between you and his table. Slowly, you rise to your tiptoes. Your lips brush his ear as you murmur, “Well, then I’ll be sure to stay cool and collected from now on.”
Pulling back, you saunter back over to your booth. Faintly, you hear a wheeze from the direction you’ve left Jungkook. You grin in success.
Yoongi had ended up bringing food with him that day. An action that had caused Jungkook to thank the two of you more times than you could count as he had shoved barbecue chicken into his mouth.
You had stared at the boy with hearts in your eyes as he ate. Yoongi had just made whipping motions from beside you, thankfully out of Jungkook’s line of sight.
And as June turns to July, your feelings grow substantially. Your mind is a meadow scattered with clove (I have loved you and you have not known it), cyclamen (timid hope), and gladiolus (you pierce my heart).
You can’t quite get a read on Jungkook. Every time you think there might be something in the way he interacts with you, he does something else that negates everything.
For example, the other day he had requested a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You had thought you might pass out from the way he looked at you, all blushing and shy. But, that might have just been the hundred degree weather.
It had admittedly been foolish to think that he would gift the bouquet back to you, but that’s just you – a fool in love. Your clown status had become even more confirmed when Jungkook had smiled down at the flowers, saying that his elderly neighbor would love them.
You had never thought you would experience being jealous of an elderly widow, but you had been ready to square up. It had decidedly not been your finest moment.
It isn’t until the middle of July that you begin to feel that Jungkook might actually return your feelings.
The boy comes barreling into your stall as you’re setting up for the day. “Noona!” He grins happily, “I have a surprise for you!”
“Please tell me it’s a portable fan,” You moan, as you wipe the beads of sweat from your brow, “It’s so hot out here in these streets.”
“No,” Jungkook pouts adorably, “It’s not a fan. It’s my new collection! I spent all week working on it. I even brought my supplies to band practice. The hyungs all teased me, but it was worth it because of y— because of how good it turned out.”
Had he started to say because of you? Your heart pounds as you watch Jungkook eagerly tug a box out from his large backpack. He holds it out to you expectantly, and you have no choice but to take it from him.
Shooting him a speculative glance, you slowly open the lid. Your eyes widen at the sight before you. Rows of flower themed jewelry gleam up at you - orchid (refined beauty) necklaces, lotus (purity) earrings, and dahlia (dignity) charm bracelets.
These are almost all of your favorite flowers. You blink up at Jungkook, “These are so beautiful, Kook. I want all of them. How are you so talented? It’s so unfair!” You reach down to grab a particularly gorgeous pair of silver hoop earrings with lotus charms dangling from the bottoms.
“I will pay anything for these,” You look back up at him. He’s smiling widely and his cheeks are shaded pink.
“They’re yours,” Jungkook shakes his head, “There’s no charge if my noona wants to wear my jewelry.”
His noona…
You think your cheeks might fall off from smiling too hard. “Well,” You murmur, “If you insist.”
You hand Jungkook the box back, and quickly switch out your plain gold stud earrings for your new hoops. “How do they look?” You flick your ponytail behind you and turn this way and that in an attempt to model his work.
“Beautiful…” Jungkook sighs as he watches you and then straightens suddenly, “Oh, I almost forgot!” He digs around in his backpack for a second time. Pulling out a small black velvet drawstring bag, he once again extends his hand towards you with a gift.
“I made this specifically for you,” He doesn't blush outright this time, but you do note that his ears are bright red. Curiosity overtakes you. You slowly open the bag and pour its contents into your waiting palm.
A silver cuff falls into your hand. It’s about an inch wide with what seem to be persimmon flowers (bury me amid nature’s beauty) engraved on its surface.
“My favorite flower,” You gasp, immediately sliding the cuff onto your wrist, “You remembered!”
“Of course I did,” Jungkook laughs, running a hand through his disheveled hair, “Do you- do you like it?”
