#that both sad lonely souls get swept away into really quickly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeojaa · 4 years

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( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.

tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜

author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.

“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.

You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?

God, you’re an altruist.

“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)

“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”

“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,” you correct.

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.

“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.

“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.

“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”

“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”

He hangs up immediately.

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.

“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.

“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.

“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.

“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.

“Sure, we can talk talk.”

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”

“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.

“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”

He nods. You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”

“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.

“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.

“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.

“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”

You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.” You’re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.

You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.

“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.

“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.

Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.

“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.

“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.

You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook: Hey. from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun! to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.

“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”

“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.

“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer: you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.

“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”

“W-what?”

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.

“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.

He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”

“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean? Feel right?

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?”

“You like her, right?”

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?

“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay. Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.

“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”

You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,” she tries again, concerned.

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.

This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.

“W-what?”

“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.

“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”

There’s something thick in your throat.

“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be. There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.

“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.

“I’m kidding.”

It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.

“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”

“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.

“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.

“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.

“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it. Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

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fakeloveaskblog · 3 years

Note

Janus, did you follow up with Remus on that invitation? Or are you too giddy with your new boyfriend?👀👀

(Words: 2578)

Janus: “Oh yes Remus....I had totally not forgotten because I have been too busy being giddy about Logan. Totally not. I am afraid if I meet up with Remus right now I will simply be so giddy with so much love I will actually explode and die on the spot. But that is a risk I am willing to take!

Janus took a deep breathe. This was the third deep breathe he’d taken in a row and yet he kept being just as nervous. He’d hung out with Remus twice already, simply knocking on his door shouldn’t be making him this anxious. It was stupid. He was stupid.

He gave up on trying to calm down and knocked on the door.

The door opened. His breath hitched and he subconsciously straightened his back to look more alright.

To his surprise it wasn’t Remus that opened. At first glance he could have mistaken it for him. The person- the woman opening looked nearly identical to him after all. Same dark brown hair color, same brown nearly red eyes seeming to pierce into his soul, even the same birthmark above their lip.

Only difference being that her hair was longer, reaching her waist, and she wasn’t as skinny, in turn making her figure more full.

“Who are you?” She asked in a cold tone, it sounded more like a snarl.

“Janus” He reached out his hand “I’m Janus”

She slammed the door shut.

Janus let out a sigh. He’d spent the entire bus ride worrying about how badly Remus would react to seeing him but wow this was even worse. He was just about to go home and sulk when the door swung open again.

“Okay come in” The woman said while dragging him into the living room.

“t-thank you” Janus stammered out.

His cheeks heated up when he locked eyes with Remus who was sitting on the sofa. His friend quickly glanced away and crossed his arms over his chest.

The sofa had been made into a makeshift bed and suitcases laid littered over the floor. The lady sat him down on the couch before slumping over in a newly bought fainting cough. She had on a red robe while Remus had on a pyjamas with an octopus pattern on.

“So my dear eh demented Remus I am here to inform you that there is a giant seamonster in my bathtub so I had to go somewhere else...And I happened to choose this place...for tactical battle reasons!” Janus blurted out.

A weight lifted off his shoulders when Remus shone up into a smile at his made up story. Janus couldn’t help but stare at his sharp teeth. He knew him being obsessed with vampires as a teenager would bite him in the neck one day.

“Want me to kill it?”

Janus looked up from his mouth “What? The uh monster?” He put on his usual charming smile “Well of course darling. You only have to be ready to be eaten to death”

“OH I am ALways ready to be eaten to death. Trust me!”

“He got voted most likely to have a cannibalism kink in 10th grade” The woman added on. She was extravagantly fanning herself with a deliciously decorated fan.

“I was!” Remus exclaimed with a proud smile.

“Who- Who are you?” Janus tried to say in the nicest tone possible.

“She’s my frankenstein monster which I created just to bitch around and annoy me” “Life saw what kind of fuck up he was and made me out of diamonds and a lion’s pride to be the better version of him!” They said at the same time.

They glanced at each other before looking back at Janus.

“She’s my twin” “He’s my twin” They continued on at the same time again.

The lightbulb inside Janus’ brain finally lit up “Oh you’re Rowan aren’t you? I have heard many atrocious tales about you”

“The one and only” She moved her arms into some sort of regal pose while saying it “I’ve heard stories of you too you pitiful Janus. Re-re has told me he hates you and finds you awfully boring but you seems so lonely and sad he doesn’t want to tell you!”

Remus’ eyes widened into panic as he shook his head “I never said that!! Lies!!! Defimation!!!!”

“Re-Re I was joking”

“Oh............ok”

He kept fiddling with his oversized shirt. He looked over at his sister while moving further away from Janus. Rowan nodded back at him.

“Sibling meeting!” She exclaimed as she abruptly stood up while dropping the fan. She grabbed onto Remus and dragged him into the bedroom.

Janus stayed with his hands awkwardly clasped between his thighs. He hadn’t known he would walk into his greatest weakness: Meeting new peopel!!!

He looked around the room and slowly realized that the suitcases weren’t even unpacked. Meaning Rowan must have just arrived. Meaning Janus had inserted himself into a sibling reunion.

Holy shit. He was a piece of shit.

He slumped down on the green covers of the makeshift sofa bed....wait....Remus’ stuffed octopus laid on the pillow. Meaning it was his bed.....so Rowan was using the bedroom.

It all clicked at once. The cheerful disney posters. The white fluffy pillows everywhere. The walls being painted gold and red. THE LESBIAN FLAG HANGING ON THE WALL.

This wasn’t Remus’ apartement. This was Rowan’s apartement which Remus had weasled himself into.

Holy shit. Janus wasn’t just a piece of shit. He was a stupid piece of shit. Remus was never going to love him back!!! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH-

Meanwhile Remus was looking around in the heaps of dirty clothes and trash that had piled up in the bedroom while Rowan had been away. His sister was standing over him with her hands clasped in front of her chest.

“Soooo Re-Re do you have a cruuush on him?” She had an extremly smug smile on her face.

“I would rather eat a burning stone than have a crush” He muttered back.

“He’s not even pretty”

“Ro-Ro you don’t think any guy is pretty”

“That’s not true!” She disagreed. She began to count on her fingers. “Tarzan” That was it.

“He’s animated!”

“He still counts!”

Remus took a deep breathe “We shall savor this battle for another day and it shall be glorious”

“It sure will brother!” Rowan tightened her fist.

They made angry grimaces at each other for a few seconds before going back to being normal. Remus tried looking under the bed.

“He’s a total dork you realize that right? He isn’t good at hiding it either” She stated “So I guess he isn’t the worst guy to have a crush on”

“I don’t have a crush on him!”

She sent him another smug look “Oh really? I’m not so sure about that!”

“I’M NOT INTERESTED IN HIM!”

She held up her hands “Alright. Alright. I hear you”

Rowan patted him on the shoulder. He took a shaky breathe to calm down. He held up a binder. The reason he had been searching the bedroom in the first place.

“Could you help-”

“Yep”

“I don’t want him seeing me without it”

“Got it”

He took off his shirt and forced the binder down around his shoulders. Rowan made sure to only touch the binder as she pulled it down so it sat properly.

“I saw that my money has been getting sent to a therapist” Rowan said while leaning her chin on his shoulder “Proud of you”

“OHOHO It is not at all what you think it is. It’s as much therapy as you having that spiritual guide living here for a while was actually spiritual in any way and not you just your girlfriend”

She sighed “Still an idiot I see................ANd we did burn candles when we shared baths so it was really spiritual actually!!!”

Remus shrugged “I don’t need therapy anyway” She did a facepalm “Hey it’s true!! You let me live all on my own and look! I’m not dead in a ditch or addicted to ketamine or whatever you thought was gonna happen the moment you turned your back”

Rowan rolled her eyes “Sure dukey”

She went back out into the living room while he stayed to put on his shirt again. Janus sat still in nearly the exact same place they’d left him. As if he was afraid doing anything would ruin everything.

He looked at her with almost fear. It turned into definitive fear when Rowan walked up to him and grabbed onto him to shove his back against the couch. She towered over him and pierced her eyes right into his.

“Listen here you swept together ball of dirt” She snarled out “If you ever hurt my brother, in any way, I will make sure you have nightmares from what I did to you every single night for the rest of your miserable life! You’ll never feel peace ever again!”

Janus gulped “Yes ma’am”

Rowan let go of him and shone up into a smile “Good! If you need me I’ll be in my room putting on a face mask!”

She walked off at the same time Remus came back. Janus sat even stiller on the couch. His crush slumped down next to him and rolled his thumbs.

“So whatcha wanna do?” Rem asked.

Janus shook his head to relax “Whatever you want to do dear”

Remus shone up into a grin and dashed to pick something up “UNO!”

“Ah yes. I am of course a feared master of...uno”

He snorted while sorting the cards between his fingers “Please say that again”

“Uno?”

The snort turned into a laugh “It’s just cute to hear non spanish speakers saying uno. That’s your whole vibe. Cute. Dorky. Smart dumbass. You’re like...the decaying corpse of a chipmunk!”

Janus took a moment “.....thanks. Best compliment I’ve ever gotten”

“No problem! Now I’ll make up for it by beating you in uno!”

It was a heated battle. Remus apparently had incredibly luck in all card games. Janus used the technique of distraction (!) and started talking about obscure conspiracy theories. It failed as his crush already knew the conspiracies. Which then started an even more heated debate about which conspiracy was the best all while the battle of cards continued.

Finally it came down to Janus having 1 card and Remus having 2. The snake let out a villanous laugh. After his crush’s turn the victory would be his!

But then Remus laid the card equivalent of slapping him across the face with both a sword And a dick. He laid a skip card! Janus fell back on the couch in exasperated horror as his crush laid his last card.

“WOOHOO FUCKER! GET KICKED IN THE BALLS BITCHASS!!” Remus yelled while getting up and running a few victory laps around the couch.

Janus laid in stunned silence. few times had he been beated this good.

“I’ll destroy you in the next round” Jan shook his fist to be extra extra.

“Oh really now. You dare challenge the great Buttmaster420!? IN uNO? Truly brave” Remus replied with a cocky grin.

Another fierce match began. As did their conspiracy theory debate. 1 win for Janus. 1 for Remus. Somewhere along the line they made popcorn. A second win for the snake boy.

2 wins vs 2 wins. This was it. Remus looked his friend up and down like he was a comboy about to shoot him in the heart as he laid a pick up 4 cards card. Janus gasped. The tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife.

The final card landed. Remus won. Janus pretended to faint.

They shook hands and exchanged looks of respect before bursting out into laughter.

“Alright alright” Remus chuckled out “Snakey since I won I get to decide what we do next!”

“Please not a satanic ritual. I already have that planned for Monday”

“Oh nonono! Much better! Y’know those ghost hunting videos on youtube??? Yeah I love finding really badly made ones and laughing at them!”

“Ah yes, because if there is one thing I am known to do it is laugh at others”

They sat on opposite ends of the couch while Rem searched deeply after the best trash. He found a 15 minute one where they were apparently being chased by slenderman.

They exhanged jokes and giggles over it but to be honest most of what Janus focused on was just being in his crush’ apartement. He tried to sneakily look around to aww at the drawings and storyboards pinned onto the walls. The small sculptures made out of trash laying in droves on the floor. It all made his heart flutter. His entire body yearned to make out until his lips hurt.

Meanwhile Remus was sneaking looks at Janus. His eyes was filled with the ace equivalent of lust.

“...Can...Are...Can I use you as a pillow?” He quietly asked. “You look soft”

Janus’ cheeks went red from blushing in an instant “...sure”

Remus moved closer and carefully leaned his head onto his friend’s stomach. He hadn’t cuddled a person who wasn’t his sister for over a year. Holy shit. This was comfy!

“You’re very doughy!....THAt’s a compliment!” Remus said.

“You really are pulling out your A game compliments today huh”

“Better than pulling out my massive dick!! No but seriously this” He pointed at them both in their cuddly positions “fucks!”

“Oh trust me darling the last thing I am doing right now is fucking”

Remus burst out into a cackle and flapped his hands “You’re gold snakey!!”

“I try my best”

While they continued to watch videos Janus gently moved his hand down to stroke his fingers through his crush’s hair. At first Remus flinched but then he relaxed into it and told him to keep going.

The popcorn bowl got emptied. They laughed at the videos until their stomaches hurt. Remus playfully moved his hands up to cover his friend’s eyes every time a jumpscare happened. Jan pretended to try and bite his’ fingers every time.

Eventually Remus let out a yawn. For a moment he relaxed and cuddled closer. He even let his eyes close. Before he suddenly flinched. His eyes were wide open as he sat straight up.

“I’m tired. You should go” He choked out.

Janus thought before deciding to not question his strange reaction. He sent him a warm smile “You’re right. It’s late. I can text you about meeting up later”

“For sure!”

A silence hung around them as they went over to the entrance door. Remus leaned against the door frame. Janus took a step outside the apartement as he put his jacket on.

They glanced at each other. Neither said goodbye. Remus picked at his skin.

“...I....Janny...I...Okay this might seem weird with me wanting you to leave and most of the time not wanting you to touch me....But I...I kind of trust you... More than most people. I mean it’s rare for me to trust anyone in any way....so yeah...I just wanted you to know that”

Janus fumbled after what to say “Thank you. That’s- I’m flattered....I trust you too....I wouldn’t let you see me when I wasn’t perfect if I didn’t”

Remus smiled at him. A small but genuine smile. “I’ll see you then”

“Yeah” Janus’ chest warmed “Don’t die when I’m not looking!”

“Oh nonono. If I die I’ll make it so dramatic you won’t be able to miss it!” His voice softened “Stay safe..please”

#dukeceit #demus #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #mini fic

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mattzerella-sticks · 3 years

Text

⭐2020 Fics in Review ⭐

Happy New Year’s Eve! 💫💫💫 2020 sure was a year... between everything that was happening on the macro (the pandemic, elections, etc.) and on the micro-level (shows delayed, some ending - disastrously, so much drama, etc.), the past 12 months felt like a blur. Especially since we’ve been inside and realized time is an illusion!

But, there were moments where I was able to ground myself in the present and not be swept away by the tide. Most of them were because of fanfiction. Whether writing or reading, fanworks became a soothing balm. And I’d be remiss (and breaking tradition) if I didn’t reflect on my past works of 2020!

I’ve written 43 fics across a wide array of fandoms - the most being Supernatural, with 9-1-1, DC Comics, Marvel, Boku No Hero Academia, Stargirl, Star Wars, Hollywood, and RWBY sprinkled in. I really branched out this year, and am looking forward to what I will write in 2021. Maybe new fandoms? Maybe an original work? Who’s to say!

Thank you to all those who’ve read my works, and am grateful for both your support and continued engagement - can’t wait to see you in 2021 with me 😁

Here are my works!

9-1-1 (TV Show)

Caught (Evan ‘Buck’ Buckely/Eddie Diaz, side Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, side Maddie Buckley/Howie ‘Chimney’ Han)

Photobooths are prime for catching special moments and making them last forever, even if they are less both and more open spaces with a backdrop. When Athena, Bobby, and Michael stumble upon one such moment between Buck and Eddie, what will they do?

And how will it affect Maddie and Chimney?

Lumped Together (Evan ‘Buck’ Buckely/Eddie Diaz, side Henrietta ‘Hen’ Wilson/Karen Wilson, side Maddie Buckley/Howie ‘Chimney’ Han)

As an apology for keeping her thoughts about medical school secret from her wife and partner, Hen takes them (and Maddie) out for lunch. With the promise that it would only be them. And for the most part it was. Until Buck and Eddie strode in with every intention of eating Takoyaki.

