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sunnyie-eve · 2 years

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Deserve Love || Childhood Friends

Paring: Prince Paul (Catherine the Great 2019) x Original female character

Word Count: 2896

Summary: Prince Paul is finally of maturity age and needs a wife

Warnings: arrange marriages, hidden feelings, jealousy

Next: Oblivious

"Your Majesty." I bow as she walks by me. "Lilia, shouldn't you be waiting with Paul?" She gives me a look with a smile. "Yes, your Majesty." I nod my head leaving to go find Paul. "Where were you?" Paul says as I join him. "Walking around." I say looking straight ahead waiting for his mother to come out. When she comes out to talk we listen to her speech. "That didn't go down well." I hear Paul tells Minister Panin. I huff while trying to ignore their conversation.

"You know what I find amusing?" Paul says as we walk around the fountain back at the palace. "What do you find amusing Prince Paul?" I ask looking back at him as I walk ahead of him. "My mother can't stand German's, yet she's German, and thus she adores you, who is half German." He says as we stop walking. "I'm sure it's because I'm half Russian as well and that's enough for her. My mother didn't want to be married to my father, nor did she like being a princess, so she ran off with me to here when I was five. She was friends with your mother before passing so that gives me another advantage." I explain to him.

"Wait, so you're a princess? You've known this how long?" He narrows his eyes at me. "My whole life. When I turned 16 my father found me. He's glad I'm living well here but at times wants me to visit home. So that's where I go off to at times." I give him a smile. "Does my mother know?" He asks. "Not to my knowledge. I haven't told her." I continue to walk again. "Why not? It would make that joke of us growing up and getting married at the right age even funnier." He laughs walking beside me. "As you said, joke... Paul." I laugh. "I don't think my mother finds it as a joke." He scoffs as we stop again making me sigh. "Don't worry, I know you would never marry me Paul." I walk off of from him. "I didn't mean it in a cruel way, Lilia. It's just we're childhood friends." He chases after me. "I know. That's why I said don't worry. Now excuse me, it's my reading time." I give him a smile walking off. "Lady Lilia, a letter." Peter hands me so I take it.

"Dear Lilia, to keep a promise your mother once made. You are to marry my sweet boy, Andrei Razumovsky sometime after you become 19." I rip the letter up since I actually couldn't stand him but of course my mother had to go make a handwritten promise.

"Oh, there's an official explanation? You probably drafted it. Hemorrhoidal colic, wasn't that it? Terminal piles. My God, I hate her." I hear Paul as I walk near his room. "Excuse me, but you might want to speak with closed doors or anyone can hear your conversation." I speak up standing in the door way making the two look at me. "Lilia..." Paul eyes me. "I thought I'd let you know. Might I add, that isn't near suitable for your coming of age ceremony." I motion to his coat before continuing my way. As I make my way down the stairs Catherine was coming up so I stop aside bowing to her. "Your Majesty." She stops in front of me. "Don't you look lovely, Lilia. Paul is lucky to have a friend as beautiful as you." She smiles then continues her way up the stairs.

"There is no lie there." Peter pops up out of nowhere causing me to roll my eyes. "What isn't a lie?" I continue my way down. "You being beautiful, of course." He follows me. "I thought you, like many, have a thing for Her Majesty? Oh, yes. I can see it." I smile back at him. "Can I not find you beautiful as well Lady Lilia?" He gets in front of me. "I suppose you can." I try to move around him. "Lady Lilia..." Countess Bruce shows up. "Excuse me, Zavadovsky." I nod my head going over to Countess Bruce with a smile.

When we arrive for Paul's coming of age ceremony, I walk with Her Majesty and Countess Bruce. "Why is my son so unattractive?" She asks looking over at him but I of course didn't think that. "It may be something to do with his father. The Emperor Peter was the ugliest man east of Berlin." Countess Bruce tells her while I keep quiet standing next to them. "Yes, and now Paul wants to be emperor too... The moment he was born my mother in law took him away from me. She left me on the floor, bathed in my own blood and sweat. From that point on... I really never saw him." The Empress says as Lieutenant Potemkin comes up.

As they talk about other things I watch Paul from where I stood. "Lilia, why don't you go over to Paul." Her Majesty tells me so I nod my head going over to him. "Prince Paul." I say in a joking tone. "Now that you are coming of age, how shall I approach you?" I laugh at him. "No different than before." I catch his eyes look down for just a second making me laugh. "What?" He asks annoyed. "Watch your eyes, sir. I thought we were friends?" I tell him. "We are and it's not my fault you decided to suddenly show off. Who are you trying to impress?" He rants making me laugh more, "I'm not trying to impress anyone because there is no one to impress. And I'm not trying to show off. The dress doesn't fit all the way if they were in more, so the ladies worked around it." I explain to him.

"Your mother would like to speak with you after the ceremony." Minister Panin comes to tell Paul making him sigh before we all head inside. During the ceremony and many different ceremonies and speeches, I sometimes zoned out because they were never interesting. Back at the Palace I wanted to change into a different dress but I had to wear it to dinner later. "I hate that women." Paul bust into my room as I read a book. "Yes, yes, you may come in." I motion for him to come in. "What now?" I set my book down on the table. "I am the heir to the Russian throne... One day. I've reach my maturity. I should get married. Run along and think about beautiful women." He paces around the room before falling back onto my bed.

"She tells you to go think about beautiful women yet here you are complaining to me? I feel so honored." I get up going over to him. "Shut up, Lilia." He groans making me laugh sitting on the bed next to him. "What if we go along with that joke? If I marry you, I at least know what I'm dealing with." He sits up leaving his wig behind. "You know she'll want a grandchild at some point after right?" I hand him his wig but he throws it across the room before falling back to lay down. "I'm sure you will have no troubles finding a wife. And what women would say no to you?" I lay back turning my head to look at him. "My best friend." He looks at me making me laugh. "Please sit up before I see something I don't wanna see." He sits up and pulls me to sit up too. "Even though we are friends... you're still a man. Trust me, you would end up liking what you see." I joke standing up going to get his wig. "You still have your birthday dinner." I put it back on him nicely.

"If we had to get married... how would you react?" He asks as I touch up the wig. "Glad it's with someone I know but then freak out about things farther down the line." I walk over to sit back down to read my book. "Do you think your father will make you marry someone?" He sits across from me. "Paul you know woman don't have a choice when it comes to arrange marriages. My father could easily marry me off with some man I don't know and my mother already has promised someone." I sigh opening my book. "Who!" He stands up shouting. "Count-," I was cut off by a servant who said it's time to go to the dinning room.

"To my son on his birthday in the expectation of wisdom! To Paul." His mother stands up at the end of the table. "To Paul." We cheer and I reach over to pat his arm. "Now, you may have noticed there is an empty chair. I have invited one of the brightest and best of our young men, and he's late! Ah, bon appétit!" She says as the food comes up to the table. As we seat her guest shows up making us all look his direction. "Lieutenant Potemkin, at last." She tells him. "I am so sorry to be late, Your Majesty." He tells her going to his seat. "Well, you look quite ravishing." She says making Paul give me a look. "Behave." I mouth to him so he eyes his mother. "Paul..." I lean over slapping his leg.

After dinner I was relieved to finally get my dress off of me, "Lilia!" Paul busts into my room again making me cover myself up as I change. "Would you knock!" I hide myself. "Sorry." He apologizes. "What do you want now?" I ask coming out dressed fully now. "Nothing." He tells me. "Then why are you here? It's been a long day and I'm ready to rest." I pull back the covers on my bed. "Can you come bore me to sleep?" He asks with a smile. "You turn nineteen today and still want me to read so you'll fall asleep?" I give him a look. "As much as I hate to say it, yes. Since I was six you have always done so..." We just stare at each other. "I am the Prince and you will do as I say so come along." He leaves my room. "You're such a pain, Paul." I grab a book following him.

