#am i supposed to do about that??? i can’t afford a car nor can I afford to Uber every single day. and she’s Not Working so it’s not like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itisannak · 3 years

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Car Sex (Luke Hemmings Smut)

Summary: Luke and (Y/N), both college students, living with their parents, have to get creative to find some alone time. (Smut / Unprotected Sex / Penetrative Sex / Public Sex / Creampie) (Words: 5.4k) (Request)

"Be back by 11:30." My dad shouts as I run down the stairs, heading to the door. "The movie ends at 12." I remind him, sighing over how strict he becomes when he knows I am going out with Luke. "12 it is then." He replies, peeking at me from his armchair. "I don't have classes tomorrow... And teleportation had yet to be invented last time I checked." I point out, crossing my arms before my chest. "Smarty-pants. If he brings you home a minute after 12:30, you are grounded." My dad tries to sound tough, but he is a big softie. I rush to him, leaving a peck on his cheek before strutting out of the door.

Luke has been waiting long enough in the car, longer than I would have the patience to wait for someone without pressing my hand on the horn. I did not expect to see him inside the parked pick-up park, but here I am, opening the passenger door to join him inside. "Wow, that is a first..." I comment, pressing my lips together to stop my laughter as soon as I am in. I just picture him as a hillibilly, chewing on a hay straw, and the mental image is enough to make me double over in laughter. "Shut up. My brother lent me it for the night." He explains, pulling out of the driveway. "Why does your brother have a truck?" I ask, pulling the seatbelt to fasten myself. "He works in constructions." He replies, turning his head for a quick peck on my forehead. "Right." I mumble. "What time does your curfew start?" He asks me, shifting the gears. "I have to be home at 12.30, not a minute later. It still fucks me up that I still have a curfew at 19 and you don't." I groan, crossing my arms. Luke shrugs, having a charming little smirk decorating his lips. "My parents had enough of setting rules for disobeying teenagers with my brothers, so I guess I had it easy, they never bothered placing one." He comments as I prop my elbow against the window's frame, supporting my head as I look at him. "There is no way your mother is that elastic with you. I had chills every time I walked into her class in high school." I really do exasperate, earning a laugh from Luke. I love it when he laughs; his face brightens up, and his dimples make him really irresistible, along with the crinkles around his eyes. I reach over, stroking a messy curl with my fingers, before pushing it off his forehead. "She is much chiller when you get to know her." He replies, resting his hand on my thigh. "I guess you are right." I sigh, feeling jittery at the way he touches me. "Pity I will have to take you home straight after the movie. I was hoping for some more time with you." He says in a low voice, almost like he fears getting heard. "It has been too long since the last time we had more time together." I reply. It would be a lie if I said I am not actively craving him. I still dream of his touch, the way he kissed me last time, the way he moved against me. "To be clear, I am talking about having sex." He explains and I chuckle, throwing my head back. "I am talking about having sex too, Luke." I reply, making him hum, pleased by my response. "We gotta do something about the housing situation." He sounds determined, which is just hilarious at this point. "Well, we are broke, college students who can only afford to live with their parents. I don't know if there is much we can do about it at this point." I reply, while his hand squeezes my inner thigh. "I am just... I just need more of you." He groans and I hum, feeling my stomach tighten at his words. "Can we talk about the movie? This is becoming... A little too intense for me." I bite my bottom lip, running my fingers through my hair. "Of course. They are showing the Texas Chainsaw Massacre." He states, letting his touch linger for a little longer before he removes his hand. I press my thighs together, trying to relieve some of the tension between them. It is hard for me to take my mind off Luke being inside me, kissing me, touching me, even with the prospect of watching a movie about cannibalistic psychopaths. "Why do you always pick horror movies for date night?" I groan, nudging his shoulder. "Because you always leave me in charge. And because the gore is the only thing stopping me from fantasizing about you." He replies, taking my hand in his and bringing it to his lips. "You fantasize about me?" I ask, feeling the tingly sensation making its way back. "All the time. My thoughts are just a never-ending movie of things I want to do with you... of things I want to do to you. And I am just trying to find ways to just pause that movie for a while." He admits. "Is the movie playing right now?" I ask, flushing as I wait for him to tell me. "You wanna know?" He asks and I nod at him, knowing my eyes are glistening with excitement. "Right now it shows the scene where it is Sunday morning, and we have just woken up, naked in bed. And I am just taking you in, in all your glory." He replies. "You are definitely giving me the PG-13 version right now." I point out and he shrugs. "I am keeping some of the good stuff for a little later." He winks at me, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek.

We purchase some popcorn and sodas from the drive-through kiosk before Luke finds the spot we are supposed to park. The back of the pick-up truck is facing the screen, which means we will have to get out of the car and climb onto the back. "I really want to see you try to get in the back, wearing that dress." Luke comments, picking up the snacks and getting out of the car. "I know you want to peek under my skirt, but gosh, don't be so obvious about it." I chuckle, hopping off the car. Luke waits for me in the back of the truck, holding his connected palms low, so I can step on them and go up the cargo bed. "You are a true gentleman..." I comment, leaving a peck on his cheek, before I step on his hands and he boosts me up. "Need help?" I ask him once I land just right. "I got it. Lay the blanket I have in there. And move the snacks, I don't want to knock them." He instructs, stepping onto the rim under the taillights. I hold the snacks tight as he steps in, dusting himself off. "This is actually nice." I admit, laying one of the blankets for us. "See? That will teach you not to laugh at me before you see my intentions." He comments, sitting down on the blanket, with his back against the divider. "You should be happy I am laughing. It means you make me happy." I reply and he hums. I take a seat between his thighs, leaning my head back on his shoulder, bringing my lips to his neck for a soft peck. "I promise to hold you tight at the scary parts." I whisper, knowing that I will spend the entirety of this movie with my face buried in his chest. "I will hold you up to that." He chuckles, leaving a peck on my forehead.

The night chill proves I am a fool for wearing a frilly little dress for the night screening. But luckily, Luke has predicted that and has brought a second blanket along, which now is covering our laps. "You look mighty cute in the cinema lights." Luke whispers, stroking my hair softly. "You are supposed to be focusing on the movie, not me." I laugh, trying to keep my voice low so I don't bother the rest of the viewers. "You are far more interesting than any movie." He replies, turning my head to plant a kiss on my lips. I smile against his lips, parting my mouth so he can slip his tongue past my lips. His hand softly grazes my face, and I then decide to turn around and straddle his lap. "You can't do that to me." He groans, throwing his head back. That gives me access to his neck, which I take advantage of and trail with kisses. "Why not?" I ask, pouting at him. "(Y/N), please... This is torturing. It has been too long since we had sex. I am craving you, and this is not helping me." He replies, while my hands move to his hair. "I am craving you too. I need you." I whine, earning a sigh. "I need you too. But we don't have the time nor the place to do that." He replies, and I shake my head. "What about right here, right now?" I ask, making him tilt his head and look at me, with eyes glazed in excitement. "You mean...?" "Who's going to see us? And don't say the movie is more interesting than me..." "Fuck the movie." He groans, bringing his hand to trace my thigh, stopping on the hem of my dress. "I'd rather you fuck me." I reply, earning a smirk from him. "This is risky." He comments and I shrug. "You love it, don't you?" I ask and he hums. He throws the lap blanket aside, laying me with my back on the blanket laid on the floor of the cargo bed. "You will have to be very quiet..." He states, stroking my cheek softly. "You are the one to talk..." I mumble before he leans down to kiss me.

He clumsily fumbles with the lap blanket, covering us for a mock discreteness, even though we both know a blanket will do nothing. He roams his hands from my face to my sides and then retires them on my thigh. I prop my leg up, wrapping it around his waist. "You are so soft." He moans against my mouth, squeezing my thigh softly. My lips curl into a smile, feeling goosebumps crawl onto my skin. "Oh shit." He groans, making me look at him with a furrow on my brow. "What? What happened?" I ask, watching as his face twists in frustration. "Condoms are in the glove compartment. I have to go back in the car." He groans, throwing his head back. "It is ok... We don't need one." I state, feeling my core becoming warm at the thought of him sliding inside me bare. "Are you sure about this?" He asks me and I nod. "It is not a risky day. I need you." I almost beg, causing him to chuckle at me, as his hands work his pants to free his cock. "I will just... Push your panties aside... No one will know what we are doing." He mutters, spreading my legs more, propping them around his waist. Blindly and clumsily, he tries to line up his tip to my entrance. The only lights come from the light poles around the parking space, and of course, the projector playing the movie, so there is almost only darkness surrounding us. Luke finally manages to slip inside me, moving slowly so the car doesn't rattle and bring any suspicion on us. "Shit, you feel good." He whispers by my ear, planting a peck on my earlobe. He buries his face in my neck, nibbling on my skin as he begins rocking his hips on mine. It takes me a moment to get my mind off the catastrophic thought that we are going to get caught, but the moment the first moan slips from his lips, I feel chills crawl down my spine. "Oh, God." I mumble, finally feeling his cock stretching me, with each thrust making me wetter and wetter. "Shh, we have to be quiet, remember?" He playfully reminds me, passing his tongue over the spot he was sucking on a second ago. "Buzzkiller." I whisper, but it soon turns into a gasp as he thrusts his whole cock inside me, making me pulse around him. I have to bring my hand to my mouth as Luke backs out and thrusts in again, this time with more force than before. I bite onto my palm, preventing myself from making a sound as Luke tries to find a rhythm for us. We both know this cannot last as long as the last time did; in contrast to the time we stayed up all night fucking, we will now have to be done in less than 10 minutes. "The way you take my cock is going to be the death of me." He mumbles as I buck my hips up to meet his thrusts, trying to find an angle for his cock to hit my spot. Luke groans softly, placing a hand under the small of my back to support me. "We are fucking under the stars." I giggle softly, squeezing myself around him. "I am going to find us a house, I promise you that." He slams his hips on mine, making the car move a little. "Careful." I groan, but the way he is rocking his hips on mine makes my mind fuzzy around the edges. We have to pray the people around us are too focused on the movie, or else we are putting on a show for them. Luke brings on hand from under my back to my cheek, touching it softly. "You feel so good around me, baby." He says raspily as I move my hips in a soft circle. The top of his cock brushes against my clit and I feel myself tighten around him. I muffle a whimper, closing my eyes tightly to focus on anything else but the way he feels inside me. "I can feel you here." I grab his hand and let it press on my lower stomach, right at the nook where I feel the impact of his thrusts. Luke strokes his thumb over that spot, giving me a slow, deep thrust, looking mesmerized by the way my stomach inflates and falls as he fucks me. His hand travels under my dress, heading straight to my breasts, cupping them and stroking his thumbs over my nipples. I whimper and shudder, bucking my hips against his and taking his cock more inside me. "You are going to fuck yourself on my cock, princess?" He asks cockily, pinching my nipple between his fingers, pulling at it sadistically slow. "Will you fill me up, daddy?" I ask him back; two can play this game. I can see his eyes sparkle at my question, even in the dark night. "Shit, (Y/N)... I am going to cum..." Luke groans by my ear, making me tighten around him in surprise. "Cum, please. I want to feel all of you inside me..." I groan, my mind becoming clouded by my need for him. "But you are not there yet..." Luke protests. "You have a mouth, don't you?" I ask him, heaving for breath. Luke chuckles and looks at me amused, before slamming his hips on mine, pinning me down to ravage me. Luke brings his face to my neck, muffling himself by biting onto my skin. I gasp in shock, the slight sting of pain sending waves of electricity down my body. "I am going to fucking wreck you... I am going to fucking ruin you for everyone else. You are mine... Just mine. " He groans, gluing his hips on mine as he cums, hissing as he reaches his high. It takes him a moment of grunting and breathing funny before he cups my face and kisses me harshly. "I am going to make you feel good, princess. I promise." His voice is still heavy and groggy from his orgasm, and he sounds so chillingly sexy, contrasting the loud chainsaw buzzing that goes off every couple of minutes in the movie.

He parts from my lips and slides down my body, spreading my legs more and fixing himself between my thighs. He traces my slit softly, watching me as I still pulse from the loss of contact. He uses his fingers to part my lips, revealing my entrance and my clit to him. He wastes no time lapping up his tongue on my sex, moaning as he tastes us mixing together. I smile to myself and look up at the night sky, taking in the pretty little stars as Luke curls his tongue on my entrance, gathering the pooling wetness and his cum on the tip of his tongue. He brings the tip to my clit, teasing it in slow, agonizing circles, making me jolt at every single one of them. Once he sees I am teased to a sufficient level for his liking, he wraps his lips around my clit, suckling on it hungrily. My breath gets caught in my lungs and I am baffling between bringing my hand to my mouth to stop any sounds from escaping or tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling at his locks, and guiding his mouth where I need him. "Luke..." I whine, messing my fingers in his hair, contrasting the intensity that courses through my body with the softness of his curls. Luke hums in approval, flicking his tongue against the head of my clit. I press my lips together and roll my hips in the air as my orgasm explodes inside me, spreading on my body. I try my hardest not to make a sound, nor move too much that the car squeaks. Luke moves up from between my thighs after he fixes my panties over my core. He leans in, kissing my lips softly. I realize that I have been smiling since I hit my orgasm, but only after Luke mimics my smirk. "I am going to find us a house." He announces again, tracing his hand softly over my cheek. "Yeah, we need one." I agree, moving my tongue across my bottom lip, tasting us together. "Do you think anyone saw us?" Luke asks, rolling next to me. I fix my head upon his chest, letting myself hear his heartbeat. "As long as we do not end up on a pornsite, I am not that mad if they did." I reply and he chuckles. "Kinky... I like that about you." "You like what about me?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow. "You are always up for testing your limits." He replies and I hum. "I wish we could sleep together tonight." He sighs, pecking at the top of my head. "I think my dad will neuter you if you show up at my house for a sleepover. And your mom will probably bound me in your basement and torture me for seducing her benjamin." I giggle and he scoffs. "My mom is not a monster." Luke protests playfully. "I don't know. Her nickname was Charybdis in high school." I mumble and he punches my arm playfully.

"Will you call me before bed?" Luke asks me as he parks in front of my house. "Do you want me to?" I ask him, undoing my seatbelt. "Since I can't sleep with you tonight, at least I would like us to do it over facetime." He shrugs, tapping the tip of my nose softly. "I will certainly facetime you then. I will see you on Tuesday, won't I?" I ask and he nods. "Ok then. Talk to you in a bit." I bite my lip before I lean in to plant a soft peck on his lips. He waits until I am inside the house to take off, which brings a smile to my face. He cares a lot and he is really protective, without crossing any boundaries. "Did you have fun at the movies?" My dad asks, making me jump at the sound of his voice. He has stayed exactly where I left him, which is a little creepy. "You scared the shit out of me, dad." I gasp, touching my chest and feeling my heart pounding. "We saw the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Not really my style, but it was ok." I reply and he hums. "If you wake up screaming in the middle of the night because you had a nightmare, I will know who to blame." He goes back to watching TV. It is not a secret that my dad does not really like Luke; he thinks of him as a devil in the disguise of an angel. "Goodnight dad." I run up the stairs to take off my makeup and get ready for my night call with Luke.

I tap my fingers nervously as I wait for Luke to pick me up. We are supposed to head for a dinner date, but I am not sure we will go through with it. Luke's car pulls up in front of me, and I rush inside, earning a look of surprise from him. "I was ready to wait for you at least 15 more minutes." Luke chuckles, helping me with my seatbelt. "Can you find a space somewhere a bit private?" I ask him, earning a hum from him. "I will be happy to..." He starts the car, aloof to my jitters.

Luke parks behind an elementary school, which seems abandoned for the day, before he undoes his seatbelt and turns to look at me. "It will do for now, don't you think?" Luke asks, cocking an eyebrow at me. "We need to talk." I state, making his face drop. "Oh. That sounds a little ominous." He replies and I nod my head. "I am late." I just let it out, dropping the bomb on his lap now. "Late for what? Do you have to be somewhere before our date?" He asks. I roll my eyes and rest my head back on my seat. "Luke..." I sigh. "What?" He asks, frustrated over my reaction. "My period is late. I might be pregnant." I explain and he looks at me dumbfounded. "Are you sure?" He manages to utter after a second of just staring. "My tracker says I am a week late. And I am never late, not this long. I am freaking out." I sniffle, my hands bunching up my cardigan. Luke stays silent, starting the car again. I feel awful in this silence but I understand he needs time to process it. It took me two days to swallow this, he deserves at least a couple of minutes to even begin thinking about it. It itches me on the inside to just ask him to say anything, but I decide to control myself. Without a word, he parks the car in front of a pharmacy and exits the car. It would make more sense for him to slam the door on the way out, but he didn't. I cannot find a way to translate his coldness and it pains me to sit here without a clue. He is gone for a little over 10 minutes but it felt a century to me. I don't dare ask him what he bought, so the car sinks in silence again.

The next stop is at a totally strange house to me. Luke helps me undo the seatbelt, still silent, and motions me to follow him. He unlocks the door to an apartment, letting me go in first. "What is this place?" I finally have the courage to ask once we enter the poorly furnished place. "I told you I would find us an apartment. I wanted to tell you at dinner, but I guess..." He replies, handing me the paper bag from the pharmacy. "Is it what I think it is?" I ask and he nods. "Luke, I am scared." I admit and he sighs. He wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips softly on my forehead. "I am too. But we need to face our fear. Or it will catch upon us." He replies, stroking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Come on. I will be right outside." He guides me to the small bathroom, giving me a small smile before I shut the door. It is such a lonely process doing this. I know Luke is waiting for me, I know that he is here for me, right outside the door that divides us, but I feel so alone. It is nerve-wracking, having to wait even a moment for the test that will define the rest of my relationship with Luke. There is a soft knock on the door, Luke's knuckles must barely even touch the wooden furniture. "Did you do it?" He asks nervously, but not demandingly. "I am waiting for the result." I sniffle. "Would you like me to come in and wait with you?" He asks. "No. I will be out in a minute..." I am too upset myself to have Luke's nervousness right now. "Ok, love." He sighs, giving up. I know he is trying to comfort me and this is the best way he can think of doing so, but it is just... I don't know if it is too much or too little.

The timer goes off and I know that I have to face the little plastic stick at last. It is so stupid that I am terrified by a piece of plastic, but I feel a tug at my heartstrings just at the thought of what the result might be. I peek at it, finding the word 'PREGNANT' on the little digital screen. Fuck. "Can I come in?" Luke asks. He must have heard the timer too so he knows the test has shown a result. I am too emotional to answer him, all I want to do is cry. How did that happen? Fuck, why did it happen now? We were always careful and we barely ever had a place to be just the two of us. God, that night at the drive-in... I was stupid enough to tell him it didn't matter going bare. Luke barges into the bathroom after my lack of response, his eyes instantly falling on me. He sighs understandingly, moving closer to me and wrapping his arms around me. "It's ok... It's all ok, love. Please, stop crying." He tries to soothe me, but it will take more than a hug and his soft voice to calm me down. "I've ruined both our futures..." I moan, my voice barely coming off. "No, no, you didn't. It is my fault too. Hey, we are going to be alright. She's gonna be apples, you'll see." He cheers, rubbing the small of my back soothingly.

My obstetrician could only see me 2 days after I took the test. Despite me wanting to rush to the first person with an available appointment, Luke told me that 2 days wouldn't hurt and we should go to the one I trust. And now as I am feeling in the form of family history and reason of the visit, Luke is sitting next to me, almost completely unfazed, as if his life is not about to tumble down. "How can you be so calm?" I ask him, annoyed by how cool he seems. "I am not." He replies, not even turning to look at me. "You are. You are awfully calm and cool for someone who is going to be a father before he finishes college." I whisper the last part, even though it is just us in the waiting room. I have been tiptoeing around admitting my pregnancy, not even daring to say it to myself out loud. "You think I am not panicking? You think I am not about to have a nervous breakdown? But I have to keep calm and be here for you. You are a mess, (Y/N)." He says through gritted teeth. "Well, I am sorry this is too much for me. I will try my hardest not to let my mess affect you." I snap, moving to a chair away from him. "I didn't mean it that way..." He protests and I hum, scribbling on the form fast.

The doctor calls me in her office, finally ready to exam me. Luke follows suit, asking her if it is ok to join us too. "Is it ok with you, (Y/N)?" She turns to me. "I really couldn't care less." I mumble, climbing onto the exam bed. Luke walks in, standing in the corner of the room awkwardly. "I will need you to take your jeans and underwear off for this." She instructs me and I nod. "Your urine sample gave us a positive pregnancy test, so I will have to go transvaginally to see the fetus. We have done this in the past, but you will feel slight discomfort when I enter the prob." She states, prepping the little wand. I feel as if I want to throw up, this ordeal has been stressing me out a lot. "Ok. Are you ready?" She asks as I lay on my back. I nod my head and take a deep breath, boosting myself for the exam. Pushing past the initial discomfort, I turn to look at my doctor as she looks at the screen with a frown. "Do you have any symptoms?" She asks me, looking at the ultrasound carefully. "No, other than my period being late, no." I reply and she hums. "You took a home test?" "Yes, it came back positive. Is everything ok?" I ask her. "Well, you are not pregnant. But you have a positive home test and a urine stip test. So my guess is there is proteinuria and that is why we had 2 false positives. I will order you a lab work for that, just to rule things out, but I think it might be stress-related." She replies. "I am not pregnant?" I ask, my heart skipping in relief. "You are not." She replies. "Are you sure?" Luke asks for the first time since the exam started. "I am very certain you are not expecting. Based on your reactions I will say congratulations, you are not pregnant." She chuckles, handing me a couple of tissues to clean up. "I will leave you to get dressed and go order the lab test. You can pick it up from my receptionist." She smiles at us before she leaves the room.

After the doctor's visit, I was craving ice cream, so Luke drove me to my favorite place for a strawberry soft serve. Since our date night was canceled from my pregnancy scare, we decided to take advantage of the nice weather and take a stroll at the park. He holds my hand in his as we both lick our ice cream as if the last couple of days didn't happen. "We are not having sex again without a condom." I lean my head on his shoulder as he hums in agreement. "That is certain." He adds. "I am sorry I was so... messy the last couple of days." I apologize and he shrugs. "It is one of the things I love about you." He brings my hand to his lips, pecking it lightly. "For what is worth, you were an excellent partner and you handled this scare probably the best way possible." I comment and he sighs. "I was scared beyond words. We are too young to become parents." "I agree. We barely have a place to be alone..." I point out. "Well, we do have it, though." He says, making me bite the inside of my cheek. "I really liked the space, from what I remember seeing..." "I am glad you did. Cause I plan on spending a lot of time in it with you." He plants a kiss on my forehead, making me feel my face get hot. "We never learn, do we?" I chuckle and he shrugs. "I think we learned our lesson." He takes a long lick of his dessert.