Just not with them.

Armed with new information, what's a girl to do? Hen spends the next day fighting back the natural instinct to tease her friends about the wonderful step they've taken together in their relationship. Can she make it home without saying anything? Or will she give in?

DCU

Lonely Together (Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne, past Barry Allen/Iris West, past Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle)

Barry needs others, yet whether by his enemies or his own actions, he ends up alone. After Iris leaves him, Barry feels as if he drifts through life. Like lightning humming in the air without a rod to ground him.

Until he struck another lonely soul and entered a relationship he never thought possible. Now, months since he and Bruce began sleeping with each other, Barry feels settles. At peace in a way he hasn't felt in a long while. Since he and Iris started petering out.

But it's not love... is it?

Come Home (Jason Todd/Kyle Rayner)

Jason Todd gets a message from Bruce. He's surprised to see it. Then, he's surprised by the message itself. Hearing Bruce's final message stirs something inside of him, urging him towards a place he's avoided ever since his and Bruce's falling out. So he gathers his things, and then... waits.

He can't leave yet. Jason doesn't know why. Bruce gave him a mission, just like old times. Except it's not, because he... Jason can't move. Can't even stand.

That's how Kyle finds him.

Restless (Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne)

Returning home from a mission in outer space, the team picks up a distress signal off-course. They rush off to help, landing on a strange alient planet teeming with life. Especially within the plant kingdom.

While guarding the Javelin, Bruce and Barry encounter one such member while engaging in some familiar fight-flirting. Will its effects spell trouble for the League, or help these two relax their guards long enough to explore new possibilities?

(Hint: It's a little bit of both)

Marvel

Hot Seat (Peter Parker/Johnny Storm)

Spiderman likes Johnny. Like likes him. And he thought Johnny felt the same. He wasn't wrong, but Johnny like liked someone else, too. Someone he actually wanted to pursue, over Spiderman.

Unfortunately that someone is Peter Parker.

However, after a terrible misunderstanding, Johny isn't too keen on seeing either Peter or Spiderman; the longer this confusion left unresolved, the more Johnny's hurt would fester. Can Peter find a way to make Johnny listen?

Hollywood

Merrily We Roll Along (Archie Coleman/Rock Hudson)

With their careers still on the rise and no peak in sight, sometimes Archie's and Roy's lives get a little too busy. Understandably so. Archie's in the midst of writing his next screenplay while the latest opens across America. Roy spend more time on set than at home working on his latest project. When their schedules allow it, all they want is to be together.

Can they enjoy a simple morning together, or will the clouds of Hollywood cast a heavy shadow over their sunny day?

RWBY

Lucky You, Huh? (Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi)

After all that happened, it's time for the dust to settle. Choices were made. Now, the consequences for certain actions need to be carried out.

Even though he fought alongside her to save Mantle, Robyn Hill couldn't help save Clover from the whims of the Council. Without a job or home, Clover needs to find a way to carry on.

If anyone understands what that feels like, it's Qrow. Never being one who can communicate his feelings well, would he be the best to comfort the other man. When he's the only one who can, what does that mean for Clover?

Star Wars

Fourth (Poe Dameron/Finn)

What's a man and his co-general to do when they're on a mission together on a planet known for frequent sandstorms?

Flirt? That is a possibility. And definitely the one they take.

Stargirl

I’m Here (Courtney Whitmore/Yolanda Montez, past Yolanda Montez/Henry King, Jr.)

Coda to 1x10 "Brainwave Jr."

Losing Henry was sad, but it's not the first person Courtney knew whose future was snatched by the Injustice Society of America. That doesn't make his death any less tragic. It does remind Courtney how screwed up and dangerous her life was. At least she was able to wake up the next day and keep moving. And so was Beth, and Rick. But Yolanda...

Where was Yolanda? Courtney needs to know.

Crusher (Lawrence Crock/Paula Crock, Pat Dugan/Barbara Whitmore, Lawrence Crock/Pat Dugan)

When Lawrence met Pat, he saw another body that could benefit from some exercise at his gym. The more they interacted, became friends, he saw that body doing other things in other places. And his wife is totally supportive of this. While in the midst of an afterhours training session, Lawrence drags his feet on telling his friend a few important things. Egged on by Paula, will he say what's on his mind? How will Pat react?

And does Pat have a secret or two of his own?

Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Little Secrets Everywhere (Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijiro)

Mina thought letting Bakugo read whatever was in her folder wouldn't be too bad. Maybe he would snipe at her for her less than perfect English translation and sentence structure, slap her on the head with the balled up assignment. What she wasn't expecting was for him to charge with hellish fury towards her in the common room with all their friends to see.

One careless mistake leads to many things coming to light. Everyone walking away with something new to think about.

Boku No Fundanshi (Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijiro)

Bakugo Katsuki is a top student at the premier hero academy in the world. Bakugo Katsuki is a boy with the ability to use his sweat as a weapon, each droplet containing enough nitroglycerin to obliterate a phone book. Bakugo Katsuki enjoys reading manga where boys fall in love with one another. Two out of the three are commonly accepted facts. The final one is a heavily guarded secret that Bakugo protects with his life. At least until his vigilance lapses, and he loses a doujinshi.

Will he be able to recover what he lost before anyone realizes it's his? Or, by the end of this, will he have found something he didn't know he was missing?

Portmanteau (Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijiro)

Portmanteau (port·man·teau) n. a word blending the sounds and combining the meanings of two others

Like Bakugo's chosen hero name. But was that his first choice? Kirishima doesn't think so, after finding a damning piece of evidence hidden within his notes. Except it's not what he thinks, at all...

Supernatural

Real (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Coda to 15x09 "The Trap"

Morning after, and Sam spies a little something blossoming in the kitchen. Something that stokes the fires of his curiosity. When the scene ends, he walks in with an intent to investigate. Learn about the strange magic that happened before his eyes. How quickly Dean and Cas's relationship repaired. And what brilliant new shape it took on after Purgatory.

Will Sam be satisfied with the answer?

Half-Priced Chocolates (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

The day after Valentine's Day is great for many things. Basking in the glow of a night well spent, sharing the joy of love with your family, and eating chocolate priced considerably lower than it was the day before.

Except Sam can't enjoy any of that, because Dean won't let him. Because Dean woke up in a sour mood and has picked up the banners of war against romantic love.

Albeit, the three aforementioned things might make his conflict the shortest in history.

Spill (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Dean always thought it would take more to force him into retirement. Yet here he is, locked in the Bunker until the world figures out a cure for a deadly virus. It could be worse - at least they have a home. He cannot imagine how worse it would be if this happened years earlier, where he and Sam were trapped in a tiny motel room together. Here they have options, and miles of outdoor space they can stroll through if their options become stale.

And they were beginning to. Dean could only do so much indoors. Dean knew he needed to shake things up, but couldn't begin thinking how. Luckily Castiel has an idea, and gives him a new way of looking at their kitchen.

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

Following the Supernatural Cracktober prompt list, one day at a time.

Prompts will be listed in the notes and the chapter title.

Enjoy!

Bullets Over the Bayou (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Everyone wants Castiel Novak to quit the force, including Castiel. But he stays on despite the toxic work environment he’s surrounded by. Still believing he can do some good despite the many lines of red tape impeding him. Luckily, a pair of scissors by the name of Dean Winchester drops into his hands, and he finally feels like he can do some good.

Dean Winchester thought he would be in New Orleans for a day or two. Identify the body of his deadbeat father and then move on. No one knows he’s here. His mother and brother are blissfully unaware of the danger his father roped him into. With a parting gift of a journal, delivered to him the same day he received word about his father, Dean has become the target of a group of people who want him dead. The same people who killed his father.

Racing against the clock, can Dean and Castiel figure out what is so important about John Winchester’s journal that someone would kill for it?

Kick Ball Change (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Coda to 15x10 "The Heroes' Journey"

Dean has the Bunker to himself at a time after he and Sam regain their supernatural abilities. With nothing needing his attention, he decides taking time for himself wouldn't hurt. But the usual fare leaves him bored and tired.

So he tries something new. Something he wanted to try, but wasn't sure he would be good at. Dean starts off strong, but doing it on your own can only be so fun. Get you so far. Luckily a partner happens by and truly allows Dean to enjoy a part of himself he knew was there, but didn't want to share.

Tempered Desires (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Charlie Bradbury/OC, background Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore, background Sam Winchester/Ruby, background Sam Winchester/Mick Davies, past Dean Winchester/Arthur Ketch)

Dating, sex, and finding love were the farthest things on the minds of both Dean and Castiel. There were more important things to worry about - namely the pandemic that swept across the globe and changed everything. Navigating this new environment was hard enough without adding romance.

But fate never intervenes when you expect. From first meetings to first dates, we'll see how Dean and Castiel's relationship blossoms despite the circumstances.

Sunrise (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Dean and Sam were free. Finally, unequivocally, free.

But this wasn't the happy ending Dean had expected. Maybe in the past, having Sam in the passenger seat tearing across an open stretch of highway as the sunsets, it'd be what he wanted. But that was years ago. He's not that man anymore. Dean's tired of sunsets, of saying goodbye. He yearns for a different ending. One that's less of an ending, and more of a beginning. A sunrise instead of a sunset.

Sam has his. Dean lost his. Despite this setback, he won't stop. He'll live in memory of his sunrise.

Except, what can he do when he feels those rays on his face again?

Coda to 15x19

Fixing It (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Dean Winchester walked a long & difficult road. House burning down when he was 4, constantly being on the move until his father lost a fight with demons at the age of 25. Reunited with his mother only to lose her again. Have a son only to lose him, too. Of all the shadows that have crossed his path, he thought one of the main sources of light was his husband Castiel.

But he had to ruin that, too.

Can he ever have that shine again? Or are there things that are too good for him to hold? Will they mend what was broken?

Heart in My Hand (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

He was right there.

Cas was telling Dean everything he ever wanted to hear since meeting the angel of the Lord... only each and every word of his confession stabbed at Dean's heart. Because once he finished, there's no more time for them. For him. For any chance of happiness - all that taken away by the Empty. And now he has to carry on.

He tries. Stands, gets in his car and drives where Sam tells him. When he meets with the others, though...

Coda to 15x18 "Despair"

A Dumb Idea (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

They celebrated Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthdays, even the Fourth of July. What about the other holidays? What about Valentine's Day?

Mrs. Butters actually had a plan for that, but she left before it could come to fruition. Sam, however, stumbles on Dean and a leftover piece from said plan. Something Dean would rather Sam not see. When he does get a peek as to what it is, well... Dean and Sam have a lot to talk about.

Coda to 15x14 "The Last Holiday"

What the Water Gave Him (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

It was over. Chuck lost, Sam and Dean can live their lives how they want them. But their victory wasn't without losses. The biggest upset nearly taking Dean out of the game, happening so close to the final battle. Now he's on the other side, alive against all odds, but Sam knows he isn't happy. Not truly happy since the Empty stole his best friend.

But there's a chance they can save him. A slim chance. A risk that Dean's willing to take despite every logical nerve in Sam's body screaming at him to look for better options. That threading a needle this small is too dangerous. That they don't have to take on another big bad, not anymore. That they don't have to risk their lives anymore. Dean is far past the point of listening. Dead set on this mission, Sam can only watch.

And pray his brother proves him wrong.

(Now with art from gabester-sketch)

Acutely (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Jack said he's sorry, after getting his soul back.

Jack said he's sorry, and he's looking at Dean. They're all looking at Dean.

Jack said he's sorry, and Dean can't take it. It's too much. Like a frog thrown into a boiling pot he hops out, jumping out from the room towards safety. Doing his best not to succumb to the pain.

He can't hide forever, let the wounds fester. It's too much to deal with on his own, though. Can someone help him through it?

Leeches (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Sharing a Netflix makes sense, in hindsight. Dean gets it. But that doesn't mean he appreciates seeing a bunch of profiles after his that weren't there last he checked.

He's gonna get to the bottom of this - of when this happened, why, and how they were able to guess his password.

Revival (Dean Winchester/Castiel, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Sam and Dean stand there on the bridge, the camera panning out on them as they are finally reunited in Heaven.

But then Sam wakes up.

(Coda/Fix-It Fic to 15x20 "Carry On")

Memento (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Why did Castiel have a photo of himself in a cowboy hat? Where did he get it? Who took it, and more importantly who gave it to him?

Coda to 15x15 "Gimme Shelter"

The End (We Deserve) (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Dean Winchester dies in Sam's arms.

And then he doesn't.

(How that scene originally looked...)

Constants

Meeting with alternate versions of themselves makes Sam and Dean think about what the landscape of the former multiverse might have looked like - or, really, "If there can be multiple Deans and multiple Sams, can there be other versions of things they know. Like... Baby?"

Dean says no. There's only one Baby. She's got four wheels, black paint, and has been his from the beginning. Sam thinks otherwise.

Let's explore what the possibilities of Deans, Sams, and Babys in different universes might look like.

Enjoy the Present (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Sam had a birthday, Jack had a birthday...

It would only be fitting for Dean to have one, too. It's expected, really. Yet the one Sam and Jack throw him still catches him by surprise. Maybe because he actually agreed with Butters, about having outgrowned birthdays. Or because his thoughts were pulled elsewhere because of some disappointing news.

If it's the latter, than a birthday will definitely take his mind off of that. Especially when it comes time for his present.

Coda to 15x14 'The Last Holiday'

Swallow It Whole (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

"The older you get... the less lies make everything better"

But when you've told as many lies as Dean has, it's hard to tell what's true and what's not. How can he remove all the rotten parts of himself without bringing everything down? Which lies have ingrained themselves so firmly, that removing them would change everything about who he was?

And, scariest of them all, who would he be without those lies?

Coda to 15x16 "Drag Me (Away From You)"

Desperation, Baby! (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.

Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.

It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?

Coda to 15x19 "Inherit the Earth"

A Healing Touch/New Experiences (Dean Winchester/Castiel, Adam/Serafina)

Maybe if Cas hadn't abandoned him, he wouldn't have agreed to Adam's offer. But with free will finally theirs, Cas made his choice, and Dean his. Now he has to live with the consequences - even if they are awkward. He won't die from it, certainly.

It's only a massage.

But what Dean doesn't know, is that it's more than a massage. It's healing.

It Feels Real Good (Claire Novak/Kaia Nieves, background Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Jody sent her to Yosemite, and she brings her back. For what reason, Claire doesn't know. But it had better be important, otherwise Claire gave the Dark Figure that stole her happiness another chance at escape. Will Jody's house hold a reason important enough for Claire to let go of the heavy burdens she's been carrying since hopping through a rift into another universe?

Coda to 15x12 "Galaxy Brain"

Through the Door (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Cas tells Sam that Chuck and Amara are here. But how does he know? Sure, he could've felt them land through his grace. But all that time Sam was gone? There was enough there that he could've investigated. They'd need to know where they were anyway, when the time came.

But Cas should've known better. Now wasn't the best moment for a little family reunion, especially when there's so much bad blood it can drown them all. Yet he came, and finally got the audience he always seeked with his father.

Coda to 15x17 "Unity"

Four of Swords (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

The Four of Swords, in the present position, means you don't want to interact with the rest of the world. Because of stress, you need to spend some time with yourself - unhealthy always being 'on'. That the healthiest thing to do is to escape.