"Lilia, may I have a word with you around outside?" Catherine stops me as I come into the Palace from seeing Count Razumovsky. "Yes, Your Majesty." I bow following her. "I remember watching you and Paul running away from the servants like it was just yesterday." She smiles over at me. "We did like to cause trouble for them." I agree with a smile. "Growing up you two said you'd always get married some day..." She stops giving me a look. "It was just a joke, Your Majesty." I let her know. "But you two would be so perfect together. I also hear you are a princess. Why didn't you tell me?" She tilts her head. "Umm, who told you?" I ask. "Your father had sent me a letter." She says making me sigh. "Your Majesty, I can't marry Prince Paul. My mother had hand written a promise to Count Razumovsky mother and father. His mother is already planning the wedding. As of today, we are engaged..." I let her know.

"Count Razumovsky... Maybe if I pull some strings so it can be called off. I'm sure you would be better off with Paul." She starts to walk away. "Your Majesty... It was the last thing my mother promised before she passed away. I have to fulfill her wishes..." I rush after her. "Is that what you want?" She turns to me. "I don't really have a choice. Can you do me a favor?" I ask her so she nods her head. "Don't tell Paul..." I ask her. "Of course, dear. Now you have made my job harder finding a wife for my son now." She laughs leaving me. I turn around throwing my head back as I walk back inside the palace. I didn't know why I didn't want Paul to know. I know it wouldn't bother him. I guess I just didn't think it was any of his business to know about it.

"Another letter, Lilia." Peter shows up. "From your fiancé, I'm told." He gives me a look. "Can you please not say that out loud?" I snatch the letter from him. "My apologizes." He follows me as I continue my way. "Don't you have other things to do? Places to be?" I ask looking back at him. "Why do you want me to be quiet about it?" He asks making me turn to face him. "Because it's no one's business. Now go back to work." I make my way to my room with him still following me. "Peter!" I growl at him. "I have no work at the moment. Can't I talk to a friend?" He carefully takes off his wig to scratch his head once we get to my room. "I don't remember ever discussing us being friends." I tell him. "We go by first names which means we're friends." He walks up to me which means he had to look down at me. "I hate being so formal with certain people." I look up at him.

"Stop giving me that look." I place my hand on his chest to move him back as Paul comes into my room like always, "So I'm told mother is letting everyone know I need a wife!" He shouts than sees Peter. "Don't you have work?" He asks so Peter puts his wig back on leaving. "What was he doing in here?" Paul comes over. "Just giving me a letter." I smile. "From your father?" He asks. "Yes." I lie. "What does it say?" He asks. "Nothing important." I go put it in a box to lock away. "Oh, you know my friend Count Razumovsky... I hear he's getting married. That poor woman." He chuckles talking a seat on the sofa. "Yes, poor me..." I mumble. "Huh?" He looks over at me. "I said poor her." I take a seat on the other sofa.

"Remember when we used to run away from the servants because we didn't want to stop playing together?" He gets up coming to sit next to me. "And when they finally got us to our own rooms it didn't stop us. I always snuck to yours in the middle of the night and you would be waiting for me." I smile thinking back. "They hated us." He laughs. "Especially when we pretended to have husband and wife fights. All the screaming at each other we did." I laugh. "I miss when we were young... When my father was alive. It was easier then." He takes my hand into his. "I miss it too." I look at our hands. "Why don't you want to marry me?" Paul asks looking at me. "Why do you act like you want me to?"

"To keep my best friend around and..." He lets go of my hand leaning slightly closer to me. "Daring, I'm here!" We look over at the doorway to see Count Razumovsky. "Andrei..." I stand up first, "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" I walk over to him. "I thought I wrote it in the letter. Has it not come yet?" He asks kissing my cheek. "It did. I just haven't had the chance to read it yet. Paul was just asking me about what to look for in a wife." I lie to him. "Then you should be a help becoming a wife soon yourself." He smiles confusing Paul. "Wife soon?" He gets up coming over to us. "Lilia hasn't told you yet? We're getting married. My mother is planning the wedding." Paul just looks at me turning red. "Can I have a word with Lilia?" Paul grabs my wrist dragging me away from Andrei.

"You're marrying him?" He shouts pulling me into an empty room. "I didn't have a choice Paul! My mother promised his parents before she died. She wrote it out." I explain to him. "My mother could have convened them to call it off! How could you marry him and not take mothers offer?" His face gets more red. "Stop acting so upset that you don't get to marry me Paul! You said yourself, we're childhood friends. It was a joke growing up. It was all pretend to us then." I sigh. "It wasn't pretend to me or a joke. When I was a little boy, I couldn't wait for the day for us to get older and actually get married!" He shouts at me. "Now we're at that age and it isn't going the way I want it to." He tells me. "Paul... I can't marry you. Even if I wanted to, I can't. She signed a promise." I walk up to him. "Just say no." He cups one of my cheeks. "That's not how it works for us. You wouldn't understand being a man."

#joseph quinn #catherine the great #prince paul #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fanfiction #18th century

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sopebubbles · 2 years

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Chapter Ten

Summary: How many men will it take to save you? To be honest, you’ve gotten pretty used to saving yourself. Even though you’re far from a delicate thing, Los Angeles is a dangerous place you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try. The top 7 members of Bangtan should never have crossed your path, but they soon find they’d do just about anything to help you escape your past and make it safe for you to stay. But will you?

Genre: mafia au, poly ot7, angst, some smut, honestly a lot more fluff than i expected, POC reader/oc

A/n (from sopebubbles): Starting with this chapter, Fighter has officially become a collaboration between sopebubbles and beastie. We all owe her a debt of gratitude for repeatedly rescuing this story from the garbage on the many occasions that I decided I completely hated it. Without her we would have stopped at chapter 4. From here on out the chapters will be written by both of us or her alone. You're in great hands because she's much smarter, funnier and more creative than me, with an EQ that is frankly off the charts. So please be nice to my emotional support beastie. And thank you for sticking with this story. I promise from her on out things will get better for our girl. 🧼

Warnings: blood, some angst, but honestly the fluffiest chapter we've had so far!

Word count: 5.2K

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You wished you could say the happy bubble from the dinner you had with the guys made you feel safe, but you woke up with the full weight of your reality on you. Namjoon may have said you could stay as long as you wanted, and you may have shared a few lighthearted moments, but if you weren't going to outstay your welcome or if you were ever going to know any peace, you'd have to get rid of Joaquin. And you weren't going to be able to do that sitting on your ass and feeling sorry for yourself anymore. You dragged yourself out of bed to find some work out clothes before going out in search of Jungkook.

You found him, as one normally would at this hour, by the pool, practically falling asleep in the warm morning sun. You cleared your throat to get his attention.

"Morning, Val," he greeted you without opening his eyes.

You nudged him with your bare foot. "Let's get back to training."

Jungkook opened his eyes the smallest amount to squint up at you. "You can't train."

"Yes, I can. I'm ready, and there's no time to waste."

"No, Val. You got like thirty stitches yesterday, and I'm not going to get yelled at by Yoongi for you ripping them. Forget it. Take a few days of rest," he told you and closed his eyes again, angling his face away from you.

Jungkook didn't understand your urgency. In his mind, you had all the time in the world to accomplish your goal of taking out your enemy. And Jungkook agreed he needed to die. In fact, he was more than willing to take care of the issue himself. Namjoon had already declared that the man would die before your safety would be jeopardized again, so it was only a matter of time, practically a done deal. In the meantime, you needed to heal and get strong. It seemed obvious to him. But he didn't know how stubborn you could be.

You tried to hide your sigh of frustration as you marched back into the house. You passed through the kitchen, having no interest in food. Yoongi was still asleep. You weren't sure what Namjoon's sleeping habits were, but there didn't seem to be any sign of him in the house. He could be in the gym, but you decided to risk it anyway. You crept down the stairs only to find it dark and quiet. Evidently Jimin didn't rise early either. Satisfied that you would go unnoticed, you continued down to the gym and closed the door behind you.