My Masterlist / Chronological Masterlist / The "Less than 100 Notes Fics" Masterlist / My Ko-Fi

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ladyrivia · 3 years

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Spitfire (Chapter One)

Summary: Anya Donato, a seasoned agent in the DEA transfers from New York to Columbia to take down Escobar. Upon arrival, two particular men catch her eye, Javier Pena and Colonel Carrillo.

No warnings! Except maybe google translate spanish.. Enjoy!

The fierce Columbian sun shined through the windows of the airport, giving Anya a bright welcome as she trudged down the stairs to customs. She dragged her suitcase behind her, duffel thrown over her shoulder carrying the remaining items of her previous life that was not already shipped down to the Embassy.

“Pasaporte, por favor.” passport, please. Digging through the inner pocket of her jacket, she pulled out her passport and required forms, handing them over to the man who was clearly tired of his job. “Gracias señora..Donato.” Thank you Mrs..Donato. He looked over the forms, stamping them and entering something into the system. “Bienvenida a Columbia.” Welcome to Columbia. He gave a tight lipped smile as he gave back her documents.

“Gracias.” Thank you. Anya replied, shoving the forms back into the pocket and continuing what seemed to be the never ending process of transferring to her new station in Columbia.

Anya walked to the ARRIVALS sign, where she was told that an agent would be picking her up. A handsome man walked towards her, his dark brown eyes scanning over your body. Perv. Anya thought, straightening her back and preparing to turn down whatever offer this man had.

“Excuse me señora, did you happen to see an agent on your flight?” Oh. Of course. He wasn’t expecting a woman to be joining. Her eyes narrowed, giving him a glare.

“I am the agent,” Anya dug through your pocket once more, showing him the shiny DEA badge before putting it back. “Señor.” His eyes widened, realizing his mistake, opening his mouth to form an apology, but she quickly cut him off. “Not another word. Can we just go now, I’m tired and ready to get the hell out of this airport.” He nodded, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and walking towards the exit. Normally, she’d argue and snatch her bag back, but she was too tired to care.

He led Anya to his black 4 door SUV, with scuffs and minor dents in it, showing its age. Throwing her bag in the back, she settled in the passenger seat. The car smelt heavily of cigarettes, which wasn’t too different from the car she sold right before heading to Columbia. If you were in the DEA, you either had a drinking problem or a smoking problem, if not both.

“I’m Javier, Javier Pena.” He was still trying to recover from his mistake earlier.

“Anya Donato. Pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes were focused on the city as they drove off, trying to get a sense of the area that she would now be living in. “Got a cigarette?” She looked towards him.

“Yeah,” He took out the pack from his front pocket, opening the carton for her to take one. “Here, lighter is in the console.” He grabbed one for himself and waited for Anya to finish lighting yours before handing the lighter to him. She took a long pull from the cigarette, letting the smoke settle in her lungs for a few seconds before breathing it out, rolling down the window half way to allow fresh air to replace the smoke.

They smoked in silence, letting the nicotine settle her nerves.

“So.. where’d you transfer from?” Javier had never felt more awkward in his life. He normally always knew what to say, but with you he was at a loss.

“New York. Got tired of the snow and the cold.” She felt a smirk form on her face when she looked at him and said, “And I think you boys needed some help down here.” He looked at you, lips twitching into a grin

“Saying we’re incompetent?”

“Perhaps.” The banter eased the awkward vibe in the car, the two continuing to smoke while Javier pointed out places, whether it be a bad neighborhood, a good dive bar, or what she was most interested in, the best food choices.

“And here we are, home sweet home..” The car pulled into the Embassy, the security guards at the gate recognizing Javier’s car and immediately let him through. “I think the ambassador already left for today, I think they said something about a meeting.” He shrugged, clearly having not paid attention. “Let’s get you checked in here then we can get you set up at your new place.” He chucked the cigarette on the ground when he got out of the car, leading to the entrance of the large building. She opted to throw your cigarette butt into the trash can, grumbling something about littering.

“Pena!” A southern drawl called out. “You were supposed to pick up the new agent, not hire a new prostit-” Javi silenced him with a look.

“Agent Anya Donato,” She stuck out her hand.

“I’m sorry ma’am. I’m Steve Murphy.” He shook her hand.

“No harm done, you aren’t the first to assume.” Anya gave a pointed glare at Javier.

“Well, uh, welcome to the team.” Steve gestured to three desks pushed together in the bullpen. “That empty one is yours.” The group meandered to the desks, Anya plopping down in the uncomfortable office chair.

“Tomorrow we’ll have Carrillo get you your gun and fitted for Kevlar. For now you should get acquainted with our favorite narco.” Javier lifted a large box labeled ESCOBAR, putting it on the desk in front of her. Anya sighed, sitting up in her chair and taking the top off the box, finding it filled to the brim with papers.

“Where’s the coffee?” Her northern accent came out with the last words.

“The caw-fee is over there.” Javier mocked her accent, snickering when she flipped him off before retrieving a cup of shitty office coffee.

Hours passed, Javier was clicking away on the typewriter, Steve meandering around the office, retrieving information from the different intel groups that were scattered around the building. Anya’s eyes were starting to strain, the words becoming blurry on the paper. She snatched Javier’s cigarette box from where he placed it on the far corner of the desk, he got tired of taking it out every time she wanted to steal a cigarette.

“Don’t you have your own?” He inquired, raising an eyebrow at her.

“We’ve been over this Pena, I would’ve brought my own but Uncle Sam would’ve gotten pissy about it and I haven’t exactly had time to go get my own, nor do I have a car to do so.” Anya took a puff, then quickly took a swig of coffee. Not even 24 hours in and she was already returning to her bad habits.

“How many cups have you had?”

“..4..” She mumbled around the cigarette before looking up at Javier, eyebrow raised again. “Maybe 7.”

“Shit, Donato, how long have you been awake?”

“Long enough.”

“You’ve been pouring over those papers for hours, why don’t we head out of here and go grab a drink with some of the guys?”

“You sure they’ll want me interrupting boy-time?” It was Anya’s turn to raise an eyebrow, she normally isn’t one to turn down drinks, but given the reaction she got upon first meeting her new partners, she wasn’t exactly excited to have to repeat that experience so soon.

“Of course, you’ve already interrupted it here,” Javi gestured around. “C’mon, I’m sure the trip down here wasn’t exactly easy. A few drinks could do you good.” He was pretty much begging her to come along at this point, he wanted to spend more time with her, get to know his new partner before they had to go guns-blazing into some drug lord's hideout.

“I guess so.” Anya put the lid back onto the box, downing the rest of her coffee and throwing it into the trash can near their desks. Javier quickly finished what he was typing before slinging his jacket on.

“You ready Donato?” She nodded and followed him back to his car.

The drive to the bar was short, the time filled with her asking clarifying questions about Escobar. Arriving at the bar, there were already other police vehicles parked. When she turned to ask him, he said, “We go here pretty much every night, it’s a good way to wind down.”

“Ah.” Anya and the New York DEA department had a place similar, except it was a 24 hour dinner/bar combo. She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on the past. She can’t afford to get emotional, especially when she’s the only woman on a team full of men. The second she shows emotion it’s over. Everything she’s ever worked for, benched and it being chalked up to being ‘too emotional’.

They exited the car, Javier leading her to the usual spot that him and Carrillo liked to sit. It was a corner booth, allowing them to monitor everyone coming in and coming out.

“Why isn’t Steve here?” Anya furrowed her eyebrows at the realization that Steve wasn’t with the group, but she saw him leave shortly before they did.

“He has a wife, Connie. She’s a sweetheart, I think you two would get along.”

“You barely know me.”

“We’ll that’s why we’re here, aren’t we?” Javier gave her a smile, and she couldn’t help but give him a slight grin in return. Approaching the corner booth, Anya noticed a man already sitting at the table, but he stood up upon seeing the two walking towards him. His stare was intense, she could tell he was trying to get a read on her. He was undeniably handsome, but in a different way than Javier. Javier was charming, definitely an expert in flirting and wooing a woman. The stranger was just… hot. His uniform fit tightly around his biceps, a 5 o’clock shadow sculpting his face, a watch decorating his arms that she wished were—

Get a grip, Anya. She cursed herself out in her own head as she ogled at the man.

“Carrillo, cómo estás?” Carrillo, how are you? Javier greeted the man.

“Quien es tu amiga?” Who’s your friend? Carrillo ignored his question, nodding to Anya.

“¿Recuerdas que mencioné que íbamos a conseguir un nuevo socio?” Remember me mentioning we were getting a new partner?

“Soy Anya, Anya Donato.” I’m Anya. She could tell that the man was surprised that the new partner was a woman, him continuing to analyze her every move.

“Colonel Carrillo.” His hand dwarfed Anya’s when they went to shake hands, they were warm, she could feel the calluses formed by years of hard work. Javier gestured for them to sit, him sliding in next to her and Carrillo sitting opposite of them. There was already a bowl of peanuts at the table, broken and discarded shells in a bowl next to it. Carrillo had obviously been munching on some before they arrived.

The waitress came by, dropping off menus and taking drink orders. The men had ordered whiskey.

“Aqua y…” Anya thought for a moment, deciding what drink she was in the mood for. Glancing over the menu, she decided to go with a classic Columbian cocktail. “Refajo por favor.” Water and a Refajo please. Carrillo and Javier gave her a quizzical look. “What? When in Rome..” She grabbed a peanut and cracked it while looking over the menu. Anya leaned over to Javier. “What’s good here?”

Carrillo was captivated by the woman. He certainly wasn’t expecting her when Javier said him and Steve were getting a new partner. While she was shorter than the two of them, she carried herself with the same confidence, even while having to look up to meet his eyes. He watched as she glanced over the menu with her big brown eyes while ordering her drink, the slight shade of pink that crossed her cheeks when they questioned her drink choice. Carrillo slightly tensed when she leaned over to Javier, a sense of jealousy sparking. Reúnanse, Horacio. Get yourself together, Horacio. He cussed himself out in his head.

“If you’re looking to try something local, you could try the Bandeja Paisa. It’s our National dish.” Carrillo grabbed another peanut as he spoke, cracking the shell with ease. He watched her fidget with the peanut in her hand while she looked for the dish on the menu.

“Yeah, I’ll try that. Thank you Carrillo.” Anya gave him a warm smile as she pulled back from Javier, placing the menu on the edge of the table so it was easier for the waitress to grab when she came back. The waitress quickly returned with their drinks and took their orders, Carrillo got a steak and Javier got a burger.

Anya finally attempted to crack the peanut, finding herself unable to. Carrillo noticed and raised an eyebrow, glancing at the peanut then back at her. She tried playing it off as if she was just fidgeting with it.

“Son of a bitch.” Anya muttered under her breath after a couple more tries. She could throw vicious punches, down a man twice her size in hand to hand combat, but she couldn’t crack a damn peanut.

Javier watched her out of the corner of his eye, a small smirk appearing on his face when he noticed her struggling with the peanut. It was cute watching her try to play it off when Carrillo noticed, but he could see the pink return shortly there after. Javier had snuck off earlier to read her file, the ambassador had given it to him and Murphy days prior, but they didn’t bother reading it, assuming it’d be another guy like them. He read about her work in New York, how she helped take down some Cali Cartel members. Anya would go in undercover, taking down sicarios in club’s bathroom in a dress and heels when she would lead them back there for what they assumed to be sex.

After watching her suffer with the damn peanut for a few more moments, he reached down to grab it, easily cracking it and handing it to her.

“Thanks.” Anya muttered, the blush returning to her cheeks, redder than before. She munched on the peanuts while she grabbed another, yet again failing to crack it on her own. Javier chuckled and helped her crack it again. This repeated until they had a cycle of Anya handing him a peanut and him cracking it for her, dropping the peanuts into her hand and putting the shells in the bowl.

The spark of jealousy returned in Carrillo when he watched Anya finally relinquish the peanut to Javier. Es un puto maní. Para. It’s a fucking peanut. Stop. Carrillo returned to insulting himself in his own head, but he couldn’t help s small twitch of a smirk when Anya’s blush returned to her face.

“So tell me about the Rumpus Room.” Javier asked Anya while he cracked yet another peanut for her.

“That shitty place? Finally decide to read my file, asshole?” Anya snorted and took another sip of her drink.

“Call me an asshole all you want but I’m the one cracking your peanuts, gringa.” Javier waved the peanut in front of her.

“Gringa? Come up with something original, lindo.” Pretty boy. She swatted his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Wonder where you learned that one,” He gave her the unshelled peanuts. “You gonna tell us or what?” He took a sip of his whiskey.

“Nothin’ much to say,” Anya said between crunches. “Awful place, smelled like cat piss.” She scrunched her nose. “Wasn’t anyone high profile, just a trafficker of theirs. Put on a tight red dress, strutted into the club and I had him in an instant. Practically drooled over me.” She shook her head. “We danced a bit and I whispered some..” Anya was worried of the reaction she would get, her plan worked well, but some think she’s promiscuous and a whore for how she took down these men. “Something dirty in his ear and led him to the back. Disarmed him quickly and just beat the shit out of him. Nothing special.” She practically chugged her drink, trying to ignore whatever reaction the two men had.

Well, there certainly was a reaction in their pants.

“In a dress and heels,” Javier whistled. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Best not.” Anya let out a sigh of relief, neither of these men seemed to care about her unorthodox methods.

“You went in there without a weapon?” Carrillo’s fists were clenched, how could her superiors put her in such a dangerous position?

“Can’t hide much in a skin tight dress,” She shrugged, finishing off her drink. “Though I did hide a knife in my bra. My boss didn’t know about that.” A smirk came to her face. Carrillo did not find any of this funny. No backup or weapons, what if they had caught onto her? Over his dead body would he send—

Para, para, para. Stop, stop, stop. Carrillo pleaded with his mind once more as the waitress returned with refills and their meals.

The rest of dinner was filled with exchanges of stories, both men finding themselves enamored with the lively stories Anya told, the alcohol and time spent together making her feel more and more comfortable with the two. She was hungrier than expected, digging into her Bandeja Paisa.

“My god Carrillo!” Anya praised Carrillo for his recommendation, which was something he definitely wanted to hear again.

It was about midnight when Javier noticed Anya starting to slump, the lack of sleep starting to catch up with her.

“I’m okay seriously, I feel fine.” She felt the alcohol hitting her.

“You’re clearly tired, c’mon carñira, it’s time to get you home.” He groaned when he realized her apartment was empty, that was something they were meant to do before she arrived.

“Qué es?” What is it? Carrillo noticed the look on Javi’s face.

“Her apartment is empty. We were meant to get the essentials moved in before she arrived but with everything—”

“Bendejo.” Idiot. Carrillo muttered. “Ella puede quedarse en mi casa esta noche, tengo una habitación de invitados preparada.” She can stay at my house tonight, I have a guest room set up. Javier eyed him, jealousy blooming in his mind. “Que? Quieres que duerma en la misma cama donde te follaste a las prostitutas?” What? You want her sleeping in the same bed you fucked prostitutes? Javier knew he was right, he wasn’t prepared for someone to stay over.

“My Spanish is good but I think I’m a bit drunk, fill me in?” Anya seemed to sober up a tad after nursing her glass of water.

“I may have forgotten to set up the furniture in your apartment..”

“You can stay at my house tonight, I have a guest room.”

“Oh. Yeah that.. that works, just need to grab my bags from his car.”

“Consider it done.”

“There you go. Take care of her.” Javier gave a slight glare at Carrillo, warning him if anything happened to her. Stop it Javi. You just met her today. She isn’t yours. “Goodnight, carñira. See you tomorrow.” He shut the back door of Carrillo’s car, where he had brought her bags over.

The drive to Carrillo’s house was quiet, Anya looking out the window and gazing at the city’s lights.

Upon arrival, he insisted on opening her door for her, wrapping his hand around her waist to make sure she didn’t trip up the stairs to his house. He knew she wouldn’t trip, she knew she wouldn’t trip, but neither said a word and played along with the excuse.

“Make yourself at home, here’s the guest bedroom,” He opened a door on the left. “Sorry about the boxes in there, work seems to follow me home.”

“Oh no worries, I’m the same.” The evidence boxes were neatly stacked in the corner, all of them combined was definitely taller than her.

“Bathroom is through that door,” Carrillo pointed to the door on the opposite wall. “And that door is my room, so if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask.” She nodded. There was an awkward pause between them, before Anya spoke.

“Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Not a problem, I’ll sleep better knowing you’re here rather than a hotel in the city.” Or Javi’s apartment. Both of them knew the unspoken words. She did pick up a few words from their earlier conversation, something about in the same bed as fucking prostitutes let her everything she needed to know about Javi’s habits. “Goodnight, Anya.”

“Good night, Carrillo.”

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neonponders · 3 years

Text

Head canon time:

Okay okay okay okayokayokay so this post has super cute art, but the reblog comment on it aligned with something that’s been percolating in my brain for a ~while~ now:

Eleven as Steve’s sister.

Obviously neither Steve nor Eleven have any idea. From the time El escapes the lab, they don’t interact much. Even if they’re in the same room, they kind of bounce around each other, because...why else would they? Steve’s at least five years older and she’s still building her social skills/confidence, especially around men.

But then Steve gets his hair cut short, and the back likes to curl very similarly to how El’s did when hers was short. Their hair needs its own weight to pull it straight.

And it’s dark brown. Followed by clear brown eyes.

It’s not enough for anyone to connect the dots, of course, but then El’s “mother” dies. Her mind had been a flickering light for a long time, eventually her heart began to match. But when a heart stops, it stops.

Her sister calls Hopper, in case El wants to know, and they show up, at the very least, to attend the funeral and to help the sister go through dusty boxes. Maybe there’s a picture of El’s mother that she wants...

Instead they find surrogacy papers.

Old bank statements.

Apparently at the time of her involvement with government conspiracy, she had been very down on her luck. She made the mistake of doubling up on volunteering to be a surrogate mother, as well as whatever the hell the Hawkins Library did to her.

But the names on the papers are John and Eliza Harrington.

“Like...Steve?” El asks when he finally has gaped at the papers for too long.

Hopper inhales because he isn’t sure when he did that last and scratches his face. “Yeah...like Steve.”

He has mixed emotions: the empathetic devastation at losing a kid, but also the relief that this involves someone already in the know.

They go over to Steve’s house.

The guy answers the door with a slice of pizza in his hand, still chewing. “Hi, Hop. Ellie.”

She offers a small smile. “Steve.”

“Are your parents home, kid?”

He shook his head and swallowed. “Just left this morning. They have a time-share condo in Mexico.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

Steve scoffs while turning around back into the house. “My idea of a good time isn’t with my parents. What d’you need?”

“Well,” Hopper sighs, feeling too big in the foyer. Eleven stabs his hip with a finger and he begins the tedious process of unlacing his boots. “I need to go through your parents’ papers. You got an attic, a cellar, an office?”

Steve, bless him, looks genuinely clueless. “Uh. Yeah...are we in trouble for something?”

“Not in trouble, no. I just wanna cross reference something.”

Bless him twice, because he actually lets Hopper into his attic. His father’s office. Then his mother’s.

He finds it in his mother’s bedroom. It was just a shot in the dark to try the safe in the closet, but so many people actually keep their safes unlocked for easy access.

Hospital documents. Even ultrasound photos.

“Jane Elizabeth...Harrington?” Steve chirps over his shoulder.

He looks up at the chief, who’s rubbing his beard again. Their heads turn to Eleven sitting on Mrs. Harrington’s bed. “My name’s Jane.”

Those big brown eyes blink between her and Hopper. “How do you know that? I thought you came from a lab?”

Hopper intercepted, “She used her,” he gestured vaguely to his own head, “to find her mother. Or...the surrogate your parents paid for.”

“And where’s she?”

“Dead,” said Eleven.

Hopper reiterated, “She passed about two weeks ago. We found your parents’ names in her paperwork.”

“But - what happened? How does a baby just go missing? Better question: why don’t I have super powers?”

Hopper had already read the hospital’s apology and refund of the Harrington’s funds, insurance, the works. “I think that asshole...Brenner...claimed the baby for his work, early enough that it could be written off as a miscarriage. Whatever they did to El’s mother, whatever went on in that lab, landed her with her abilities. It’s nothing to covet, all right.”

Steve looked winded. He crossed his arms and let himself collapse against the wall. “So...what do we do?”

“Uh...” Hopper fanned his face with the ultrasound pictures. “There isn’t a lot we can do. Telling your parents would open up a lot of closed doors that we can’t really afford to open. Dr. Owens, being the swell guy he is, provided me paperwork that grants El as my kid.

“But.

“You already know each other. You already contributed to saving the world together. So...I think that’s up to the two of you.”

Both of them, for all they’d been through, just looked like kids. They were kids, even if Steve now stood in his twenties. And he stood off the wall, now, to approach his sister.

“Can I, uhm...can I hug you?”

El slid off the high bed, easily falling against his body for arms to wrap tightly around her. They stayed like that for a long moment, then Hopper joined them to rub between their shoulder blades.

“Oh god. You’re dating Mike Wheeler.” El hummed a curious sound and he elaborated, “Am I gonna have to pound on him if he pisses you off?”

“I wish you would,” Hopper confirmed.

Fast forward to Mike being extremely confused at his girlfriend suddenly spending a lot of time with Steve Harrington, of all people.

“Maybe she’s gotten a taste for older men?” Lucas teased, and got punched in the shoulder for it.

Max’s eyes rolled but she didn’t grace that with an answer.

Mike fumed, “She was supposed to be with me today! Then she called and said she had other plans - ”

Max chimed, “Are you sure you had plans? Or that you had a plan but she beat you to it?”

“It doesn’t matter! I see her walking around with Steve Harrington all the time and it’s weird!”

Will said for nobody in particular, “We’re not the ones to judge weird anymore.”

Lucas countered, “Or we’re the experts on weird. Speaking of, where the hell is Dustin?”

“With Steve,” Max grinned right at Mike, and stood up. “Speaking of, my ride’s probably here.”

“Where are you going?” Lucas asked.

“Over to Steve’s.”

The boys looked at each other and ran for their shoes. Sure enough, they left the Wheelers’ basement, circled around the house, and found the blue Camaro waiting in the cul-de-sac.

“Woah woah woah, what the hell is this?” Billy said hoarsely. He peered over his sunglasses at the teenagers filing into his backseat.

Max shoved a bottle of water towards him. “You’re not drinking enough, again.”