“Do I like it?” You scoff, “Do I like it?” You take one large step towards him and basically tackle him in a hug. “I love it, you idiot.”
His hands rest on your waist as he sighs into your hair, “Good. That makes me so happy, noona.”
Reluctantly, you pull away. “I should be angry because you completely upstaged me,” You crack a smile as Jungkook crinkles his nose in confusion, “But I can’t be mad when you give me presents.”
You tug your own little baggie from your tote bag and hand it to Jungkook. “It’s not even close to your level, but you inspired me to try to make something and…” You trail off as Jungkook holds up the bracelet you had carefully strung together for weeks. You basically only had bought expensive black stone beads and slid them onto a string, but you think it’s cute nonetheless.
“(Y/n)-noona,” Jungkook’s wide eyes flick up to stare at you, “You really made this for me?”
“How many other JK’s do you know?” You say referring to the two little letter charms amidst the sea of black stones, “Yes, I made it for you.”
“There’s John Krasinski!” He argues, sliding the bracelet onto his wrist with a smile.
You cannot roll your eyes hard enough, “You caught me. I couldn’t meet up with the Jim from The Office this month, so I just had to give this bracelet to the next JK I came across.”
“I knew it!” Jungkook laughs, “I guess we sort of have friendship bracelets now, huh?”
You feel like you have just been slapped back into the friend-zone. “Oh,” You force out a chuckle, “Yes, I guess we do.”
Clueless to your inner turmoil, Jungkook grins as he hurries away to set up his stall for the day. He prattles on about how excited he is to see how the new collection will sell, especially since he is set up right next to you and your flowers.
You feign normalcy as you reply that his collection will be a hit. And you’re right.
As the day wears on, you watch as Jungkook sells more jewelry than you had ever seen him do before. You consistently feel like you’re in a state of whiplash as he keeps referring to you as his “muse” during his sales.
Why are feelings so confusing? You fiddle with a stem of lavender (mistrust). You had honestly been beginning to think that Jungkook might return your affections, but now you aren’t so sure. Maybe next weekend you could try to get a better idea of his feelings?
But, as it turns out, you wouldn’t have to...
It’s midway through the market that next Sunday that you begin to realize Jungkook is acting strange. He is acting more jittery than usual, and despite your constant questioning of if he is okay, Jungkook refuses to give you more than two word answers.
Eventually, you give up asking and instead begin to silently observe. He constantly toys with the bracelet you had given him last week. He rarely can go a minute without touching it, almost as if he is afraid it might disappear right off his wrist. Jungkook also keeps peering into his backpack and adjusting something inside of it.
It isn’t until Jungkook checks his backpack for the third time in five minutes that you snap. “Okay, that’s it.” You stalk over to his booth, “Why are you acting weird today?” You stop in front of him, arms crossed in front of you.
Jungkook’s throat bobs as he swallows nervously, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, noona.”
“Really,” You deadpan, “Then you won’t mind sharing with the class what riveting thing you have in your backpack?”
His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, “How did you know there’s something in my backpack?”
You laugh, “You’re not exactly subtle, Kookie.” His shocked expression turns into a pout as you continue, “I’m just teasing. You don’t have to show me. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything illegal.”
“Illegal?” Jungkook gasps, “Noona! Who do you think I am?”
“I don't know,” You shrug, “You could have a double identity for all I know.”
Mumbling something about infuriating women, Jungkook turns and tugs something out of his bag. Holding it behind his back, he faces you, “I was going to wait until the end of the day to do this, but I guess this is happening now.”
He takes in a shaky breath, “I know that I’m not the best with words. That I’m shy and inexperienced. But, I need to tell you how I feel, because I think I might lose myself completely if I don’t. So, I decided that I would tell you in the language you know well.”
Slowly, Jungkook moves his hands from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers. “These say everything you need to know about what I feel for you.” His hand shakes slightly as he extends the flowers towards you.
Your lungs refuse to work as your eyes cannot seem to look away from the flowers he offers you.