Dean might crave escape, but it's not something he thinks he can have. Something he deserves, even. After his and Sam's most recent hunt, this cancerous feeling has grown heavy and weighs him down. He cannot escape on his own, as best he tries.

Luckily a guardian 'former angel' angel swoops in at his lowest. Helps pick up the pieces as best he can and lovingly put them back together. But he can only do so much. The rest is up to Dean.

Can Dean take those final steps, say those final words, and finally free himself?

i’d like to teach the world to sing (Dean Winchester/Castiel, Castiel/Others, WIP, 10 out of 15 chapters posted so far)

Mar del Vista, California - 1972

The groovy counterculture that dominated conversation in the past few years still clings to the landscape, floating around like smoke off a burning joint. Changed by the fires of war, Manson, and life into something new. Less trusting, optimistic, and innocent.

Cas is just one of many disillusioned hippies, saddled with a general distrust even before the movement self-imploded. Wary of about everything. Perfect for his line of work, where what's on the surface might not match the truth underneath. It's not an easy life, but he's comfortable with how it goes. Coasting until he hears a case he has no business accepting. For one, it's about a missing teen. And another, it's personal.

Except Jack's disappearance, like every other case he's worked, isn't so cut and dry. Like a rock skipping across a then-placid lake, the ripples stretch far and wide. Those waves slamming at Cas; of cops, federal agents, hippie cultists, and a certain green-eyed detective who's a little too interested in Cas's investigation.

Will Cas find Jack? Or will he drown in the tides.

Checkmate (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Billie saves Jack from suffering a fatal end from her plan, and knowing Jack was safe gave Cas space to focus on his own troubles. Nearly losing his son again... revelations from Chuck... choices Dean made, were set on, until Sam broke through at the last minute - too close - they all were...

It was too much. Cas needed to digest these roiling experiences away from faces it hurt to look at. Except he stumbles exactly where Chuck wants him. After countless times praying for guidance, Chuck finally decides now is perfect for a long-awaited heart-to-heart.

Coda to 15x17 "Unity"

Slide (Dean Winchester/Castiel, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

This isn't his day. It's Sam's and Eileen's. But while out on the dance floor, Dean realizes something that forces him to act. Act boldly.

It's not his day, but he cannot push back what's been there all along, dam bursting with no hope or need of rebuilding itself. He has to say something to Cas.

Why? Because it's Electric... boogie woogie woogie

(Inspired by the Suptober Day 9 prompt - Electric)

Unwrap Me (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Dean never thought he would make it this far. Nor would he have as many wonderful things that he has now. A home, friends, family, and most importantly love. With a former angel.

Given how normal his life is now, Dean decides he wants to go all out celebrating Christmas. Parties, feasts, and the perfect presents. He wants to get Cas something that will translate everything that resides in his heart. Dean believes he has the right gift, but decides against leading with it. Instead surprising Cas with it after showing him his Christmas best.

Although, during his entire time planning Cas's present, he never wondered what Cas got him...

Disappointment is temporary, but creativity is eternal 🥂 to more fanworks in 2021!!!

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versdan · 4 years

Text

Gone (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

summary: Natasha knew she would do whatever it takes to save the universe and bring people back. But what happens if you are the to intervene?

A/N: this,,,is sad, just forewarning! It’s literally that one scene in endgame that everyone avoids :(( I hope you guys enjoy oof. Quick thank you to my tumblr mob gf Vicky, @envoyofyagami , for proof reading this. I’m sorry u had to endure the angst first dnnsjejdnd love you 🥺 requests are open!

song: ilomilo - Billie Eilish

lyrics will be italicized + bolded & memory is italicized

please don’t repost/plagerize my work!

———

Told you not to worry

But maybe that's a lie

“Nat, no. I’m not letting you do it” You told her, grabbing her arm to make her turn and face you. Natasha looked at you with a sad expression.

You and Natasha were sent to Vormir to get the soul stone to reverse what Thanos had done. One thing you both didn’t know was it meant one of you had to die. Nat immediately took it upon herself to choose herself to be the one to die but you wouldn’t let her.

“The world depends on this, (Y/N). I have to save everyone and bring them back” she said, turning again towards the cliff but you ran in front of her stopping her.

“And how am I supposed to bring you back? If you do this, we’ll lose you” you said, pausing while looking at her and taking her hand. “I’ll lose you and I can’t handle that” you said as Nat raised her hand and placed it on your cheek.

“And I don’t want to lose you. But this is how it has to be. This is that moment everyone dreads and we both know it” she said, pulling away, stepping around you.

You knew you had no choice but to do anything to try and stop her. Turning around quickly while squatting, you swept out her leg which caused her to fall forward onto the ground. She turned to look at you with a small smirk.

“Then I guess we’re just going to have to fight for that moment, aren’t we?”

Nat stood up quickly, wiping off any dirt before trying to head closer to the edge when you ran to her side, pulling her arm so she was pulled away from there. From that action, Nat turned pulling your body close, rolling both of your bodies onto the ground, placing your head under her leg while she pulled your arm above your head.

“I’m going, (Y/N)” she said as you twisted quickly out of the headlock, your arm still being held by hers as you got onto your knees, trying to pull out of her arm lock. Nat then took this opportunity to then move forward to land ontop of you and pinning your arms above you head. You let out a huff, trying to get out of the position but struggling a bit.

“Nat, don’t” you said, as she raised her hand, moving a piece of hair that was in front your face and moving it behind your ear which made you freeze a bit at the small action. She then looked at you and gave you a small smile.

“Look at the stars for me” Nat said, giving you a wink before getting up from ontop of you. Looking at her confused, you quickly remembered the memory that the sentence brought back.

Honey, what's your hurry?

Won't you stay inside?

Remember not to get too close to stars

They're never gonna give you love like ours

“This is going to sound really corny” Natasha started as you turned to look at her. You currently were laying outside at 2 in the morning since you both couldn’t sleep. The night was clear of any clouds so the stars were crystal clear for you to see and admire while being in each others’ presence after coming back from a hectic mission.

“I’m sure it’s not that corny, babe” you told her, giving her a small smile as she smiled back at you, continuing to look up.

“Sometimes when I’m on a mission and it’s nighttime, I think of you. We don’t see the same time zone of course but knowing that there’s the same sky we look at gives me a bit of comfort and security that I’m gonna come back safe and sound” she said, pausing after to look over at you.

“Okay, that was corny” you said, letting out a chuckle while Nat rolled her eyes towards you and looked away. Taking her hand into yours and bringing it up, you placed a kiss on the back of her hand

“I’m only kidding, babe. I think that’s really sweet actually” you said as she turned back towards you.

“Really?” Nat asked, looking at you trying to read your expression while hoping you weren’t lying. Giving her a smile and a small nod, you placed another kiss on her hand.

“Of course. How can I not find that adorable? Especially from my soft assassin” you said as she rolled her eyes again before pulling you close and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you” she said, as you laid your head on her shoulder.

“And I love you, you softie” you said, looking back up at the sky, enjoying Nat’s company and moment you were spending together.

Where did you go?

I should know, but it's cold

Pulling quickly out of the memory, you watched as Nat ran quickly to the cliff as you rushed to your feet, following her actions.

“Nat!” You screamed, running after her, grabbing onto her hand to keep her from falling as you held onto the rope from your belt that was attached to the rock above you on the cliff.

Natasha looked down at the ground, watching as her feet swung in the air before looking back up at you, giving a small smile and a nod.

“I’m not letting you go!” You spoke, feeling the tears roll down your face as you looked up above you hearing a small crack.

“The rope can’t hold the both of us. It’s okay. I’ll be okay” Nat said as you looked back down at her. She reached up to place her other hand ontop of yours that was holding her other hand.

“I love you” she said, letting go of your grip and falling through the air.

“NO” you screamed out, letting out a loud sob followed by a strangled scream, turning to look away from Nat’s body that laid on the ground.

And I don't wanna be lonely

So show me the way home

I can't lose another life

“(Y/N)? Where’s Nat?” Bruce asked. Everyone turned to see you standing there alone as you fell to your knees. You looked down at your hands and opened up your fist to see the soul stone.

“She’s gone” you spoke, your voice cracking as you felt tears starting to roll down your face as all the other avengers fell silent. They knew the mission would go wrong but they didn’t know how bad it would hurt.

Hurry, I'm worried

———

feedback is appreciated

...I need to start writing fluff again smh

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff one shot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #black widow #black widow one shot #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #black widow fanfic #scarlett johansson #gigglygwil natasha #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers

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succubused · 5 years

Note

37. LeaIsa fuck me up claire fuck. me up

this is long and it has big old kh3 spoiler warning on it. also i did not read it over or proofread it at all. get wrecked

You must be exhausted.

I am.

If he had been asked a week ago, or even a day ago, Lea would have said that he would rather have died than return to this place, and it would have been the truth. Too many bitter memories, too many ghosts, both his own and those of others who had been twisted beyond recognition alongside him. Despite all outward appearances, he wanted nothing more than to leave Axel, and everything he had done, behind him. He wanted to be worthy of doing so.

And yet it always did surprise him, the lengths to which he was willing to go for Isa.

Wouldn’t you like to stay here? To sleep?

Yes…but there is someone coming for me. I can’t stay.

He had expected the worst of it to be over, and in many ways it was. He had hoped to find Isa back in Radiant Garden, to discover him lying in the same room in which he himself had awoken once recompleted, maybe a little bit dazed, but theoretically safe with the others. But when he had arrived at the lab, Isa was once again nowhere to be found, and Lea realized too late how unlikely it was that his heart would have been taken there and then, with the risk of any of them waking up and interrupting. Of course they had moved him first.

How can you know that?

I don’t.

Of course they would take him back here.

He had searched the badlands and the graveyard, trying not to think about what it meant that he was looking for Isa in a graveyard in the first place, trying to focus on what he knew rather than how it had felt to have him fade away in his arms. At least he hadn’t been alone. At least his heart had been his own in his final moments as Saïx.

Regardless of all symbolism, it quickly became apparent that Isa wasn’t there either, and the old frantic feeling that he recognized from the first time he had gone missing returned with equal speed. Even though it was foolish.

It had been Even who suggested it. Said that was where his own heart had been corrupted. Offered to go with him, but Lea refused, naturally.

And yet I can see that you believe it’s true.

I trust him.

A world that never was. A world that was, but never should have been. Either way, it was no longer a place for him, and it was no longer a place for Isa.

He had, of course, considered the possibility that Isa was simply gone.

The others had as well. They hadn’t said anything out loud, but he knew pity when he saw it, and the way they looked at him out of the corners of their eyes was heavy with it.

Everyone but Xion, who had caught him by the arm as he left and looked him in the eyes with that sorrow and hope that had always struck him as far too deep for a girl whose time in the world had been as short as hers. But he knew her loneliness came from the knowledge she carried, that she had known and felt things that no other soul would ever be able to understand, self-formed heart as she was. She could have been so angry. Instead she was just kind.

“You’ll find him,” she had said. “No one is ever really gone.”

“You don’t have to—” Lea shook his head. “You don’t have to. I—I appreciate it, but he, with you he…it was—”

“I know what it was.” She looked up at him seriously. “And I would really like to understand why, so get him back here so I can ask him about it, okay?”

Lea could barely conceive of the depth of Xion’s compassion, the forgiveness she appeared to be capable of. Forgiveness she extended even towards those who likely didn’t deserve it yet, but was willing to believe in until they showed her that they did. People who had treated her as an object, sometimes because they didn’t know any better, sometimes because they didn’t care.

As he made his way through the halls, still so blinding in their unforgiving brightness, he wondered if he had tried hard enough to make Saïx see the truth about her. If things might have been different had he succeeded. Lea had finally seen an empty replica recently, the one that Even was working on repairing for Namine, and the blank, dead face had made him nauseous, knowing that was what Saïx had been seeing where Xion should have been.

Saïx had been too jealous to ask or to listen. And Axel had been too lonely in the wake of their crumbling relationship, too willing to throw himself entirely into anything at all that could make him smile again, and once he had been reminded what that could feel like, it had been hard to even look Saïx in the eyes, feeling the loss of that love all too acutely. It was still there; he could see that now, from the other side. It would have been impossible for them to hurt each other so deeply if it were not. But it was a wounded thing, poisoned by envy and hopelessness and anger.

They had given up so much for one another, and in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

Are you afraid?

Of?

Going back.

Of course I am.

Lea stared up at the towering thrones, white pillars where they had once sat and waited, never quite knowing for what. He had half expected to find Isa in his old seat, legs crossed and hands locked together to keep them from shaking. None of the others had ever known that was his reason for being so tightly held together, and Axel had never told a soul. Saïx, like Isa, relied on appearing as though he had no doubts. About himself, about his plans, about any of it.

And yet he had been so afraid. And fear made him angry. And anger made it easier for Xemnas to sink his poison deeper and deeper into the heart he refused to acknowledge he had.

He shuddered, remembering the telltale glow of his silhouette, the emptiness behind those shining yellow eyes. The flat fury on his face that held nothing to suggest that the man he remembered was anywhere inside, the heavy blade held above him, ready to fall and end the life that had once been lived for he who wielded it.

But it never did.

No matter how many times he had come close, he was never able to finish it.

He leaned his forehead against the doorframe when he reached his old room, closing his eyes at the familiar touch of cold metal. Remembering the number of times Saïx had found him here, in the beginning, curled into a ball on the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible so that his tears wouldn’t feel like a weakness.

You’re just remembering, Saïx had said, pulling Axel to his feet. I asked Vexen. He said this could happen. It’s still possible to cry. The memories of your emotions are evoking a physical response.

You told— Axel wrenched his arm away. You told him I was crying?

Saïx looked at him. No, he said evenly. I said that I was.

…Oh. Really?

Yes.

For a moment, they were silent.

Axel laughed shakily. Can’t I just…hit the kill switch or something? Wasn’t emptying out supposed to get rid of all this crap?

You need to be strong. It’s the only way.

Specific. Any ideas on how?

Saïx smiled at him, small and sad but real, even in those days already an expression all too rare. He placed his hands on the sides of Axel’s face, resting his thumbs underneath his eyes.

Get some upside down tears. Marks right here. Keep you from crying.

Axel chuckled despite himself. You think?

Oh, of course.

When he opened his eyes and saw the figure slumped against the wall, the flash of blue hair that told him everything he needed to know, he felt for a moment as though he should have anticipated that this was the only place he could possibly be.

“Isa!”

Lea fell to his knees at Isa’s side once more, his heart pounding when he saw the unconscious face. He was breathing, but his eyes were only half open, staring at the ground with a blank look that scared him more than any rage ever could. It was impossible to tell what color his irises were.

“Isa. It’s over. It’s safe.”

When he brushed Isa’s cheek with the back of his hand, his skin was cold. He had always ran much colder than Lea, of course. But he didn’t want to think about how long Isa had been lying here. How long he had been waiting.

“Wake up. Come back.”

He pulled Isa back into his lap and held him as he had the dying Saïx, trying to bring him back down the same way he had set him free.

“Please,” Lea whispered.

Time to go?

Time to go.

Good luck.

And Isa returned to life in the same way that Saïx had left it; in Lea’s arms.

For a moment they stared at each other, Lea trying to process the enormous kick of relief that had swept through his body, Isa more disoriented than anything else, unable to recognize the warmth in his chest for what it was. He blinked up at Lea, realizing for the first time what it meant that he was there, with a body and a beating heart and an intact soul.

“You’re alive,” Isa breathed. “You’re all right.”