“Don’t bitch at me. Tell your friends to scram.”

“Are you really going over to Steve’s?” Will began.

“What do you know about Steve hanging out with my girlfriend?” Mike joined.

“Steve’s got a pool, right?” Lucas directed at Max.

Billy revved his engine with a sharp right turn, throwing all of them to one side of the car. Max held her head from where it had hit the window. “Cool it, you shouldn’t even be driving in the first place.”

“My blood did not turn black for this bullshit.”

The kids in the back stared out of the windows like Loch Nora was a safari tour. At the sound of the Camaro’s engine, Steve trotted down the slope of the lawn in swimming trunks with a towel around his shoulders, waving them through the gate.

Will and Lucas sprinted after him. Mike followed at a skeptical pace while Max lingered for Billy’s sake. No one noticed that Billy wore pink and turquoise swimming trunks that fit more to Steve’s taste.

Mike sure as hell noticed the red and purple, woven friendship bracelets that El and Steve wore, though. The pale, skinny nerd just stared, dumbfounded between Hopper floating contently over the pool, El laughing in a one-piece covered in hibiscus flowers, and Steve sitting at the foot of Billy’s lounge chair.

Then Robin strolled through the gate with a stack of pizza and chicken wing boxes. “All right, we ready? What are you doing, dweeb? It’s a 101 degrees out. Get wet.”

And shoved Mike Wheeler right into the pool.

#steve harrington #eleven #ficlet #neonponders #post s3 #harringrove #for the non-americans:#40º C is 100º F #hot as f!ck #also I just wanted something where steve wasn't scared shitless of his pool #robin buckley

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chimchimsauce · 4 years

Text

XS (I - Spitfire)

“Give me just a little bit MORE”

Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.

So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.

And Taehyung gets everything he wants.

Prologue

Chapter One - Spitfire

The house is suspiciously quiet as YN's uber pulls up to her driveway. Usually, her father would be outside gardening or there would be the joyful barking of her childhood dog as she runs around the yard.

But everything is dead silent. Even the air seems still, almost as if Mother Nature herself is holding her breath. No birds chirp and no wind rustles through the leaves.

Pure silence.

"Is everything okay?" the uber driver asks her.

YN's hands grab tightly to the seatbelt as she whips away from the window, startled by the man's voice.

"What?" she asks, "Ah, yeah, everything's fine. It's just a little quiet is all."

YN and her family have never had much, evident by the run-down state of their small house, but her home has always been filled with love and support. Just this morning her mother had called her before her final exam to wish her luck and say how excited she was for her to come home for summer break. YN fully expected her parents to be waiting for her on the doorstep with big smiles and open arms.

A tingle of fear snakes down her body. What if something is wrong?

She opens her purse and pulls out her phone to switch it off of airplane mode. Unfortunately, it dies before she can open her messages. She's received over twenty from her mother which only deepens the feeling that something is truly, incredibly wrong.

Taking a breath and praying that her intuition is wrong, YN steps out of the car and grabs her two suitcases, thanking her driver and sending him on his way.

The sound of wheels on concrete is much louder than it should be. YN ignores the tremble of her hand as she raises a finger to press the doorbell. Her dog barks, but the noise is cut off by a loud bang that scares YN out of her skin.

No one comes to answer the door. YN's heart is beating so quickly that she's afraid that she'll pass out. What should she do? Her phone is dead, so she can't call the authorities or another uber. Maybe she's just being ridiculous. Maybe everything is okay after all.

Clinging onto this tiny shred of hope, YN twists the doorknob, trying not to think about the fact that her parents never leave it unlocked. When she steps inside, luggage in tow, everything is quiet.

"Mom? Dad?" she calls out hesitantly.

"YN!" her mother's voice calls out, "Run!"

Before YN can respond, there's a loud bang - a gunshot and the horrid sound of her mother's screaming. Ignoring her warning, YN drops her bag and books it into the kitchen, heart racing and thoughts scattered.

When she arrives in the small kitchen, YN's voice gets caught in her throat as she looks at the scene before her. The room has been trashed completely. Their pots and pans have been strewn about and the cabinet doors have been ripped from their hinges and tossed away. But worse of all, in the middle of the chaos is her parents, tied to chairs and bruised and bloody. Her mother's hair has been mused into a bird's next and tear tracks streak down her face. Her father is in even worse condition, bleeding from several cuts along his face and body.

Three strangers stand around them, two with emotionless faces and knives. The third stands in front of YN's poor father, shoving a gun between his teeth with a cruel glint in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" YN shrieks, ignoring her mother's panicked expression.

Without thinking, YN launches herself at the man with the gun, taking everyone by surprise.

"Boss!" one of the other criminals calls out.

YN's mother starts screaming again as the man approaches YN, but the college student pays it no mind, too focused on wrestling the gun out of this man's hands. She straddles his hips, trying to use her weight to hold him down long enough for her to grab the weapon.

While desperation and fear pour from every pore of YN's skin, the man under her seems rather amused. YN hasn't looked at his face nor does she care too. Something tells her that if she did, she'd be completely petrified.

YN's efforts prove to be fruitless. After a few moments of struggling, YN is ripped away from the armed man by one of his henchmen, kicking and screaming.

"Well aren't you a little spitfire?" the man she'd been fighting says, rising elegantly and brushing off his suit.

A cocky smile plays on his lips, but there's a hint of something sinister in his gaze that has YN breaking out in a cold sweat. If he wasn't so terrifying, he might have been handsome with this tall stature and long hair, perfectly swept above his brows to reveal a face that belongs on a magazine cover.

"Honestly," he says, turning once more to YN's father, "Why didn't you tell me your daughter was coming home? I would have put together a welcome party better than this."

He chuckles, a deep sound that shows just how bemused he is.

"Ah well," he continues, "But maybe you'll be more cooperative now that your baby girl is here."

He snaps his fingers and the man that's holding her brings a knife to YN's throat, barely a hair's breadth away from cutting her.

"NO!" her parents shout out, fear in their eyes.

The man steps towards YN. his gun seeming to gleam in the light. He taps it against her face in a way that's nearly affectionate, using the cold metal to outline her facial features. YN's eyes are blown wide with fright, her pupils dilated and her breaths short.

"You're rather pretty, aren't you, YN?" he says, his voice sending chills down her spine.

He's stopping his tracing and now holds the gun flush against her forehead, a grin on his face.

"How do you," she says, licking her lips and trying desperately hard not to pee herself, "Know my name?"

The man cocks his head to the side and takes a step back, sticking his gun in the waistband of his shorts and taking a seat in one of the empty kitchen chairs, straddling it backward.

"Oh?" he asks, looking at her father again "You didn't tell her?"

Her father stays silent, refusing to look at the man speaking to him.

YN can tell by the way his jaw tightens that he doesn't like being ignored. Surprisingly, he doesn't blow up. YN fears something worse will happen.

"Well, since your dear old dad won't tell you what he's gotten himself into, I shall illuminate you. You see, he came to me when you got accepted into that stuck up school you attend, crying that he couldn't afford your tuition," he leans forward over the back of the chair to smile at YN, much too happy for the situation they're in, "So, of course I helped him. I am rather benevolent."

"But I got a scholarship!" YN protests, "You've got the wrong people!"

At her outburst, the man laughs loudly, leaning back in his chair and enjoying himself so much that hatred bubbles in YN's stomach, red hot and violent.

"You're adorable," he coos at her when his laughter finally dies down, "you really believe that? Did you even look into the 'scholarship' you received?"

YN stays silent, glaring at him through the tears that threaten to spill out.

"It was all me. I've been the one paying for your tuition and let me tell you, it's not cheap. Your dad was supposed to have all the money to pay me back today and surprise, he doesn't. So here we are," the stranger says, tossing his hands up into the air.

He stands up, retrieving his gun once more and nodding at his backup all three of them exchanging a look YN is terrified to now the meaning of.

"Well, as fun as it's been chatting with you, YN, I'm growing very bored of all of this. Let's just kill them and go."

YN's parents start screaming again but YN shouts over them, desperate to stop what's happening.

"I'll pay it!" she shrieks, "I'll pay it back! Don't hurt them, please!"

The man stops what he's doing, turning to look at her with interest.

"You'll never be able to pay it back," he says, a pitying tone in his voice, "It's better to just let me kill your parents and get it over with."

"No! I will! I'll pay it back! Every cent! I don't care if it takes my entire life!"

YN is in hysterics now, sweat and tears sticking to her skin as she struggles against her captor.

"Jungkook, let her go," the man says.

He does as told and YN collapses onto the floor, her legs unable to support her. The world around her is blurry from her glossed eyes as she cries freely, staring at the grimey floor.

"Please," she pleads, her voice broken.

Two leather shoes come into her sight and a single teardrop falls upon them.

"Look at me," the boss says.

YN raises her head to look at him. He's crouching beside her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Don't do something you'll regret, YN," he says as if he's a friend advising her and not the one ruining her life.

"I'm not," YN says, speaking over the lump in her throat, "I'll never regret saving them."

For a moment, everything in the kitchen is deadly silent. YN's terrified that he'll just kill all of them anyway, turning her offer down entirely and laughing in her face.

"I have a different idea," he says, "You can pay back your parents' debt with your life."

"What," YN gasps out.

She's blotchy and red from all the crying but he swears he's never seen something so beautiful. A sadistic part of himself is dying to see this expression again.

"Marry me."

YN only gapes at him, half expecting him to burst out laughing.

"What?" she parrots.

"Marry me," he repeats, "Pay your family's debt back buy pledging to spend the rest of your life by my side."

YN's teary eyes search his face for a lie, finding none. Wordlessly, she bobs her head up and down, ignoring the protest from her parents.

"Wonderful," this man says, standing up and clapping his hands together, "Let's go YN. Home is quite the way away."

"Can I," she struggles, "At least say goodbye."

"No time. Come now or watch me put a bullet in between your mother's eyes."

YN rises instantly, between this stranger and his guards, refusing to look back even though her parents call out for her. She knows that if she does, she won't be able to walk away.

On their way out, YN sees the still form of her beloved childhood dog, her voice catching in her throat.

"Was it yours?" her soon to be husband asks.

YN nods.

"Use your words, YN," he orders.

"Yes," YN says, the singular word shaky in her throat.

"Sorry," he says half-heartedly, "It wouldn't shut up."

"Okay," is all she can muster, continuing with them out of her childhood home, never to see it or her parents again.

As soon as they step foot out onto the cracked sidewalk, a discreet black vehicle pulls up. The man opens the back door for her, gesturing for her to slide in. She does so mindlessly, barely registering what's happening.

The guards disappear from sight, most likely going to their own car.

"Make sure to use the childlock, Jimin," her to be husband says.

"Yes sir," the man replies.

YN doesn't even try to look at him, too emotionally exhausted to do anything. The car pulls away and the drive is so smooth that YN passes out, the exhaustion getting to her.

As she sleeps dreamlessly, the man sitting next to her looks her over, intrigued. It's been quite a while since he's been so interested in someone.

"Who's that?" the driver asks.

Jimin's always been curious, ever since they met as young children.

"No one. Not yet, at least."

"What did you get yourself into this time?"

"I'm not sure. Something tells me that it's going to be fun, though."

Chapter Two

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#network bangtan #yandere #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #yandere x reader #taehyung x reader #bts angst #bts mafia au #taehyung mafia au #bts gang au #taehyung gang au #taehyung #v #v x reader #bts fanfic

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jade4813 · 3 years

Text

Sparks Fly, Chapter 14

Title: Sparks Fly

Rating: NC-17

Synopsis: Everybody knows sparks fly whenever Barry Allen and Iris West are together. Their mutual animosity is legendary. But when Iris returns to Central City to investigate recent sightings of a mysterious red streak, she discovers a hero she just can’t resist…and Barry struggles to hide the unrequited feelings he can’t deny.

Chapters: 14/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Iris didn’t know how long she stood there, in that place that wasn’t really a place, trying to process what the speed force had told her. Time was irrelevant where she was. Or, she corrected herself with a sardonic smile, perhaps someone like Barry would tell her that time was irrelative where she was. There was no way to mark its passing because it didn’t seem to pass so much as it converged around her – the past, present, and future swirling around this makeshift construct of ground upon which she stood, melding together, before breaking apart again to go its separate ways.

“If you stay here for very long, you may die. But without a lightning rod on the other side, I don’t know how to send you back where you belong.” The words echoed in her head, too immense to contemplate, leaving her weak as she tried to fight off the panic that had swept over her from the moment they had been uttered. But Iris had neither the time nor the luxury for panic. She wasn’t the type to go down without a fight.

Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and counted to ten as she slowly exhaled. Twice. A third time. And then she opened her eyes, determined to focus on the problem and not the what ifs that would overwhelm her. Every problem had a solution, her father had once told her. Of course, he’d been talking about juggling homework and not being trapped in a place outside of space and time when he’d said the words, but she had to believe they still applied. If only because she had no other option.

Focusing on the mist around her, Iris could still see shadows of her other lives in other worlds and times and realities. But this time, she didn’t shy away. She focused, hoping she could find some sort of answer there. Focus on the problem. Every problem has a solution. Sometimes she just had to reframe the question, she reminded herself silently as she watched the images flicker by. Blushing and looking away when the pictures she saw were more intimate than anything she’d ever done with the man she knew.

What was the problem? Well, she was stuck in the speed force. It didn’t seem like any version of herself had ever faced that dilemma before – though with the apparent thousands upon thousands of versions of Barry and Iris that did or could or might exist, she could hardly swear to it. Either way, that train of thought wasn’t getting her anywhere.

So instead of the situation, she turned her attention to the act itself. The Man in Yellow, Eobard, abandoning her within the speed force. Wanting to hurt her. Wanting to destroy the Flash.

As she thought about the villain of her nightmares, the images around her flickered and changed. No longer was she watching the love she and Barry were apparently destined to share. Instead, she watched countless battles between the Flash and his arch-nemesis in yellow.

Holding her breath (though she apparently didn’t breathe here any more than she suffered from the passage of time), she watched battle after battle. Eobard facing off against the Flash and losing. Or at least not winning, as sometimes the battles ended in a tie or a temporary retreat. Either way, Eobard failed to kill his sworn enemy. Again and again.

But it wasn’t just Barry and Eobard in the scenes before. Sometimes she was there, too – or some other version of her, at least. Eobard racing toward her, determined to snap her neck. To put his hand through her heart. And the Flash intervening, saving her life. Too many times to count.

She was reminded of the night Eobard had attacked her in her own home. Barry had shown up that night, too. She had thought it was a coincidence. Sheer luck. But was that really the case? The visions in front of her suggested otherwise. No matter how great their love, there was no way that Barry could just happen to save her from death at the hands of another speedster thousands upon thousands of times. There was simply no way. Particularly since, once or twice in the flickering images, she could swear that it wasn’t Barry who came to her rescue at all but some other speedster (a revelation she tucked away for future contemplation, as she pondered who these other speedsters could be and if they might exist on her world and reality, as well).

“The speed force is not just something that gives speedsters their powers. I am a part of them, and they are a part of me. Just like I created the Flash, and the Flash creates me in return. But that power is more than someone without that connection can control … I would never hurt you. Not intentionally. But you were never meant to enter the speed force for very long. You are the one who brings Barry back. Not the other way around.”

Iris mulled over the words the speed force had told her, feeling that they were more significant than she’d first realized. The speed force needed Barry. Maybe it even loved him – if such a thing were possible. And Barry, it had said, needed her. Which meant, in a sense, the speed force needed her.

Enough to act to protect her in countless lives and realities? Helping Barry to reach her side, to save her life, time and again? Perhaps.

As intriguing – and, to be honest, a little terrifying – as that thought was, it didn’t really help with her current predicament. Given what the speed force had told her, she suspected it would help her escape, if such a thing was in its power. If it hadn’t immediately expelled her back into her reality, she had to believe it simply couldn’t do so of its own volition.

Allowing herself one single huff of disappointment that her prior train of thought hadn’t gotten her any closer to the answer, Iris took a mental step back and tried to find a new way to analyze the problem. So long as she remained calm and focused, she told herself a solution had to come eventually. She couldn’t afford to give in to the despair of thinking otherwise.

In silence, Iris studied the images in front of her again. Barry and Eobard fighting, pushing each other faster and faster. Moving at speeds too fast for the eye to see. She found herself wondering idly what their top speed might be. What was the fastest any speedster had ever moved? Fast enough to bring her into the speed force itself and abandon her in this strange unreality, at least.

Wait. That was it. Eobard had carried her into the speed force. Or, rather, he’d thrown her into it, but that suggested that either he or others had entered the speed force before. Well, either before or after. The lack of time relativity was really messing with Iris’s mind. However, one way or another, other speedsters must have either entered or carried others into the speed force at some point.

No. Not others. The speed force had indicated that she was the first non-speedster to find herself inside it. Though not that she’d been the first person to find herself inside it. It was a critical distinction that gave her a rush of excitement, convinced that she might be on the right path. If other speedsters had entered the speed force, perhaps one of them could bring her back home.

Of course, it was unlikely that the solution would be so easy as flagging down a passing speedster like she might hail a cab. But she didn’t let that demoralize her. She just had to take things one step at a time.

Once again, the images in the mist around her morphed in answer to her silent request. Other versions of the Flash, racing into a black void, like the one she’d glimpsed just before finding herself in this place. The images confirmed her suspicions. Speedsters typically didn’t enter the speed force when they ran. Perhaps they just channeled its energy, like a racer using nitrous to give their car a boost, not needing to crawl into the engine to tap into that extra bit of speed. (It was an imperfect analogy at best, she supposed, but it would do.)

Except if they didn’t always enter the speed force when they ran, Iris needed to determine when and why they did if she was going to find a way to flag one down and ask them to carry her home. As she pondered the question, a flicker of yellow caught her eye, and she watched as Eobard himself raced into the speed force. He did so more than once, studying the pictures as she tried to figure out his purpose. She was struggling to put the pieces together until she saw something that made them fall into place, making her gasp. She watched as Eobard ran into the speed force from a place that looked like something out of a futuristic science fiction novel, racing out again to come to a stop in front of the Allen’s home.

The speed force had confirmed that he was from the future, that he had traveled into the past determined to kill the Flash. Was this the moment he had made his fateful journey? It had to be, didn’t it? Which meant that, whatever other reasons speedsters might enter the speed force, they did so in order to travel through time.

Which admittedly didn’t help her much. Eobard definitely wasn’t the only person to have ever raced into the speed force, and as Iris watched the images flickering around her, she realized that he wasn’t even the only one to have ever time traveled before. But that didn’t really help her, since she suspected he would hardly be willing to take her home, and she didn’t know how to get the attention of any other speedster going on a trip through time in order to make the request.

But still, she felt that she was close to an answer. She had to be, because nothing else came to mind. Closing her eyes to block out the images that might otherwise distract her, Iris began to pace back and forth, hoping the physical activity would help clear her mind.

How long had she been in this place, she wondered. Without being subject to the passage of time, did it really matter? It might have been ten minutes. It might have been an eternity. She had no idea.

Wait. Time. That gave her a thought. Time was irrelative here, so it really didn’t matter that speedsters didn’t race through the speed force whenever they used their powers. She didn’t have to worry that she’d missed her chance to catch a passing speedster because the speed force was no time and yet every time in equal measure. In a sense, every moment in time was happening all around her, all at once. So it wasn’t a matter of when it might happen but how she might get someone’s attention. Someone who didn’t want to kill her, she mentally corrected herself.

That gave her an idea, although it seemed a bit far-fetched. Still, what was the harm in trying? “Flash, help me!” she yelled into the mist that surrounded her. As expected, nobody heeded her call. But sometimes the biggest problems had the easiest solutions, so it had been worth a shot.

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, Iris returned her attention to the problem. As she paced, she swung her arms back and forth – an old trick she used to do when studying for finals in college, because someone had told her it helped to get the blood flowing to her brain. Well, she didn’t know if her blood really flowed, exactly, in this timeless space. But she did stop short when the movement gave her another idea.

Opening her eyes, Iris focused, willing the images around her to change once more. And so they did, showing speedsters in a rainbow of colors as they raced. Electricity of different colors sparking behind them, papers and other detritus left spinning in their wake. It happened pretty much every time they ran, this impact of their speed on the world around them.

If only she had someone like Barry with her to help explain the physics of what she was watching; she’d only ever studied basic physics in school, and that was long ago. Still, there was no point in wasting time wishing for things that she didn’t have. Instead, she watched the scenes before her with narrowed eyes, trying to make sense of what she was seeing for herself. In particular, she watched the papers that were sent flying when the Flash ran past.

Iris couldn’t necessarily explain the physics for any of it, but for a split second, it was as though the papers were drawn towards the Flash as he ran, before being sent in a spiraling dance to the floor, carried by the wind that was an inevitable aftermath of such incredible speed. If that was the case, could she use such a phenomenon to return home? She didn’t need to be carried for miles. She just needed enough momentum to propel her through the vortex that appeared whenever a speedster entered and exited the speed force. The papers only appeared to be drawn in for a split second, but that was all she really needed. Particularly since time, as she’d already established, was fluid inside the speed force.

Perhaps she was on completely the wrong path, but she had at least one theory for how to return home, which was more than he’d had before. Now all she needed was a passing speedster to test it out. With every moment in time occurring more or less simultaneously, it would take focus to latch onto one that she needed. Like the images in the mist had required focus to form into anything of use.

First, she tried to think of the moment she had seen previously, when Eobard had traveled into the past for what she assumed to be the first time. But it didn’t seem to do any good. Perhaps the thought was too vague to offer the speed force much direction. The problem was, she didn’t know a more specific moment that Eobard – or any other speedster, for that matter – had traveled through time.

Except…she did. Didn’t she? The night her dad had first seen the Man in Yellow. Sure, it was possible that Eobard had been lurking around for years, waiting for the perfect moment to put his plan into action. But Iris doubted it. She suspected he would consider it a waste of time. Particularly since time was something he appeared willing to manipulate.

It occurred to her that, even if she was right, there was a chance this would leave her stranded in the past, on the night Eobard had killed three police officers and terrorized her father as part of his plan to destroy the Flash. She had no idea how she would get back to where – or when, rather – she belonged.

But one step at a time. First, she had to get herself out of the speed force. Then she’d figure out what to do next.

#sparks fly #fanfiction #my fanfiction #westallen #barry allen #iris west #the flash #enemies to lovers au

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essaysbyciara · 4 years

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Old Habits Die Hard | Part Seven: Backseat

Warnings: Language, mentions of sexual situations

Peace, loves! We’re back. Thank you to all who hit me up about this story. My laptop died back in July so I’ve been trying to write on a tablet which…yeah. A struggle is a nice way to put it lol😔. Go ahead and catch the vibes and thank you for the reads, likes, comments and follows. Y'all are the realest.