Striped carnations. Those are what he holds out to you. You feel as if he has taken your heart and stomped on it with his massive boots.
Striped carnations… symbolizing a love that cannot be shared. A gesture meaning that ‘he cannot be with you’.
Rejection.
The first tear falls from your eyes as you force yourself to look up at the boy you’ve fallen in love with. How long has he known your feelings for him? Why has he strung you along so much only to hit you with this now? Or have you just been oblivious to his indifference all along? ‘
Jungkook seems to be panicking as he lowers the bouquet back to his side, “Noona, please say something.”
You open and close your mouth, trying in vain to search for words to say, for questions to ask to help you make sense of this blindside.
The only thing you can eventually muster up the strength to say is a shaky “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” You take off, barely stopping to grab your phone and your bag as you run to your truck.
Behind you, you can hear Jungkook frantically shouting your name. He’s probably concerned that he has to monitor both your stall and his. You shake your head as you finally reach your car.
You call Yoongi as soon as you turn out of the parking lot, unknowingly leaving a teary-eyed Jungkook in your wake.
“What?” Yoongi groans when he finally picks up.
You can barely breathe through your tears, “Y-Yoongi, can you swing by the market early to pack up?”
The line is quiet for a second. Then, Yoongi rapidly fires questions at you, “What happened? What did he do? Where are you? Are you okay? Do I need to rough him up?”
You let out a small laugh. At least one person seems to care for you. “I’m okay. Just a bit of an unexpected rejection.” You sniffle, “I’m heading home for the day.”
“Wait,” Yoongi sounds confused, “He rejected you? What the f—”
Cutting him off before he asks you to rehash every painful detail, you sigh, “Yes, he did. Now, please, can you go clean up the stall for me? And don’t say anything to him.”
Yoongi growls something that suspiciously sounds like “Oh, I’ll say something to him, alright”. But before you can voice your suspicions, he agrees and hangs up.
Thank god for Min Yoongi.
The week passes slowly. You spend your days going through your usual motions, working in your shop and assisting customers.
However, after you make your sixth bouquet of marigold (grief), lichen (dejection) and cypress (mourning), Yoongi insists you take a few days off. You surprisingly listen.
On Friday, Yoongi brings you a bunch of yarrow (cure for a broken heart) and nearly runs when you envelop him in a tight hug. He offers to handle the market this weekend, and you don’t have it in you to refuse. But, you only accept on the caveat that Yoongi takes Monday off. You don’t want to take advantage of your employee and your dear friend.
Your weekend is spent by yourself. You stock up on cranberry juice in an attempt to pretend that it will have the same effect of its flower meaning (cure for heartache). Spoiler alert: it does not.
Even watching an exorbitant amount of bad Hallmark movies cannot cheer you up. And when Monday comes, you force yourself to try to be positive.
“It’s fine. This is fine. Totally fine. I’m fine.” You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror, “I’m totally cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.” With a firm nod, you head out.
Opening your shop is one of your favorite things. You revel in the solitude that the early hours bring, the first sips of your morning coffee, the feeling of being surrounded by your flowers.
Your flowers bring you peace – a big reason why persimmon flowers are your favorite. But, you can’t travel down that train of thought today. Nope. Today, you are all about self-love and positivity!
At least you are until 9:01am when your shop has barely been open for 60 seconds and Jungkook bursts through your doors.
The boy looks like a mess. His hair is sticking up in various places like he has run his hand through it too many times, his shirt looks like it’s on inside out, and he is staring at you like you’re a wild animal that might spook at any moment.
And he would not be wrong. You fight down the urge to run, choosing instead to head behind your counter so that there is at least a semblance of a divide between you.
You decide to just rip the bandaid off and attempt to be professional. Staring over his shoulder, you say, “Hello, welcome to Of Fern and Freesia. How can I help you?”
The sound of a stifled sob reaches your ears. Had that come from him? Or from you?