“I—me?” He laughed in disbelief. “You—you’re talking about—when you just—”

“You are alive? This isn’t some sort of…”

“Isa…” Lea pulled him up to a sitting position, still gripping him tightly by the shoulders, correctly assuming that if he let go Isa was at risk of collapsing again. “If you think this is heaven, you either have shit standards or those three hit you harder than I thought they did.”

“Both are likely true, but fortunately injuries don’t appear to carry over.” He winced at the memory. “Xion may have cracked a rib. Can’t quite find it in my h—”

Lea watched his frozen face curiously as he stared down at his hands with an incomprehensible expression.

“In my heart,” Isa murmured after a prolonged pause. “Can’t quite find it in my heart to blame her.”

“In your heart,” Lea repeated slowly. He pressed his hand against Isa’s chest, feeling for the heartbeat he knew so well, even after ten years. The rapid thump greeted him like the old friend it was. Always so much quicker than you would expect from an exterior that lacked any sort of ripples, as Isa’s seemed to, if you didn’t know where to look. “Isa, what happened? Are you hurt?”

“What do you mean?”

“You should have been able to wake up straight off. We all did.”

“Even didn’t.”

“He—oh.” He thought about it for a moment. “I guess he didn’t.”

“The damage,” Isa said delicately, “was particularly severe, in both his case and my own. Not physically,” he added upon seeing the stricken look on Lea’s face. “Just needed to be called home.”

“Well…” Lea slid down the wall beside him with a soft thump. “Did say I’d drag you home too.”

“I’ll be all right in a moment.”

“Take your time.”

He snorted, looking at the ceiling. “While we’re here? I would rather not.” When he lowered his eyes, Lea was staring at him intently. “What?”

Lea blinked. “Your eyes.”

His heart sank. Impossible. “You don’t mean—”

“No, I mean your eyes. They’re yours.”

Isa leaned forward carefully to get a good look at the window, watching for his own face in the dark glass. He had seen his yellow eyes for the first time in this room, had stared in mute horror as Axel tried to get an answer out of him as to what had happened, where did you go, what happened to your eyes, what happened to your face.

The cyclical shape of it all struck him when he caught his own eye and found green there instead.

“I certainly hope they’re—why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m—I hated seeing you—I never want to see you like that again,” Lea said.

Isa chuckled under his breath. “It wasn’t so bad, that time, actually.”

“You were—I haven’t seen you in that much pain since—”

“Maybe so,” he said quietly, “but at least, this time, I wasn’t alone.”

Lea watched him as he looked around at the colorless room, expression impassive, eyes haunted.

“This time’?” he said at last, when it became apparent Isa would not break the silence on his own.

“The last time I had to fade in such a way,” Isa said, knuckles white where his hands had knotted reflexively into fists, “I was…very much alone. I can’t remember a time when I felt more alone.”

You died alone. You died afraid.

“You remember what it feels like when your body goes, I’m sure.”

“Yeah.” Lea shuddered. “Wish I didn’t.”

A lead weight at the bottom of his stomach. What felt like a thousand hands pulling at him from all directions while feathers tried to lift his skin from the inside.

“I was ready to die on my feet again,” Isa muttered. “I didn’t expect you to be there. I didn’t expect you to catch me.”

“What, you—you thought I’d just sit there and watch you—”

“I thought you were already lost to me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I know. I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Isa.”

“For what?”

“I wasn’t there for you. It kills me that you had to go through all of that alone.”

Isa looked down at his hands. “I didn’t want to be,” he said after a moment.

He continued to watch as Lea reached for them, allowing him to pull one of his hands into his lap and hold it in both of his own. He held it much too tightly, but that was just Lea. Always afraid that if he didn’t sink his teeth in far enough Isa might slip away again. It was difficult to blame him, considering that at least once his fears had been proven to be grounded.

“It felt—” His grip tightened further. “Felt like you didn’t want me back at all.”

“Oh.” Isa laughed weakly. “Oh, I did. More than anything. It was eating me alive.”

“Then why—”

“I knew it was only going to get worse,” he said. “And as hard as it was living without you, losing you a second time would have been more than I could take. I figured if I never had you back, at least…you couldn’t take yourself away again.”

“Isa, that’s horrible.”

“It’s the truth.”

They looked at their fingers, laced so tightly through one another’s that they were both beginning to go numb, but neither had even the slightest inclination to let go.

“I don’t want to be in this place anymore,” Isa said. “I would like to leave.”

Lea nodded. “Get up together, okay?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled Isa to his feet, where he swayed a little but steadied after realizing there was someone beside him waiting to support the weight he couldn’t take.

“Hey, one second.”

Isa turned. “What—”

It had been years since he had been kissed. It was so easy to forget how soft of a feeling it was when his memories of love had become so harsh, when towards the end Saïx and Axel had been more given to drawing blood than sharing what little warmth they did have. And Lea was, of course, more than warm, more like a compact wildfire with the heat he gave off. He had been so cold, for so long.

But Lea was there, and he burned like the sun, and he kissed Isa like it was the first and last thing he would ever do, and the pressure of it made both of them feel more real than they had in a decade.

“What was that for?” Isa said breathlessly when they finally came up for air.

Lea grinned, arms still locked around his waist. “Axel and Saïx had their first kiss in here, remember?”

Isa blinked. He had forgotten entirely, but it occurred to him that Lea was right.

“So Lea and Isa…”

Isa laughed out loud. “You’re ridiculous,” he told Lea, and pulled his face down to kiss him again.

#kingdom hearts #akusai #lea #isa #saix #axel #kh3 spoilers #posts #literally pull the trigger that ending was so hard to whip out for some reason #flurryflame

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turntwriting · 6 years

Text

William Nylander- It’s Always You

Pairing: William Nylander x reader

Warning: none

Note: I know Matt Martin and his girlfriend Sydney just got engaged, but this story takes place at their wedding! I got this idea when I saw the video when he proposed, so cute! Anyway, this was a request so I hope you enjoy.

The ceremony was beautiful. It was bright and modern, everything you could expect from Matt and Sydney.

I didn’t get to congratulate the bride until the after party. She had seemed incredibly overwhelmed and busy, and I didn’t want to add to it. I wanted to keep my presence quiet. Once I’d spoke to her, I could go.

When she saw me, her jaw dropped. She engulfed me in a hug instantly, her eyes glossing over, tears threatening to ruin her expensive looking makeup.

“(Y/n) you came! I’m so glad you came!”

I reciprocated the hug. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Syd.”

When she eventually pulled away I held her at arm’s length, admiring her dress. It was a beautiful floor length ensemble, eggshell white and classy. It suited her unbelievably; maybe that’s what being in love does to a person.

“Well I’m glad you came,” she spoke before I could compliment her, making me realize I’d previously been silent, and I couldn’t help but feel a little rude. “I have something to tell you.”

My heart rate sped a little as Matt joined her side. He pulled me in for a short but warming hug, one I got the feeling would be a lot longer if he hadn’t overheard Sydney’s previous sentence. Knowing she was still talking he only mouthed a hello before snaking his arm protectively around her waist. Once again I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the love in which they had both been blessed with. I really was a bitter soul.

“What is it?” I asked, mainly to silence my intrusive thoughts. The couple looked at each other.

“I’m pregnant!”

This time it was my turn to well up, tears threatening to fall from my eyes as a range of emotions overwhelmed me. Happiness, hopefulness. A little part of it was that stir of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. That’s what happens when you walk around with a broken heart; it poisons all your other organs too. I pulled the couple in to hug them.

“Congratulations you guys. I love you both so much.” I gushed into both their ears, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “How far gone are you?”

“She’s only a little over two months,” Matt explained.

“You look good for it.”

“Doesn’t she.” The conversation seemed to die down quite quickly, and I was well aware that my time here was coming to an end. I contemplated leaving now. I’d said my congratulations; everything else was unnecessary.

“Well, I should probably get going.” I began to excuse myself when Sydney put a hand on my shoulder. She pleaded for me to wait, and so reluctantly, I did. Her eyes poured into mine.

“Have you seen him yet?”

It was as if the breath had been knocked out of my chest, and I tried to ignore Matt’s quiet scolding of Sydney intended to be out of my earshot.

“You don’t have to talk about it, (Y/n).” He attempted to reassure me, and I shook my head gratefully.

“No, it’s fine. I haven’t.”

I knew she meant William. I knew he would be here tonight, of course, he had more place here than I did. But I hoped I would be able to escape before there was any risk of bumping into him. I had no idea what I would say, or do, or if he’d be here alone. The thought of him with a date made my chest hurt, and I wanted nothing more than to leave.

“How long has it been?” Sydney pressed further, her voice cautious. Next to her Matt looked incredibly uncomfortable. You and me both, I thought, feeling my throat start to tighten a little.

“It’s been two years.”

Both their eyes softened and I felt tears threaten my own once again. I looked to the floor. Two years sounded almost longer than it felt. It had been an incredibly lonely two year too. I lived on my own now, falling asleep each night next to nothing but silence. I hadn’t even tried to get to know someone else. There was no point; if it wasn’t William, I didn’t want it. Not even so much because I missed him, although I did, painfully so, but just because I don’t have the strength to risk it again. It wasn’t that sad. I’d come to reason with the fact that I would never love again a long time ago.

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“Syd, I think we should sit down, the speech is about to start.” Matt suggested, trying to almost steer his pregnant wife away as he shot me sympathetic eyes. I gave him back a small smile.

“Wait, okay I’m sorry,” Sydney blurted out and as she turned to me I found it increasingly hard to look her in the eye. “Please don’t run again (Y/n).”

“Syd-”

“Please. Just please stay for the speeches.” Her cheeks reddened a little, her voice cracking against her will. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

I didn’t speak for fear of breaking apart in front of her, only nodding a small confirmation before someone came to take her away. I returned to my table as the sound of a glass being tapped sounded through the hall.

The speeches were nice. They were somewhat repetitive, a little cliché, but nice nonetheless. Mitch’s had been my favorite so far, a confession of his own fondness towards the two, how he’d been rooting for the couple since before they were even rooting for themselves. Sydney was positively glowing as several different people complimented and admired her. Eventually it looked as if it were all about to be over, and I silently counted my blessings as people began to talk amongst themselves. Perhaps if I excused myself subtly I could get out. I’d text Sydney a goodbye, she’d forgive me. She’d understand why I’d run. It was all I knew how to do.

Just as I thought it was over, Matt stood.

“Wait, sorry everyone, there’s one last speech. He’ll be here in a minute, please entertain yourselves or grab a free drink from the bar whilst you wait.”

I smiled at his professionalism even on his own wedding day. I couldn’t get over the fact that he really would be a Dad. I don’t know why I found it surprising, that’s what happy relationships progress too. Marriage and children and eternity. I guess a little part of me just felt jealous that neither of them would ever have to experience what it felt like to be alone.

“There he is!” A voice from the head table shouted, and everyone’s heads turned. There he was indeed.

Stood on the stage, a microphone in hand, his face supporting a large, awkward but sweet smile was William. I felt my heart fall from my chest. He looked incredibly, his skin matured and clear, his blond hair nicely done, wearing a dark, classic suit. He looked taller, more muscular, more confident even. He looked more himself. I guess only one of us had healed after that winter night two years ago, and it hadn’t been me. I looked down at my ring finger. Sometimes it felt like the tan line was still there, a slightly paler band just above where my knuckle is, as if my entire hand is taunting me. Seeing William up on that stage felt somewhat like a mockery. We had come so close, and a tiny part of me couldn’t help but wish that it was me sitting where Sydney was. I shook off this thought as William began to speak.

He introduced himself well, really presenting the skills that his job had taught him over the years. I haven’t watch a Leaf’s game, or any hockey game much since.. I’d really tried to remove myself entirely. To remove him. The room fell entirely silent as his real speech began, all the William jokes and taunting over and done with.

“Look, in all realness,” he spoke in his deep and endearing voice, sending soundwaves right through my chest. “No one needs me to stand here and say the obvious. I don’t need to tell you how good you look together, or how incredible the ceremony was, because you know that already. Matt, you don’t need me to tell you how much you’re winning with Sydney because, well, you must know it.” The crowd laughed as Matt rolled his eyes and William blew him a kiss before continuing.

“The only thing I wanna say is good luck. And I genuinely mean that.” Matt watched with genuine intrigue, however Sydney’s eyes seemed to be elsewhere, as if she were searching through the crowd. “You two together have a love that is so comfortable and homely, whilst also being so firey and spontaneous, and it really does keep the world spinning. It’s the type of love a man only gets once in his lifetime.” The crowd cooed slightly as William momentarily looked at the floor, and I wondered if they were as in love with him in this moment as I was.

“A love where you’re so content and happy with each other as you are really does only come around once, and you two have already got it and secured it. And I hope you secure it forever. Because God knows once you let go, it never comes back to you.” He forced a smile. “Bitter sweet, as they call it.”

Sydney was still searching with hunting eyes and I got the feeling I was the prey. As William raised his glass my vision blurred, and I knew I had to go. The guilt swept over me faster than my own feet off the ground but there was no way I could stay without choking up the only pieces of my heart I had left all over the maroon tablecloth.

I didn’t plan my exit route, only weaving my way through the tables somewhat frantically, trying to stick to the dark corners of the room. Once I found a back door I ran for it. It wasn’t practical. But I needed the time alone.

Once I was out of sight I pressed my back to the brick wall and let myself fall apart. The tears fell like cascades down my face, loud, messy sobs as I struggled to catch my breath. The knowledge that I would have to go back in in this state to be able to leave only made me cry harder as I questioned why I had even put myself through this mess in the first place. Maybe this is what I was destined for. A life of avoidance and hurt. Because it had been five years, and so far I had learned, the hurt never really seems to go away.

“(Y/n)?” It felt like my soul leaving my body once I heard him say my name. My eyes shot open, breathing speeding up once more as I realized he was close. Suddenly I heard him turn the corner. It was too late to run this time.

“Oh my God, (Y/n).”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping if I did so for long enough he would just disappear. He’d leave me behind again. But he didn’t. His tone was hard to read, and I could feel even without looking at him that he would be running his hands through his hair right now, jittering his legs out of nerves. He edged closer towards me and I screamed.

“(Y/n), please. Please don’t push me away. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Oh but you do that without meaning to William, I thought, but I remained silent. There’s no way he couldn’t hurt me. His presence here was hurting me. His presence in my memory had been hurting me every day for the past two years. But nonetheless, I steadied my breathing, focusing on the pavement in front of me.

“It’s all in your breathing. Focus on that.” His voice was laced with concern, but was still quiet, as if he was afraid I would crack should he be too loud, like a glass window in a gospel choir. I only nodded. Soon enough my breathing slowed.

“(Y/n) please let me talk to you. Please don’t run away again.” The words, although maybe not intended to be, came out as more of a question than a demand and I opened my eyes once again, allowing myself the small tester sight of him in my peripheral vision.

“Okay,” my broken voice sounded in a short whisper.

“I miss you, (Y/n).”

“Don’t,” I warned, but he continued.

“No, listen to me (Y/n), please. Please, for once, just let me in. Don’t leave me out in the dark again, I can’t take it.”

“So talk,” I almost urged, not wanting to hear him beg anymore, the guilt weighing me down until I was being curb stomped by my own conscience.

“Maybe you should talk? It looks like you have some stuff on your mind. I get the feeling you don’t talk to anyone else so, maybe you should be the one talking.” He sighed when I stayed quiet, but it wasn’t a sigh of defeat. I suddenly felt a warmth towards him for the way he didn’t lose hope in me. He saw my demons, looked them straight in the eye, but he didn’t run from them. I owed him that.