“I thought you didn’t smoke”

“I don’t. Doesn’t mean I haven’t…”

You take a strong pull of Dave’s blunt in conjunction with heavy breathing caused by his right hand causing a madness in the between. The cracked window of your car brings enough of a cool down so that the both of you won’t pass out from the nighttime haze and the heat travelling from your bodies. Finally, after two weeks, Dave understands your love language; he can’t keep his hands off of you even as you try to take a break from him. He lifts up your left leg with ease, draping your thickness over his right toned, tatted up thigh. The madness is now turning into magic.

“Dave…let me ch-chill. Shit.” He immediately relents, pinching your quivering thigh with that same right hand while grabbing his dutch away from you.. As you sit in puddles of sweat and Dave’s ruins, you stare at the stars above you. It’s the clearest night you’ve seen since you arrived in the city. It just so happens to be your last.

Dave catches your gaze at the night sky through the skylight above you. “You good, shorty?”

“Yeah, I just…” a slight chuckle escapes your lips. “…I can’t believe I’m smoking blunts and fucking in a backseat like high school.”

Dave feels the ping of your words. It’s the first time in the two weeks of your summertime escapade that he’s reminded of how different you two are.

He felt the slight of your words. You and his relationship always reminded Dave that he had some growing up to do. Because of his lack of a place – and the privacy that comes along with it – you two got it in whenever and wherever you could; after his brother went to work in the AM hours, when Aunt Jerri left the house for bingo, in the backseat of your car. Your surroundings would never get in the way of what you two were there for.

Just like Dave wouldn’t let anything stop him from getting at you the day you met. It was an unseasonably cool day for a block party. He and his boys were on the stoop, shooting the shit as always, when Dave saw you walk outside of Aunt’s Jerri’s house carrying trays of food. He knew all the girls from the neighborhood but he never laid eyes on you before. Your cut off shorts toed the line between modest and disrespectful. A white crop top tee and Air Max 90s sandwiched your goodness in the booty shorts you bought with the intention of showing off.

You turned around to see this caramel-covered king, 6’5, tatted from root to tip, body sweating through a white tank top inquiring if you needed any help. You froze like the bucket of ice Aunt Jerri laid down in front of you. He caught you by surprise. You didn’t remember boys from this part of town looking this damn fine. Dave was beyond that. The man you were supposed to be in the Bahamas with didn’t look like him either. Suddenly you were happy he bailed on you.

“Oh. My bad. I didn’t see you there…” You acknowledged Dave’s reach around you to grab a bottle of water from the same ice bucket that mimicked your gaze.

“Yeah, you bad…” Your right eyebrow never arched so high. It wasn’t the only body part that moved. You didn’t know how to respond to Dave’s street-laced flirtation, only to let your tongue peek out the side of your mouth, leaving Dave no choice but to stare at your lips. Dave’s stare and loitering in your presence caught the attention of your Uncle Trace. As Trace schemed Dave down to the basement to grab more lawn chairs, Aunt Jerri gleefully tapped you on the shoulder to remind you that what happens in Philly, stays in Philly. Trace told Dave to not let anything happen.

But as you kept talking, Dave slowly fell into your grooves. Dave didn’t know that you fit in so well because of your summers visiting Aunt Jerri, Uncle Terrence and the rest of the characters that made up your Dad’s side of the family. You acclimated to the energy. Half of your DNA was Reed Street, North Philly; the same as Dave. You two fit especially well in the spare rooms, backseats and basement meetups to you hid from Trace and the rest of the world that thought you had no business together.

But after this last backseat episode, you would be going back to the place that made you so different; to your senior grant writing job, your townhouse and your Roth IRA. Dave was just months into an overnight warehouse job that paid just enough to give him some change to save money to move out of the spare bedroom of Pardi’s already packed rowhouse. He was a work in progress while some would look at Dave as a sign of regression.

But for you, in that moment, nothing – and no one – would or could be better than Dave.

Until he disappeared and you met Yahya.

Right now, you hate Yahya’s guts. It’s been weeks since he told you that he’s taking on Dave’s case on a pro bono basis as a favor to Aunt Jerri. Still seething as you tried on wedding dresses, you kept your cool just enough to keep peace between your mother and her arch nemesis. This time you sided with your mother.

Yahya caught the rest of your static. He caught the silent treatment all weekend, the AM news radio station being the only background noise as you and him drove Aunt Jerri to Union Station. Once her and her hot pink suitcase rolled out of view, you went at Yahya’s neck. You never called Yahya so many words for “inconsiderate”, your Masters in Communication coming in way too clutch. But Yahya passed the bar, so his combative energy matched your loquaciousness. Onlookers got a good look at you two spar as he weaved through Beltway traffic.

To say that you were mad that Yahya took a case this close to the wedding would be a lie. You knew him to have a kind and caring heart, a heart that wouldn’t let injustice slip by. If this was anyone else’s plight, you’d be all for Yahya’s gracious spirit. But it was Dave. Dave who ignored you not once but twice. Dave who, in the very backseat of the car you’re yelling at Yahya in, told you to give him a few weeks and he’d be down to see you. The same Dave who defied all of the rules – and Uncle Trace’s threats– to get at you. Only to leave you. Dave needed to reap that.

But the Dave you knew – despite what others thought – wouldn’t hurt anyone. He was just a hair over eighteen when he caught the gun charge that sent him to prison. A gun he carried because he witnessed his brother die in front of him. He kept it on the straight ever since. Dave was saving up money for his own place, you understood the grind. He was a stone-cold sweetheart covered in a North Philly veneer. He didn’t sow a seed worth anything for this to happen.

Despite the battle on the Capitol Beltway, Yahya and you came home to convene the most obnoxious session of make up sex known to man. Damn the celibacy. Y’all needed to be on good terms and he needed to get Dave out of jail.

—

“How it’s going, love?” Your dining room is becoming Yahya’s makeshift work office. You couldn’t help to sneak down at night to read some of what Yahya’s been putting together for the case. Seeing Dave’s name all over his papers remind you of how many times Dave’s name escaped from your lips.

“Man, it’s good. We got enough for this bail hearing. I think we can secure a bail low enough that his family and the local justice coalition can afford.”

“Good. Let’s get him home…”

Yahya smiles at your enthusiasm toward Dave’s case. Despite the ninth-circle-of-Hell type of sex you two had in the aftermath of that fight, Yahya knew you steamed from him taking a case just mere months before the wedding. Yet your insistence to know details – like spotting you reading his notes – remind him of why he wants to marry you in the first place. “What date is the hearing?”

“The sixth of next month. You should come up with me. Watch me in action…”

“I can’t. I can’t be in that courtroom. I’d make you nervous.” And make yourself nervous to see Dave.

“You make me nervous regardless, Y/N. But I was thinking you’d want to see your friend get out of jail…”

Your breath stops dead in its tracks.

“My friend? Dave isn’t my friend.”

“That’s not what Jerri told me…”

Although you support Yahya, you still kept you and Dave’s past relationship a secret. Knowing Aunt Jerri, keeping secrets ain’t in her resume. You grip the kitchen counter to brace yourself for Yahya’s inquisition. He passed the bar on his first try; you got some work to do.

“Yeah, about that, I … didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Of course some puppy love shit ain’t relevant. It’s cute, actually.”

Nothing about what Yahya is saying to you makes sense like it does to him. As Aunt Jerri told Yahya about Dave’s case, she slipped in a farce that you and Dave “dated” when you both were kids, Dave buying you water ices and shrimp egg rolls from the “chinese store” whenever you asked. You two allegedly fell out once puberty hit the both of you like a ton of bricks.

So when Yahya peeped Dave staring at you from across the living room of Aunt Jerri’s house, he knew that as the look of a man who now knew he let something good get away. He knew Dave ventured down to the basement not to grab a bottle for Trace but to rspit game at you. Yahya knew you would turn him down, having seen it before. When Dave grabbed your hand , Yahya wasn’t jealous nor hurt: you were set to be his wife. He won. The baddest girl in the world belonged to him.

You start breathing again as Yahya explains Aunt Jerri’s novella of you and Dave’s teenage love affair. In her own twisted, demented yet genius way, Aunt Jerri covered for you. She knew that if she gave Yahya the honest details, he would – as a man –hesitate to help Dave. Apparently you both thought Yahya wasn’t mature enough to handle the truth.

Aunt Jerri’s lie is broken up by the high pitch screeching of your cell phone. You run to answer.

“You have a collect call from PICC. Do you accept the charges? …”

How many times can you stop breathing in one night?

“Hello?”

“Hey, yo… it’s Dave. I hope ain’t hitting you up at a bad time. Ms. Jerri gave me your number…”

“Oh, no … it-it’s cool. I, uh… how are you holding up?”

Dave couldn’t believe that you asked your fiance to help him get out of jail. At least, that’s the narrative that Aunt Jerri sold Dave on as she and Dave’s mother sat in front of him during their biweekly visits. Dave’s face, once pretty-boy and perfect, carried more wear. His jaw slipped when he talked, causing him a pain sometimes much worse than what happened that night in the store.

“This bail hearing is in two weeks.”

“Yeah, Yahya just tol-” You didn’t want to keep bringing up Yahya’s name. Though that man is Dave’s savior, he’s still the one that’s in the way of a final go around with Dave. “…the 6th, yeah.”

“I want you there.”

“You do?” Your aversion toward sitting in the courtroom subsides as Dave’s voice – sexy as ever, even through a prison phone – calls for you to be there for him.

“Yeah. If I get out, I got a chance. Especially with your dude as my lawyer. Thank you for that, for real. That’s why I’m calling, to be real. And I want you to be one of the first people I see when I get out..”

You wonder what story Aunt Jerri told Dave but you can’t take any more of her creativity. “So you comin’…?”

“…you have less than fifteen seconds left on this call…”

“I’ll…”

“…this call has ended. Goodbye…”

“…be there, Dave.”

Taglist: @yoursoulstea @harleycativy @twistedcharismaaa @dorkskinneded @need-my-fics @ghostfacekill-monger @writerbee-ffs @chaneajoyyy @amyhennessyhouse

#dave east #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul-mateen ii #yahya abdul-mateen ii x reader #dave east x reader #old habits die hard

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i-want-anne-hathaway · 4 years

Text

Analysis of “Flat 15B” from Halls

This is exactly what it sounds like. I took apart the lyrics of the song to try and figure out more about the characters. I only have the brief descriptions George and Jen gave and a six minute song, but I tried.

Jessie

Jessie (Grace Mouat) is the person who immediately tries making friends and initiates the Flat 15B group chat. She says things and criticizes herself for it afterwards like when she says “#15B? Oh my god, who even hashtags anymore” and “Oh god, not a wink face.” She questions very small things she does in regards to other people. This could be one of the things she works on throughout the show.

“I don’t know how I’ll cope with sharing a bathroom” demonstrates some of that privilege George and Jen mentioned. She probably doesn’t have any siblings because if she did, she would’ve shared a bathroom at least once. This privilege is different from the privilege they mentioned Will having. Will’s benefits are a lot clearer to see, but Jessie’s are very small things.

She mentions relationships twice with her lines, “Mom keeps on telling me that the best days of your life getting a first class degree, while finding Mr. Right” and “Did you know that 40% of people find their partners at uni” so I think she may have a romantic plot or subplot throughout the show.

She says “moving in gets nearer” as if it’s something she’s scared about. She’s obviously nervous about it, but in a very subtle way. It’s expected to be nervous and anxious, but Jessie treats her fear like something to be ashamed of.

Zoe

Zoe (Olivia Moore) is our resident theater major. She comes off as friendly and open like Jessie, telling her “you’ve got yourself a wing-woman right here” in response to Jessie’s “Mr. Right” line. If I were to mark one definite friendship, it would be Zoe and Jessie.

The lines she has to herself are both about her clothes fitting in the car and how many shoes she’s taking. This doesn’t give much information, but people who overpack generally do it for the reassurance that everything they may need is with them.

Zoe is also nervous about this whole university experience, but she’s straightforward about it. She says “I’m feeling scared” and that fact she’s sacred doesn’t bother her like it bothers Jessie.

Natalie

Natalie (Millie O’Connell) has already made herself known as the party girl from the very first line she sings. She seems to be somebody who likes to joke around as shown in her line “Wink face? That’s a bit keen.” I’m not entirely sure that’s what she’s saying, but it’s definitely something making playful fun of what Jessie said.

She is already like, “I can’t wait for Freshers week,” which is a week long period before classes start to get Freshman settled. There are parties and drinking all the time, and Natalie wants in on that. “No one to check what time that I get home…” made me think she doesn’t want people concerning themselves with what she does. She’s kinda like “I’m just tryna have some fun, so don’t worry,” and yes, that was a SIX reference. I’m not ashamed of myself because it fit very well.

Natalie has this one track mind of going to parties and drinking. Almost every line she says has something to do with partying or drinking, for example “I packed my tequila.” This whole party attitude reminded me of Farrah from We Are The Tigers, and if they are similar, Natalie has some issues she’s trying to run from.

Josh

Josh (Tarinn Callender) is the person you hate, but you love. He also seems like a bit of a party person, but not as much as Natalie. Almost all of his lines are about sex and appearances.

He’s cocky and confident, as seen in his line “Can’t see any girl saying no to me when I move in,” but if I’ve learned anything from school, the people who seem incredibly confident and cocky are faking it until they make it.

Dan

Dan (Cameron Burt) starts his section off with “This has to be the thing for me” because he started university before but dropped out. He no doubt feels pressure to stick with whatever he’s doing because of the fact he’s already quit once. I can already assume he probably feels awkward being older than everybody else.

He comes off as incredibly shy and reserved especially with Josh and Natalie coming right before him. In comparison to those two, he’s like a mouse. Dan looks very chill and relaxed to me. Everybody else texted something kind of bold, like Josh or interacted with the others, like Zoe, but Dan just said “Hey everyone. I’m Dan. Nice to meet you” and sort of left it at that.

Sam

Sam (Sophie Isaacs) is our working class student who juggles multiple jobs throughout the show. She’s not exactly poor, but she’s having difficulties with student loans. She says she’s “packed all my life into a case,” which suggests she doesn’t have very many things to even take with her.

She states “I can’t believe I’m going to get out of this place.” She either hasn’t been anywhere but the area she lived, or she didn’t think she’d manage to get into university anyway. There’s a chance her family didn’t go to university.

“I’m not coming back” is said with strength and confidence. She’s determined that she's getting out of that small town for good. There is no way she’s returning.

“I’m not gonna slack, I’m gonna make my family proud,” follows that line. She certainly doesn’t slack off because it’s been confirmed that she’s always working in order to pay off her loans. She’s going to do whatever it takes to get herself through school and make her family proud. I’ve had her character for less than a day, and I would kill for her.

Josh, Dan, and Sam all claim that they aren’t scared, which is different from the previous group, Jessie, Natalie, and Zoe. Natalie never outright says she’s scared, but I’m pretty sure she’s more nervous than she’s let on.

Lewis

Lewis (Alex Thomas-Smith) is this confident gay character who helps the others on their road to find themselves. I’m not sure if that’s in a mom friend way of helping them, or a friend who roasts you every time you try to make bad decisions, but either way it’s great.

He says “everything will start again when I walk through that door,” implying there’s something he wants to redo. He’s confident now, but he definitely wasn’t always like that. There’s something that happened he doesn’t want to think about.

“They’re gonna see me as who I am, not who I was before” gives off a similar idea as the previous line. These could be references to his sexuality, but it doesn’t feel that way. This makes me think he’s done/said some things he’s not proud of. Sexuality isn’t a “who I am now vs. who I was back then” type of situation because if you’re gay now, you were always gay. It’s not one of those things that starts after some event, it’s just a matter of realizing. He was somebody before that he doesn’t want to be associated with who he is now, and I doubt that the reason he’s so ashamed of this previous version of himself is because he wasn’t out of the closet.

“Cause I’ve already wasted time being scared and having to hide” does seem like a reference to Lewis’ sexuality, but I still don’t think that’s what the other two lines were about. His sexuality can be a reason he’s confident though. A lot of openly LGBTQ+ people are more confident because they’ve already accepted who they were. This is supported by the line “I won’t have to lie” because it implies he’d lied about who he was before.

Will

Will (Matteo Johnson) is also a law student and is supposed to be a parallel to Sam. They study the same thing, but because of finances, Will is much better off than Sam. Because he has rich parents, he doesn’t have to concern himself with working to afford school.

He’s seen speaking to his mother before he starts singing, and it doesn’t appear like she’s able to support him at school. We don’t know what she’s saying, but Will responds “Yeah, no, I understand it’s your job.” Even as he’s doing what his parents want, they still aren’t able to be there for him. “I’ll see you at Christmas” implies that from when he starts school in August or September, he won’t see his parents the entire time.

“My whole life has always gone perfectly to plan” perfectly shows that Will hasn’t been making his own choices. His major probably wasn't his choice nor was the school. “Never straying from the path that they laid out” conveys the same message. His parents planned out everything he did, and he never questioned it. “For the first time in my life, I suddenly feel unsure” shows that he’s doubting whether he wants to follow everything his parents tell him to do. He’s even doubting the fact that he’s doubting himself, “maybe I’m just scared.” After not questioning anything his whole life, now he doubts everything. A major point in Will’s story is going to be finding out what he wants and stepping away from the path his parents have for him

THAT WAS SO LONG! If anybody actually managed to read that entire thing, I must applaud you. 1511 words of character analysis based off of one song. I have way too much time on my hands, but I’m just so excited for this musical.

#halls the musical #six the musical #six musical #grace mouat #millie o'connell #olivia moore #tarinn callender #cameron burt #sophie isaacs #alex thomas smith #matteo johnson #if you managed to read this whole thing #thank you #this is just speculation #but my english teacher says im good at analysis

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raisingsupergirl · 3 years

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Perfectly Imperfect

The first time I peed in my yard, looked around, and realized no one could possibly see me from any direction, I knew I was home. In the few days since we moved in, we’re eating dinners as a family on our covered back deck. My girls are racing their bikes around our cavernous shop and exploring our creek in the deepest parts of our woods. Yellow sunrises stream into my bedroom from the window over our jetted bathtub, and orange sunsets light our pool water ablaze. Instead of being kept awake at night by honking cars and neighborhood punks, I’m drifting off to sleep to the lullaby of frogs and crickets. At times, it feels as if I’ve slipped into a lazy summer dream, and at any minute I’ll wake up and it’ll all be gone. Though, at other times, it feels as if all of this brilliance is a façade, a trick from some great deceiver that has no real ability to cover up all of the stress, frustration, and doubt weighing down my every thought.

You see, all is not well on the home front. I’d like it to be. I pray that it will be soon. But man, there’s SO much going wrong—so much that could turn into disaster at any moment. First off, we still haven’t sold our other house. Yes, we have two houses. No, we absolutely can’t afford them. And a part of me is ready to move back into our old house. Why? Because I’m tired of sweating. Oh, I didn’t mention? Yeah, the air conditioner is broken in our new house. It was broken before we moved in, even though the seller blamed it on the excessively hot days we’d been having. He refused to pay to have an HVAC specialist come check it out, so shame on me for being naïve enough to take his word that it was working fine. That’ll be a $3,600 mistake I’ll never make again.

I have to admit, it WAS a little strange to the HVAC guy that the A/C went out prematurely though, and how the inside unit didn’t match the fan outside. And it was weird to me, too, until someone from our community told me that our home had sustained a huge housefire (and subsequent water damage) a few years ago. Huh. I guess that explains why everything looked newly renovated. You’d think the seller would have disclosed that little piece of information.

I’m SURE there aren’t any other issues with the home though. And thankfully, the weather has been beautiful this week, so the broken A/C hasn’t been an unbearable inconvenience. Though that blessing has been somewhat dampened because we can only open three of our windows. Oh, silly me. I also forgot to mention that only three of our windows have screens. Which is surprising, because getting all new window screens was a contingency for our house closing. But the place the seller ordered them from made them all the wrong sizes. Darn the luck. The new ones are supposed to be in “soon,” though. I guess we’ll see if they’re installed before a new HVAC unit is available, which is expected to be, oh, never (thanks COVID).

At least we have a beautiful pool to cool off in, right? Well, not exactly. Yes, the seller “opened” it as agreed upon, but it’s far from balanced. There’s more algae growing in that thing than a Louisiana swamp. And neither my wife nor I have the slightest clue about pools, so we’re learning as we go. Hey, if all else fails, we’ll have a pretty sweet frog pond to add to those nighttime choruses! And we’ll still have plenty of yard to play on. That is, we can play on the small portion that hasn’t either been overgrown (which I could easily take care of if I actually had a lawn mower) or completely destroyed by the EXTENSIVE septic system repairs. But I guess I can’t complain. At least there’s no longer a sewage swamp in our yard.

And, well, I guess that’s about it. For now, anyway. And you know the remarkable thing? I’m still IN LOVE with this place. Do I need a giant red shop in my backyard? Absolutely not. It’s not like I remodel cars or build furniture. But I do have plenty of hobbies. And that thing is a blank canvas just waiting to become whatever my heart desires over the coming decades. Same goes with the yard. And the house. Even if it’s covering up fire and water damage, and even if it’s 80 degrees during the day, it has that certain SOMETHING that can’t be described. It’s cozy. It’s inviting. It’s interesting and safe and unique. And what’s more, my family agrees! My wife, who NEVER wanted to live in the country, is beginning to fall in love with quiet evening dinners around our patio table. And she’s feeling a giant weight off her shoulders now that the kids can go outside without fear of being abducted. And those daughters are actually CHOOSING to play outside instead of zoning out on the iPad. And my dog… oh, sweet Luna. She may be old, but she’s found new life in sniffing, sprinting, exploring, and splashing through acres of untethered freedom.

It’s easy to drown in the impending doom of uncertainty. Some might say only a crazy person would “relax” right now with everything going on. Well, joke’s on them—I AM crazy. And the best place for a crazy person is smack-dab in the middle of God’s country. I can’t bother anyone here, and they can’t bother me. I have faith not in earthly promises and deceptions but in the Faithful One—He who provides. As I look out at those three beautiful girls who drive me to that blissful level of crazy on a daily bases, I’m reminded that God has done me right thus far, and I know he’ll carry me the rest of the way, too. Just like our new home, my life isn’t perfect, but it’s perfect for me.