“Noona,” Jungkook finally pleads, his voice rough, “Can’t you at least look at me?”
Slowly, you bring your eyes to his. His large brown eyes search yours for a moment before they fill with determination.
“(Y/n)-noona, I know you’ve been avoiding me,” He approaches the counter, “But I need to know something. I have to or I’m going to lose my mind.”
Jungkook’s hands fall onto the countertop, his eyes blaze into yours, “Noona, is the thought of me loving you really so appalling that you can’t even stand to be around me? Is it really so terrible that we can’t even be friends?”
Your mind short circuits. “Are you making fun of me?” You whisper after a brief pause.
“What?” Jungkook cries, “No! Why would you even think that?”
Anger bursts to the surface as you throw his actions back in his face, “Maybe I think that because you openly rejected my feelings last weekend, Jungkook! Maybe I think that because I’ve stupidly been in love with you for weeks only to have you hand me those damned striped carnations!”
Jungkook looks stricken, “I-I thought carnations meant love a-and fascination?”
Oh. My. Sweet. Baby. Jesus.
Your anger at what you thought was Jungkook’s rejection morphs into rage at the complete and utter idiocy of his misguided confession.
You shake your head at the giant idiot before you, “Yes, you absolute fool. The general meaning of carnations is love, distinction, and fascination. But, how did you not think for one second that meanings might change depending on the color and the type?”
He continues to gape at you as you power on. “Striped carnations symbolize rejection, you colossal moron! They mean that you cannot be with me! You basically slapped me and my love for you with a big, fat nope.”
You watch warily as Jungkook rounds the counter, coming towards you faster than you’d like. But, your mouth is on a roll now, and you can’t stop, “How could any respectable florist interpret that gesture any other way? Hey! What are you even doing? You can’t be back here—!”
Jungkook reaches you, cups your face in both hands, and slams his mouth onto yours. Your eyes widen as he continues to kiss you, and then slowly you begin to return his affections. Your hands slide up his back to twine through his hair.
The cutest whine emits from his throat as you tug on it slightly. “Noona,” He murmurs against your lips, his wide eyes stare into yours, “You really love me?”
You shoot him an exasperated look, “No, Jungkook, I go around kissing everyone who walks into my shop like this.”
He pouts, “So mean to me.” He tries to kiss you again, but you shift out of the way slightly so his lips meet your cheek.
“I reserve the right to be mean after spending an entire week wallowing in unnecessary self-pity following your failed attempt at a declaration of love.” You cock your head slightly, “If that’s even what it was?”
Jungkook blushes, “I really screwed up, huh?” He rests his forehead on yours and sighs, “It was supposed to be perfect. I was supposed to give you something meaningful to show how much I love you and pay attention to your work, but all I did was accidentally push you away. I thought you were rejecting me.”
You press a soft kiss to his lips. “I could never reject you, Kookie. Not even after that.”
“God, I love you, noona,” Jungkook buries his face in your neck. “I missed you so much.”
“I love you, too,” You run your fingers through his hair, “But don’t think you’re getting off this easily.”
“Huh?” Jungkook pulls back, his eyes wide.
“You have a lot of making up to do, Kook,” You grin.
“And what do you suggest I do?” He smiles down at you, affection clear in his eyes.
“Well,” You shrug, “I can think of a few things…”
a/n: flower meanings taken from: The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh (flower definitions may vary depending on the source!! this is just the reference that i chose because i love the book uwu)
✿ Flowers left undefined in the fic:
Fern → sincerity
Freesia → lasting friendship
Peppermint → warmth of feeling
Tiger Flower → please love me* (*as defined by jk)
Tiger Lily → wealth
© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.
#bangtanscenerycollab#bangtanscenery#bangtanhq#ficswithluv#btswriterscollective#btswritingcafe#kwritersworldnet#bangtanarmynet#btsbookclub#btsnoonanet#goldenclosetnet#jungkook x reader#jjk x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook fluff#bts#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts fluff
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