“There must be something, (Y/n). Something you want to say, something you want to know. It’s been two years.” It sounded even worse coming from his mouth. I still didn’t look at him, staring at my shoes.

“How many people have you been with since?” I whispered, afraid of the answer and unsure why I was even asking. The number was probably high; everyone wants to get with a hockey player. He moved a little closer, carefully.

“A big fat total of zero.” The answer surprised me more than what I let on.

“I’m serious,” he confirmed. “There was a stage where Freddie tried to set me up with people, taking me out on double dates with him, but it never went anywhere. Not even a kiss. The other guys always mock me for it.” I felt him look down at his shoes. He deserved to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me. “You?” He asked hesitantly, and I almost laughed at the thought.

“None.”

“No one at all?” There was shock present in his voice. Did he really think I was capable of choosing anyone other than him? I shook my head to clarify.

“(Y/n) why?” Finally, I pluck up the courage to look at him. His blue eyes poured into mine, melting me under their gaze and somehow I managed to voice what was on my mind.

“It’s only you, William.” It almost looked as if the words knocked him out, but he composed himself pretty fast. The way he watched me, it was as if he was afraid I’d disappear should he let me out of his eyesight for even a minute.

“(Y/n) why are we dragging this out? We belong together, you know it, I know it, everybody knows it. Why are we prolonging this pain?” I shook my head, tears threatening to fall for what felt like the thousandth time tonight.

“We didn’t work before William, what makes you think we can now? I can’t go through that again.”

He edged closer again. “Because we know now what it’s like to be without each other. Now that you’re here in front of me, I don’t ever want to let you go again. I’d never do anything to compromise us again, (Y/n).”

“There are so many other people, -”

“And I choose you.” He cut me off with desperation. “Even after everything. I still choose you. No one else is even an option.”

Admittedly, I had given in. I was terrified. But I knew I didn’t want to be without him. Now that I’d learned what it was like to live with him, I didn’t want to learn to live without, because God knows after two years I still hadn’t accustomed to it. I knew it could be my biggest risk. But it could also be my only chance at healing.

“I choose you too,” I murmured. William moved closer once again, like he was unsure he had heard me right.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked cautiously. I nodded. Before I knew it, his hand was on the side of my face, holding me in place gently. His lips moved against mine so slowly and I drank in every second. This was what I had been waiting for. This was what I’d needed to fix me.

“I love you, (Y/n),” he spoke into the kiss, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. My hands moved through his hair.

“I love you too William. Always.”

#William Nylander #wiliam nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander imagines #NHL imagines #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey #hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs #Toronto #maple leafs #maple leafs imagines #maple leafs imagine

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whateverisbeautiful · 6 years

Text

Richonne in Retrospect

#7: The Spark (3x12)

Okay, so this next “Clear” moment is really special. And its particularly special cuz I think it’s the first time Rick and Michonne become more consciously aware that there might be something special between them. 😊

In re-watching their moments for these analysis, I’d try to figure out when exactly were the moments when R&M were more self aware of the fact that their could be something more between them, and to me this was one of the first big moments where I feel like they both sensed a spark.

So their first stop on this run is going to the station where Rick thinks they’ll be able to find the weapons they need. However, he thought. Because the place has been swept clean and there’s not any guns there.

We then see Rick have a moment of very visible frustration that the guns are gone. Like Homeboy’s pretty ticked and you can tell he’s taking this L pretty hard.

And I love that in contrast to Rick’s more frazzled reaction, we have Michonne who’s still cool calm and collected. I appreciate how her calm and composed nature definitely balances Rick out both throughout this scene and throughout their relationship. Especially with how distraught Rick had become after Lori, he def needs a calming presence like Michonne in his life, y’all. 💯

So Michonne walks further into the empty place and spots a single bullet. I feel like that bullet is symbolic of a small glimmer of hope. Like Rick thought there would be guns and, while that ended up not being the case, there was still this lone bullet which serves as a sign that hope is not lost.

And by Michonne picking it up she becomes associated with a more hopeful approach. Plus, it lets you know that she’s not disappointed with Rick or looking at him as a failure, she’s finding the potential in the situation.

I think her more hopeful approach is further confirmed when she calmly asks if they have any other police stations in town. Cuz as antsy and frustrated as Rick is, she’s not riled up or fretting, she’s just ready to figure out how they make this work from here.

Rick tells her how he was the police in this rather small town and as he tries to collect himself he starts talking about how there’s other places to check. He mentions how there may not be as many guns as were in here and then we see the beginning of the way they always repeat each other’s words cuz she says, “We need as many guns as were in here.”

And again, it’s not said in a challenging or upset way but more so in a way where she’s just stating the honest facts. And then, this is such a small thing, but I appreciate that he says, “Yeah we do” because he’s verbally acknowledging and agreeing with her rather than just moving onto the next thing.

Now, y’all this is where this scene gets particularly interesting lol. Cuz Rick starts to mention the other places they can find guns and Michonne is just you know listening and not doing anything to trigger him, right?

And yet, once Rick lays out his plan, he feels the need to pause and ask her, “Do you have a problem with that approach?” 🙃

It’s hilarious to me because Homegirl did literally nothing to imply she had a problem with that approach. But this just again illustrates how Rick’s a lil sensitive when it comes to Michonne. 😋

And I love that as much as he might have wanted to sound challenging asking this, it really does come across more like he genuinely wants to know her opinion on if she thinks it’s a bad or good idea. It could have easily been asked in an aggressive way, and while he’s def on edge, there’s still this element of respect in the way he asks.

It’s interesting how after he said the guns might still be there he immediately looked to her and because she hadn’t responded right away he quickly assumed it might be because she disapproves. And to me this really showcases the damage Rick had from his last relationship.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying the flaws in Rick and Lori’s relationship were all on Lori or all one sided, but I do think that Rick got very used to constantly being questioned and misunderstood and even disapproved of from Lori and I think by asking if Michonne has a problem it’s him expecting and bracing himself for yet another person to express doubt in him.

Which is why I absolutely adore what happens next because he gets the exact opposite response. 👏🏽

Up until this point in the station, Michonne hadn’t really been looking at Rick but when she hears this, she takes a moment to quietly turn and face him and I love that she lets a little bit of silence go by as she looks right at him, almost like letting him cool off for a second.

And then in the gentlest voice she tells him, “No Rick, I don’t have a problem.”

Can I talk about why I love this real quick? Like there are so many nice layers to this moment. 🙌🏾

First; for her to match Rick’s antsy energy with such calm and composure is so great. It’s so pleasantly unexpected and it lets you know this girl knows how to carry herself like a queen. By taking this gentle approach rather than a snippy or confrontational one, she manages to diffuse the tension effortlessly.

Second; it really does feel like this is about more than just not having a problem with the approach. This is about her trying to tell Rick “I don’t have a problem in general” and she’s not his enemy.

There’s also sort of a sadness here, cuz like everyone probably thinks she has a problem but it’s her way of saying “No, I’m actually much more human and easy to get along with than people take the time to realize” and it’s such a real vulnerable moment between them.

Three; her response is so significant cuz it lets Rick know this is different than the last woman who would doubt him and have a problem with his decisions. Here’s a woman who instead supports him and is gentle with him. Rick was totally projecting his own frustrations on her but then she softly helped calm the situation. Cuz 👸🏾.

Four; The chemistry and spark between them are just so strong once she says this. Like I get why Danai might have read this and thought there was a little something something there, cuz there def was.

And then y’all I love the shot we get of her handing him the bullet. To focus on their hands in this moment lets you know they want this moment to be emphasized and significant. This moment feels very symbolic and low key feels like it’s alluding to the imagery of exchanging rings.

Handing him that bullet is a way for her to establish a sense of belief in him. Cuz again, even though that was the lone bullet in a place he thought would be tons of guns, there was at least something there and her handing that to him was her saying there’s still hope. It was the one slither of hope in the room and she gave it to him rather than give him disappointment or disapproval.

This passing of the bullet is also like her way of saying I’m not here to fight you; we’re on the same team. And she offers the bullet to him, he accepts, and they continue to slowly but surely accept each other from here. To me it’s also symbolic of her handing him a softer side of her that he hasn’t seen before.

It’s so clear that these two are having a moment rn and that there’s more brewing beneath the surface.

And you know who also seems to know that these two were having a moment? My boy, Carl. 😋

Like as much as I love the passing of the bullet, my favorite part about this shot is Carl in the center as he seems to be picking up on the fact that this moment is not so “platonic”.

As young as he is, I feel like even he could sense some type of chemistry between them. Especially in the shot that follows with Carl looking from his dad to Michonne like “What’s going on here?” lol.

And I’m so here for the little look Michonne gives Rick before walking away cuz it’s like an “I see you, the real you” look and also a bit of a “Partner, let me upgrade you” look. 😂

Cuz she low key knows just how to harness his frantic energy. Like she’s like “Bruh, just wait, once you’re with me you’re going to feel a lot less crazy cuz I’m about to be your source of sanity” lol. Direct quote from Michonne’s mind, y’all. 😋👌🏽

I love that she looks at Rick with this gentle face as a reminder that this warrior has a soft welcoming side too and you know Rick took note.

Like I think this moment played a big part in helping him be more open to this woman and it definitely further intrigued him. Cuz homeboy is straight up mesmerized and can barely hide it when she walks away. 💯

Like, y’all, a lot of the build up between Rick and Michonne was fairly subtle, however Rick’s reaction as Michonne walks away wasn’t subtle at all. Watching this back I realized that it was pretty blatant that in some way shape or form this man has caught feelings. Cuz what did she do to make him have to literally pause and recollect himself? Whipped already, y’all. 😊

Like he stays watching her go and then he sort of holds the bullet like it’s gold and then stores it in his shirt pocket and then looks up to the sky and it’s just a lot, cuz that man is feeling a lot lol.

When he looks up I feel like it’s him really wondering what this moment just meant cuz it certainly wasn’t just casual. Like I think, in the beginning of their relationship, Rick was a little shook that he might be able to fall for someone so deeply so soon, but that happens with soul mates. 😌

This whole prolonged moment of his reaction to her feels very significant for the show to linger on. I feel like to spend this time on this entranced reaction is because they want to hint at something. And to me it’s hinting that Rick knows there’s a spark there. He knows it. And so does Michonne.

Like I think this was both the phase in their relationship where they started to become a bit more aware of the attraction between them and also the first time they knew they felt a significant connection. And as time goes on they’ll realize just how significant that connection is.

Overall, I really appreciate this moment for establishing a deeper kind of chemistry between R&M and the fact that, in a few seasons, he would hand her mints the same way she handed him this bullet and then Richonne would be born, it just makes this moment even sweeter. 🙌🏾😊

#richonne #richonne family #richonne fandom #michonne #michonne grimes #rick grimes #carl grimes #not my gifs #twd #the walking dead #s3

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naturepointstheway · 7 years

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“Of Ghosts and Carols” Chapter 1 (Beauty and the Beast/A Christmas Carol)

So here we go, the first chapter of my retelling of A Christmas Carol but with Beauty and the Beast. I was inspired to do this several days ago, and now I’ve finally finished this first chapter. I may put it on AO3 as well.

@tinydooms @morgaine2005 @sweetfayetanner @chooseandact

Stave I: The Enchantress Appears

Where our story begins, Prince Adam’s father was already dead for a good few years. He had not been much loved by anyone, in or out of the castle, and, while they had heeded the traditional thirty days of mourning, no sooner had day 31 arrived, then off went all the black mourning garb. The cruel prince had left behind a grown man, a young prince Adam whom he had long ago twisted up to be just like him when his mother had passed away. He had forbidden anyone to intercede on the boy’s behalf from the day his mother died, and from then on, all had turned away from Adam.

And so, in the absence of such love and companionship, a void in Adam’s heart had opened up, growing deeper and darker with each passing year, even past his father’s eventual death. It didn’t matter what he did to try and fill that abyss, it stayed relentlessly empty. Whatever he tried to fill it with, it was swallowed until nothing remained, even when he tried filling this with ecstatic pleasure with woman after woman, still the abyss gaped wide open. He threw the most lavish of parties only the invitees could participate in, his servants relegated to the periphery of the gathering, and still that abyss of isolation taunted him, made worse every Christmas when the servants made great fuss about the jolly season.

For, tragically, with that long ago death of his mother, then too went any hopes of more happy Christmases. Not even in the self-same year of his mother’s death did he have a happy Christmas, with not even one present to show anyone still thought of him. The servants, too, had turned away, silent, even on Christmas day. Little wonder from then on he vowed Christmas was the worst day of the year, and little surprise too that he began ignoring the servants as a whole, relegating them into the background, no more important than their own stations and roles required them to be

Yet, for all his bitterness, Adam didn’t forbid Christmas from the castle—no!—he didn’t hate his servants, his household, that much. Hate wasn’t the first word he would use to describe his apathy to the servants—no, that was entirely too potent a word, wrapped in terrible connotation. Rather, Adam ignored them, even if he grew more bitter with each passing Christmas. If he entered a room where they were singing carols together, the song hit a caesura, and laughter stopped. Silence. A rest stop with a fermata. No more merrymaking whenever he entered a room, just them looking at him expectantly, waiting for some order or other. And it made him all the more bitter when no sooner had he shut the door upon exiting, the merrymaking resumed with much joviality.

But! On having stated all of this, if there was but one silver lining to Adam’s lonely Christmases, it was that alone of his household, it was Chip who would wish him a happy Christmas, even if mumbled quickly in passing when no one else was around to stop him. It did not chase away the bitter isolation and loneliness of the occasion, but it did soften his heart at least a little toward the child. At least there was one here who bothered to wish him a Happy Christmas at all.

As it were, now this joyous occasion was upon them once again, the castle alive with much preparation for the day. Even Cogsworth got utterly caught up in Christmas’s whirlwind. Adam caught him belting out carols as he and Chip helped decorate the palace with baubles and garlands. Mrs Potts baked Christmas cookies in the kitchen by the dozen—ginger, cinnamon, chocolate…oh! Such enticing smells—once upon a time. Now all these aromas did was bring back memories that might once have wrapped him up in a warm layer of nostalgia, but now just made him feel worse. Lumiere bust out into song at least a dozen or so times a day, catching up Plumette into great, sweeping dances that had them careening into more than a few Christmas decorations, but carried on nevertheless, like nothing had happened. What a happy scene, and he would never be a part of it, without anything to show he once had been so warmly included in the celebrations.

Well! Christmas was a silly, frivolous holiday anyway, and he didn’t really miss it that much, all things considered. He would have much preferred it cease all together, but nor did he like to deprive the servants and Chip of what brought them so much love and joy. It, however, didn’t mean he had to like it. Tolerate it, make the “best” of it, even if he hated every minute of the occasion. Christmas, a time for love and family. Bah! Humbug!

Then, late one night, a few days shy of Christmas Day itself, while he pored over letters at his desk in his study, the candlelight fluttered out with a gust of wind, though the windows were shut tight against the bitter winter outside. He glared at the traitorous lamp, as though to demand why it decided to putter out now; at the same moment he had that creeping sensation of someone else being in the room with him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, goosebumps ran down his arms, the hairs standing erect under his sleeves. The room glowed with amber light, as though a candle were still lit, though the lamp on his desk was the only one, and its wick still breathed grey smoke into the wintry air. Outside his study, he could hear the faint sounds of his staff singing a carol, led by Plumette in her mezzo voice.