#new home #new home probs #country living #looking on the bright side #tooblessedtobestressed #momblr #dadblr #mumblr

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chaoticneutralwriter · 4 years

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Jamais Vu

A remedy, a melody A memory that only I will have If we stop here Would it be better to just turn everything off?

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, romance, comedy, angst, fluff

word count: 13.5k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin

Continuation of Second Act: Temperance

A/N: IT’S HERE!! AHHHHHH TT-TT This chapter, we’re finally heading to the concert! :O what other sorts of things can possibly happen here...? 👀 👀 LOLL As always, thank you so much for all of you guy’s patience and the endless love and support i’ve been getting through your asks! I really truly appreciate you all for sticking it out for this story!! 💖💖💖🥺🥺🥺 As always, I hope you enjoy!

Tag: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger

“Hey Y/N, we’re here.” A hushed voice along with a gentle nudge stirs you from your half-slumbering stupor. Blinking, you sluggish look around, mind beginning to catch you up on where you are and what’s happening as you hear the car doors open. It takes a minute but you eventually get your butt into gear, taking off your seatbelt and exiting the car as well to round to the back where your friend, Rosa, and the Uber driver were unloading your luggages.

You hastily make to grab yours, the last of it and place it onto the four wheels before pulling up the handle.

“Thank you so much for the drive.” Rosa thanks the driver, a fairly elderly man who’s been nothing but sweet and accommodating to the both of you despite it being nearly the ass crack of dawn.

“It’s not a problem. You two have fun on your trip; take care and be careful okay? There’s been too many horrible stories about young women traveling alone lately.” He says it kindly, almost like a grandfather to their granddaughters and even though you’re so tired, you can’t help but to smile in return.

“We will sir. You take care driving out there too.”

He nods before waving you two off as you and your friend shuffle onto the island. When he pulls away from the curb, you hear your friend take a deep breath in before exhaling. Turning to her, you catch her eyes and she grins at you, white teeth peeking out past the tops of the neck pillow she has on.

“It’s really happening.” She says, a little breathless — nervous yet excited.

You nod, her giddiness, although self-contained (you had a feeling it was because it’s so early and she’s mindful to the people who aren’t as awake yet i.e. you), is still contagious, the smile on your own lips stretching a bit wider.

You both head on inside, rolling your luggages along until you come upon the many self-checkin kiosks placed in the large terminal. The process was thankfully made easy with no need to send anything off; the trip was short and thus, Rosa and you have settled on just having one carry-on case and a crossbody handbag (or in Rosa’s case, backpack) each. With that done in no time, the next thing on the list was finding your correct gate, go through security and then finding the nearest Starbucks to ingest as much coffee as your body will allow you to.

Contrary to Jimin’s advice on getting as much rest as you can, you felt like you hardly got any sleep at all. Your restlessness was caused by many things — nerves from flying out for the first time with a friend, navigating your way through a city you’ve never been to until now, the excitement of not missing out on seeing a BTS concert when you were so sure you wouldn’t be going, it all felt so surreal to you, even as you’re strolling through the airport amongst many other people who bustle along with you, either arriving from a flight or off to catch one like yourselves.

But rising above everything, like a tumultuous wave ready to crash down on you, was your guardian demon. It should be no surprise really as it seems he’s constantly occupying your thoughts nowadays, a permanent resident and not paying rent though you think this time around, you can forgive it. The worry you have for him had remained firmly in the back of your mind, festering and growing until it too, joined in with the other thoughts keeping you tossing and turning that night.

Jimin told you that he would be meet you at the gate in spite of just coming out of a two-day coma from a near death experience; something that you can’t process at all. Even though he’s reassured you that he would heal in time, the very thought of the slight chance he could be putting up a front didn’t sit well with you, made worse that it’s more likely than not. Before you know it, the anxiety is eating at you and already, you’ve caught yourself doing double-takes for the fifth time, mistaking someone else for him. It’s embarrassingly made you prone to spacing out, so much that an officer at one point had to nudge you along because you were holding up the line during the screening process.

Thankfully, you make it through without further incident (though your cheeks are red and you kinda want to curl up in a corner somewhere but that would probably get you sent to an interrogating room under suspicious behaviour).

“Oh hey, I see our gate.” Rosa’s voice breaks through your thoughts, forcing you to take in the overhanging sign indicating that and the fairly empty seating area. Beyond the large windows overlooking the runway, the sky is still dark, the barest soft orange hues peeking through along the horizon. You’re about an hour and a half early for your flight, glad that the ample time you’ve given yourself arriving to the airport was used well because you weren’t in a panicked rush in finding your gate and risk missing your flight. Furthermore, you now have the leisure to do the next thing on your list — finding some food and caffeine.

“I think most of the cafes and other eating places are just a little further down that way.” Rosa comments, stretching her neck to peer down the long pathway before turning back to you. “Do you want to stay here and I’ll go grab us something or…?”

You smile, shaking your head. “No I’ll come with. I think I need to keep moving around to stay awake at this point.”

You choose to leave out the fact that you’re also feeling a little too fidgety, your anxiety not allowing you to stay put.

So the both of you wander further down the terminal, taking advantage of the moving walkways when they come and eventually come across the duty free stores, some luxury brand boutiques, and of course, the cafes and eateries. There’s a decent amount of foot traffic here despite the early hours, though you suppose you shouldn’t really be surprised — the airport only ever gets busier so to some, this might be considered ‘quiet’.

“Which place? Starbucks, A&W’s… I see Second Cup too. Is that a Mcdonald’s?” Rosa lists out loud before audibly gasping at the prospect of seeing the faint traces of the trademark ‘M’. You squint your eyes too, trying to make out if it was indeed your potential elixir of life and can’t help the snort that escapes you.

“It’s a McCafe, which is close enough so let’s go.”

Rosa giggles, falling into step beside you as you both make your way over. Fifteen minutes later, you’ve got a muffin and a medium ice coffee in hand. The shock of the cold drink in your system has you feeling more alert but the effect doesn’t last long nor does the caffeine (you swear it’s actually making you sleepier). You walk around for a while longer, looking at things you can’t afford and nibbling on your chocolate muffin before you lose your appetite halfway eating through the top half. Stuffing the remaining into your crossbody, you continue to follow after Rosa, your conversations kept light by the underlying buzz for your upcoming travels and yet you feel like you’re not all really there yourself.

“Hey, Y/N….Y/N?”

“O-Oh! Yeah sorry?” Your gaze snaps back to Rosa, unaware that you had become lost in watching people pass by the shop you and Rosa were in.

Your friend chuckles, giving you a wry smile. “You were spacing out hard fam. I think you need to take a nap.”

“Hey, have pity on me. I am not a fully functioning human-being any time before 12PM, at most.” You reply defensively in half truth. In the end, it’s decided that you should both head back to your gate to wait out the rest of your time there. The seating area has become fuller when you arrive, at least in terms of an early flight which thankfully means you still have no trouble in finding a place by an outlet to hunker down until your boarding time an hour later.

You practically sink into your seat, the exhaustion encompassing you like the flannel blanket you should’ve brought along with you just as a yawn threatens to tear your mouth open.

“Oh my God, we need to board soon before I just pass out right here and miss the flight entirely.” You say around it, stretching your arms before you cross them to get comfortable.

“For real, but luckily you have me to haul your ass onto the plane. It shouldn’t be too long now…” Your friend remarks, taking the seat beside you. She peers out at the runway, the sun already rising and daybreak beginning to light the sky an azure blue but even that isn’t enough to pull you from teetering over the edge of sleep again. You fall into companionable silence, Rosa occupying herself with her phone while you begin to drift in and out of a haze, a confusing seesaw between staying awake and drifting off. You don’t notice how the time pass as when you’re nudged gently on the side, you find your friend grinning at you like a Cheshire Cat.

“We’re twenty minutes from boarding fam! Watch my stuff for a second while I go use the washroom? I don’t want to have to go while we’re 5000ft off the ground.”

Your astounded expression pulls a laugh from her, no doubt picking up on your lack of time awareness but nonetheless, you smile with a nod, voicing your own desire to probably do the same after she’s back so please hurry, the ice coffee needs to be drained from your bladder too. She takes off in a brisk walk, beelining straight to the overhanging sign indicating the facility and make to stretch out your arms and crack your stiff joints. Lifting your gaze, you scan the sitting area, noting the few people sitting ahead of you with their heads buried in their phones or other electronic devices, some having taken up the seat facing the large windows, and there are even those looking like they’ve spent the night here as they lay curled up on multiple seats, oblivious to the world around them as they rest.

You wish you could be like that, but you’re plagued with a restlessness you can’t drown out no matter how hard you try. You breathe a heavy sigh, shoulders heaving as you think how even though your flight is a fairly short one, you get the feeling that it’ll be twice as long in your mind and that’s something you’re not looking forward to.

“Maybe I should’ve grabbed a pack of Xanax or something….” You grumble to yourself, rubbing your eyes with your hands.

“I don’t think you’ve got the health insurance to cover that sweetheart.”

You jumpstart in your seat, nearly jostling both yours and Rosa’s carry-on luggage over as you whip your head to the side. Your gaze catches the back of his head, and you wouldn’t have known any better had it not been for the unmistakable smooth lilt of his voice. He’s sitting on the other side of the bench from you, back to back, one seat to your left so when you twist just slightly, you would’ve caught sight of his side profile. To your dismay and surprise though, the lower half of his face is hidden by a black surgical mask, the rest by his black ball cap.

“Ji—!“

“Eyes forward cherub, don’t want to draw attention.”

Your mouth snaps shut, heat warming your cheeks when you realize how much of your elation at seeing him came through your voice. You heed his advice, partly because he’s right but also to hide your struggles in fighting off the wide smile threatening to break out on your face. Plus, this way it feels like you’re suddenly in a spy movie, meeting up with a contact incognito.

“Could’ve sent me a text to let me know you were here…” You say afterwards.

“I could’ve, but where’s the fun in that?”

You scoff quietly, rolling your eyes at his playful gibe but you’re not bothered by it at all. You’re glad Jimin’s here, his presence having some sort of immediate effect on you and your previous uneasiness, which now, has calmed to something manageable, like the invisible shadow following you has disappeared and you no longer have to keep looking over your shoulder to make sure it doesn’t sneak up on you. You finally have breathing room however, there’s still something that lingers persistently.

“So…H-How are you feeling…?” Your question comes out far softer, more hesitant than you had intended and you bite your lip. There’s a drawn pause, one that felt too long for you and makes you all too aware of the heavy pounding of your heart. Unconsciously your fingers begin to tug at the ends of your loose cardigan sleeves, nervous all of a sudden and just when you open your mouth to fill in the void, Jimin replies.

“Do you really have that little trust in me cherub? I’m kinda hurt…”

 “N-No! What I meant was—!”

“Relax I know, I was just pulling your leg.”

A huff of air leaves you, a little on the exasperated side as you’re frozen midway in fully turning to face Jimin, subtly be damned (you think you’d never make for a good spy anyways). You know he’s trying to reassure you and it would’ve worked had you not picked up on the way he downplays the seriousness of the question, deflecting with humour and banter. He’s clearly intent on not worrying you so much but it only serves to do the opposite. It makes you want to turn around to gauge his expression, see for yourself if he’s really okay.

“Hey,”

The call of his voice tears you from your train of thoughts, head naturally turning towards him and you’re a little surprised to see dark obsidian eyes staring back at you. You’re lost in their depths, how they hold you captive in a gentle but firm way and instantly it’s like the whole world melts away and it’s just the two of you. Then, they turn up slightly at the corner in a way where you can already imagine the soft smile he has on beneath the mask, it sends your heart racing once again as you wait with almost bated breath for what he has to say.

“I’m okay, really. I promised I would be didn’t I?”

Your teeth pulls at your bottom lip, eyes darting off for a second before they come back to his. You take him in as much as you can, searching for anything that might give way to his front but it’s either he’s concealed it so well that you can’t tell or maybe perhaps he really is okay like he says. Jimin was already a hard person to read, but with that face mask on, it’s even harder.

You sigh, relinquishing.

“Then…Can you also promise me you won’t push yourself?”

His eyes crinkle a bit more but you’re determined to remain steadfast in your conviction. Jimin sees it as he tilts his head before nodding in agreement.

“Okay, I’ll try not to.”

You shoot him a pointed look, one that makes him chuckle and raise a finger to tap on your nose, so quickly you didn’t get the chance to lean away. You blink, flinching back in a delayed reaction but cheeks warming just the same.

“Will it convince you if I told you I’m not going to teleport there and that I’ll actually be on the flight with you?”

That makes you straighten up, eyebrows shooting into your hairline.

“You are?”

“Well, I figured it’s the best solution to the two problems we have; I don’t have to strain myself like you said and we’ll be in close proximity to each other, enough that in case anything goes wrong, I can step in without any issues.”

You nod, seeing his point and honestly even asking yourself why you hadn’t thought of that before until you furrow your brows, zeroing in on him again.

“Wait, you haven’t been recognized yet have you?”

“Of course not, I got this on for a reason.” He gestures to his face, indicating the face mask and baseball cap but that only makes you cock your head back, chin tucking in with an extremely dubious look scrunching your face. There’s absolutely no way this ‘disguise’ of his worked, in fact, he’s playing right into the ‘obviously-a-K-Pop-idol-leaving-for-a-flight’ airport look. It makes you cast shifty eyes around you suddenly — maybe you should actually turn around and pretend you’re in a spy movie again.

“Jimin that’s hardly a disguise! And you can’t tell me you haven’t taken it off at least once to do airport security checks. Are you using your cloaking spell right now? Don’t tell me you are.” You resort to frantically whispering to him as you sink a little lower in your seat.

“I’m not right now, but I did use a couple of enthralling spells here and there, nothing too taxing though so relax. Just enough that I get by with no incidents.”

You suppose that’s as good as it’s gonna get with an answer so you choose to not pry any further. Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you let out one last sigh.

“Alright… Just stay out of trouble.”

“I should be telling you that.” He chides back, getting up with a stretch. Jimin reaches down to grab his denim jacket and black duffle bag (Louis Vuitton, you’re not surprised at this point anymore) sitting on the seat beside his. Your eyes can’t help doing a full sweep of his figure; fitted black t-shirt tucked into dark wash jeans, held by a belt cinched around his waist. You feel like a troll next to him in your sweats and oversized t-shirt (that you double up as a sleep shirt too, you literally just threw on a bra before you left that morning).

“Where are you seated?” You ask after getting over Jimin’s unfaltering immaculateness (you swear the apocalypse could be happening and he would still be dressed in designer brands).

“Business of course.”

You nearly choke.

“B-Business…?!”

“Ah, I should really try to snag another cocktail at the lounge before we start boarding soon.” He says offhandedly, dark eyes drifting off in thought and then redirects them to you. “I’ll be in touch cherub, even if you might not see me. Still, stick with your friend and don’t have too much fun now you hear?”

He’s striding off with a finger wave salute before you can get another word in, but not like you can you think, absolutely stunned speechless. You don’t even notice your friend making her way back to you, just as the attendant at the front desk to your gate announces pleasantly that you would all be boarding soon and can those with special needs, young children and the elderly begin to line up to board first.

“Hey, what’s up? You look…kinda pissed? More alive but pissed.” Rosa laughs good-naturedly. “Some bastard try to pull a fast one on you?”

You exhale a wheeze because she’s not too far off with that statement so you don’t necessarily deny it, almost ruefully replying, “Yeah…I guess you could say that…”

She lets out another laugh, grabbing your hand to tug you out of your seat when the attendant calls for your section to begin lining up. As you gather your things and begin to make your way, you ironically think that your friend wouldn’t be laughing if she had known she, and by way you, have been robbed first class seats.

Oh well, you think, you can’t be too mad because as they say, beggars can’t be choosers. And besides, you have a lot to be thankful for in that moment and you’re not just talking about the round trip to seeing your favourite band play. So with a little more pep in your step since you first arrived to the airport, you eagerly board the plane.

What you had planned was to use the flight time to catch up on as much rest as you can before landing where you know it’s going to be a whirlwind of hopping from one place to another.

Unfortunately for you, your ice coffee kicks in despite having emptied your bladder only fifteen minutes into the flight. You significantly feel more alert so your attempts at getting comfortable against the window were futile. Even when you shut your eyes, you’re very much still conscious and aware of everything going on around you, especially the loud droning of the plane’s engine. You don’t know how people get used to it, let alone make it as part of their white noise to help them sleep.

What you do know is that it’s not easy as after a few more minutes of shuffling in your seat, you give up on any hopes of getting any decent sleep and instead, settle for just closing your eyes, earphones on with your old iPod touch cycling through BTS albums — might as well drown out the plane engine with some good music.

You zone in and out for the entire four and a half hour, which felt like it went by in a snap because next thing you know, you’re startled by the chime of the PA going off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we are about ten minutes away from landing and — …”

You pull off your earphones, winding the cord to tuck your iPod away into your crossbody as you gaze out of the window, watching the clouds drift like oversized cotton candy through the clear blue sky, sun blazing on overhead. You’re glad that it seems like the weather would be perfect for the concert, which means there won’t be any pains in traveling around by foot. Bonus is that sunnier weather always puts you in a better mood.

Rosa seems to share the same sentiment because when you turn over to her, she’s staring out the window too, eyes practically sparkling and way perkier now that she doesn’t have to hold back. She grabs your arm, giving it a squeeze, silently conveying her excitement and you grin back at her, wiggling a bit in your seat as you both eagerly watch the wing of the plane dip, swooping down lower until it breaches the sea of white below and you get your first glimpse of the city.

You land without a hitch, even having some passengers clapping much to your amusement but in general, the lively buzz just adds to the atmosphere. You gather your belongings, double checking to make sure nothing is left behind as you wait to join the queue in the aisle to exit the plane.  “So it’s close to eleven-thirty right now, which gives us a good amount of time before doors open to let us into the stadium. Should we find our hotel to drop off our things and then go find something to eat? Or should we drop off our things, head to the venue and then see if we can find a place to eat near there?” Rosa asks, tapping her phone so that the airplane mode is turned off.

You contemplate, humming before you say, “How hungry are you? Because I don’t really have an appetite right now but if you want to eat after we drop off our things first, we can do that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty good too so we drop off our things, head to the venue, then eat?”

“Yeah, sounds good to me!”

After struggling to get both of your carry-ons down from the compartment without giving yourselves a head injury (luckily your seat neighbours were kind enough to lend you a hand), you and Rosa wheel off out of the plane, down into the ramp. For a split second, you catch yourself glancing back one last time, eyes searching for that familiar shadow but the pace in which the masses move easily sweeps you up, not allowing you to linger for too long less you want to hold up traffic. However, you recall his words, assuring you that even if you might not actually see him, he’ll be close by to still be able to help you out if you need it. So you continue on, exiting out into a terminal in no time thanks to bypassing the need to go to baggage claims, telling yourself that everything’s fine and there’s no reason to fret.

You’re here to see BTS damn it; your faves, your ultimate and you can’t waste this golden opportunity by overthinking on things.

 “Okaaay…” Rosa starts, not unlike a ranger about to take their scouts on a rigorous hike while teaching them survival skills. “Let’s grab an Uber and head on over to the hotel. You have the address right?”

“Oh, yes!” You quickly pull out your own phone, pulling up the text file as Rosa opens the Uber app on her phone. She’s typing the address into the destination bar when you hear someone call out to you.

“Um, excuse me?”

You and Rosa both look up, wide eyed like rabbits caught out in the open and turn to see two other girls staring back at you, no older than you are but what caught your attention immediately was the firefighter red cushion that’s shaped like a heart clutched in one of their arms, only this heart had a funny little face on it — two beady eyes, straight brows and round, yellow plush lips. A familiar face.

Tata.

Your eyes light up, you hear Rosa gasp softly beside you and in an instant, the mood shifts. You’re no longer confused from not recognizing the pair, instead it’s like running into old friends again if the way they smiled back just as widely was anything to go by, a knowing look on their faces.

“Are you..—?”

“ARMY?”

“YES!”

“YES!!”

You barely stop yourself from escalating in volume but your newly formed group had already drawn a couple of judgemental looks in your directions. Cheeks warming yet pleasantly aching from the grin, you wave frantically in an attempt to quiet the excited chattering that has exploded, your initial task forgotten in favour of acquainting yourselves with your new found friends, comrades gathered here for a common purpose and love for one particular group.

Rosa lets out a surprise squeak before falling into more of a hush, a sheepish smile playing on her lips and everyone sort of follows suit, still giggling.

“Oh my God this is so wild!” One of the girls laughs, “Are you guys staying somewhere close by the venue?”

“Yeah, actually we were just about to grab an Uber to head over there.” Rosa replies, flashing her phone with the app still open but address only half completed.

“AirBnb or did you somehow grab a hotel?” The other asks you, adjusting her backpack and making a few keychains jingle. You get a flash of a Cooky enamel chain glinting in the light.

“Yeah we’re staying at this hotel.” You showed them the official website page and she gasps.

“Wow! You’re lucky, that’s so close to the venue! Literally everywhere I go I keep hearing how everywhere is fully booked, even the AirBnbs around the area.”

“Where are you guys staying?” Rosa asks, after she’s copied down the address from you.

“We got an AirBnb that’s a little bit further away from the venue, like a ten minute drive? Not so bad but we’d definitely need to Uber to and back.”

You make a sound of understanding, picking up on the implication that it’ll be more money spent but that’s just what comes with these things. However, an idea comes to you.

“Hey,” You speak up, getting the attention of the party, “We can… split rides for Uber to your place if you want to? I mean, we’re all heading out anyways so we might as well right? I think it’ll be cheaper that way too.”

Rosa nods at your proposal, jumping in to add, “Yeah! Uber has a feature for that, I can definitely set up a second trip.”

The two girls glance at each other in a wordless act of debate, shortly reaching an agreement of sorts when one of them shyly turns back to you and Rosa with a timid smile.

“If you don’t mind? That would be really great actually.”

“Of course not! Save money when you can right?” Rosa says exuberantly, dispelling any remaining doubts to the two as their smiles widen again. So with a few taps, you make the necessary adjustments to your ride and now you’re all heading out to meet your driver in a merry band of four.

During your wait, you finally realize you haven’t made any formal introductions to each other (which, upon bringing it up, causes a round of laughter) but at least now, they know yours and Rosa’s names and you know them as Sam and Megan. Conversation flowed easily between the four of you, quickly getting acquainted with each other and by the time you and Rosa are getting dropped off first at the hotel, you’ve all followed each other on Twitter, Instagram and gotten everyone’s backstory on becoming fans of BTS (and of course, biases and bias wreckers).