You took your time to stretch and release the tension stored in your muscles. You did some leg exercises to get into a calm state, skipping over your ab work out for the time being. When you were finally feeling steady, you stepped up to the heavy bag and began practicing combinations. Jab, cross. Jab, jab, cross. A steady rhythm as you worked up a sweat. You tried not to picture his face, you really did, but as you put more force into your movements, you couldn't help imagining fighting your tormentor. His voice began to play in your head and before long you could feel his hands on your body. In the last week he had shown you just how much more powerful he was than you now. There was a time that you could really fight him off of you, but not now. You wouldn't be okay until you were stronger, and you wouldn't be stronger unless you worked harder. Why didn't Jungkook—or anyone—seem to understand that.

You lost all sense of how long you'd been down there or how much noise you were making as the volume of your grunts grew louder. It wasn't enough to wake up Jimin—or Taehyung, who was sleeping soundly in that Jimin's bed—but it was enough for Yoongi to find out where you were after he'd checked your bedroom and found it empty. Once he caught a whisper of it, he only had to follow your angry cries to the basement. He traced the sounds curiously down the hallway until he discovered them coming from the gym and rushed inside.

"Val, what the hell are you doing?" He shouted at you as you continued to punch the heavy bag, but you were so lost to fighting your invisible demons that you didn't hear him. At first, he was cautious about approaching you, not wanting to get caught on the wrong end of your fist, but as soon as he saw the blood staining your shirt, he didn't hesitate to act. He walked behind you and wrapped his arms around you, calling your name. Mistaking him for an enemy, you thrashed against him and tried to fight him off, but Yoongi didn't give up. He held you tighter against his chest and pressed his cheek against your head.

"Val, you have to stop. You're hurting yourself," he said calmly in your ear.

"No," you grunted, still trying to twist your body away from him. "Tengo que…tengo…" You struggled to get your words out as your mind tried to process Yoongi's arms holding you down and the scenario that had been playing in your mind. "Necesito…"

"I know," Yoongi said softly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "I know you do. Let me help you. Let me help." Your body started to relax against Yoongi's and go limp as he spoke gently to you. As your weight sank into him he felt your sob before he heard it. Your knees buckled and you went to the ground taking him with you as you began to cry, words falling from your mouth that no one would be able to understand, but he didn't need to in order to know how much pain you were in.

"Shh. It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you," he soothed, rocking you back and forth. It took a couple of minutes for you to calm down, until your tears fell silently. Yoongi looked to the door where Taehyung and Jimin looked in, pulled from bed by the sound of your outburst. Yoongi made eye contact with Taehyung, exchanging a pained look, but you weren't aware of their presence and they figured it was best that way, so Taehyung took Jimin by the hand and led him back to his room. When they were gone, Yoongi turned you around in his arms and wiped your cheeks with his thumbs.

"It's okay. You're alright, now, hm?" You swallowed hard, feeling embarrassed looking at him, and nodded. "You tore your stitches, sweetheart. Let's go upstairs so I can fix it, okay?"

"I'm okay," you responded reflexively. You hadn't felt any pain, but it was only that you hadn't noticed. When you looked down you could see the red stain on your shirt. "Ay, chingada," you muttered.

"It's alright. I'm an expert at getting blood out of things. Let's just patch you up first, okay?" Yoongi got to his feet before helping you up and led you slowly down the hall and up the stairs to his clinic.

After he sat you down he moved quickly about his space to gather all the necessary supplies, and you removed your shirt. You were glad it was only Yoongi who found you—at least as far as you knew. Yoongi knew more about your broken parts than anyone else. What were a few more cracks at this point? He couldn't possibly think you any weaker than he already did, could he?

You didn't realize that Yoongi thought just the opposite. That maybe you were just a bit too strong to know when to take care of yourself. He knew you were strong because you wouldn't have survived this long otherwise. But maybe what you needed wasn't strength, but gentleness. You needed healing and care and all the things you wouldn't or couldn't give yourself. If only you'd let him give them to you.

Yoongi pulled up a chair and sat to examine the damage you had done. Once he cleaned the blood away it wasn't too bad, but he would still have to restitch you. He sighed heavily to himself as he began to remove the old stitches.

"You know, this would have healed very nicely and maybe not even left a scar if you had just been patient and let it heal," Yoongi told you softly as we worked, cutting and pulling the bits of thread from your skin.

"What's another scar?" you mumbled, looking away from him.

"It doesn't matter," he admitted. "None of them do."

You scoffed at the way he said that as if he believed it, as if the marks didn't disgust him. He looked up at you with serious eyes. His thumb stroked one of the ones on your side right where your waist was the smallest.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had no idea how to respond to that or his touch or the way he was looking at you. You didn't know what to do with the warmth that spread through your chest at all of it.

"They don't. They don't matter at all. What matters is that you're healthy and strong."

"I'm trying to get strong," you muttered as your eyes got watery again.

Yoongi shook his head as he took his hand away and focused on threading his needle. "This isn't the way, Val. You need serious rest. You need to spend at least a week recovering from all that you've been through. When you're truly healthy, then you can focus on building up your strength again. Your body can't work any other way."

"You don't know what my body can do, Doc," you muttered bitterly. "And I don't have time to sit around on my nalgas and wait for something else to happen."

"You're safe here, Val. Nothing is going to happen to you. You have as much time as it takes."

"You don't understand!"

"No, you don't understand!" He snapped back. "You remember when you told us your story when you first asked for our help. You said you got to the point where you realized you had to heal and get strong before you'd be able to leave. That's this point. You have to give it time or it will never happen."

"Oppa," you said softly and he looked up into your eyes. "It never happened then either. I've never been able to leave. I've never been safe."

His eyes filled with sadness but he didn't look away from yours. "But you are now. Everyone in this house would do anything necessary to protect you. We'd each kill him ourselves just to keep you safe. What you have to do is rest and heal. We'll do everything else," he promised.

"Why?" You asked in a small voice.

That had Yoongi searching for words, not that he didn't know the answer, but he didn't know what to say. Confessing to you would be ridiculous right now, confessing for others, even more so. He was pretty sure you wouldn't believe him.

"That's a silly question," he mumbled and went back to stitching.

"Oppa," you started without knowing where to go.

Yoongi shook his head again. "Just promise me you'll rest. That's the only thing for you to do. Watch some Netflix. Read a book. Do anything but work out for the next week and I promise it will be worth it."

"Okay," you agreed quietly and sat still while he finished your stitches.

When he was done, Yoongi looked down at your hands and sighed. "Bare knuckles?" He asked, lifting one of your red hands. A few knuckles were bleeding, but not too much.

"If I get my hands on him it will be with my bare hands, oppa," you reasoned.

He couldn't tell you how much he hoped that would never happen; how he hoped one of the boys would take care of it for you; how he would even do it himself so you didn't have to. But you didn't need to hear that from him and you wouldn't. "I don't suppose you'd ice them."

You gave him a small smile and shook your head. "They're used to it, believe me."

Yoongi frowned and traced his thumb so lightly over one of your knuckles. "You know, just because you're used to living a certain way doesn't mean you have to keep living that way." He looked up into your eyes. "You can do more than just survive, Val."

Your smile flickered. You weren't sure if you believed him. "Maybe when all this is over."

He nodded. "Let me put a bandage on and I'll get you a shirt."

You stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I actually really need a shower," you admitted shamefully.

"Right. That's a good idea. I can give you a bandage if you think you can put it on yourself. Or you can come back down when you're done. Or text me and I'll come up," Yoongi rambled, trying not to think about you in the shower, even though you were already half naked in front of him.

"Actually," you looked away from him, fixing your eyes on your feet. "I'm afraid I'll get a bit side tracked. It's just something that happens and today I'm feeling a little…"

You let your words trail off, but Yoongi understood. Jimin had described the way he found you yesterday to him before you came down to dinner.

"Sure. I'll come up in about thirty minutes and finish patching you up. Does that sound okay?"