We wish you a Merry Christmas

And a Happy New Year.

Adam shut his eyes tight, trying to block out that infernal Christmas cheer, and ignore whoever was in the room with him. But the presence did not ignore him in turn, speaking from behind him.

“Look at me.”

These three words were whispered in a woman’s voice, sounding both young like himself and old like a hag’s all at once. It was a voice that trembled with authority, and, though he resisted, fought against it, Adam found himself standing up nonetheless, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape as he spun around to meet the new presence in his private study.

On seeing the apparition before him, Adam’s jaw dropped open, heart pounding upon seeing the beauty of the visage’s face. Her long white-blonde hair floated around her face, her ice-blue eyes were the same colour of the sky, her lips were ruby red, and her body seemed to be wrapped in a golden cocoon of light. She neither frowned nor smiled at him, continuing to gaze straight into, Adam was sure, his own soul.

Realising he had been staring at her for the last several seconds, Adam mentally shook himself. Who did she think she was, barging into his study, much less his castle, in so offensive a manner!

“Who are you?” he demanded. “How did you get here?”

She lifted her chin, looking down her nose at him. “I am a powerful Enchantress, and I have come here to tell you of the spirits who will visit you—”

Adam laughed, derisive. “Spirits!”

If she was bothered by his derision, she showed no reaction whatsoever.

Instead, “Three in all, one who will come tonight, the second who will come tomorrow night, and the third the night after.”

“I shall have my servants turn them away.”

“No servant shall see or turn them away even if they could.”

“I’ll throw them back out in the cold myself!” Adam declared, his voice turning hard, “How did you come in here?”

“Magic.”

“Magic?” a bitter laugh, hollow as the darkness outside, the window reflecting the woman’s glowing aura. “Magic?”

“I am an Enchantress,” the woman said again, voice as calm as before, “And I am here to warn you of what will happen if you do not learn to salvage your last memories of what it means to love.”

Adam snorted at this.

“Love? I never needed anyone in my life!”

The Enchantress stared at him, her gaze piercing, so intense it seemed his very heart burned under her look. He tried to resist her intensity, the way she pried open his soul with a glance, reading what he didn’t want her to read.

“Is that so?”

“I do fine with my own company!”

“Perhaps you might change—”

“Change my mind? Hah!”

A silence fell, unspoken challenges hanging in the air between them. Her lips twisted up into a smile—not of humour, nor quite of sadness. Rather, Adam thought, somewhere in between the two.

“You don’t believe a word now.”

“Never.”

“I tell you this, Prince Adam!” the enchantress declared, her voice ringing off every surface in the room, the papers rustling and flying off his desk in the wind; there had to be a draft in here somehow—what else could explain this sudden gust? And yet the papers swirled around and the Enchantress floated higher up before him, more tendrils of light seeming to emit from her very body. Her eyes grew icier, a flash of anger deep in them, an anger so deep he couldn’t help but flinch, swallow even though his throat had become unnaturally dry.

“Tonight, as the clock strikes one, you will be visited by the ghost of Christmas Past.”

“Past?”

The Enchantress swept an arm out, “The past of your childhood and of your Christmases before!”

“Why would I want to see more of this godforsaken day?”

“You may learn something.”

“What, that no one cared enough to wish me Merry Christmas in my life?”

The Enchantress simply tilted her head, her floating hair shifting with her movement.

“Tomorrow night, at the self-same hour of one in the morning, you will be visited by the spirit of Christmas present.”

“I don’t need a ghost to show me that,” he glowered at her, resentment thick in his tense posture, “I have eyes.”

“The third night, two nights from now, you will be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.”

“This Christmas? Next Christmas?”

The Enchantress offered him a cool gaze, her lips twisting in what might easily have been a smile as much as it might have been a frown, perhaps of displeasure.

“You will find out in your own time.”

“What is the meaning of all these apparitions you speak of?”

“That you might learn love awaits you—” she swept up a hand to stop him interrupting, “—for what haunts you holds you back.”

“What is that supposed to tell me?”

She shook her head, as mysterious as ever. “You will learn, if you are willing. I offer you this in the small hope it may save you a more painful and cursed fate. Remember, the first tonight at one in this very room.”

And before Adam could speak a word more, the apparition vanished, the light snuffing out at once, leaving the prince standing, stunned in the dark. He stood there, he knew not how long, perhaps a minute at most, staring at the place from where she had vanished. It was only the distant lilting of Plumette’s singing that came from at once right outside his door and on the other side of the castle that brought him back to his senses.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,

Nor thorns infest the ground…

Somewhere, a clock chimed ten times, and behind him, the candle flickered back into life, the flame burning steady on its wick without even the tiniest of flutters. Too, the paper that had been flying around the room, as if caught in a whirlwind, had settled back upon his desk just as though nothing had happened at all.

He wasn’t one to believe this strange apparition, whatever it—or she—was, but something told him he had to wait here, wait till one in the morning, to see if this ghost of hers would appear. Where ordinarily Adam would have simply gone back to bed for the night, something urged him to stay where he was, at least wait until one in the morning, if nothing more than to humour this apparition and her words. He would feel silly when one in the morning came around with nothing extraordinary to speak of, but at least he would rest easy knowing it was nothing to pay any more heed to.

Adam sat back down at his desk, his attention now returned entirely to the letters he had been responding to. There was surely enough here to keep him up till one anyway, a good as excuse as any should anyone ask questions about why he was up so late.

Just a strange turn, he told himself, picking up his quill, no one will appear tonight. The hour will be as ordinary as any other.

#Beauty and the Beast

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ember373 · 4 years

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Musings after Heartbreak...

July 25, 2020 2:10 pm

I break. And I cry. And I feel sorry for myself. And then...I get up and do what needs done. Eventually, I take a deep breath and sift through the pieces and see what I can do something about and what I just need to set aside for now. Yes, my heart attracts all those jaggy little metal pieces back unto itself to cut me again and again, but there is a bit of wiggle room. I can maybe move this piece a little here, block that one for a bit, smooth the edges on this other one. I am a positive person by nature. So, no matter how far I get knocked down, I pick myself back up and try to figure out how to move forward. A lot of the time it feels like I’m being held down, standing still. But I still try to at least think about ways to move forward for the day I have enough energy to implement them. it’s exhausting, but it’s who I am-what I do.

I don’t like feeling lost. Out of control. Alone. Depressed. It goes against everything I am. It feels wrong. And that’s why it’s been so hard to live in my skin the last how many ever years. This week has been no different. I am both resolved to my situation but, at the same time, I feel like there is something coming. A change. It both excites and terrifies me.

After pouring all that out yesterday, I went about the rest of my night. Watched a few dramas. Shut it all down and sat alone in the dark for a bit to calm my mind. Was about to go to sleep being that it was 1 am when I realized I had to use the restroom. Came back and just felt a stir. I knew I shouldn’t go to sleep at that moment. I should throw some cards to clear my head. Looked at the clock. 1:23. Lol. I guess maybe the Universe had something to tell me...

It was obviously a drawing about me and Dev. Haha. Ok. Maybe not obvious to you, but definitely to me. That was what I had in mind. That was what was causing me the most confusion. I did everything in the dark and I threw with my eyes closed. I didn’t really think about it, I just did it. I think it was to shut my expectations and desires out and let the outcome be pure. Wow. Cards were pretty decisive. He’s non committal so don’t waste your time. You know what you want-don’t settle. You’ve given up control you shouldn’t have. He refuses to see any other perspective but his own-he’ll never get over this. You’re worth standing up for. He’s distrustful of women and he won’t be getting over that with you. The Universe may have given me a gift in him, but it got all messed up and the opportunity has passed. Time to focus on something outside yourself. While I realize that it was my fault everything got messed up, it was Dev’s fault for not being willing to be vulnerable enough to straighten it all out. That’s on him. If he wants to be a stubborn blind ass-that’s on him. I fucked up, but so did he. It is what it is. If I can just stop reacting so much, I’m sure he’ll eventually just fade away. Non attached me seems to get very boring very quickly to people. I think that’s the point tho. Idk. Maybe he’ll always be there. On the fringe. Because he’s too damn scared to confront anything and be vulnerable, but he doesn’t want to completely let go either. Whatever. He can do what he wants. I’m not going to be the strong grrr fuck you bitch I’d really like to be. But I am going to try to just let it be what it is and not worry about it. I have bigger things to worry about, I can’t waste my energy on this anymore. Oh, I’m sure I will, but hopefully it will get less and less. ;)

Today was still feeling unsettled, so I grabbed the cards again. Yes/no questions at first since I was kind of being lackadaisical about it. Ever since Margie mentioned it, I’ve always kept her telling me that there will be another love, a greater love, close to my heart. It’s my tiny hope. So I asked if I already knew this person. Strong No. Would I meet them by the end of this year? Strong possibility. Would I meet them while still married? Strong possibility that I would not. Would the oppressor cheat on me? (I have had a weird feeling that would be the only way this could end in the least destructive way as possible.) Strong possibility. Is he cheating on now? Possibly. I felt like it meant he’s not physically doing it now, but it’s on his mind. Not actively, just...he’s lonely and not getting what he wants from me. He might even be justifying it and trying to convince himself that it would be ok. Then I pulled a card to tell me when I’d meet this person. December. Hmmm... Ok. Time to throw some cards.

I focused on the person. What sign would he be so I would know it was him? What would he be like? Tell me about him... It wasn’t what I wanted, but I think it probably told me what I needed to know. I kind of just finished it, so I’ll process it here. 7 cards. Not a whole lot, but it’s what came out. No swords. I feel like it’s telling me I won’t overthink this, like I do just about everything else. So that’s good. 3 cups, 2 pentacles, 2 wands. Emotion, drive, and senses. No duplicates. Cards almost go in order. 4,6,7,8,9, page, Queen. They weren’t thrown in that order tho. I just noticed it. I didn’t think to look at them in that order until now. I’ll have to think on that.

I’m not happy with what I have right now. I am being offered a lot, the oppressor definitely provides, but I don’t want any of it. I don’t appreciate it. I’m ungrateful. Not that they are things I need to be grateful for, just, they’re not things I want. From him. So I don’t appreciate them like I should. This is affecting me. (Duh) Right now I’m in a situation where I have to depend on someone else and I don’t like that. The takeaway is that I need to use this to realize what a healthy relationship actually looks like and that one person shouldn’t depend so much on the other-there is healthy co dependence. I need to think on that and just give my soul a break right now. I will be swept off my feet, but right now, I need to start feeling more gratitude towards life and focus on the positive. Over these was a card telling me that positive changes will take place in the future, but I need to deal with relationship and love issues that I’ve been avoiding. I need to make the effort to heal all this. To come to terms with it. Need to learn what I need to learn so I don’t get caught up in the past and let it affect my future. Trust my inner voice, but don’t be afraid to ask for help (ugh).

In a separate grouping, things are moving forward and the outcome will be expected. It’s pretty much the logical conclusion. To stop it, which I don’t want to, but if I did it would be chaos. Just let things play out. They will. Over that was a card telling me love will come, it will just be a while longer. Time to focus on self (hmm...they keep telling me that...lol). I’ve experienced the lessons of the previous cards and now it’s time to absorb them and prepare to look for the deeper meanings in life that come after those lessons.

Next, I need to stand up for myself. I’m worth protecting. I may feel like I’m being attacked on all sides (work, love, home, family, etc). But what I need to remember is that a lot of my enemies are of my own making. I’m seeing attacks where there are none. My past hurt and trauma and PTSD have me all sorts of crazy and I’m fighting against EVERYONE, even those that could potentially be good people (sorry Dev...). It’s not the universe against me-it’s life being played out. It sucks that everything is happening at once, but I need to remember that the Universe has my back on this. This is what needs to happen. That stupid guy may be right-I’m close to achieving what I’m meant for, which is love and happiness, I just need to be strong and do what I know I need to. I need to remember that the Universe isn’t inherently positive or negative, it isn’t largely against or for me-it’s all about what I project into it. And right now, it’s saying I’m giving you the opportunity to have everything come together. You’ve been through a lot, put a lot of effort in, don’t stop now. It’s always darkest before the dawn type of thing I guess. I need to start focusing on projecting good into my life. I’m not in a good place and only I can get myself out of it. And that doesn’t happen by dwelling there and feeling sorry for myself. It happens by starting to set good intentions and actively work on manifesting them. (Ha! Don’t I sound new agey now? Lol).

The last card was me. A lonely woman. Someone who makes do with what she has, makes the best of what she can, but feeling like there isn’t that other half of her to share it with. Something is missing. This card also denotes a woman with a profound sadness having come from having moved on from a past relationship. Even when it’s all said and done, I may not be ready to move on yet. I need to take my time and process everything. I may think I’ll be fine because I’ve been disconnected for a very long time, but when you cut that final cord, you feel it. I’ll feel it. And I need to honor that and spend some time with it. Completely feel it and process it before I move on. As much as I wallow in self pity and wonder I did to deserve this, this was meant to happen. It’s helped shape who I am. I need to focus on the gifts it has given me. The light in those positives will help heal the dark wounds I’ve been nursing all these years.

Take Away? Things are coming to an end. I’ve been feeling it. I still don’t know if I can quite wrap my head around them ending this year, I guess we’ll see. I’m not going to do anything to hasten or prevent it. I’ve felt for a long while that the universe had some big lessons for me in this. There was some Kharma I needed to work out. I felt like being stuck where I am I must not be learning them. Or, in order to be rewarded for my knowledge, I would need to hurt someone and go against everything that I am. I think part of my anger at the universe was because I was so mad that I changed myself to accommodate the oppressor. So mad that anyone tries to change who a person innately is. Yet, I felt the Universe was trying to do exactly that. After it showed me that I need to go back to who I was and rediscover myself. Why bring me back only to tell me to do something so antithema to my true being? i don’t think I necessarily put it together until now, but I definitely felt the incongruity. And it wasn’t until just processing everything today that the thought occurred to me that maybe my lesson WASN’T to be strong enought to hurt another. Maybe my lesson was just to be strong enough for myself. To find that courage to stand up and make my voice be heard. it’s exhausting, but it’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Not laying down and taking crap. Voicing my opinion. Standing up for injustices I see. Not getting beaten down. i think that was the lesson all along. To have more confidence in myself and my abilities. All my abilities. I’m a strong woman, I just forgot that for a while. And strength doesn’t mean having the ability to hurt people. It’s the ability to love them despite the hurt. To love them enough to stand up to them and demand they be a better human being. I’m hoping that was the lesson anyway. Lol. Otherwise, I may never learn it. >.<

So...I need to do what I’ve felt I’ve needed to for a while now-get me back to good. Focus on honing my talents. Recognizing exactly what I want in life. Figuring out what my next career move will be. Opening my heart to the universe and allowing these things to happen. Having interests and learning more about them. Strengthening my sight and intuition and trust in myself. I did a reading for a complete stranger and she said it was spot on!! And in light of that, I still don’t trust my abilities. Lol. I need to work on that. I need to work on a lot of things. But I need to take them one at a time and stop being daunted by all that needs to happen. Bit by bit, I’ll get it done. I wish I had all the answers now, but I need to be patient. Stop forcing things. There is another love out there for me, one that will be all I’ve ever dreamed of, and it will come to me when it’s supposed to. Not exactly what I wanted, but what I must have needed. Time to take deep breaths and start the processes that will allow me to move forward. I will take steps back. And sideways. And upwards and downwards. But as long as I keep moving, eventually I’ll get myself in the right direction. Right? The sun in the world is especially beautiful after a storm. When it breaks through dark clouds and lights up all the drops of rain everywhere. You can smell it. Taste it. Feel it. It’s time for my storm to be over. The sun might not be here yet, but I can at least do the work I need to in order to be able to truly enjoy it. Clear my eyes. Free my heart. Let loose my soul. Be open to being the very person I’m meant to be and trust that I absolutely know who that person is. Or, at least, I will. ;)

**Side note. Or end note? Anyway, interestingly enough, I mistook my notes to say the Page of Cups instead of Coins at first and that card signifies soul mates or twin souls. Not sure about that, but it does signify a great love coming a person’s way. It gave me great comfort and I wonder if that happened on purpose. The card might not have been thrown, but maybe the message was still meant to be there. But it shouldn’t be strong enough as to overshadow everything else that was there. So here, take this little tid bit, set it aside, now look at everything else and how it relates to each other WITHOUT this card in the mix. It’s its own thing. If I had the physical card, it would have thrown everything off. Colored it. i do believe they were giving me hope in a way I could understand it. <3

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reptilerach · 7 years

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“Rejection”; Chapter Four

NOTES: Some bad language in this one, just as a forewarning. Also, thanks so much for the support and notes! I’m sorry I haven’t updated this in a while, so I made it extra long. Thanks!