“Hey, hey I got this, don’t worry!” Rosa says, trying to bat away Sam who had stepped out of the car as well to help you unload your carry-ons in the trunk. Megan follows suit after placing her Tata cushion and duffle bag in the backseat.

“No! This is the least we can do for sharing the ride!”

“It’s not even that heavy, it’s okay!”

Everyone fusses until it eventually turns into a group effort, even if what Rosa said was true. It makes you all giggle in the end at how silly it is but no one seems to mind.

“Thank you so much for the ride again! We should try to meet up at the venue!” Megan suggests to all of which you nod in agreement.

“Yeah! We’ll be in touch then since we have each other’s handles.” You smile back as Rosa closes the trunk. You go to shuffle onto the sidewalk, ready to see the other two girls off when Sam, wide eyed, suddenly lets out a loud gasp.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” She says quickly, darting into the back seat to grab her backpack to rummage through it, you and Rosa watch on curiously. After a short while, she triumphantly pulls out two baggies and already you see the goodies in them — self-printed photo cards of a member, fan art stickers, post cards, and a handmade purple bracelet. What’s more is that she hands them to you and Rosa, making you and Rosa squeal simultaneously.

“I’m handing these out at the venue and I wouldn’t want to run out before seeing you guys again.”

Immediately, you’re thanking her profusely and after another round of bidding each other later, you and Rosa head inside to the lobby of the hotel. It’s nothing fancy to be of note, but thankfully, it’s not sketchy either. The interior is quite simple yet spacious, the decor all in warm tones that matches the lighting, the accents emphasize on a deep mahogany wood. Off to the side, closest to the windows overlooking out onto the streets, is the lounge, the only area where it’s carpeted while the rest of the hotel is tiled, curtains drawn up and out of the way with an array of long couches and chairs surrounding coffee tables. The flat screen tv hanging on a single panel of wall space that perfectly divides the windows in half is set to a local news channel, displaying the weather and traffic around the city.

You and Rosa roll your carry-on towards the front desk, standing behind a few people ahead of you. It’s actually quite busy with lots of people coming in and out or taking up space in the lounge but all of it doesn’t surprise you because you have a sneaking suspicion as to why. Almost on cue, the group at the front begins to walk away, keycards in hand and bags full of BTS merchandise hanging off or stuck to their travel cases. Rosa nudges you but you’re already nodding with a grin on your face to show that you’ve noticed.

Checking-in was an easy process, what with both you and Rosa only needing one room with two beds to share. So you scurry off to the fifth floor, locating room 517 and as soon as you get the keycard on the door, you fling it open, rushing into the room with a bounce.

“Lemme change my outfit real quick! I feel like a slob and I can’t be looking like this in front of my boys!” You gasp, throwing your case onto the ground to open it.

“Oh shit you’re right. I need to put on liner or something! Can’t show my face like this to Jin.” Rosa says, doing the same with her carry-on case to pull out her little make-up pouch.

You grab your change of clothes, rushing to the bathroom and it felt like you were doing a quick change routine by how fast you managed to switch out everything. Looking in the mirror, you can’t help the grin on your face as you check yourself over. You’re wearing a black t-shirt with BTS’ logo taking up most of the front of the shirt while on the back lists all the members names in white text. It’s an old shirt, unofficial merchandise too but you’ve worn it the previous time you were lucky enough to go to their concert so you feel like it’s only right to bring it out again. After deliberating on a French tuck or a full on tuck, you decide to go with the latter, stuffing the ends into your distressed skinny jeans.

Satisfied, you step out to find Rosa already decked out in her concert gear that includes an RJ shirt over black cargo pants and RJ headband. She’s carefully applying lipgloss in the vanity and it prompts you to grab your own make-up bag until the both of you are crowding around another for the mirror. Once you’re done applying liner, some lip tint and other touch ups, you turn to Rosa.

“‘Kay, I’m good to go!”

She turns to you with a grin, grabbing both of your light sticks that’s set out on the bed, presenting it to you like it’s an Oscar. You can’t help letting out a boisterous laugh but take it from her anyways.

“Let's get it!”

You grab your bag, emptying out the things you wouldn’t need and leaving only your wallet, cellphone, charger bank, and keycard in. Stepping out, you make sure the door locks itself properly before you and Rosa start heading towards the elevators.  “So the venue is like… a ten minute walk from here, do you want to Uber it or walk?” You point out, pulling up Google maps as a reference.

“I’m good for walking because we’ll make it five if we power walk.”

Turns out, she’s right. Apparently Rosa’s enthusiasm sparks to double yours which you’ve completely underestimated because before you know it, you’re walking alongside other concert goers and then you see the first of the banners and then…

“Oh my God…” Rosa whispers beside you, absolutely vibrating but you nod, sharing the same sentiment.

There are banners with each members faces on it hanging from the flagpoles lining the walkway towards the stadium. Around on the grounds, there are canopies of tents selling official concert merchandise, light sticks and a giant wall poster with BTS at the centre, dressed to impress as always, giving the fans the opportunity to take a commemorative photo. It’s like a little marketplace for the fans — there’s so much to look at and so much to take in that it makes your heart pound but along with that, there are lines.

Oh the lines.

You gulp just looking at all the different lines leading to different activities and booths, how they seem to stretch for miles and miles, twisting and curving like one giant serpent. You can’t even begin to imagine how early some people must’ve arrived here in order to be the first twenty in line. Honestly, it makes you sweat a little, but somehow, you’re determined to embrace this madness, swept up by the hype and the fact that you may never get this chance again.

“Okay, what do we do first?” Rosa asks, “I’m really not about to try for that merch line but I really wanna do the photo booth. We didn’t get to do it last time right?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking too.”

“Okay! Photo booth line!”

So without a second thought, you and Rosa speed on over to the set up, racing to find the back of the line. You find it curving halfway around one of the buildings that was a washroom with vending machines posted out at the front. Once you made it, you and Rosa buckle down and play the hardest game known to any fan — the waiting game.

It wasn’t so bad you think, you and Rosa basically spent time catching up on things you didn’t get to talk about in the early morning, talk about which songs you’re looking forward to see live and even getting interrupted every once in a while by kind fans handing out freebies. Time is lost amongst the shared laughter, swept away in the electrified thrum of other people’s combined energy and you soak it all in, loving the feeling even if your cheeks ache from having smiled and laughed so much. You shuffle and move along with the line, at times, zoning in and out or simply watch what’s going on around you (you think it’s amusing how every time the venue staff would announce a round of items that were sold out, the awaiting crowd would groan or yell in anguish altogether; it resonates with your soul).

Soon, you find yourself within the winding barricade part of the line, thirty people deep and close enough to hear the squeals and squawks people are making when they first enter the photo booth.

“I’m totally gonna be like them when I go in, just completely lose my shit at holographic Jin.” Rosa points out, grinning.

“I’m just so excited to finally do it! It’s just too bad we can’t get any merch but at the same time, I’m pretty much too broke to afford anything.” You reply. Rosa nods solemnly in agreement.

Another half hour later, you’re finally at the front, waiting for your turn and you’re absolutely besides yourself, rocking on your heels to try to restrain from combusting. It’s hard to do because Rosa is bouncing in her spot which makes the monitoring staff giggle. You shy away a little, even though you know they’re probably used to it by now but your embarrassment doesn’t last long when two of the three booths become free and you’re given the go ahead along with Rosa. You’re laughing all the way in from hearing Rosa’s gradually fading scream.

Drawing back the curtains, you enter in the little room, brick red in colour with one ottoman bench fit for two people. On the wall in front is a touch screen with seven squares, each displaying a members face on it and all you have to do now is choose who you want a digital picture with.

Your finger moves as if on its own, right towards —

You stop.

It takes a second for you to realize where they hover, a hair’s breadth from his picture.

Jimin.

No…Not him. Not…

You shake your head, ridding the thought and this odd feeling that overcomes you in that second. You chalk it up as it finally hitting you how all of it seems so bizarre that you’re here to see BTS’ Jimin when all this time you had a literal clone of him manifested as a demon meant to protect you. It’s tripping you out, which is why it takes you a hot minute to get your head in the game, so to speak.

This is BTS’ Jimin — vocalist, dancer, model idol and member of BTS, the biggest boy group in the world right now. Park, nation’s angel/fairy, Jimin.

Totally different.

You repeat the words in your head like a mantra, convincing yourself before breathing in deeply. Then you press the icon, submit yes and watch with a rapidly beating heart as a countdown begins, the screen switching to the live selfie camera and on one, Jimin appears as if entering the booth. Your eyes dart up to the space he should be instinctively but you quickly chastise yourself, drawing back to the screen in front of you as you hear him speak a few lines. Even as a digital hologram he’s breathtaking, soft honey blonde hair swept off his forehead and dressed in a black suit that fits him so well that it’s almost criminal. He strides to sit beside you and you reel a bit, quickly trying to orient yourself on the seat in the screen and his figure, barely catching a few words in Korean that initiated the first photo take.

The countdown begins and you get into position, smiling towards the screen but within those three seconds, you catch sight of yourself and him; the way he leans into you, a soft smile adorning his lips and in that moment, your heart squeezes and you falter as the camera shutter goes off.

You blink, stunned but you can’t stop to process the feeling so you push it back as Jimin prompts for a second photo, this time holding his hand to form half a heart which you’re meant to complete.

This is BTS’ Jimin.

You hastily follow, almost stubbornly so as again, the countdown begins and you force a smile, angling yourself to look half as flattering as Jimin.

This is BTS’ Jimin.

The shutter goes off again, he says a few more sweet words before he walks off screen and you’re left to choose between the two pictures you’d taken to have printed.

You grimace as you scan them over — neither one of them are satisfying to you.

“I think your photo looks cute!” Rosa exclaims, looking over yours before giving you a nudge on the shoulder with a teasing glint in her eyes. “You two look good together.”

You nudge her back, taking the photo from her and stuffing it into your crossbody. “Stop, before some sasaeng overhears.”

Rosa cackles loudly, throwing her head back. “Oh please, a bitch can try to run up on you or me. I will fight.”

That pulls a laugh out of you but somehow, you have no doubts about it. Clicking her phone, Rosa checks for the time and with a glance, you’re shocked to see that you’ve already spent a good three hours around the venue. And a chunk of it was just waiting in a line.

“‘Kay now should be a good time to grab something to eat.”

At the mention of food, your stomach gurgles and churns in response and you’re surprised it’s only then that you feel the ache of not having eaten anything sufficient since six in the morning.

“Yeah, I’m starting to feel it now. Where should we go?”

Rosa hums, straining to look around as you come to the borders of the stadium grounds. She turns her head from one side of the street to the other and you follow her, spying a few familiar fast food chains by their company colours.

“I think we should grab something that we can take on the go, it’ll be easier in case we spontaneously decide to jump in a line again.”

You snort, not arguing with the idea but the thought of getting into another lineup is…. You’re gonna have to think on that after eating a sandwich or something. Your head cocks a little at that.

“How about a sandwich then? That’s pretty easy to carry around, and filling too.”

Your friend considers the idea and then nods, “Yeah, I can do that.”

It wasn’t hard to find a place that would meet your requirements of a delectable sandwich as the concert venue was situated very closely to the downtown parts of the city. It was only a matter of how far you’re both willing to walk, which is…not very far. You and Rosa both agreed that it would be in your best interests to stick around the venue because on your way to picking a spot, you chance your first look at the one lineup you and Rosa probably dreaded the most, outright feared.

“God is that—?”

“…Yeah….” The words come out short but heavily in a resigned sigh. Like with any other lines you’ve seen so far, this one stretches just as long with the only difference is that you can at least pinpoint exactly how and when it started. You easily spot the makeshift camp ground fans have created, tents of varying colours dotting along in the empty parking lot, peeking out from over the heads of those currently waiting in the queue for GA. Now your stomach churns uneasily for a different reason.

“Let’s hurry and get in before the line gets any longer!”

The both of you rush into action, entering the closest fast food establishment for the sake of not dallying but perhaps you think all in vain because it too was crowded with people, specifically other concert goers. At this point, there’s no escaping the wait anywhere and Rosa seems to realize too as she gives you a wry smile, moving to stand at the end of the formed line with you following suit. Another twenty minutes later, you and Rosa are dashing out, a bag in each hand containing your sandwiches, extra snacks and bottle of water. You’re out of breath when you finally reach the end of the line, ready to sit on the sidewalk and eat. To your pleasant surprise however, you find some familiar faces.

“Oh my God! Sam, Megan!” Rosa exclaims, wide eyed as the girls glance up from their phones respectively, wide smiles appearing on their faces when they see you and your friend. They envelope you in a hug each and you fall into conversations, all centred around what you’ve done so far in the venue, showing the pictures you took and freebies you got. It goes on for a while until you can’t stand it anymore and as politely as you could, informed that you must devour this sandwich now or else you would keel over. The first bite you took was nothing short of heavenly and it’s like a ravenous monster has been awakened because you think you downed it all in ten seconds flat.

Regardless, it does the job of filling your stomach with something so that it doesn’t end up eating itself but you somewhat had the thought before to try and portion it out, knowing you had a bit of a wait to get through before doors officially open. Within that time, you had also finished your bag of chips, sharing amongst the group and drank your fill of water. Hydration has always been the one thing everyone emphasizes the most when going to BTS’ concerts but you still struggle to find that balance between getting enough water and having too much water because who would want to have to go to the washroom in the middle of a concert? Plus, any water you don’t finish before security check you would have to throw away anyways.

You end up holding back on chugging your entire bottle, stopping when you felt like your bladder won’t explode any time soon but that means you’ll have to accept that the rest would be given to the trash.

Finally after some time, you’re startled from your stagnant position when the line ripples to life. You perk hearing the muffled bass of songs you’ve grown to love and know word for word despite the different language. Megan is the first to stand up, all of you at one point resorted to sitting right along the sidewalk edge, tip-toeing to see what the commotion was.

“I think doors are opening! The line looks like it’s moving now!”

The news has an immediate effect, the rest of you springing to your feet just as the people in front of you start shuffling forward. A surge of jitters tingles along your spine as you move along, inching closer and closer to the entrance. Not only does this mean you’ll be finally getting into the arena, but it also means that the concert is well on its way to starting soon. You catch yourself in time from bumping into the person in front of you when the line suddenly stops right on a bend. You think nothing if it until you hear murmurs of a commotion and see people actually leaving from their spots.

“What’s going on?” You ask, concerned.

“I think there’s a confusion between lines?” Sam answers, peering around the many bodies in front of you. You do the same, trying to worm your way through this broken telephone game until you hear someone raising their voice.

“Left side of this line is for GA!! This line is for seats!!”

“Ah shit!” Rosa curses, turning to Sam and Megan. “We gotta bounce then. Enjoy the show girls!”

“Bye!! You too! Now go, go!”

You wave hastily before Rosa is pulling your arm and you both go running to the newly formed line beside the one you were just in. You’ve made quite the jump, even if you are a bit aways still from seeing the front entrance. But it’s almost like it doesn’t matter because the line continues to move and before you know it, the doors are right in front of you.

“As soon as we get through the security gate, we’re booking it.” Rosa says, determined and fired up, even doing little stretches as if she’s getting ready to do a 100m sprint. You don’t argue with her though, chewing on your lower lip at thinking about how many people must already be in the pit, how your chances of getting a good spot is dwindling lower and lower with every people let in. Slowly, you grow more anxious and now you’re antsy to get your ass in ASAP because like hell, you’re going to be stuck with an awful view!

You swear it takes everything in you to remain as calm and collected on the outside as you can once it’s your turn for the security check. You present your crossbody, showing them the inside, dispose of the water bottle in the growing bin, pull up your ticket on your phone for verification and once you’ve given the all-clear—

“Go, go, go, go, go!” You take off, following the herd as your only means to finding the path to the concert pit, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Rosa is behind you (she is with a big goofy smile on her face). You hear the echoes of numerous excited voices bounce off the walls and they increase in volume, easily intermingled with instrumentals and growing clearer, more distinguishable as you approach. When you finally pass through the entryway, you feel your breath hitch.

The crowds are already gathered at the edges of the barricade, singing along to the music video being played on the large screens. Above and all around you, the seats are being filled by more fans, their light sticks twinkling to show their numbers. You rush to join in with everyone, coming to the space furthest left at the head of the stage, just a row or two behind others, brandishing your own light stick to switch on. With the app, you sync it up, right when Rosa joins you.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE HERE AHHHH!!” Rosa screams, waving her light stick crazily and falling into the fan chant. You laugh, not caring how loud you might be. You spend the next remaining minutes dancing, singing, and screaming, immersing yourself in the energy all around you. Rosa pulls you in for selfies, taking commemorative videos every once in a while. It helps pass the time and as the final notes of the music video fades out, the lights dim and the screams are louder than ever. All eyes are glued to the intro VCR, your heart’s pumping in your ears as you feel the rush of adrenaline increase. You’re blown away by the visuals and you can’t help but to scream whenever the sight of any of the members appear (and this is all before they’re on stage dear god).

The video fades to black, transitioning into a new track as the spotlights light up one by one to the beat until it swells into a climax as extravagant stage props are revealed and the pyrotechnics are going off. You truly lose all sense of inhibition when from the floor of the stage, seven figures emerge. You don’t know if you’re shaking from the force of your scream, the screams of a thousand people around you reaching a whole new level of pitch and intensity, or from the booming stereos that begin to blast their title track.

They were nothing short of incredible, you’re starstruck at how coordinated they were, all the while maintaining such stable vocals, not to mention look absolutely stunning in their stage outfits — sparkly black suits with varying gold accents that decorate their shoulders or as lapels, giving off very princely vibes. And you’re witnessing all of this with your own two pair of eyes. Never have you ever been this close to them before where you seldom rely on the big screen camera in front of you and you’re having trouble on where your eyes should be, so captivated by their aura and charisma.

So you find yourself screaming names left and right when you’re not shouting the fan chant. The first song comes to an end though it doesn’t mean that the energy doesn’t carry on as after a moment’s pause, the next song starts up, another hit single everyone recognizes and loves. When the lines of the first verse starts, the boys start making their way down the catwalk towards the thrust stage. As they move, so does the audience, all eager to keep their eyes on them no matter what. It’s hard to fight the wave so you can only go with it, forced to shift from your original spot to something a little less than favourable. You’re still too far up the main stage that the only thing you see is their backs and try as you might, half the time a phone is blocking your view.

It’s a struggle but you make do with the large screen and when there’s a song this hype playing, it’d be a crime to not do anything besides dance and cheer at the top of your lungs. And that’s what you love about their concerts; the moment you step into the arena it’s like you’re transported into another world, a place where you can let loose and for once be happy, blessed and thankful.

No more worries, no more what-ifs.

You’re going to seize this moment as if it’s your last.

When the song comes closer to the end, the members gradually make their way back to the main stage, waving to the crowd as they go and you swear Namjoon had returned your wave, dimpled smile on display. You can’t help the squeal that comes from your mouth.

When the last notes end, you finally turn to assess your surroundings, the crowd once more shifted but thankfully you spy Rosa not far from you so you maneuver yourself to her. She greets you ecstatically.

“DID YOU SEE JIN?! HE HAD PURPLE HAIR!! I’M GONNA DIE!!”

 “I KNOW!! AND NAMJOON WAVED AT ME!!”

The two of you fangirl until the VCR is done and the melodies of another song bubbles over the speaker. Once more, the attention of everyone in the arena draws towards the main stage and from there, it starts all over.

You work up a sweat dancing and singing along to the songs, breathless in the best way possible. You were enjoying the concert through and through, the only issue you have was your throat beginning to burn a little more than usual from all your screaming and the sea of people you’re currently swimming in is getting a bit more pushier. But the night was still young and though you’ve been dancing nonstop for four song straight, there was nothing stopping you when the spotlights turn into a warm golden yellow, the ones along the ground turning green and the first notes of possibly your favourite song starts to play.

From the floor, Jimin’s figure rises up, voice as light as a feather filtering through the building and instantly, you’re entranced.

Before, you had been unsure of how you would react to seeing the original Jimin on stage, the apprehension nearly smothering you as you waited but like a spell, as soon you laid eyes on him, singing and dancing so gracefully, so effortlessly, you knew that this was someone else entirely different. Now dressed in a flowing silk shirt embroidered with crystals that twinkle endlessly in the spotlight, he has singlehandedly rendered you speechless as the rest of the thousands watching him. Your eyes were glued to him, heart swelling with emotions as you watch him in his element, nailing each step and note and like caught in a siren’s song, you itch to be closer. Scanning around, you try to find an opening you can squeeze through, anything.

You see a space, big enough for you to stand in and without even thinking twice you surge forward, weaving as best you can before the chance disappears. You bypass two people, grazing their shoulders but shrinking in on yourself pays off because your view is even better than ever. Now you’re a row away from the metal barricade and when you focus back on Jimin—

You’ve heard many times that photos don’t do any of the members justice, not even a fraction of how they look but being this up close, you think it’s the understatement of the century. You’re stunned, mind going blank like it has trouble processing the fact that there is a human being that exists in this world you’re living in that is beautiful beyond words and his name is Park Jimin and you’re currently staring at him, in person.

Being this up close, you can see the details of his movements, how every part of his body from the tips of his fingers to his toes is adding something to this choreograph to make it that much more fluid or powerful. You see the rings on his fingers glint as he brings it up to run it through honey blond hair, strands falling so delicately and softly against the thin sheen of sweat against his forehead, it has you mesmerized. And then you see the beginnings of a secret smile, one that starts in his eyes before stretching over his lips as he sings those sweet words. You don’t stop yourself from swooning loudly because you’re not the only one who’s affected. The song ends all too soon, Jimin backing away to be lowered down on the stage but not without throwing another smile out towards the audience, gaze so full of love for the people around him as he sings the last notes and you feel like you can finally breathe properly again.

You find yourself laughing, half in disbelief and giddiness, smile so wide thinking that that performance was closer to a spiritual experience more than anything.

BTS’ Jimin is truly something else.

So caught up in it all, you fail to notice that, at some point, you’ve lost your friend Rosa, only after when you turn your head, ready to gush about Jimin and finding that she’s no where to be seen. You had the mind to look, but it’s difficult for you less you want to lose your newly obtained good spot. Besides, the lights darkening makes it even harder to distinguish her. You leave it for now, as the next song starts up; if you can’t find her by the end of the concert, you can always call her. With that settled, you return your attention back to the next member performing.

You’re thankful for the relatively slower songs, allowing you to the time to recover and more importantly, keep the crowd controlled to a rhythmic swaying. You hate to admit it, but you really wished you had bought another water bottle even if they did cost you an arm and a leg in the arena. Your throat aches uncomfortably, making swallowing hard even if it’s a knee jerk reaction in an attempt to quench your thirst. The most you can do now is refrain yourself by simply mouthing along to the lyrics but it’s a lot easier said than done. You still catch yourself shouting the fan chants when the timing comes up even when you sound like a dying cat (but who says no to the Kim Namjoon?!)

