#and as someone pointed out oc came in with the backpack but left without it. i'd say thats normal he usually does leave with just the belt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eoieopda · 11 months

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aphelion (knj)

aphelion (n): the point in the orbit of a comet at which it is furthest from the sun.

Kim Namjoon was as perfect when you lost him as he was when you found him.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x AFAB!Reader Type: Flashback Prequel | Genre: Fluff & Angst, Smut | Rating: M (18+) AU: Strangers ⇢ Lovers ⇢ Exes, Lacunaverse (aka Lacuna!AU) Word Count: 19K Content Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST; gratuitously autobiographical; POV switches; Namjoon and MC are both musicians but not envisioned as "idols"; emotional support producer!Yoongi; self-insert!OC, jinseo; panic attack implied (crying, rapid breathing, chest tightness); depressive episode implied (lack of self-care, lack of appetite); a relationship dying in slow motion (ouch.) Smut Warnings: Vaginal fingering, lil bit of biting, implied unprotected sex, reader rides it like she stole it. A/N 1: This is the prequel to Lacuna and its sequel, Redamancy. It takes place over the course of two years (2020 to 2022 — we’re pretending COVID never happened, btw) and will have month/date info. at the top of each vignette. You can read the series chronologically (starting here) but I definitely recommend reading in the order it was written (Lacuna ⇢ Redamancy ⇢ Aphelion) because I think dramatic irony is fun and sexy. A/N 2: Endless thank you's to my emotional support moots, @jihopesjoint and @here2bbtstrash for beta-reading this unabashed entry from my diary. A/N 3: To my "Namjoon" — You were the best thing I didn't get to keep. I hope you found the sun. Suggested Listening: Spotify Playlist. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

2020/7/18; 18:23

As awful as he knew it sounded, Yoongi was grateful to have someone in his life who was equally riddled with social anxiety. That flicker of dread he felt in the pit of his stomach was easier to digest when there was a hand — metaphorical, mainly, because the real thing was the tiniest bit sweaty — to cling to whenever he had to feign extroversion. Before you popped up into his life, perpetually on vibrate mode in the way that he was, he’d ventured out of his studio even less than he did now.

With you, there had always been a silent understanding: neither of you ever wanted to attend the company events that appeared simultaneously on your calendars; neither of you ever successfully shook off the feelings of guilt and obligation that prevented you from bailing altogether; and neither had ever — would ever — consider attending without the other. Co-dependence at its finest, you wore each other like a backpack and held on tight.

One of the terms of this unspoken social contract was that, when it came time to rally for one of the aforementioned, godforsaken label parties, Yoongi rushed over whenever you put up the Bat Signal. Instead of a cartoonish symbol in the sky, it always came in the form of a text — usually with a minimum of six (6) very urgent emojis — declaring a fashion emergency. No questions asked, he showed up on your doorstep every time. Yoongi never had any valuable input to offer, but he could tell you when you looked nice.

You always did, but he tended to keep that part to himself.

When Yoongi finally arrived at your apartment this time, he didn’t bother knocking the way he used to. By now, he knew that part of your pre-party panic included unlocking your door for him whenever you sent out your SOS. So, he let himself in and left his shoes at the door. Immediately, he heard a relieved sigh waft out from your bedroom down the hall.

“Oh, thank god!”

He waited for the blush in his cheeks to fade before he continued his journey to you, willing his standard poker face back into existence before it ratted him out.

“Do I need to call in a helicopter evacuation?” Yoongi called out to you as he padded off in your direction. “How bad is the avalanche?”

Before he could get halfway to your bedroom door, you poked your head out through the doorway. You had those pink, plastic cylinders in your hair — the ones that looked spiky and uncomfortable, but that you somehow never complained about — and half your makeup done. Even in that cactus-printed bathrobe, Yoongi wouldn’t have been surprised if you wound up with a spread in the next issue of Nylon.

You grimaced. “Admittedly worse than the holiday party, but nowhere near as bad as the Great MAMA Catastrophe of 2017.”

“So…” Yoongi teased with a tilt of his head, “Yes to the helicopter evacuation, then?”

He didn’t have time to emotionally or physically prepare for whatever awaited him on the other side of your bedroom door because you grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him inside as soon as he was within your reach.