_____________________________________________________________

Hoisting yourself up from off the carpet, you walked back over to the couch. You glared at Sans, but he just ignored you and propped his legs up across the seat where you would've sat. Not even wanting to bother arguing with him anymore, you decided to head into the kitchen and do what you normally do when you’re depressed. Eat.

As soon as you look through the fridge and find that nothing really edible is in there (just some rock hard meatballs and burnt spaghetti), you slam the door close and shove your hands in your short’s pockets. Sans was fast asleep on the couch, but you didn't dare try to lift him. Just as you were about to sit on the floor and sulk by the corner, a crash the volume of a plane exploded behind you.

You whipped your head around, thinking that the pet rock may have fallen off the table mysteriously; but it was just Papyrus marching into the house. Right towards you. You let out a small yelp causing Sans to bolt awake, jumping nearly a foot high. He rubbed his skull tiredly, looking extremely annoyed, but you could care less at the moment. He was being jerk, so you weren't gonna mind him.

Papyrus was the one who you were concerned about; next thing you know, you’re being hoisted into the air and spun around faster than a top. Hard, skinny bones hugged you close to a crimson scarf, which was as soft as sheep’s wool. You clung onto the taller skeleton’s shoulders to keep yourself from falling off, and demanded to know why he was holding you in such a vigorous way.

When you spat out a rude threat about how you would throw up all over the floor if he didn't stop soon, you barely noticed Sans give you a warning glare to chill out. You rolled your eyes, but complied. “GREETINGS HUMAN! I SEE THAT YOU HAVE AWOKEN FROM YOUR SLUMBER. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM JUST SO HAPPY TO HAVE ANOTHER HUMAN FRIEND! FRISK CAN GET QUITE BORING SOMETIMES.” He boomed, and you winced. But, alas, you smiled anyways when the skeleton set you down.

You wanted to faint from the vertigo, but forced yourself to stay upright until Papyrus finished speaking. Sans seemed to respect that. “Ugh….” You tried responding, but as soon as you wanted to work your vocal chords bile shot up your throat. Your eyes widened, and you quickly brought a hand up to your mouth to keep from vomiting. “MY, HUMAN! YOU LOOK GREEN! SANS, I DIDN’T KNOW HUMANS COULD CHANGE COLORS.”

Sans shrugged, and winked to his brother nonchalantly. “eh, this one can. she doesn't have a specific dominant soul trait.” Papyrus gasped, and clasped his hands together excitedly. “WOWIE!! THAT MEANS YOU ARE SPECIAL, UM… WHAT WAS YOUR NAME AGAIN?” He tilt his head to the side innocently, and kneeled down to your level. Normally he wouldn't have had to do that, but since you were hunched over trying to regain your sense of gravity, Papyrus took it upon himself to keep eye contact throughout your… pleasant conversation.

“U-ugh…(Nickname).” You stammered exhaustively, holding up a finger to give yourself a minute. “’U-U-UH (NICKNAME)’? IS THAT YOUR NAME? I LIKE IT! IT’S NOT AS GREAT AS ‘PAPYRUS’, BUT IT WILL DO.” Papyrus swept his hands under your arms, and pulled you up straight. Releasing you like a sack of potatoes onto the ground, you just barely caught yourself from puking onto the rug. The impact of coming down was enough to make you stumble back and desperately clutch the TV.

“Wait, Paps. That's not my actual-” You tried calling back to the giddy skeleton prancing about, but he just posed heroically and flicked his cape behind him to make it move. “NOW THAT I KNOW YOUR NAME, DEAR HUMAN, I SHALL MAKE US ALL DINNER!” Papyrus stormed into the kitchen, and pots came clashing down onto the floor. You cringed from the noise and your motion sickness, but froze completely when Sans called back for his brother.

“hey papyrus.” Sans cupped a hand next to his teeth to project his voice louder than the clanging of metal nearby. Papyrus poked his head out from around a corner, and had a questioning look on his face. You dart your eyes back and forth between the two, and gasped when Sans asked what was for dinner. “WHY, SPAGHETTI OF COURSE! THE MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS IS SURE THAT YOU’LL BOTH LOVE IT!” And with that, the younger brother disappeared back to his culinary masterpiece.

Sans flicked his pupils over to you, and snickered when he saw your look of horror. You knew that when Frisk had to try some of Papyrus’s spaghetti, they hated it. Now Sans had to go and make you eat it too? You wanted to ask if he would take you to Grillby’s or even Muffet’s instead, but the thought left as quickly as it came. By the way Sans was treating you, it was as if he despised your mysterious knowledge about… well, everything.

You sighed, and slumped down next to the TV. You brought your knees close to your chest, and your eyelids drooped heavily. You wanted to go to sleep badly, to just drift off into a land of dreams. Away from the skelebros, away from your certain death by spaghetti, and away from your feelings of rejection. But, the more you thought about it, Undertale is your land of dreams. Why is it treating you so poorly?

It's not treating you poorly, (Y/N). The little voice in your head said. It's just your emotions that are taking over your experience down here. Remember how thrilled you were when you fell here in the Ruins and met Toriel? When you first met Sans and Papyrus? Those guys are your favorite characters! Shouldn't you be overjoyed every second you are with them? You thought sadly, but countered with the person in your mind nonetheless.

Yes, but I don't know how to do that right now. When I was, ah... rejected, my heart shattered. Now Sans, my favorite person in the entire Underground, is being a dick when he doesn't even know it. He doesn't know how much I adore him, and he most certainly doesn't know that I'm actually a really good person. He just thinks I'm a threat to Papyrus, which I don't blame. I should be treating Paps like the cute little cinnamon roll he is, but rather I'm letting my depression turn into crankiness and I'm taking it out on my only friends. If the skeletons even consider me their friend. Mumbling a few more curse words under your breath, you weren't surprised when Sans coughed slightly to give you a hint to stop.

If only he knew what I was going through right now. If only he knew how confused, heartbroken, and depressed I was. Then he would at least have the decency to quit being such a rude host. You growled at your own words, but it came out more like a pathetic whine.

Across the room, Sans raised a brow in concern. He didn't know why, but he had some sort of odd sympathy for the large human girl. It was a feeling in his gut, tugging at him to crack some sort of joke to make her feel better. His brain fought strongly against it; this girl was dangerous. She has a very, very vast amount of info within her that she is not willing to share, which by definition meant that she was up to something. But… What if she wasn't? What if this human girl was just as lonely, sad, and useless as Sans felt about himself?

Out of the goodness of his soul, he decided to help the human get out of her mood. But it was done reluctantly; like he was only doing it because he had to. Like he was ordered to do so by a parental figure, or something. Which was ridiculous, because this was his house, and he payed the bills here.

“papyrus!” Sans shouted again, but Papyrus didn't come out of the kitchen this time to answer Sans. He simply yelled back, focusing hard on collecting bowls and plates. “WHAT IS IT, BROTHER?” Sans kept his gaze on you, watching as you refused to lift your head up. He frowned, but kept going. “is there a specific type of pasta we’re eating tonight?” Sans asked, and smiled when he got some sort of reaction out of you. You had raised your head up slightly, and plastered a puzzled scowl upon your face.

What is that guy doing?? Does it really matter what shape of nightmare we ingest? You thought sourly, and were a little appalled when you saw that Sans had been staring at you the entire time you were fighting against your own brain. Your heart skipped a beat, and cheeks burned. Dammit. I can't even look at him without blushing. Jesus, (Y/N). You really got issues, if you're in a heavy depression over a guy and wind up blushing for someone completely different. I really am freaking desperate after all…

You sniffled away some silent tears, and brought an arm up to your face. It didn't help cover your red cheeks, but at least it got rid of any evidence that you were crying. The last thing you needed was anyone’s pity.

Sans watched curiously as he saw you raise a tan hand and wipe your face. Your cheeks were glowing brightly, but your expression seemed miserable. It never occurred to Sans that you may be crying, but he did know that something was seriously up. Because after inspecting a such a soul like yours, the way you have been making your first impression appear did not seem accurate to who you actually were at all.

He grimaced, but switched back to a grin before anyone could notice. However, it's not like anyone would, mainly because when he peered back into the kitchen again he saw how Papyrus was busying himself by stirring a pot of homemade sauce together. “NO SANS, WHY DO YOU ASK…?” Sans smirked, and prepared for the barrage of attacks he was about to blow.

You thought furiously to yourself, and could feel those stupid eyes the whole time. When you had caught a glance of Sans’ smile whilst wiping your face, you felt slapping the shit out of yourself. Of course Sans knows what you're going through. He's the only character in the whole freaking game who actually mentions how he has to deal with depression every single day of his life. I'm only suffering a little compared to the amount of time that the poor skeleton must worry over his and his brother’s safety.

Always having to be weary of your surroundings...watching out for nearly everyone you know, since you love them...when does he ever get a break? You feel like a complete douche bag, and continue to belittle your inner confidence with harsh words. Sans knows what it's like to be confused, since he's the one who wants to know how and why I came into this world. I don't even know where to start looking inside myself either; guess I'm not going to be leaving the Underground for a while. Which isn't bad, since I have such lovely monsters to keep me company.

But here I go again making this all about me. That's why he rejected me; I'm a selfish know-it-all that was looking for love to fill the crack caused by loneliness inside my heart. And when I grew too attached, I knew that I would take it really hard when I was eventually turned down. Heartache is all I'm feeling, but Sans would understand that too. Because he's lost his brother before to Frisk, who was actually Chara, who was actually-

“well, i'm just saying…” Sans shrugged on the couch he was laying comfortably on, and you snapped out of your stupor immediately. “why make one type of pasta when you can have more? just imagine the-” he turned his skull to face you, and clicked his teeth for effect, “-pasta-bilities!” Your jaw dropped, and you heard Papyrus scream.

“GAH!! I KNEW IT WAS A PUN!! IT HAD TO BE!!! UGH!” Papyrus shrieked, and you burst into laughter. Sans flinched, and was astounded at the noise coming from your mouth. He thought you’d hate his joke, but luckily that was an incorrect assumption; thankfully, he had way more puns up his sleeve. “paps, get me some paper and penne, cause orzo ‘bout to make you guys do cart wheels for spaghetti!” Sans stood up from his seat, and reached behind the couch.

You perked up intently, and wiped your eyes from tears of laughter. Papyrus stomped out of the kitchen, still holding his huge pot of tomato sauce. “SANS, STOP THIS INSTANT! YOU’RE MAKING THE HUMAN LEAK!” Papyrus shouted, but Sans didn't listen. Instead, he pulled out a trombone from behind the couch and let out a comical riff. You sat up straight and laughed hard, shoulders shaking happily from joy. All the sadness inside you disappears, and you’re left with a rush of euphoria.

“now, let me patella ya something, kid,” Sans winks at you, and instinctively you bring a hand up to your face and cup your warm cheek, “if i were to try and explain all the different was that one could come out of their shell using spaghetti, i would run outta air inside my lunguini's! now that wouldn't be gouda.” At the end, Papyrus had steam coming out of his ears. He was stirring the pasta sauce so hard that you thought it would explode everywhere; foreseeing the future, you ducked under the table with the pet rock just in case. “ENOUGH SANS! THIS IS EXCESSIVE, EVEN FOR ME!! LOOK, EVEN (Nickname) IS HIDING!” He shrieked, pointing to you under the table.

Waving back to him, and he scoffed. You giggled at that, and Sans seemed happy enough that he would end his comedic act. “no need to be so saucy, papyrus. that's gnocchi way to act towards our guest! say, kiddo. what do you make ricotta all this?” He set the trombone down, and balled his hands into fists. His shit-eating grin was gigantic now, and practically begged you to retort back with a pun of your own.

Papyrus, on the other hand, literally cried aloud to do the opposite. “PLEASE, HUMAN! SPARE ME FROM MY BROTHER’S TERRIBLE JOKES! DON’T LET HIS BAD INFLUENCE ON YOU AFFECT YOUR ANSWER!!” He stopped stirring, and awaited your response anxiously. Sans was laughing over your laughter, which made you smile and your heart skip another beat on the inside. Your face was beet red from nearly hacking up your lungs, but at the last second a perfect response came into your head.

You took in a deep breath, and for a moment it seemed as if Sans’ mouth actual opened wide with ecstasy. Papyrus’s solemn expression dropped to one of annoyance, and then his face went blank. “SHE’S GOING TO DO IT, ISN’T SHE-” “HOLY MACARONI!!!” You screamed, and chaos finally erupted in the living room.

FIRST

Chapter Ten (Where all the chapters before that are.)

Chapter Twenty (Links for Chapters 11 --> 19)

Chapter Thirty (Links for Chapters 21 --> 29)

#reader X sans #sans x reader #frans #papyrus #sans #undertale #undertale fanfiction #fanfiction #anon x sans #female anon #reader insert #Skelebros #puns #bad puns #spaghetti puns #comic sans #rejection

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love-elizabeth-the-3rd-blog · 7 years

Text

Mc’s kitty adventures part 6

Previously: Mc managed to escape the clutches of seven and, still being in Elizabeth’s body, traveled to try and return to Rika’s apartment. But due to the long distance and the heat, decided to seek shelter in an Entertainment hall, which so happens to be where Zen is doing rehearsals. Mc finds out while hiding out in the dressing room that Zen’s co-star, a diva, has insincere intentions towards him for her own gain.

Now: Learning this new information, Mc tries to help out Zen while trying to not be spotted

Mc watched as the woman left to return to the stage, still shocked at what the woman had said about her co-stars and about Zen, Mc’s hair stood on end when she remembered how the woman shamelessly wanted to hook up with Zen to further her own career and just for his looks, thinking it would match hers perfectly since she seemed to be quite narcissistic herself.

Mc was perched on a wooden beam above the room that also went across the stage, where those bags would usually hang. She walked along the beam and calmly watched the actors prep below her as she did, it was nice and cool in this building compared to the heat outside.

She saw Zen preparing as well as talking a bit to another actor, and then turned her gaze to the woman, who surprisingly was just prepping herself and minding her own business, had she been discouraged?

Mc watched though as the woman side eyed some of the other actors near her judgmentally, with them oblivious, but when one would come up and talk to her she would put on this smile and talk back for a brief bit, but she seemed to not want to be bothered by anyone except Zen.