Perhaps a poor decision on your part because then comes the medley.

You feel it in the crowd before the track even kicks in, like the tides pulling back in a telling sign that a tsunami would follow and you have no choice but to ride it, too deep into the sea of bodies to put up any sort of resistance. You’re forced to move as close to the thrust stage as possible, everyone trying desperately to grab the boys’ attention as they walk along the edges. It pushes you until you’re on the left side of the catwalk behind two rows of people now, much to your chagrin but you don’t linger on it long, too immersed in the heavy beats of the song that makes you dance with reckless abandon.

Your spurt of energy doesn’t last you long as you quickly tire, heart hammering as loud as the bass in your chest you feel like it would burst through your ribs, and what’s worse is that every ragged inhale and exhale of breath agitates your scratchy throat. The t-shirt you’re wearing is too damp for your liking, clinging to your skin and does nothing but add to the heat already surrounding you. You slow yourself down, fighting off a dizziness the overcomes you, like you’ve accidentally stood up too fast and your shoulder collides into someone. You get shoved back and though there wasn’t any real strength behind it, you stumble, barely catching yourself. You think a couple of toes have been stepped on but you think it’s collateral damage at this point, too preoccupied with trying not to succumb to this moment of weakness.

Breathe, relax, you’re fine!

You blink rapidly and as if out of sheer willpower, it begins to subside, the dark hazy border clouding your vision seeps away. You remain in your spot for a while longer, making sure that it goes away completely and once you’re sure, you focus back in on what’s happening. You’ve been moved way farther back into the crowd than you had thought, maybe about ten steps away from reaching one of the sides of the catwalk. You’re surrounded on all sides by jumping bodies, the high of the atmosphere showing no signs of stopping and with the boys still partying it up on the stage, it’s all it takes to pull you back in.

Literally nothing will stop you from seeing this concert to the end.

“Everybody say—!!” You think you hear Jungkook scream and you can’t help laughing but join in to the chorus of thousands of others singing along. The song tapers to a simple beat, the main instrumentals dying off a bit so that you could really hear the echoing voices and see the way members egg on the audience. It gradually builds again, you realize it’s a remix in place of the original song that seems even more hype than should be possible. It’s gearing up for a drop you know would have the whole arena lose their mind over as the boys travel back towards the main stage. You naturally follow the crowd, always vying to get a better view just as the music picks up and everyone starts jumping in place again.

You’re torn from trying to see the actual stage or the big screen, so keen on keeping your eyes on them until the song comes to an end. You’re out of breath once more, shoulders heaving in effort and the foggy feeling creeps back again. The stage lights dim until the only source of light you have is the big screen playing the next VCR. You distantly hear the dreamy soundtrack, a mere muffled sound against the ringing in your ears. You try desperately to make it pass, along with this dizzy spell and you shut your eyes in hopes of doing so.

It was meant to be for a moment; just like the first time it happened, you had expected for it to pass easily, only… it doesn't.

It’s like your body decided to shut down without notice, going numb before you even had a chance to fight it.

It all happened so fast.

When you become conscious again, you’re extremely disoriented, vaguely aware that you’re not where you thought you would be — on the ground, trampled with a concussion and causing a whole scene by having a team of on site paramedics surrounding you (and if you’re being honest, you’re thankful that it’s not the case because you would rather take the concussion, unconscious and all than having to see thousands of people and all the members of BTS remember you in that way).

Vision clearing a little more, you slowly start to piece the shapes and colours that come together until you recognize them as eyes…

You…You know those eyes….

Time seems to slow until you’re taken back to the night you first met eyes with a pair of crimson ones. You remember how vibrantly they gleam against the dark, burning so deeply into your soul that you had dared not breathe. Those eyes stared at you with an intensity that had frightened you from the power they hold, yet you learned that they can shine with mirth, twinkle impishly, soften in tenderness, become the moon and hold endless stars and galaxies that had you wanting to see more.

But now, they stare back at you, pupils shaking in an amalgamated storm of emotions so palpable you wonder if the stars had burnt out and the world was no more.

Distress.

Panic.

But above all, fear.

“Y/N….? Hey Y/N, can you hear me?”

You blink, rousing from your daze, the faint smell of lavender intermingling with burnt wood enveloping you like a warm blanket— a comforting and familiar scent. You turn to get a better look at the owner of this voice but all it does is throw you in for another loop.

Jimin is staring down at you, wide eyed in alarm. The black surgical mask he’s wearing is pushed down, revealing full lips parted in a way that can only be described as holding his breath, bracing for the worst. The hoodie he has pulled over his head makes it hard to get a good look at him, the orange cast of the light above almost intensifying the shadows over his face that it has you squinting, wanting to discern his features, wanting to confirm that it’s him but his voice alone should’ve been enough.

“Ji…Jimin…?” You wince at the croak you just let out, voice completely shot and sore but you need to know if this is real or not, still feeling so out of sorts. Gently, you’re being propped up into more of a sitting position and something touches the bottom of your lip.

“Drink…”

As soon as you get that first sip of the cool liquid, it’s like you come to life again, grasping at the bottle to gulp down more like you’ve spent the past hours in a desert rather than in a concert arena.

“Slow down cherub….”

A bit spills over, trickling down your chin but you don’t care, the feeling is welcomed against your hot skin. After having your fill, you pull away to take a deep breath, finding the strength to support yourself though you feel the solid arm behind you linger.

“Wha — What happened….Where..?” You mumble, bringing a hand to press to your forehead, to yourself or to him you’re not sure.

“You blacked out, probably from dehydration. I had to get you out before you got seriously hurt.”

“Out…?”

The word belatedly registers with you but when it does, your gaze whips around you, taking in your surroundings for the first time. You’re outside, on the side of the building that acts more like a back alley meant for delivery trucks and it’s secret employees-only side doors that more or less, lead to the dumpsters you see farther down the way. It’s dark out, the night air much cooler now and distantly, you hear the cheers and the thumping of the bass, the concert still going on.

The concert!

A gasp flies from your lips as you spring to your feet, so fast your world spins and you would’ve toppled over had it not been for a hand to steady your shoulders.

“Y/N! What are you— “

“I-I have to get back! The concert—!” You sputter, cutting yourself off from a cough that tears through you, making you duck into the crook of your elbow in hopes of quelling it. Your feet falter in trying to figure out which way you should go but that wasn’t the only thing holding you back.

“Wait, just hold on a second—!”

You’re tugging against his hold on your wrist, eyes watering from the force of your cough but all you hear is the waves of excited screaming and the start of a new song which rings more like the tolls of a bell signalling time is running out. You become more frantic and frustrated — at him, at yourself. All at once, these tumultuous thoughts surge forward, consuming you in their urgency; you’re blowing it, completely throwing this chance away, couldn’t even do this one thing right, why couldn’t you just hold out?

It was all a waste. You really don't deserve any of this.

“Let go of me! I need to—!”

“Y/N! STOP!”

You’re jerked back quite suddenly, firm hands taking hold of both your shoulders until you feel your back pressing into the rough brick wall of the building. Your mouth parts, a retaliation ready at the tip of your tongue but you’re cut off with a hard shake.

“Are you out of your mind right now?! What do you think you’re going to accomplish going back in there in your state?!”

“Can you just lay off?! I’m fine!”

“You can barely hold yourself up! I’m not letting you put yourself in danger!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“Y/N LOOK AT ME!”

His voice snaps you out of your frenzy, the sheer volume of it able to pull you out of the spiralling decent into your own madness — you don’t think you’ve ever heard him shout before. The revelation makes you pause and it’s enough for you to finally become aware of what’s in front of you.

At some point, his hoodie had fallen off, letting you finally see him. He’s everything you had remembered seeing, still so utterly beautiful in that otherworldly way that it’s almost heartbreaking. Your mind can’t help but to replay those images of him on stage, so ethereal and mesmerizing until they shift, melting away altogether to what you see in front of you — raven locks replacing the honey blond, slightly more disheveled against his forehead, strands sticking to a light sheen of sweat that makes the bruising stand out more against paler skin, and stormy blue irises for a subdued scarlet, the faintest glow barely visible behind those eyes that look at you in such a pained way.

It’s a sobering sight, one that has your heart clenching.

This isn’t BTS’ Jimin.

No, he’s —

You’re slightly out of breath but you realize you both are, his exhales fanning warm against your lashes. You see Jimin’s eyes search yours, not really sure what he’s trying to find in them but you don’t want to know, too afraid of that answer. After a tense moment, he asks, a single question falling from his lips in a disquieted whisper that resonates above the cacophony that surrounds you, inside and out.

“Why….?”

Why…. It tumbles around in your head chaotically with no signs of reaching any conclusions, the thoughts disjointed and fragmented for your mind to even begin processing. It dredges up feelings you’ve unconsciously tried to bury, way more than you had imagined and it becomes too much for you to handle right now, much less put into words. But perhaps above everything, you can’t find it in you to face any of it.

You break eye contact first, turning away from the intensity that has you feeling more vulnerable than it should.

“I....You—….” You struggle to form the words past the trembling in your voice, hands balling into fists until they dig crescents into your palms, on the precipice of breaking down entirely from experiencing so many heightened emotions in one night that you just want it to end. “Forget it…Please, you— you wouldn’t understand….”

You don’t look up to see his expression, won’t dare to but you feel the way his hold tenses, going rigid until slowly, his fingers begin to slip away, touch barely brushing the tops of your forearm before they recoil completely. And then you feel his warmth leave you as he steps back, feet heavy and you miss the way the glow in his eyes extinguishes, leaving nothing more than an empty, dark abyss.

“You’re right…. I wouldn’t…” He rasps, the resignation palpable and your heart squeezes again without your permission. Your guardian demon doesn’t say anything more, the silence threatening to suffocate you but you’re moving before it has the chance to, pushing away from the wall even though your steps hesitate.

You feel like you should say something, guilty conscious tugging you to hold you in place, the words I’m sorry sitting on the back of your tongue but when you swallow, what comes out instead is, “I…should go…”

You run without looking back, ashamed.

A coward.

You find your way into the arena following the sounds of the cheering crowd, rising continuously in crescendos. You have no sense of how much time had passed, the lack in any distinguishable song playing makes you sprint and when you burst through the entrance, the entire place is bathed in violet and magenta as the white lights of people’s cellphones twinkle all around you like a sea of constellations in a galaxy.

“This is gonna be the last song for tonight, love you guys, let’s go.” Namjoon says, a bittersweet smile on his face as the music begins to play and everyone cries out again in recognition. You’re left bewildered, not wanting to believe that the concert is coming to a close already and after a brief moment of stunned silence, you force yourself to move, rejoining the crowd in the pit. You walk, wanting to immerse yourself again and finding a spot on the farthest side of the stage, closest to one of the big screens displaying the members. All around, people are singing along to the uplifting lyrics of the song and you do as well, but it’s like your body and mind are on autopilot, completely numb.

Your thoughts are running rampant inside, the fight still fresh no matter how much you’re trying to take everything in around you, commit them to memory before…

Before what?

Before you lose this small piece of happiness you’ve ever known? Or are you afraid of losing the feeling it brought you, when watching these seven amazing men who share their music that heals the hearts of so many no longer bring that sense of comfort and joy to you, but instead remind you of sad, distant memories full of unspoken words, yearning and regret.

You can almost feel it already happening.

The song comes to an end, continuing on in an instrumental loop as the members gather up to do one final bow at the thrust stage, hand in hand. Afterwards, they disperse, each taking their time to wave and interact with the fans from all corners of the stage before leaving through the lift at the main stage. You catch sight of Taehyung on the catwalk waving and gesturing cutely, Hoseok who’s eyes are glued to the far off seats, grin broad and waving enthusiastically to make sure that the fans there are not forgotten, Jin who makes a show of following the camera to blow kisses into it for everyone to see….

And then your eyes wander unconsciously, searching for him, for Jimin who’s ever the sweetheart, is running to the farthest left of the stage he can reach, right in front of where you’re standing to greet the fans there. He's radiant, a stunning smile stretching over his face so wide in a way that makes his eyes turn into crescents but you know no doubt that they sparkle in pure happiness as they look out to the fans, like he’s trying to memorize each and every face of the people who made all his dreams come true. Jimin waves to as many people as he can, blowing kisses here and there and occasionally gesturing to those to not cry and smile.

You watch on fondly, but your chest begins to ache uncontrollably in a way you don’t think is because he’s beginning to make his way back to centre stage, ready to leave. He walks languidly, like he’s trying to draw out as much time as he can while his eyes still remain focused out onto the fans and in that moment, he looks your way.

You’re not even sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you see him so clearly. With the softest smile gracing his lips, you lock eyes, his gaze so warm and adoring and as cliche as it sounded, the world slows and you see him mouth something that makes the breath catch in your throat.

I love you.

He reaches out a hand to wave one last time before he’s turning away, screaming those same words again into the microphone to let the whole arena know and with that, the boys are lowered down. The music fades, there’s a final huzzah as a massive lit up panel with the band’s logo rises up to take up centre stage and like a movie, the credits begin rolling on screen, signalling the official end of the concert. People around begin to disperse, intending on leaving to beat the rush of traffic while there are some who remain in their spots to watch the extra practice footage the boys took.

You are the latter, however your attention is not on the clips rolling, rather you are lost amidst a turmoil of emotions as your mind seems to be stuck on replaying that moment with Jimin. You’re not sure why, can’t understand the affect it has on you when logically you know this isn’t the first time you’ve seen something like it. It’s almost a bit absurd until you realize….

For the split second it happened, you had wished for raven hair and deep ruby eyes.

210 notes · View notes

redevenir · 4 years

Text

living alike (pt. i)

joshua x reader

wc : ~ 3800

a/n : It all started with @tearsofsyrup ‘s suggestion for the made-up title fic game and here i am... So thank you! I took the liberty to use the title again, hopefully it’s ok with you? Otherwise just tell me! I have said it before, but I think shua and dark au... it is the thing, you know. Which is why I strongly encourage you to read paradigm shift (apocalypse au) as well as you hide; i’ll seek (both sexy titles by the way) and to check on these two writers’ other work because they’re excellent.

« I feel entirely dehumanised by the sun now and wish for fog, snow, rain, humanity. » from a letter to Edward Sackville-West, Virginia Woolf.

The soft clunks of water droping from the leaking sink behind you make your hair stand on end. You should be used to it by now, but you aren’t. Like everything else, it makes you uncomfortable. You wanted nothing more than to be buried deep in the swamps of the Administration. Hidden. Except you were a little frog on a desert, except everyone has seen you, and will remember your face. Hiding is no longer an option for you, the only way out is to disappear.

You take one last look at your ransacked room. You break a window for good measure, and head out, living the door open.

The soft thuds of rain against the cars’ glasses. Tight heart, empty lungs, he is the silent audience of an artificial show. A shadow wandering around the streets, the ghost of a ghost. Counting his footsteps. Counting the people on the sidewalk. Counting the cars. Counting the officials around the Prefecture. Thirty more steps to go. Joshua takes a deep breathe into his scarf. It seems no one is paying attention to him. Grey car, blue car. His hands are soaked, buried deep inside the pockets of his rain coat. Nothing can protect him from the summer rains. He takes a brief look above the ground, checks out the position of the sun, goes back to his feet. He needs to move faster. He cannot afford to be out during office hours. Twenty steps. He spots the door to his place and restrains himself from going faster. One excruciating step at a time. All around him, people move, people go from places to places. They listen to the speeches, they read the speeches, they learn the speeches, they believe the speeches. It is already hard for Joshua to breathe, let alone act. A small field mouse trapped in a gigantic machine. There is no room here for him, he feels it, fears because of it. Knows that in an instant everything could spin around him. Field mice are preys. There are so many predators around him, it is only a matter of time. Light turns green, the cars stop. He goes his way. Unsure, uneasy. Five steps. He reaches his door, doesn’t look back, and goes down the stair to his tiny underground studio.

Once he’s inside, finally, he lets out an exhale he didn’t notice he was holding. Double locks his door, puts the chair against it, and turns the light on. Here, underground, there is no sun light to warm up the air. He crosses the only room as he gets undressed, leaving his soggy coat for the clamminess of his quarter, and rummages through his clothes to find a change, replaying his stroll of the day. Nothing new. They are still agitated. Until they calm down there is no need to contact anyone, he decides. He reheats some unsavory stew for the fifth time this week, cleans up his plate, and crashes on the single bed, hoping for time to pass quickly.

He spends an agitated day, running after sleep, running from his thoughts. Even though he never sleeps well, there is always a part of him which foolishly hopes for a good rest. Remembering the kind of sleep he relished as kid, when he didn’t have to think about falling asleep. When laying down in bed was enough to dive deep in a warm unconsciousness, full of foolproof dreams. No matter where his drowsy mind takes him, he feels overwhelmed, on the edge of being assaulted. Faceless and formless assailants gathering in the dark to slaughter him.

Rising up, he picks a bottle of drinking water, ignores the remnants of the garbage stew, plans his wandering for tonight. He never follows the same path twice, in case someone might notice him. He puts on his parka which hasn’t dried, shivers when it brushes against his neck. There is nothing to do about it. Most of the time, Joshua tries to ignore his apartment. It is a disgusting place, filthy the minute he finishes to clean up. It is never warm, nor dry, nor hot. He never sees the light of day, never feels a breeze, for there are no windows down there. It is the best he can afford this close of the Great Palace. A miserable rat hole, nothing close to a nice burrow. It is the price to pay for a night cashier to get involved in bigger schemes. His eyes are priceless now that he has sold their sight. It is the only comfort he has found in doing so. The thrill of being useful – for whom? He has no right to know. But every morning after his shift, he goes out for his stroll, looking for anything out of the ordinary, and when there is, he reports it. One of them comes to the shop every week. Usually, though, Joshua tells nothing to his contact. Things do not change that often. But recently there has been movement. Why, he does not know, but they’ve been agitated, walking faster. Even though no one, of course, will tell him why, he knows something has happened. Something bad enough to be noticeable, bad enough that there has been no announcement on TV.

This is life now, he knows. Waiting and waiting and waiting for something which might never come. Joshua hesitates, then goes out without looking back. Maybe today, he’ll see something worth reporting. It’s raining as usual, but the sun is still up, somewhere behind the gray sky. The street lamps are not lighten yet. As usual, he goes right, then waits for the traffic lights to let him cross. He could not live closer to the supermarket, yet the path still bothers him – the ugliness of the streets, the noises of the city, the sickening smell of corruption and silent violence. He goes his way to the store, spends his night registering meaningless shop lists for night owls craving sugar or salt. His curved lips draw an empty smile to every customer while his mind goes through various scenarios of what might bother the authorities. He has no clue. What could indeed bother them? He is as ignorant when his shift ends as he was when it began. It is not a life. He could find out more, if he were a bit more audacious. But any step out of his supposed way is a risk he might pay with his life. Maybe, walking around the Palace’s streets is enough for now.

He puts his hands deeper in his pockets and waits for the lights to turn green. From the corner of his eyes, he notices a figure running in his direction. They storm before him, and throw themselves on the road. The sound of the car hitting your body is horrifying.

You spend an eternity drowning. Lungs full of mud, every living minute is a suffocation. The crushing weight of an undisturbed blackwater river is grinding your bones into mush, entangled between the roots of indifferent trees. You barely see the light, on the rare moments you emerge from your drowning, vision blurred by silt burning your eyes. You fight and you fight, and every new moon, every new tide brings you a new death.

In flashes you see faces, and you try to remember who pushed you into the river. A thin string of lost rooms and half forgotten conversations torments you, sending you in every direction. You lose yourself into a labyrinth of bewildered and electrifying memories. You try to scream for help but the dark water suffocates you more.

You cease to fight.

You let yourself flow, descending quietly in the abyss, a faint contentment when you touch the ground. An unusual corpse for shellfish and crustaceans to feast on. The soft pulse of your heart clawing his way out of your defeated chest. Far above you, you feel the lazy current going its way, ignoring you. There, cocooned in a silence older than a lifetime, it is easier for memories to come back to you. Faint lights above the school’s playground, burnt smells from the overcooked plum jam, a terrifying voice on the intercom freezing you to the core. You remember the pointy hat of the master, the piles of administrative sheets in his warm office, its walls painted of a deep, ancient red. You remember his whispers in your ears, which you tried so hard to ignore. His discreet threats disguised as indecent offers. Your remember going for his grocery shopping every four days, in the late hours of the quiet city. You remember knocking one of the piles over, and reading them against your best will. A pale breeze of rage brushes your cheek, unable to harm you.

You remember taking it with you, the vivid proof of the crime, on a hasty decision. You remember destroying your dorm. You remember the streets.

The moment you wake up you immediately regret it.

Every inch of your body is aching a thousand burn. You cannot open your eyes, the throb in your head makes you nauseous. Your throat is parched, and the feeble whine you manage to cry out is a pain in itself. Miles away you feel movement, in the distance you hear a voice filled with concerned, asking you words which you can’t separate from each other. It seems a worried litany of disquiet. Suddenly you feel cold and wet on you forehead, a divine relief to the pounding. The voice comes closer and takes your hand. You feel your hand. You have a hand. Panic rushes through your body like it never felt it, you try to move away, to get out, how can it touch you, what is touching you when you can’t even feel yourself?

Weirdly the voice seems to understand. It becomes quieter, soothing almost, ushering things you don’t understand, but it appeases you nonetheless. You feel it close to your hear, you feel its breathe against you. You’re sensitive and it has you tensed immediately, but it doesn’t last for long. A few seconds, the promise of safety. You pass out again.

The next time you wake up, everything is much clearer. You manage to open your eyes despite the soreness of your head. What you see when you do has you freezing up again, afraid you might have lost part of your sight. It is all black and gray. Gray ceiling above your head, a worrisome pattern of cracks. Gray walls, empty of any embellishment. Even the duvet cover is a dirty white. You try to straighten yourself, leaning on your elbow. It has you wincing but it is worth it. You take in your surrounding, even in the darkness of the unlit room. Someone has put your right leg into a splint of fortune, and did the same to your right elbow. You hold your breathe a minute, until you are assured to be alone. Nothing about it is familiar. There is a strong smell of menthol ointment that might come from you – the scent is overwhelming, and you cannot be sure. Your attempt to sit properly ends up worsening the piercing pain in your brain, and you resolve to wait until someone brings you water or food. Without any indication of the passing of time, you lose all notion of it, examining each clue of the room. You have never come here, and it makes you uneasy. You are facing the door and it reassures you a bit, whoever comes here will not have you at their mercy. At last, you hear the creaking of a key into its hole, which makes your heart racing. The door opens behind you in a squeak.