You nodded shyly. "Thanks, oppa. I don't deserve you."

Yoongi caught your hand as you slipped off the exam table. "Don't ever say that, Val. You do. I'd do anything for you, even if you didn't deserve it, but you do."

Your cheeks warmed as you turned away and slipped your bloody shirt on to make the journey upstairs. "I'll see you soon," you mumbled before you left in a hurry, avoiding his eyes.

Yoongi had such a kind heart and pure soul it almost made you forget whose house you were in and who he worked for. Yoongi didn't belong here. You thought he must have seen you as so incredibly broken, like a wounded bird that needed healing before it could be expected to survive in nature again. You hated his pity as much as you loved the warm feeling you got when he treated you so tenderly. No one had ever handled you so gently or cared for you so openly in your whole life. You'd have to do what he asked and heal quickly, if only for him to see how strong you could be too.

You tried really hard to keep your promise to Yoongi to rest and heal. It wasn't easy though. You'd always had plenty of energy and enjoyed being physical. It wouldn't have been so bad except that they also insisted on keeping you inside the house, so that Joaquin couldn't get to you. Just twenty-four hours after Yoongi had fixed you up once again you were already climbing the walls.

You crept down the stairs to the basement after casually checking to see if Yoongi was in his clinic, but he was absent. You were just going to take an innocent look into the gym. If Jungkook was there you could keep him company while he worked out. When you got to the bottom of the stairs though, you found Jimin watching a Korean show on the giant screen—at least you thought it sounded like Korean. You could see the back of Jimin's head over the large, L-shaped couch that dominated the room, and you assumed he was alone. You tried to quietly slip past the central space toward your destination.

"Where do you think you're going?" Yoongi's voice sounded accusatory from behind. You winced automatically.

"I think I left something in the gym yesterday," you lied without turning to face him.

"No, you didn't. I've checked," Yoongi smirked. He had been laying down on the soft, comfortable couch, but he sat up to look at you as you turned around.

"Okay, then." You gave in easily, not wanting to look like you were planning to break your promise—which you weren't.

"Why don't you come watch with us for a while," Yoongi offered, making a space for you between him and Jimin. You were going to decline, but you really didn't have anything better to do, so you went and sat between them.

"I can put on subtitles," Jimin offered, already clicking a button on the remote to make the words appear on the screen. You chuckled and he looked at you curiously since it was a dramatic scene.

"I can't read English, Jimin," you admitted. His lips parted in surprise and a little embarrassment at his assumption, but he quickly clicked through to find Spanish subtitles. Truthfully that wasn't a great help either, but you really didn't care. You'd learned English mostly by watching TV since you were rarely allowed to go out except for training when you lived with Joaquin. You didn't think you were going to pay much attention to the show anyway, but the drama sucked you in quickly, with a little help from Jimin and Yoongi telling you bits about the characters and things you had missed already in the series. Luckily they weren't too far into it yet. Occasionally they would explain things about Korean culture that were relevant to things on screen so that you would understand better. But mostly you just watched, eyes never leaving the screen as you paid more attention to the actions and facial expressions of the characters than the words that went by too fast for you to read.

You were so absorbed in watching, you didn't see the way Yoongi smiled at you, pleased to have found a way to distract you. He could get you to binge dozens of kdramas and escape into fantasies while your body rested and healed. He wondered if you would like anime? He could spend hours watching with you to make sure you didn't lift a finger. He didn't mind one bit watching your face while you focused intently on the story either. His eyes traced every feature, observing every slight shift in your expression as you did your best to work out what was happening.

Several hours into watching, while you had your attention fixed on the show, Yoongi hopped up the stairs to go to the kitchen for snacks. You still hadn't shown a clear preference for salty or sweet snacks, but when he thought about it, he hadn't really known you that long. Merely a week. He didn't really know your preferences on anything, but he desperately wanted to learn. He popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave and gathered a package of Oreos and his favorite chips from the pantry. He poured the steaming bag of popcorn into a bowl and grabbed a soda and a bottle of water from the fridge before he trapsed back down the stairs with his arms full.

He plopped back down on the couch, leaving a foot or so between you, where he laid out the things he'd brought, seeing what you would choose.

"Take whatever you want," he said quietly when you only looked at the items but were too hesitant to take anything. You considered a moment longer, your eyes flickering up to his once to see if there was a wrong answer before you grabbed the water bottle. He watched as you grabbed a handful of popcorn, lifting it to your mouth while you turned your attention back to the screen, completely ignoring the cookies. He settled back into the couch and opened the can of soda with a pop.

"Did you bring anything for me, hyung?" Jimin asked with a too-playful smile while Yoongi sipped his drink.

"You have legs," the older responded.

"Yah! So does Val!" Jimin cried, indignant.

"Val is recuperating and shouldn't move too much." Yoongi got a great deal of satisfaction out of the smug smile you gave Jimin before sticking your tongue out at him childishly. Jimin rolled his eyes and leaned his body away from you.

Jimin hadn’t exactly made his mind up about you. When you’d first started dating Taehyung he had apathetically failed to form much of an opinion of you. He thought you were attractive, but he found most people attractive. Jimin enjoyed having sex and could find something charming enough about anyone to fuck them at least once. But that was clearly not going to happen since Taehyung was insistent on keeping you to himself, and Jimin was quite sure that sooner or later his lover would lose interest in you, so there was no need to invest time into getting to know you. You were just a girl.

“She could at least share,” Jimin mumbled in Korean, earning a side eye of disapproval from Yoongi.

Considering his relationship with Taehyung, maybe he should have been jealous of you, but that wasn’t who Jimin was. Jimin wasn’t in love with anyone other than himself. Even as inseparable as he was with Taehyung, he couldn't say really say that was love. He liked Taehyung and had a sense of loyalty to him, but those things did not add up to love in Jimin’s mind. If Taehyung wanted to buckle down and make his life about some girl, that was his prerogative. It didn’t threaten Jimin one bit. And, of course, he cared about the well being of the members of Bangtan--they were like family to him. But love? Jimin has never been so sentimental.

And you? Well, even with you and Taehyung unattached, it seemed you would be staying around in Jimin’s life for quite some time, but he still didn’t know what to think about you. He did care about Taehyung’s feelings enough to be upset when you first broke the man’s heart, but Jimin had the keen ability to be objective about nearly everything, so he knew you had meaningful reasons to push the man away, and he couldn’t blame you for them. Still, Jimin did care about Bangtan, and he did worry about the threat you posed to them and his own status.

You grabbed the popcorn and scooted closer to Jimin, nudging him with your elbow, “Pobrecito, don’t worry, we can share.”

Yoongi whipped his head toward you in disbelief and then looked to see the smirk pull at Jimin’s lips. “Val, did you just–”

Jimin eyed you suspiciously as he grabbed a handful of popcorn. There’s no way you could have picked up Korean after binging a few episodes and you’ve only been with Bangtan for a week tops.

Jimin decided to test your Korean, keeping his eyes carefully to the screen so as not to alert you to his careful calculations. You had been around such a blend of languages lately, maybe you wouldn’t notice. “Do you like sweets?” he asked, slow and clear so you might understand.

“If they’re Mexican,” you said in English, apparently not registering the Korean. “Nothing can beat a good tres leches.”

“Aye, do you guys always talk this much when you watch TV?” You chastised. Yoongi laughed and settled comfortably on the couch. No matter how impressed he was with you already, you kept finding ways to endear him even more. And truth be told, no matter how many skills you possessed or languages you knew, the thing that warmed his heart most was listening to you happily munch on some popcorn and gasp when the villain turned out to be the hero’s brother.

After a few days of rest, Yoongi and Jimin had gotten you through several of their favorite shows. You had stayed up late with Yoongi to finish Sky Castle, which had made his normal late night much more enjoyable, but left you with nothing much to excite you for the next day. You had never been in the habit of sleeping late, usually woken up by the sun, especially in the summer, when it rose so early. You went out to the pool to see if you could bother Jungkook for a bit, but he was unusually absent. So you settled for wandering aimlessly around the first floor of the house, examining with your ignorant eyes every piece of art that Namjoon had meticulously curated.