Was she playing it cool now? by not paying as much attention to him?

Mc wondered as her tail flicked a bit in thought.

“Okay! From the top, we move on to scene two! Minjae, Zen, come to the centre of the stage, we’ll have Zen’s character be tempted by the barista’s body.” The director shouted,

Minjae, so that’s her name, Mc wondered, watching them

Zen and Jin seemed surprised, like this was not how it was originally going to go,

“We’re trying something a bit different, to maybe spice up the scene or so, we’ll see how it goes.” The director stated further, “Take one!” he clapped his hands and the actors got ready.

They did the scene as Zen’s character sat absent mindedly at his table as the barista approached him, noticing that he seemed distracted and forlorn, as he thought of the woman he desires and longs for sadly but cannot seem to have.

The barista, being sympathetic, joked to get his attention, and she slowly does. She has a pleasant conversation with him and then sits down across from him. “What’s wrong~? You seem so lonely~” she asked as she crossed her legs and slightly pulled her skirt up to show more leg, Zen’s character sighed, oblivious to this notion.

“Love can be tough.” Zen stated, a distant look in his eye “You long for someone you cannot have, and yet, spend so much time thinking about them.” He sighed,

the barista nodded for a moment and then got a sly look on her face, a smirk growing and a flirtatious look to him, “Oh, honey, I know that feeling oh too well, even if the person is right in front of me~” she said in an innocent but suggestive tone and turned her body away, earning Zen’s character’s attention.

the barista sighed, her attention focused else where, as she slowly lowered her shoulder strap to show more skin. “Oh how I yearn for his touch, his love~ his lips on mine~” she said in a dreamy voice, Zen’s character’s eyes trailed her shoulder and gulped, tempted.

“Your words perfectly echo how I feel.” he said sadly, “Perhaps we are both just lost souls, yearning to find someone to belong~” he said as he gave a look of longing past her, the barista returned him a sad look,

She looked so helpless, he wanted to comfort her.

Soon, Zen’s character leaned in, as if swept away by the moment, and she leaned in a little herself while maintaining her innocent longing look to his lips.

“And cut!” the director yelled, “Good job!”

Soon Zen and the woman pulled a part, he was still a little stunned and had a flush on his cheeks, but slowly got up, “Sweet acting, handsome~” the woman said, smiling, before walking off.

Zen looked towards her, before Jin smacked him on the shoulder, getting his attention back.

“Man, nice! That seemed so real bro, tell me man, were you thinking of the broad you got feelings for that I have yet to know about?” Jin joked, grinning at him.

Zen looked annoyed at first but then softened, “I’d be lying if I said no, I guess it really helps me relate to the loneliness of this character, I wish I could get her attention.” Zen muttered more to himself, Jin snickered “Hey, I knew it, but how is there a girl the great Zen can’t get?” he joked, Zen sighed “I know, it all just puzzles me, I mean look at me.” and there he goes again.

Soon afterwards, Minjae came over to Zen as if to just get something and chatted to him for a bit, “So~ Zen, those words you said during the scene, I know you are a great actor, but those seemed genuine~” She said as she drank some water, Zen looked at her, a bit surprised that she noticed

“If she doesn’t return those feelings, it’s her loss, how can she turn down a guy that looks like you? So handsome~” she said and smirked,

Zen seemed to feel better at those words, and thought maybe he wasn’t fair to Minjae before, maybe she’s more than just making advances, maybe he could get feelings for this woman?

What Jin said did make sense, it was easier to date another actor since they both understand what it’s like to not always have time, and... he didn’t know if Mc even liked him or not, and yet, his heart still persisted to hold onto her.

As Zen was beginning to grow interest in this woman, she added “I mean what else do you need?” noticing that he seemed to becoming under her spell, but those words despite feeding his pride also dissapointed him, it shot any feelings he began to have for her out of the sky.

I mean what else do you need?

those words repeated to him in his head, of course, he knew he was handsome and that should of swayed Mc on it’s own, but somehow hearing someone actually say it was kind of hurtful.

After all, they’re just looks. Lots of women fell for his looks, and he wondered if that’s why he never really got any feelings for any of them, because that affection was shallow at best.

He wanted someone to see through that, to see him as him, not as an actor or someone who is handsome, but he truly wanted to connect with someone, he longed for that kind of love, the genuine kind.

He honestly began to think he won’t find such a thing in the field he is in, after all, movie roles can be all about looks and they seem to prioritize that, and even though he loves acting, he has noticed this unfortunate side, especially on the poor girls. He’s had to comfort a few due to directors shouting cruel words to them and their bodies.

So often, when women did come to flirt with him, he becomes flattered but in the end it never really grabs his heart. And yet, with the new stranger in RFA, he couldn’t help but be excited, it was someone new who possibly knew of him or not but, RFA was like his secret place where he could express himself unlike anywhere else, not even on stage and definitely not his social media pages, he always had a reputation to keep.

So RFA was his own person space in a way, and he could share that with her, not only that, but he noticed how warm and kind she was as she interacted with anyone, she never seemed to put too much attention on Zen’s looks or onto Jumin’s wealth either, it was like she treated them as both human despite their statuses, with Zen being a gift from God and Jumin being... with a silver spoon.

So as the days went on in the chat, even though she chatted to him platonically, he couldn’t help but fall for her more and more. She was the kind of person he would never come across in his busy line of work, so she was almost like a gift or rare encounter, and he sometimes wondered that her odd entrance was fate trying to get them together.

Oh there he goes again, he shook his head, he really was a romantic. He was brought out of his thoughts as Minjae stroked his arm, almost purring as she said that she’ll always be here and keen for him, and be better than whoever the girl he was hung up on was.

Mc meanwhile saw all of this on top of the beam, and after noticing Zen seem to be caught up with her words, she began to think that maybe Zen would prefer this woman over her. No wait, mc, what are you saying? This woman is evil! Why do you feel this way? her heart had warmed when she heard how Zen thought of her, and it ached seeing him not too be reluctant to this woman’s touch.

....

Either way, she had to make sure that Zen stays away from her, somehow.

Mc made her way to the dressing room and after thinking a bit, decided to try and find proof of this woman’s insincere intentions.

Though she felt reluctant as she didn’t want to hurt Zen in the process, so... maybe she should just sabotage? Yes.

Mc hopped down clumsily trying not get the attention of the actors outside, she looked around to make sure the coast is clear and that no one was coming, then went and dug in Minjae’s purse. As she dug finding the usual belongings a woman would have, she came across what seemed to be some of Zen’s things??

Wtf, okay. Mc then grabbed the woman’s phone and tried to search through it, she has herself as the wallpaper, typical.

Mc, out of the sake of the moment, did the most disgusting thing she has ever done in her entire life. She started hacking up a bit, and then spat up a hairball into the bag, the experience was... something she will prefer to never remember.

Mc jumped as she heard footsteps coming in, specifically high heels, and she knew who those belonged to. Mc quickly ducked out onto the stage area and quickly hiding under the long curtain that hangs all the way from the ceiling. She could see the actors clearly and see just how big they are compared to her, hopefully no one spots her here.

Meanwhile as Minjae walked into the dressing room, she didn’t notice the white cat quickly slip away as she was too lost in thought on how to get Zen. She started scheming since zen rejected her advances once again, and she decided to take it up a notch. If she wasn't his type then she will become his type, by finding out what he likes, or if she could black mail him, either is good.

As she thought, she glanced to his table and saw his phone,

hmm perfect.

She looked around making sure no one would see what she’s about to do, then made her way to it, picking it up and unlocking it.

A smirk grew on her face as she began to snoop through it, most of his phone contained reminders of meetings he had with directors, times for the rehearsals, his gallery filled with lots of selfies for himself, notes on his acting and how he has observed the character his playing and where he could better practice and research somethings and then... a messenger app.

She’s never seen such an app before, only knowing of whatsapp, but she wasn't really too into the tech stuff, so it didn't surprise her that she didn’t know of this.

Let’s see what Zen and the boys talk about shall we? I’m sure they’ve mentioned me, she thought to herself, and then went to open the messenger.

Yoosung was online

Yoosung: Oh hey Zen!

Zen: Hey... you

Yoosung: ???

Yoosung: Are you okay?

Zen: Yes yes, I am just taking a break from rehearsals

Yoosung: Oh yeah? How did it go?

Zen: I was great as always, did I mention I have a stunning co star?

Yoosung: No??

Yoosung: shock emoji

Zen: Oh, so I didn’t mention it..

Yoosung: Nope

Yoosung: I’m so worried about Mc, she hasn’t been on for so long now! Even you haven’t mentioned rehearsals until now since then

Mc? Oh, so maybe that’s why he didn’t mention me then? and he was so distracted today, is she the girl he so called likes?

Zen: Yes.. Mc..

Zen: Do you think she... left?

Yoosung: huh? No way, even you were saying strongly that she didn’t. You were going to check on her, but couldn’t.

Zen: Right.

Zen: Well, if she cared she would at least not make us worry so much, luckily I have someone who will be better suited for me.

Zen: Toodles!

-Zen left the chat room-

Yoosung: ... Toodles?

Yoosung: wtf emoji

Mc meanwhile, stayed under the curtain, watching everyone and even the directors, suddenly she heard footsteps near her but didn’t notice the person lean down.

“Huh? What do we have here?”

She suddenly heard someone say close to her ear shot, she turned and looked to see Jin kneeling down, practically on the floor looking at her with a thoughtful expression.

Her eyes widened as she felt she was busted, but Jin just smirked “Well aren’t you a beautiful cat? Taking shelter from the hot day?” he grinned and reached his hand out to her, which she eyed warily for a minute before turning her attention on him again, he was close enough to give her a quick scratch under the chin, causing her to purr.

That affection felt... nice, he chuckled when she purred, “So cute~ I want to keep you, but, I can’t let anyone know you’re here, otherwise you’d have to leave because of Zen’s allergies.” he spoke in a hush tone, looking to the others.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you being here a secret~” he winked and put a finger over his mouth, Elizabeth looked at him curiously “meerw” she quietly responded as a thank you of sorts, wow, she hasn’t meowed in ages.

Jin got up and then returned to the others, just then Minjae walked out looking triumphed as ever for some reason, that can’t be good. Mc snuck out and quickly made her way near the dressing room and peeked out where the directors were, and she saw Minjae talking to the director

“I think the scene would be a lot better if mine and Zen’s character make out passionately-” she was suggesting to the director, who just nodded “And I’m talking about a very heated scene that conveys the clear chemistry between us- I mean, the characters.” she went on to describe, more revealing clothes, more touching. “This is not a porno, Minjae, but I like your suggestion. Alright, we’ll do the scene.”

After that Mc watched as Minjae returned to the stage and walked over to Zen, talking to him, flirting with him. This isn’t good.

“So Zen~ may I talk to you for a moment?” She asked innocently, “Yeah, sure.” he gave her his attention, she looked somewhere else and kind of sheepishly shifted a bit.

“So, I have noticed the past couple of days you seemed a bit... troubled.” she stated, earning a surprised expression from him, was it that obvious. “I don’t know if it’s got to do with the girl that you long for, but, just so you know that I’m here if you need someone to talk to. I know it can be, difficult, these things” she elaborated a bit then looked him in the eye, “I hope you feel at ease soon, alright?” She smiled.

Zen looked at her, a bit surprised for a moment that she somehow knew what was going on with him and cleared his throat “Uh, thank you, Minjae, I really appreciate it.” he smiled a bit to her, but still looked a bit flustered and confused at how obvious he must have been.

“If you want~ we could get some, gold fish shaped bread afterwards if you want~?” she suggested, a little glint in her eye when she said it, this was going to be cake.

“Huh? You like those? Well...” he hesitated for a moment, he wanted to do that with mc to be honest, he felt a bit bad if he did it with someone else but, “Yeah, sure.” he smiled, Minjae was just being nice after all.

“Great!” she gleamed, internally celebrating, oh he was going to be hers real soon

“Alright, we’ll move on to the next scene! This time, we’ll have Zen’s character and the barista become more involved with each other, this is going to be a make out scene, I want to see a lot of passion!” the director instructed.

“Are you high Mr director san-”

“Watch your mouth, Jin.” the director said sternly

Zen, meanwhile, looked shocked, why was that necessary??

“Come on! Be professional and take it from the top, okay? Scene 3, take one, action!”

“Don’t worry Zen~” Minjae said as she walked up closer to him, “I know this seems over the top, I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable.” she said in a false meek tone, “I’ll try and make sure that the one take will be all that’s needed.” she smiled.

Zen’s shocked facial features softened a bit, “No, don’t worry, a pretty lady like you won’t make me uncomfortable. I hope you are alright with this? I was just, caught off guard.” he smiled, after all, he is professional. “Who knows~? Maybe you’ll like it~” She winked and smirked

“Alright, everyone get ready, Scene 3, take 1, action!”

Minjae walked close to Zen, swaying her hips as she did. “If you cannot be with the one you love, then turn all your love to me, is that not what you want? To love, and to feel love back?” She interlocked her hands behind his neck and pulled Zen closer, “You must be so frustrated, just as I am, we are beings mean’t to share love. So if we cannot share with them, why not with each other?” She leaned up as she brought her face closer to his, her character desperate and longing.

“Kiss me.” she said in a hushed voice, Zen closed his eyes and leaned forward,

As the two were about to kiss, suddenly something heavy landed on Minjae’s head, causing her to pull away and Zen as well. It was Elizabeth, she accidentally fell from the beam above them trying to figure out a way to stop the scene.

There was a big moment of silence from everyone with what just happened.

“Aargh!! What the-” Minjae began to yell

“-And, cut! That’s perfect! Much better plot twist.” the director said, chuffed as he got out his seat.

Mc was frozen where she was, freaked out until she heard roaring laughter from Jin.

Zen let out a violent sneeze that echoed throughout the hall. He sniffled and sneezed again, eventually collecting himself until he recognized Elizabeth, “FURBALL??” he shouted in disbelief, his eyes wide before he sneezed again.

“Get it off! Get it off!” Minjae screamed waving her hands, and Mc wasted no time to comply and jump off of her head, darting away from them.

“Oi! Now get the cat out of here! We don’t need our star’s face acting up now.” the director shouted, rubbing his temples.

“Alright boss!”

Mc’s heart raced till she saw Jin approach her and pick her up.

“Ugh, I can’t believe this, I have to go fix my hair!” Minjae yelled and stomped off to the dressing room, Jin smirking at her as he pet Elizabeth.

After Zen got a bit of distance from Elizabeth and Jin, his sneezing fits lessened a bit, but that silence was short lasted.

Suddenly a scream could be heard, disrupting everything, everyone looked towards the dressing room as Minjae walked out with her bag, “That thing just spat a hair ball in my bag!” She emptied it out on the stage in a fit, with all her belongings falling out including the hairball, Jin noticed something, “Hey, isn’t that Zen’s?” He asked as he looked at said belongings.

Zen looked at her oddly between sneezes, her face went beet read, “N-No, I just..” she couldn’t come up with an excuse, she stomped angrily and pointed out at the cat “Aren’t we forgetting the important topic at hand here? That cat spat out a furball in my bag!” she pointed at Mc in Jin’s arms, whose tail flicked at her, “No, Munajie, stealing is a criminal offense and we take that seriously here.” the director said sternly at her, honestly he didn’t care for cats or divas but stealing was definitely prohibited. “You’ll need to come to the office so we can talk.” He stated, and she let out a whine.

#mystic messenger #zen #elizabeth the 3rd #mcs kitty adventures

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