The man is tall, his shoulders wide as he bends a bit to come inside. The youth of his face strikes you the most. He might not be older than you are – and you are rare. The both of you belong to the last generation of children – it is also why, now that all of you are grown-ups, the officials are monitoring each and every one of you carefully. The last trace of unpredictability in the country. And, well, looking at the current situation, maybe they are right. It takes him a while to notice you, and you quietly observe him locking the door, putting a chair against it. Breathing, eyes closed, he relaxes before you. When he turns around, you see him immediately checking on the mattress – checking on you. And his face lightens up when he sees you facing him, rushing to you.

« Oh! You’re up! Are you okay? Do you need anything? Water? Hungry? Space? He chuckles. Take your time, he adds with a smile. » He exudes relief. Your throat hurts too much, so you mimic drinking and he’s on it, handing you a full glass of water. Then you point at him.

It is not going well. Your convalescence is endless. Your are weak and shattered to unclean pieces and every morning he comes back from work wondering if you will still be in this coma or if he’ll have to dispose of your body. In retrospect, it was a mistake, but even though he thinks it over again and again he does not see any other outcome. He would never have left you there to rot. What if you weren’t doomed to die? Suicide is forbidden by law. You are suffering enough as it is, despite Joshua’s best efforts to take care of you, he cannot even imagine the tortures the officials would have given you, had they been the ones to find you.

Yet here you are, at the end of a frustrating shift and a lousy stroll. Sitting up in his bed, watching him coming back. An unmatched joy floods through his body as he comes to you, taking a good look at your conscious face. A belligerent stranger, eyes empty and circled of mauve. Clearly distressed and looking weak. Joshua thinks that you being awake is a wonder, he remembers the poor bag of raggedy bones and torn flesh you were when you arrived. When he brought you to his basement. The clothes he has given you hide most of your skin, but he knows your body looks just like your face. A battlefield of bruises and scars and a timestamp to the day you met. For weeks, he has imagined what your first words would be, were you to wake up. What you would do, what your voice would sound like. He would fall asleep to the sound of your haunting rattles next to him, praying they wouldn’t stop before his wake. Nonetheless he has outdone himself. He has brought you back to life. You look bad, but you’re looking at him and he can’ t help but smile in satisfaction. When you point your finger at him, two things hit him.

You can’t talk and you haven’t lived with him for the past week. You know nothing. You don’t know him. He feels foolish to realize it just now. He sits down by your side, filling up an another glass for you. Ponders a bit – in your place, what would be his priorities ? But you’ve thrown yourself under a car and he never has, so he has no fucking clue.

« All right then I’m Joshua. I live here, obviously. Alone. Well, not anymore, since you’ve been there for a while now – the surprise in your eyes aggrieves him. I work at a supermarket down the grand avenue. I brought you here after you… You know. Wait, do you remember what happened to you? You answer him a simple nod. Okay, then, this car hit you, and, well, I brought you back here. You forget your soar throat but he doesn’t need to hear you to read the only word on your lips.

«Well… I know, I know, we are not supposed to interfere but… His eyes roam you, looking for all the mending he has done you. His voice is only a whisper when he finishes his sentence. How could I leave you there? » You clear your throat with pain. Clearly, the water did you do good. Joshua looks up eagerly, to see what you might say first.

«Who else knows I’m here? » Your words are a cold shower. You don’t trust him one bit. He tries to reassure himself, of course you don’t, you’ve just met him.

« Only this one guy – you scoff. I’m serious! There was barely anyone that day and, the driver died, I believe. I didn’t stay to check on him. But, turns out, something else happened that day and we managed to… slip through the cracks, I guess. »

«What? What happened? » He picks his words carefully.

« Someone bombed the Blue Palace. » You remain silent at first. Eyes closed, you take a deep breathe, then another one, until you look at him again, your facial expressions are still too knew you for him to read them. So he asks you. «What? What? »

« You’re saying someone fired a bomb on the Blue Palace? Quick, the shadow of a smile crosses your face. You close your eyes once again, licking your lips as if it’ll help you collect your thoughts. A bomb. On a palace. A bomb. On the exact day I had an accident? He hums in agreement. You lay back on the wall – he hadn’t even noticed how you had bent yourself closer to him, eager for news. Who did it? »

« I don’t know. »

«Wait, you’re saying someone attacked the blues and they haven’t been caught? »

« I don’t know, that’s what I’m saying. You may have not noticed yet, he gives a brief look around him. But I have no TV here. All I know is that they haven’t made any announcement about it. But if you ask me… » He bites his lips, unsure how much he can tell you yet. You give him a short moment, expecting him to go on. You let out a sigh when he doesn’t.

« Listen, Joshua – that’s it, right? From what I see, you could be sentenced to death as much as I do. I have spent hours in the dark, waiting for someone to show up. I don’t care if you did it, I don’t care if you work for the Palace, but please give me something. I need to know. » He comes closer to you.

« I think they have no idea who did it. They’ve been on the lookout for weeks. If they knew, there is no way someone could hide from them that long. He stays quiet, letting you register the information. And I didn’t do it, I swear. »

« I’ve been there... for weeks? » There is no use in lying to you but he hears the miserable realization in your tone and his heart aches too.

« Seven, to be precise. You’ve been really sick, you know. I patched you up as good as I could, and goodness! That DK guy knows a thing or two but even he can’t put a splint on your ribs. You say nothing. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I think it’s better to tell you right now. You… Said things when you were sick, he says. You work, hm, worked for the governor. You were his maid or something. You did his groceries. I have seen you before. » He is not asking.

« That’s right. » You ignore the elephant in the room that is the question on the tip of Joshua’s tongue. Maybe it is too soon. Maybe he doesn’t need to know now. Maybe your action was self-explanatory enough, and the details don’t matter. For today, Joshua decides he won’t push you.

« Who’s that guy you mentioned? » The way you don’t miss a word he says reassures Joshua – at least your head is fine.

« DK? He’s… Well, I don’t know much about him, I give him my reports. » You frown.

« What reports? You need to make report at a grocery shop? »

« I… Joshua shifts. It is going too fast to his liking. You should take it slow, and so should he. He wished to get to know you, and to make both of your comfortable before diving into such matters. He takes a deep breathe. I… Watch the Palace. Well, no, he stutters, I, hm, well, I go for walks around the Palace. Every day. Well, I work night shifts, so, after that, I go for walks. Every morning. And, hm, once a week, more or less, someone comes to the supermarket, and if I’ve seen something interesting I tell them. Usually it’s DK but sometimes someone else comes. I asked him for help when I saw how sick you were. » You chew the inside of your lips for a while and just when you’re about to speak again you close your mouth right away. This goes on for a few minutes, until you hum in acknowledgment. The silence between the two of you is only broken when Joshua hears your stomach grumble and jumps on his feet. « You should have said something! Of course you’re hungry! » He walks the few steps separating him from the cooking area of his quarter – he decided long ago he could not give the name kitchen to it. Kitchens were warm and full of promises. This was neither, just enough to eat some tasteless soups. He swears to himself he feels you watching him as he fumbles in his cupboard. When he turns back to ask if the soup is indeed fine for you, he notices the life back on your cheeks.

You eat dinner together for the first time. It is not quite lively but it is comforting and Joshua pretends he doesn’t notice the few quiet tears on your cheeks as you savor it. You fall asleep shortly after and as usual he lies down by your side, replaying his day.

No one can ever find out about you, he realizes. Not the officials, not his contact. He is playing a wild card which could backfire in so many wrong ways. The easiest way out would be to run away from the city, but it would involve so many people just to get you out, not to mention he has no idea of what he might find there. Joshua is dubious, but even he somehow believes the Palace’s tales. Maybe it is just a desert outside. Then what? What good would it do to them, to die of ignorance on foreign lands ? How much better would it be, to make all this vain efforts, when you might as well be sentenced to a much quicker death, without the discomfort of plotting an escape? Even if it is miserable, and he has even less room that before, Joshua still finds it better to sleep in his own bed. He is good at keeping secrets anyway.

Times passes slowly.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #angisccsw #joshua scenarios #joshua imagines #hjs #my writings #living alike

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years

Text

A few accidents

[Alaric/Luke, crack and fluff, oneshot

Read it on Ao3]

And you see, that’s exactly his problem, because everything about his relationship with Alaric is so easy. It feels natural, like air. They know each other’s coffee orders. They are always on each other’s corner. He wakes up. Alaric can tell he’s on a rush. He makes him coffee. Luke kisses him. It’s normal.

Wait.

He kissed Alaric.

Luke crashes his car.

Luke wakes up without a headache (courtesy of Magnus’ little anti-hangover spell), but with the same feeling of tiredness weighing deep behind his eyes. He supposes there was no helping that. He had a very emotionally loaded night.

He can’t believe that Magnus thought that him and Alaric were already together.

That they were married.

Was Luke the last one to find out?

He groans, rolling around in frustration. He knew Magnus wouldn’t have the solution to all his problems, nor would he forego the inevitable “talk to him” speech. But a guy can hope. Especially when said guy had no idea he was bisexual before his unfortunate feelings for his best friend made themselves known.

It also didn’t help that Magnus didn’t exactly understand. Bisexuality was not a big deal where he was born. He never had a "realization panic" moment. He didn’t know what it was like to have the weight of this knowledge suddenly crash on you.

But he did know what it was like to fear your feelings. Intimately.

And that was why Luke came to him, wasn’t it?

He rolls around again, deciding to avoid these thoughts for now by taking his phone. It’s his and Alaric’s day off, and Alaric will be visiting his mom today, so Luke hopes he can wrap up his panic before the time he’ll have alone at the Jade Wolf today is up.

So, naturally, the first thing he sees is a message from his boss.

There’s been a problem with some of his evidence. She needs him at the station. Urgently, he figures, although she doesn’t say that part. Then again, Commander Kaur never does.

Luke leaps out of bed and gets dressed, swearing the whole time.

“Why are you up and wearing your jacket?” Alaric asks, mug of coffee in hand. He’s leaning against the counter, as he usually does, contemplating the mess that is their pack’s home. Alaric’s a big fan of mornings, and Luke can’t say the same. But Alaric enjoys using them for some introspective time, so it still works between them.

God, when did it become important that him and Alaric were morning-compatible?

Instead of thinking about that, Luke answers, “Message from the boss. Nothing major, I can handle it, you go see Inez." He'd like to get this sorted out as soon as possible, of course, and maybe also get a distraction, but he knows Alaric barely gets to see Inez recently, and how important it is to her. It is rare that downworlders can afford to stay close to their families. Luke isn't going to get in the way of that.

“Nothing major and you’re running around the place like a madman in the morning?” Alaric asks, turning back to the coffee machine, but Luke can still see his eyebrow raise.

Luke stops, staring at him. “Just want to get it over with,” he says, a little defensive.

“Fair enough,” Alaric replies easily, in the tone of someone who isn't fooled and just that knowledge is enough for them. It's infuriating, but Luke doesn't have the time to argue that, so he makes it to the door; but before he can go, Alaric stops him and places a cup in his hand. “Here. Have some coffee at least. I already put your cream and sugar.”

Luke smiles, touched. “Thanks,” he says, giving him a little peck on the lips before he takes the mug and moves to get his car keys. Alaric is already back to his leaning place on the counter by the time he closes the door. “See you later,” he calls out, and Alaric gives him a little wave, seemingly distracted.

Alaric had the foresight to put Luke’s coffee in a lidded cup, and it tastes perfect. Luke likes his coffee with just cream and two spoons of sugar - not a hard order to remember, but the fact that Alaric got it all ready for him so easily really says a lot. Alaric really - knows him. It was a no-brainer for the both of them.

And that’s exactly his problem, isn't it? Everything about his relationship with Alaric is so easy. And now it suddenly isn’t easy, because he’s overthinking these displays of affection that were always normal to the both of them. And he doesn’t want to be overthinking his relationship with Alaric; he wants it to be the same casual comfort that it’s always been. He loves Alaric because their relationship flows freely. It feels natural, like air. They know each other’s coffee orders. They are always on each other’s corner. They are a part of each other's routine, in the smallest, simplest ways. He wakes up. Alaric can tell he’s on a rush. He makes him coffee. Luke kisses him. It’s normal.

Wait.

He kissed Alaric.

Luke crashes his car.

That’s a bit dramatic. He bumped his car into the one in front of him. He lives in New York. There’s traffic. He wasn’t at high speeds.

The girl is understandably pissed, but the damage was basically superficial and also on Luke’s car, so Luke just sighs and gives her a 50 and that’s that. He already has enough drama going on for today, and besides, well. It was his fault. Technically. Or not just technically. More like factually.

He’s thankful it wasn’t a guy, at least. Or a white person. He really wasn’t feeling like getting into a fistfight or something because of traffic. Or like dealing with teary entitlement. He’s having a bi panic and he’s also in love with his best friend. Whom he kissed. And didn’t notice.

Shit.

It turns out that Commander Kaur only needed his help with finding a particular evidence box that Luke had moved, which he might have realized if he had paid attention to her message instead of instantly going on a craze. All in all, he’s out of the station pretty quickly, and he gets to the Jade Wolf way before Alaric will. Or most people, for that matter. Which gives him plenty of time to give another deep sigh, and think about what he’s going to do. Exhaustingly.

Alaric barely reacted to the kiss. Maybe he also didn’t register it. Maybe he didn’t want to mention it and open this particular can of worms. Luke could probably get away with pretending that it didn’t happen, and continuing to have his I’m-in-love-with-my-best-friend-slash-partner-slash-roommate-and-also-I’m-not-as-straight-as-I-thought crisis at peace.

But does he want to?

Not only is he obviously off his game, but he is more unhappy with the idea that him and Alaric are acting weird than he is with- well, the rest of it. Him and Alaric are each other’s rocks. They’ve never been anything if not honest with each other, even when it meant that they would get into long, heated arguments.

But they never lasted, did they? They always figured it out. That was the point. Neither of them were able to let things go easily, so it worked a lot better to say what they thought as soon as they did, and go from there. They always respected each other’s feelings. They always found a way. It was the best strategy.

It wouldn’t be different this time.

Would it?

Was Luke really going to be the guy who took over 40 years to realize he was queer, and barely even a day to come out and tell everyone and start some relationship drama?

He shouldn’t be worrying about that. Alaric is more important than not fulfilling some stereotype.

Luke is more important.

Would it be appropriate to call Magnus and have this conversation again? He could take him to lunch or something. The guy probably needed to get out of his loft more.

Oh God, Luke has spent the last almost two-decades without dating anyone.

Does he even know how to do it anymore?

How did he not realize that at some point he stopped being interested in people because he already had the relationship of his dreams with Alaric?

Fuck. What if he lost that? Fuck.

What if work was weird?

There’s no going back, is there? It’s already weird.

Luke can’t undo his revelation by not talking about it.

And he won’t be able to let it go. That’s exactly why him and Alaric were always honest with each other. Why he should keep being honest to him.

Alaric would probably notice that he was being weird anyway. How could he not? They were always together.

What if Alaric thought Luke was just panicking because he figured out he was bi and wanted to experiment?

How could he explain to him that he only figured out he was bi because he was in love with Alaric?

Should he do that?

He wishes Maia was there. She could probably distract him. Or tell him that he had always told her to be open about how she felt and she wouldn’t watch him be a hypocrite. Or just smile and make him feel like everything would be okay. Or let him pet that soft, pretty hair of hers.

But it’s not like he is supposed to go to her for his drama.

Especially not with Alaric.

If they managed to raise a teenage werewolf together pretty well, dealing with a crush would be a no-brainer, wouldn’t it?

He feels like a teenager. He’s being ridiculous. It’s not that complicated.

It’s Alaric.

“You’re overthinking something,” Alaric says after being inside their room for approximately five seconds. There isn’t exactly worry in his eyes, just attention. Undivided. Alaric has always had that way of reaching out to him like it’s nothing, of talking about emotions with the same focus and fierceness as he did a case. It’s not a don’t-bullshit-me look, because he knows he doesn’t need it, but it’s still not something Luke feels like he can lie to.

But well, he did decide that he wouldn't. Mostly.

“I am,” he says, sighing. Then he sits up to talk to him properly. “I kissed you this morning,” he says, surprised at the steady matter-of-factness of his own tone. It doesn’t even feel out of place. It’s like he’s not even freaking out anymore.

Alaric frowns. “You-? Oh,” he pauses, almost musingly. “I didn’t even notice. If that’s what you were worried about.”

“That’s the problem,” Luke points out. “You didn’t notice. I didn’t, either, until I was already in my car. It just happened.”

Alaric sits down on his own bed, sighing deeply. “And what do you make of that?” he’s looking at his hands now, rubbing his fingers together in the way he does when he’s preparing to apologize. Luke isn’t sure what to make of that, and that scares him, a little.

“I don’t know.”

Alaric clenches his jaw. “Was it a fuckup? A mistake? Are you worried that I-”

Luke’s voice has never sounded so soft. “No, Alaric,” he says, “I think that I-”

“You?”

Alaric looks so incredulous, Luke is taken aback for a second.

“I just-” he runs his hand through his head, frustrated, “Yeah. Me. I have feelings for you. And I realized that recently, and it’s like everything is different, and I don’t know what we are anymore,” he sighs. “Or, well, I guess I do know. But I don’t know how to deal with it. Everything changed suddenly, but it's also the same. So…”

“Luke,” Alaric half-interrupts, half-continues, as he knew that Luke had every plan on letting that sentence hang unfinished. “We can be whatever you want to be.”

He looks up, and Alaric looks earnest, sincere. “What?”

“I said, if you want… to try, I’d be happy to.”

Luke remembers his previous musings. “This isn’t some experimenting thing,” he says.

Alaric grimaces. “I know, Luke. It isn’t for me, either,” he crosses his arms.

“Oh. So you-?”

“Yes. But I didn’t think you would ever reciprocate, so…” then he looks at Luke’s guilty face and adds, “it’s not like that," he chuckles. "I wasn’t going around crying my woes or anything. I love what we have. Our relationship matters way more to me than what label we put on it, or whether we call it romance or friendship, you know?”

“I do know,” Luke says, tasting the lightest bit of shock that came laced with his voice, because he realizes- he feels the same way.

And it doesn’t make his love for Alaric any less grand. It makes it greater, bigger than any labels or drama could ever make it. He feels shocked, struck by lightening, at this realization.

Alaric smiles. “But I mean, if you’re also in love with me, that’s great.”

“I am,” Luke says.

“Good,” Alaric answers.

They look at each other. There are smiles on their faces. Neither of them move.

Then Luke bursts out laughing.

“What?” Alaric asks, as Luke tries to contain his little snorts, looking offended. “What??”

“Nothing, I just,” he hides his smile behind his hand, trying to suppress the chuckles, “this felt very anticlimactic, is all.”

Alaric huffs. “Well, excuse me if I didn’t have a whole speech at the ready for when you suddenly decided-”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that!” Luke says, resisting the urge to throw his pillow on him or do something equally inappropriate. He just smiles up at him instead, “It’s just, I finally figured this out after over 40 years, possibly got my first boyfriend on the same week, and it was all solved in a 20 minute conversation.”

“Possibly?” Alaric raises his eyebrows, “I thought I was pretty clear that I-”

“See?" Luke counters. "We’re bantering. I just had the realization of my life, and it’s like nothing happened. Even our first kiss was an accident,” then, as the weight of his words downs on him, “our first kiss was an accident.”

He flops down on his bed again, groaning. There's silence for a second. Then some shuffling, and a weight next to him. It comes with the familiar warmth of Alaric, and sure enough, he is now sitting beside him, leaning slightly over Luke, looking down at him. His hair is curly and falling slightly over his eyes, and there’s a smile on his face that couldn’t be described as anything but affectionate.

He’s beautiful, and a similar smile blooms in Luke’s face, like the warmth spreading through his chest.

“It’s not that bad,” Alaric says, voice soft, eyes shining.

“It’s not,” Luke answers, suddenly serious, sitting back up so he can be on eye level with him. He rubs his face with his hands, trying to adjust his thoughts, and Alaric’s hand is immediately around his shoulders. He can’t help another smile, even as it’s hidden behind his hands. He turns so that he’s facing him, and Alaric’s hands fall from his shoulders directly to Luke's own. Like is the one to squeeze them first. “Of course it’s not bad. Just not exactly romantic. I’m very off my game,” he teases. “I promise I can be way more suave than that. Take you out to dinner, proper date, you know.”

Alaric chuckles. “I don’t know,” he says, squeezing Luke’s hand back. “I think that our first kiss coming so naturally that we didn’t even notice is pretty romantic. Doesn’t that mean that it’s always felt right? Easy?” he raises his eyebrows, the little smile on his face an almost-challenge, and Luke almost has it in him to argue with him just for the sake of it, but he can only smile back. Alaric puts his hand on Luke’s face, lightly caressing his cheek, and Luke closes his eyes for a second, savoring it.

When he reopens then, Alaric’s grinning. “I think that says we’re meant to be. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Luke breathes out, suddenly aware of how close Alaric is. This is not news for them; he’s had Alaric pretty close to him plenty of times. He thinks of himself, drunk at the Alpha appointment party, shoulders permanently draped around Alaric's, their heads bumping affectionately from time to time, Luke brushing his nose against his when he got too excited. This shouldn't even draw his attention. And yet. “Yeah,” he repeats, breathless.

It’s Alaric who asks. “Can I-”

“Yes.”

His eyes flicker over Luke’s face as he leans in, slowly, not moving his hand from where they rest against Luke's cheek. Their lips touch slowly, but not hesitantly. With purpose. It’s chaste, but still the opposite of that little peck; it’s self-aware and slow and allows them to savor each other, to choose every moment, make it theirs. Luke can feel Alaric’s hands on his face, his own on Alaric’s waist, their slightly entangled legs in the awkward angle, the softness of Alaric’s lips, the way he feels like everything falls into place and his heart sings free. It ends, and he wants to come for seconds, but instead he brings their foreheads together, eyes closed, enjoying how they have all the time in the world.

There's silence. Then, “I still want to take you to dinner,” he says.

Alaric laughs. “Oh, I’m not opposed to that.”

Then they kiss again.

#sh #shadowhunters #luke garroway #alaric rodriguez #maia roberts #magnus bane #aluke #alaric x luke #luke x alaric #sh fic #aluke fic #brotp: they are her dads boogie woogie woogie #brotp: downworlder dads

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