After a few minutes you were perfectly convinced you did not and never would understand art. Surely everything Namjoon collected was not only expensive but also of the highest quality—at least to the type of people who were able to judge those things—but whatever meaning they had appeared utterly lost on you. Standing in front of a large canvas painted with two broad strokes of differing tones of blue, all you could think of was the way the dark ocean met the clean blue sky at the distant horizon in your native Veracruz. Memories void of any faces or events but full of the sounds of children playing and waves lapping the sand, the warm sun on your bare, smooth back, salt water tacky on your skin and the rough sand between your toes.

"What do you think?" Namjoon asked from beside you, making you jump and throw your hand up in front of you defensively.

"I don't think anything. I don't know anything about this stuff," you mumbled, embarrassed by your ignorance.

Namjoon tilted his head to the side and glanced down at you. "You don't have to know anything about art to have thoughts about it," he reasoned.

You smiled ironically at him. "I don't have any thoughts about anything, Namjoon."

"If only that were true, right?" He took a breath and stood firmly next you, as if he wouldn't move until you told him exactly what you thought. "Do you like it?"

You shrugged and frowned slightly. "The colors are pretty."

"Yes, they are. What were you thinking about while you were standing here?"

You looked back at the painting briefly before looking down.

"Nothing."

"You were standing here for at least three minutes, you must have thought of something."

You smirked at him and it almost made him smile. "You were watching me for three minutes?"

"At least."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to know what you were thinking."

"Don't you know I've had many blows to the head. Not many thoughts up here."

Namjoon sighed, somehow affectionately. "Come on, Val, humor me. Tell me you hate it. I won't care."

"It's stupid," you groaned. But Namjoon merely lifted his eyebrows patiently. "Fine. I was thinking about the ocean."

Namjoon hummed. "Which ocean?"

"The gulf, in my hometown."

"In Veracruz?" You merely nodded. "That's not stupid," he told you with a shake of his head. His mouth opened as if he were about to ask another question, but his attention was diverted when the front door opened.

"We should have called," Hoseok said quietly as he gently closed the front door.

"Namjoon, is awake by now. He's probably in his office," Seokjin replied, not having noticed you in the hallway to the side.

"I'm right here. You're early. Is everything okay?" Namjoon announced himself and you followed him into the foyer. Both men's eyes fell on you and you couldn't seem to help giving them a smile.

"Everything is fine. I just wanted to discuss some changes to tonight's plan with you." Although Seokjin clearly addressed Namjoon, he hadn't stopped looking at you. "Good morning, Val," he added with a nod of his head and a smile.

You bowed to him more deeply. "Good morning, ahjussi," you smiled. When you looked back up at him, his smile was gone, Hoseok was laughing and Namjoon had clamped a hand over his mouth. The oldest man made a high, indignant sound and puffed his chest with a deep breath. Then he deflated a little. Squinting his eyes and pointing a finger at you, he lowly responded, "Jungkook taught you that, didn't he?"

You shrank in on yourself slightly and gulped. "Yes."

Hoseok continued to laugh.

"What did I say?" You cried to him. You'd gathered that it was a term for a man older than you, which Jin was, but obviously Jungkook had left out some crucial nuance.

"You…called him…old," Hoseok replied between hiccupping laughs.

"No, I didn't!" You swore innocently.

"That little brat." Seokjin's neck and ears had turned bright red.

"I didn't mean it!"

Namjoon found your chagrin endearing and took pity on you. His large, warm hand rested reassuringly on your shoulder as he told you, "he meant Jungkook, not you. Just…if Kook teaches you any words, you should probably check with Yoongi before you say them to anyone else."

"Okay," you pouted. "I didn't mean to call you old. I don't even know how old you are."

"And you don't need to know. Not that old. Sunbaenim is just fine," he told you irritably. You nodded at the familiar phrase.

"Got it, sunbaenim."

Hoseok, it appeared, hadn't gotten his giggles out.

"Let's go into my office," Namjoon told the elder as the last of the tension diffused around you.

Hoseok looked between you, Namjoon and Jin for a moment before the leader settled his mind and gave him a nod.

Seokjin seemed to agree. "I don't need you in here. Entertain the child," he teased.

It was your turn to make a squeak of protest, but you figured it was fair and said nothing as the two men walked toward Namjoon's office. Hoseok turned to you and smiled, but said nothing. The silence grew increasingly awkward the longer you stood there.

"Where have you been the last few days?" You asked finally. You hadn't seen him since the dinner you had several nights ago.

"I've been busy with business."

"And your business doesn't bring you here?"

Hoseok shook his head. "Not always."

"Oh." You frowned and scuffed your toe on the tile.

"Why? Did you miss me?"

"No!" You replied too quickly. "With everyone in this house? How could I?" You went quiet but he didn't answer. "I thought maybe you were avoiding me," you admitted to the floor.

"I'm not." But his voice wasn't convincing. You could hear the apology coming before the words left his mouth. "I'm sorry for the other day."

"It wasn't your fault."

Hoseok's breath caught in his throat when he realized you thought he was apologizing for you getting taken again. "I–it–I was apologizing for the kiss," he finally managed.

"The…oh." In the fog of that day you'd almost forgotten about it. You just knew from others that Hoseok had been blaming himself for something that couldn't be his fault. The kiss almost didn't register for you, although now it seemed you could recall it perfectly and your cheeks showed it.

"I shouldn't have done that, without your permission, and I'm sorry."

"I think you already apologized and got yelled at by Namjoon." You tried to smile at the awkward moment. You didn't mind, even now thinking back on it, but it was as unexpected now in your memories as it was then.

"Namjoon is very big on consent, and that's right. I just…couldn't help myself."

"It's okay-"

"No. It isn't. And Namjoon said I can't come over unless it's for business until I learn my manners."

You smiled, and bumped your shoulder against Hoseok's, not saying anything but hopefully conveying that you two were really okay. The thing you wouldn't admit...couldn't admit, was that you had missed Hoseok. And Seokjin, too. And that didn't make any sense to you. It didn't make sense that all the members of Bangtan, all these relative strangers, despite their kindness and hospitality, gave you butterflies when you thought of them. Even Tae, in the way he wasn't around, was showing you kindness and respect that didn't make sense to you. For the first time, you were just existing, in a space, without expectation...and it just, it didn't make sense.

Before you got too lost in your thoughts, you turned to Hoseok, "Want to watch some dramas with me?"

His heart-shape smile gave you those butterflies again, "Absolutely."

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 1 day

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s1 episode 23 thoughts

back at it again with another post surgery painkiller and x-files combo, let's goooo!

i'm almost done with season 1, only 1 more episode! i'll have to see how long it took me to get to this point and then update accordingly- but i might finish today- which will be bittersweet

(update! i started watching 20 days ago, so a i'm at a little over an episode a day! wow, time flies. and yet it seems they have always been at my side)

anyway this episode was again Problematic but i did chronicle my journey like always. i am a citizen journalist.

episode opened with some math words, math words which i definitely knew the meaning of (/s)

then the scientist we see working on a sort of jet thing gets sucked into his jet- he was locked in there by the custodian- with a sound the closed captioning described as a "squishing thud" which was. unfortunate.

enter our duo! "how was the wedding?" "you mean the part where the groom passed out or the dog bit the drummer?" (mulder, teasingly) "did you catch the bouquet?" (scully, teasing back) "maaaaybe :)"

(your honor i would die for them. no hesitation. mulder, what do you care if she caught the bouquet? dreaming of her as a radiant bride or something? scully, you stringing him along with that imagery? lol. lmao, even. i need to put them in a bottle and study them)

another scientist is killed when the custodian puts him into liquid nitrogen which is not something i can endorse but he WAS rude asf so i get it. and then his ear falls off and crunches which was nasty!

scully says she has seen this happen on a fish before! mulder responds that this is not something they'll see on "beakman's world" (had to google that one but it seems to be a contemporary children's science programming of some sort. and there was a man in a rat suit playing a rat. which is absurdly funny to me. hold on NEED to get an image of him for you)

i'm. gonna fucking cry why does he look like that. need to end this line of commentary here before i start begging for explanations on what the hell was going on in the 90's

so mulder seems to think that the custodian killed his boss and all the other members of this team working on the fancy jet stuff, which we know to be true but we don't know Why. turns out our custodian, roland, is the twin brother of the head scientist, arthur, who died a few months back, and has since had his brain placed in a cryogenic freezing chamber. JUST the head!

i love when scully and mulder need a visual on what a person would look like so they go to the woman in the fbi that presses some buttons on a computer and generates a dude. it brings me pleasure to no end. then they look at the guy like :0 yup that is exactly who we are looking for. i eat it up every time.

! SCULLY LORE REVEAL ! she has two brothers, one older and one younger! (she's a middle child omg.........)

mulder thinks siblings have a psychic connection (which is actually deeply tragic if you consider his circumstances) and that the ULTIMATE psychic connection is between twins. so the twin that is currently in an icy soup is somehow connecting to the other twin to get him to kill all the other scientists and finish his research. sure. why not.

there's then a scene where mulder tries to walk in the wrong direction and scully has to correct him, which recalled him getting lost in the woods in an earlier episode i had No Positive Feelings Towards, but it does make him always driving funnier. like, can he follow a map but has no internal sense of direction? was the gps still in its early days? did he have one at all? how is he getting places? a lot of people want to know

the last remaining scientist who was not killed lowered the temperature on brain soup twin, which was stored in another part of the university campus where they worked. man my university campus has no jet propulsion wing OR brain soup section. did i get ripped off? what is my tuition even for?

anyway, the episode ends with the seeming psychic curse of soup twin being lifted from custodian twin, which we can hope to mean positive things moving forward

overall, like i said, any episode of a show from the 90's with the words "mentally challenged" in the description is bound to have aged poorly, which i am not surprised by- up there with the earlier Indigenous appropriation episode and the aforementioned episode i Shan't Name- but, we did learn things! for instance, that scully has 2 brothers (!!!), just went to a wedding where mulder teased her about maybe catching the bouquet (and also a dog bit a drummer, drop the full story time scully don't be shy), mulder believes in the psychic connection between siblings, and that there was a rat on a kid's show that was a mere man in a suit. that i'm still gonna cry laughing at.

#the damn rat. i had to stop myself from looking at pictures just to get back to finishing this post.#i will never be the same.#sigh. scully has two brothers. i will tuck this information carefully into my brain and store it on a high shelf.#i think when i'm done watching s1- which could be today or tomorrow- i'm gonna go through all my notes #and make a big “favorite s1 moments” list. one for scully and one for mulder.#there's some stuff i want to dive deeper into and remember moving forward #so maybe i'll do one just for scully and one just for mulder and then one for their interactions together #because it is hard to separate them! but there are individual things that deserve highlighting as well #like sleep deprived mulder telling scully which station the sports show is on. or scully raised catholic reveal. or her befriending a horse #anyway. much to look forward to moving ahead.#juni's x files liveblog #the x files #txf

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ghostmaggie · 2 years

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What is on your Nancy Drew s4 wish list! What do you want to see next season? How do you think the bodies, the curse, the sketchy couple/Ryan, the Drew Crew’s sort of split/coming to their own and the fortunes will play out? What supernatural hijinks do you want to see the crew to get involved in and what are your hopes for Nancy/Ace??

okay hi i wanted to take the time to actually answer this so sorry for the delay! this is such a good question and the short answer is honestly i don't know!! i feel like i've spent so much time processing what's happened i haven't really thought about next season.

so let's do it now in real time!!!

i'll start with the curse. i don't think it'll go down much like it did in my fic, but there are elements of that i WANT to see--namely, nancy getting help from the crew to solve it instead of stewing in any kind of self-sacrificial bullshit. ideally, she seeks out their help directly instead of them getting involved after they accidentally find out.

i'm really hoping it gets resolved relatively fast! not like everything being solved after two episodes, but i'm thinking like, 2-3 episodes max just for everyone to get on the same page, and then the actual cursebreaking can take longer. still, i would hope it was broken by a little past the halfway mark of the season. i think if it's much longer than that it's going to get old, but i do want to get some good pining and angst and an actual sense of stakes in there.

like, pining ace who truly thinks nancy doesn't love him and sad nancy who's actively lying to him? i have no interest in that. boring. overdone. useless. out of character. HOWEVER, pining ace and nancy who KNOW they love each other but KNOW they can't act on it? pls. i'll take 1000.

i have like no theories about the bodies thing. i am so bad at theories rip. one thought i have though, is that i don't know if this will be the start of a series-long arc or a one-off mystery. i'm actually kind of leaning toward wanting it to be a one-off, the start of a string of more independent storylines throughout the season, with something else (probably the curse at least for the front half of the season) as the overall arc. i figure it probably won't go down that way, though, and this will be the sign of some new big thing.

i think the sketchy couple probably will stick around. i feel pretty ambivalent about them, but i think this could definitely be a cool opportunity for the crew to interact with more folks who are deeply rooted in the supernatural shenanigans besides hannah and, like, frickin gil. i kind of want them to be non-evil despite the sketchiness just because everyone seems to think they're going to be a problem (which is a fair assessment lmao).

as far as supernatural hijinks i want to see? literally anything!!! i love hijinks! i've seen people talking about bodyswapping and i would honestly die for this that would be so amazing.

i also think there was a bit of a missed opportunity to do more interesting small-scale mysteries with all the stuff that escaped the historical society and all the weird stuff from the bobbsey storage locker. i'd love to see any of that come back!

also, more ghosts. i'm ghostmaggie. i'm big on ghosts.

i will go on the record as being very ??? on the fortunes/tarot thing. i honestly just don't get it. i'm not sure if we're supposed to think the fortunes have already come to pass, or if they're going to happen in the next season, or both, or if the people shown during the voiceover are the ones who apply to each, or??? i find myself struggling to feel investment in it because i'm confused, which i recognize is a me problem lol. at this point i choose to believe temperance was just making shit up because i think that's funnier.

nancy/ace. the biggest, hugest, most non-negotiable thing i want for them: no lying. no miscommunication. i want ace to know something's wrong (the writers have indicated he will, which, good). i want ace to not believe for a second that nancy isn't full of shit. i want him fully confident that she loves him and something weird is going on. self esteem for ace 2k22. i want ace to be able to tell nancy, look, i know something is up, but i know that we're going to figure it out. i want nancy not to try to veronica-mars it by herself and destroy all her relationships. like i said above, i want to see them wildly in love and resisting showing it. and then i want to see them break the curse and show it, with plenty of time still left in the season for some established relationship glory days.

what are your thoughts/hopes/expectations??

#thanks for asking #anon #post #ndcw #this is all over the place lmao

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jjmaybanksbaby · 3 years

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Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer IV

Part 07: Crashing Down

series masterlist | previous part

summary: A jarring family emergency forces you to consider the future of your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

a/n: I'm a little bit emotional about this series ending because I've had so much fun writing it! Enjoy the last part and, as always, please come share your reactions with me in my inbox. Okay, that's all from me!

word count: 2.1k words

Rafe Cameron knew how to text. He was somehow witty, charming, and hilarious all in less characters than a single tweet. Texting with most boys was like talking to a brick wall: single-syllable answers, unironic uses of punctuation, asking “What are you wearing?” before even listening to how your day went. Though, to be fair, Rafe had asked that same question a few times, which always earned him a sarcastic answer in return. Well, except for that one time.

You’d been forced to spill the beans about your dreamy summer romance to Alice and Kensie after one of Rafe’s funnier texts almost made you pee yourself laughing at the lunch table.

“Oh, so he’s a stud muffin,” Alice announced, peering over Kenzie’s shoulder at the photo on your phone.

“Please god don’t call anyone a stud muffin ever again Al,” Kenzie replied.

“What? The 80s are like making a comeback.”

“Yeah, not that,” you countered and Alice huffed.

“He’s totally hot though,” Kenzie said, handing the phone back to you. “And I kinda hate you for not telling us about him.”

You looked down at the picture. Rafe was kissing your check while you grinned up at the camera, the golden hour lighting made the whole thing look rather enchanting. It was your favorite picture of you and him.

“Oh shit,” Kenzie said causing you to look up from the phone. “You’re like in love in love with him.”

“What? No,” you protested. Yes, your brain corrected.

Kenzie glanced over at Alice for backup.

“Besides, I wasn’t hiding him. I just didn’t know if there was anything there to...tell,” you finished.

“I wish I had a handsome summer fling with spectacular cheekbones,” Alice sighed.

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear you saying that.” Kenzie chucked a fry off her tray at Alice who dodged it expertly.

“Oh, please. Matty knows I would dump his ass for someone who looks like a young Chuck Bass any day of the week. Gimme your phone. I wanna see the photos again y/n.”

“I seriously don’t know how you and Matthew have been together for two years,” Kenzie replied.

“Are you kidding? They’re practically made for each other,” you added.

“The phone, please,” Alice interjected. “I wanna thirst over your mans while my boyfriend is sucking up to his English teacher so she doesn’t fail him. Of course, I told him he needed to actually read Wuthering Heights and not just sparknotes it. But did he listen? No. I picked a real winner y’all,” she finished, taking the phone from your outstretched hands. “You sure Rafe doesn’t have any brothers? Not even like a half-step brother?”

So yeah, going great. Against the odds of three thousand miles, the whole thing was somehow working. Long-distance friends with benefits? Check. Well, except for those moments when that nagging feeling in your stomach came back and you’d start overthinking everything. His texts would sit, unread in your phone for days or even a whole week, slowly sinking to the bottom of your messages.

Then came the call from the Kildare Country Hospital in the early hours of a foggy April morning. You should have gone to sleep hours ago but were still up, desperately trying to cram Maria’s lines into your brain while also texting Rafe. The Sound of Music opened in three weeks and your director had already chewed you out twice for not being off-book, something about being an upperclassman and the lead, and what kind of an example were you setting for the rest of the program. Big speeches were kind of your director's thing, you learned to just ride them out.

Around 1 a.m. your phone ran with an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe. You pressed the green acccept button, a smile spread across your face as Rafe’s own filled the screen.

“Hey Broadway Star.”

“Hi Rafe.” The dim lighting of his bedroom made his feature especially striking. “What are you still doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. Plus you’re up too so. How’s the memorizing going?”

“Shitty,” you replied, closing your binder with a sigh. “I’m too tired to do anymore of it tonight anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking I could come to Oregon for your opening night?”

“Really?” The possibility of Rafe sitting in the audience made your heart race.

“Yeah, why not? I’ll ask Ward if I can borrow the plane that weekend and I bet Sarah’ll want to come too. I wanna see my girl kill it. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Rafe. You know my friends think you’re hot.”

“Oh, do they?” Rafe replied, rolling over onto his back in his bed.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Cameron.”

The home phone ran but you ignored it, much more invested in your conversation with Rafe. The second time the hospital left a message. Your Nonna’s heart had given out. The prognosis wasn’t good. She had barely any time left.

Your heart dropped as the words echoed over the speaker of the answering machine.

“Rafe,” you said, cutting him off momentarily. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back later. I gotta-” you ended the call before Rafe even had the chance to respond. You dropped your phone on the kitchen table, dashing up the stairs to your parents’ bedroom. Your father was booking a flight for your mother back to the Outer Banks minutes later.

The end had come so quickly, so unexpectedly. It was almost like that made it harder. There'd been just enough time for your mom and uncle to get to the Outer Banks, sitting on each side of your Nonna as her final breaths passed through her lungs. Now, everyone was there to say goodbye one last time. Uncle Austin and his fiancé. Your mom and dad. Both your siblings. The entire population of Figure Eight.

☼☼☼

Rain drizzled down from the dark, gray clouds looming overhead. It was as if Mother Nature was mourning your Nonna too, hiding the sunshine away.

Three baby ducks followed their mama into the man-made pond at the edge of the cemetery. You watched their tiny feet kick up small waves disturbing the peaceful water and the tears silently slipped down your face.

The cars were waiting to take you back to your Nonna's house for the wake. The same house with the for-sale sign now stuck in the front yard. The for-sale sign with Rose's patronizing grin that you were starting to really hate. Your dad had handled that. Listing the house. He'd handled most of the funeral arrangement's actually because your mother had been too sunken into her grief to make any decision. Sending out the invitations, picking out your Nonna's casket, choosing the flowers. Your mother clung to him during the entire funeral, weeping into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” Rafe's voice called out from behind you and you turned to see him walked toward you. He’d stood at the back of the church with his family during the funeral. You had longed for him to be sitting in the first pew next to you, to have had his hand to hold onto to ground you, but it hardly would have been appropriate. Your Nonna would have sooner risen from the dead than have had a Cameron front row at her funeral.

As soon as he was close enough, Rafe reached for you, pulling your body tight into him. Your head landed on his chest and the sobs came moments later. God, he always smelled the same. He just let you cry, holding you close, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“I know you’re selling your grandma’s house but I was thinking you could stay with me for the summer," he said as your tears began to slow. It was hard to imagine that you wouldn't return to the Outer Banks once school let out. It was the first week of May already and you could feel the tourist-attracting town waking up. But selling the house just made more sense. Your older sister was already living her life in New York, a real adult life. Next summer, you'd be moving out too, headed to college. The house would sit empty for eight months out of the year, your family couldn't keep it and your uncle certainly didn’t want it. Selling it just had to happen.

You stepped back, slipping out of his embrace. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rafe.”

“Why not?”

“Cause we’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I copied Cleo’s notes for that unit," he joked, trying to lighten to damp mood. “Plus I was never a fan of Leo DiCaprio so I didn’t finish the movie either.”

“It means we’re not supposed to be together, you and me. And whenever we try, the universe rips us apart. We hurt each other.”

Rafe shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly wanting to reach for you again but stopping himself from doing it. “But I can't lose you.”

You reached your hand out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “Oh Rafe, don’t you get it? You never really had me.” You stood up onto your tiptoes to kiss him just like you had the first time three years ago. Rafe barely parted his lips, kissing you back gently. Your hand cupped his face, your thump stroking over his cheek. It was a goodbye. Both of you knew it. It was an ending and this was your closure. You pulled away, your hand falling away from his face.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words. Your eyes fell to the ground. You needed to walk away now. You side-stepped Rafe but he grabbed your waist, turning you back around to face him.

“So that’s it? You’re not even gonna try to fight for us?”

“What even is there to fight for, Rafe? I’ve been fighting for us for the past four years. If we were supposed to be together that car wouldn’t have crashed into ours, I wouldn’t have fallen for Evan when I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at my Nonna’s funeral. What? Are we supposed to do long distance for all of college? I hardly know who I am right now. I have no idea who I’ll be in the next four years. Our future selves might not even like each other. I’m not gonna wait around for you Rafe and I would never ask you to do that for me.” You twirled the small, star charm between your fingers, a nervous habit you'd developed over the past year. His eyes dropped down to your neck momentarily and his adam's apple visibly bobbing as he swallowed his next weeks.

“You were it for me, you know. I tried to give a fuck about anyone else but I couldn’t get your gorgeous, stupid face out of my mind. I only wanted you.” Rafe paused gauging your reaction “I was falling in love with you.”

Your eyes wandered over his stoic expression. “The feeling was mutual, Rafe Cameron.”

He dropped your wrist but you both stood, not moving or saying anything. “Do you wanna walk me back to the car?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. Your other hand held onto his bicep so you walked together through the graveyard back to the parking lot.

The moment felt precious and delicate, like the fragile china your Nonna used to collect. You wondered what would happen to all that china.

Rafe placed a chaste kiss on your lips before opening the door of the car.

“I’ll miss you,” you said, the words hanging in the air meaning so much.

“Me too,” Rafe agreed.

You wanted one more kiss, one more passionate declaration of how much this all had meant but that would make leaving Rafe so much more impossible.

You climbed into the car, dropping Rafe’s hand in the process.

“See you around Cameron.” You knew it wouldn’t happen but it felt better than a goodbye.

He smiled back. “Maybe so.”

Perhaps Rafe was right and you’d both end up at a small liberal arts college in California taking the same second-year Econ class with a professor who always smelled like weed. Perhaps the stars would align and two of you would realize the universe wasn’t trying to keep you apart. It was just waiting for the right moment to show you that the love you had for each other was the soulmates, forever and ever kind of love. Perhaps you would get married and Sarah would be your maid of honor, of course. You’d buy back your Nonna’s house to raise your troubling-making kids in. Perhaps, you would find your way back and wake up each day and choose each other again and again.

Or perhaps, he'd always be your right-person-wrong-time. And, in the end, the passing days will steal away your memories of the blue-eyed boy from the Outer Banks.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #obx netflix #obx #obx fanfic #where it leads series #where it leads

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flipping-voltron-imagines · 7 years

Note

How would the paladins react to their s/o being drunk and when they try to take them home they say "sorry I'm taken" and procedes to gush about how much they love their paladin

A/N: I’m super sorry this took so long! Honestly, I’ve been working on it for the past week, and it’s been super fun! I love you guys!

Warnings: Alcohol usage

Lance

Lance knew that you had never had alcohol before, and that you were dying to try, so he promised them that he wouldn’t drink anything so that he would be able to help you.

Little did he know that you were insane when you were drunk.

You were dancing next to Hunk amid a small crowd of tiny locals, who laughed when you fell over and began laughing as well.

Lance beckoned for Hunk to drag you over. Hunk did as he asked, and soon, you were panting and laughing, and standing in front of Lance.

“C’mon, babe, we should get you to bed before you drink more and die,” Lance said. He reached out to grab you by the elbow, but you jumped back and screamed.

“NO!” you shouted. “I’m not going anywhere with you, sir! I have a boyfriend, and he is the blue paladin, so he can-can…” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a brief second, before continuing. “He can beat you into the ground! And I wouldn’t even th-think of cheating on him, bed-because I love him more than anything! So I’m take-taken!”

Even though you was acting ridiculous, his heart swelled with warmth. “It’s me, [name], Lancey Lance.” Your face lit up with a smile. “Let’s go to bed.”

Keith

Keith was really surprised to find out how low your alcohol tolerance was. Watching you struggle to interact with people was funnier than watching Lance drunkenly flirt with everybody (male and female alike).

The party that the paladins were invited to was coming to an end, and they were all beginning to come together to prepare to leave. The only one who wasn’t successfully found was you.

Pidge stood on a nearby stool and looked around, placing her hands on her hips. “They couldn’t have gone far,” she said to herself, “they were so drunk I’m surprised they even made it halfway through without passing out.” She sighed and turned around, and saw you slumped against a counter on the other side of the room, hiding in the shadows.

Keith rushed to help you. He shook your shoulder and watched your bleary eyes open a little.

“Go away,” you mumbled, swatting his shoulder. “I have a boyfriend, and he’s-um… he’s the most handsomest person in the universe.” You cleared your throat and sat up straight, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes. “I love him, and he-he loves me, I think… we haven’t actually said that to each other yet, but that doesn’t matter wh-when it comes to love, and I’m in love with him.”

That… makes no sense, Keith thought. “I’ve told you I love you,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Is that you, Keithey?”

Keith chuckled and put an arm around your waist, helping you up. “Yeah, it’s me,” he grunted. “Can you walk?”

“I had too many of those glowing green drinks,” you stated. “They were really good. They tasted like ruffles chips from home.”

“That’s… disgusting.”

“Never let me have one again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Hunk

You were slumped over next to Hunk, cradling an empty glass in your hand, swirling the bits of ice and its melted water. The energy you’d previously felt had slowly ebbed away, so you stumbled to the bar and sat by Hunk, whom you didn’t recognize.

Hunk stared at his significant other, wondering how much effort it would require to get you back to the castle. He hoped Allura and Coran hadn’t had too much to drink.

“Wanna get back to the castle?” Hunk suggested, turning his head to gaze at you.

You snorted into your drink. “Heck no,” you said. “You aren’t my boyfriend. There’s no way I’m cheating on the love of my life. And I know he isn’t you because you’re not as tall as him, so back off, mister. I don’t like your petty height. My boyfriend is very tall, and he’s warm, and I love his tallness and warm…ness.”

Hunk laughed softly and stood up. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”

You smiled brightly at him. “Babe! Where have you been? I’ve been sitting here next to this… weirdo… for the past five minutes waiting for you!”

“I’ve been trying to find you!” Hunk replied, playing along. “Come on, let’s get back to the castle.”

Pidge

Being very much underage and wanting to hold to her moral standards, Pidge did not want to drink. Also, Shiro kept a close eye on her the entire night.

There wasn’t as much of a watch on you, however, and you’d soon drunk half of the alcohol at the party you and the Paladins attended. Well, maybe not that much, but it was a lot.

“They’re going to have a pretty big hangover tomorrow morning,” Shiro muttered sometimes to Pidge.

After saying this three times, Pidge decided that you’d had enough and needed to get back to the castle, have a big drink of water, and get you to bed. She needed to prepare herself mentally for the grouch that you were bound to be tomorrow.

Pidge informed Shiro of her plan, and walked to the center of the room where you danced, crazily flailing your arms everywhere and jumping everywhere.

Pidge took you by the arm and began to pull you away. You allowed yourself to be led until you were almost to the door.

“I am not going anywhere with you,” you declared, ripping your arm out of Pidge’s hand. “I love my girlfriend more than anything in the world, and I’m not going to go anywhere with you. I love how short she is, and she probably has a really big brain, and-”

“Y/N, it’s me, Pidge. Some on, let’s get you to bed.”

“No way. Katie, is that really you?”

Pidge laughed and nodded. “Yes, it’s me. Now come on, it’s time to go to sleep.”

Shiro

“Hey hey.” You tapped Shiro on the shoulder with wide eyes and a concerned expression on your face. “Have you seen my boyfriend?”

Shiro gave you a confused look. You were is significant other. Had you really had that much alcohol?

“He’s really tall, and he’s muscular, and he has a super cool metal arm. And he has a scar on his nose that he hates, but I think it’s really cute? Oh, when he’s asleep, I like to kiss him there. He has a white tuft of hair, and it’s really fluffy, and it’s fun to mess with when he’s asleep. And he’s really nice, and makes me feel like a princess–no, a queen! He makes me feel like a queen all the time, and I really like it when he kisses my jaw and my forehead, and he’s a really good kisser in general, and he likes to help people, and I really really love him more than anything else in the world, and did I mention he’s cute? Yeah, that’s wrong. He’s not cute, he’s super hot, and handsome, and very gentlemanly, and-”

Shiro, who had been standing there stunned while listening to you, surged forward and kissed you on the lips. “Sweetheart, you know I love you, right?”

“You’re my boyfriend,” you giggled.

“Yeah I am. I am. And you know what? When you’re sober, I’m going to tell you all the things that I love about you, okay? Now let’s get you to bed.” He led you carefully back to the ship and made sure that you got to bed safely before going to his own room. He couldn’t believe how much you liked about him.

#voltron #vld #lance #lance mcclain #x reader #pidge #pidge gunderson #katie holt #hunk #headcanon #shiro #takashi shirogane #alcohol #drunk #gushing

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