Oh, good god, kid.

Yoongi opened his mouth to express how impressed — terrified? — he was by the explosion of outfits littering every surface of your room, but he quickly realized that no words would do it justice. He opted for a trademark, flat-line smile and a quiet grunt. You grimaced a second time, knowing full well what he hadn’t said out loud

Scurrying around him, you tore like a tornado through the immediate area to clear a path for him. You were clumsy enough to trip over every stray shoe but had reflexes — shockingly — quick enough to right yourself before your stumbling could send you to the ground. Once the carpet was sufficiently visible, you gestured to the small opening on your bed with a platform boot you’d unearthed somewhere along the way.

“You can, uh —” You continued waving the shoe in the direction of your bed, searching for the rest of your sentence. Yoongi watched in real time as your train of thought left the station.

More than a little endeared by your scattered brain, he offered, “Sit?”

“Yes!” You snapped your fingers and pointed a finger-gun at him with a sheepish smile, “That. Do that while I try to find my vocabulary. It’s gotta be somewhere in this blast zone…”

Voice already petering off, you wheeled back around to your regurgitated wardrobe.

Yoongi dropped into the only open spot on your mattress and leaned back to rest his weight on the palm of his hand. Settled into his usual space and routine, he fished his phone out of his pocket to check the time, as if the answer to that question would make a difference.

It was half-six.

Ugh.

As always, the pair of you would wind up late; and, as always, that would still somehow mean that you’d be the first to show up. No matter how hard you tried to avoid it — leaving later and later for every party — you were perpetually, dreadfully guests numbered one and two.

“I never know what to wear for these things,” you whined, once again a disembodied head appearing in a doorway.

When did you even sneak off into your closet? How were you physically able to reach it?

The rest of you reappeared underneath your head. You were clutching a dress in one hand and a skirt in the other, looking like your will to live had been hung up in their place. Worse, you had that little anime pout on, which didn’t bode well for the schoolboy crush Yoongi was secretly harboring, but you didn’t say anything. You just kept looking at him, eyes all pitiful and sparkly.

“Do you want me to ask him about the dress code?” he offered, unsure if that was what you were after but otherwise at a loss for solutions.

The look of mild-to-moderate panic washing over your face caused Yoongi to sigh. He knew you were thoroughly starstruck — he’d heard you gush over Namjoon and his new release for hours by now — but maybe he’d underestimated the extent. Your relief was immediate when he waved you off and said, “I’m not going to tell him that you’re the one asking.”

Yoongi [18:30]: on a scale of sweatpants to tuxedo, how hard do i have to try?

While he waited for an answer, Yoongi glanced back up to check your status. You’d once again disappeared in the few moments he’d glanced down at his phone screen. So damn sneaky. There was a significant amount of shuffling coming from the depths of your closet. Something shifted, then you yelped.

“You okay?” Yoongi called out, primed to get up and dig through the presumed rockslide for you.

Meekly, you popped back into view with one hand rubbing gingerly at the top of your head. You frowned. “I found my snow boots.”

“Sounded like your snow boots found you, kid.”

Yoongi’s phone buzzed in his hand. He ripped off the velcro-grip gaze he held on you and blinked down at the screen.

Namjoon [18:34]: Hyung, since when do you give a fuck about trying? lol

Yoongi chewed the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure what information to divulge: that he wasn’t asking because he gave a fuck; that you were the one who did; or that the only reason Yoongi was having this conversation at all was because you were the one that asked him to. He settled on something vaguely truthful.

Yoongi [18:37]: fuck off, joonie. since i’m bringing someone special and i want you to meet her.

The reply was immediate and three-fold:

Namjoon [18:37]: Call me Joonie again and see what happens 🤔 Namjoon [18:37]: Wear jeans in case I gotta chase you down for that. For real, though, it’s casual. Namjoon [18:37]: Also 👀

Yoongi shoved his phone back in his pocket without bothering to reply. He wouldn’t know what to say if he did, anyway. You weren’t the kind of person he knew how to summarize in a quick text; so he’d have to let your presence speak for itself. It always did.

When he looked back up from his hands, you reappeared in the closet doorway in a flouncy little dress. He had to stop himself from asking if you’d wear it to his funeral when he inevitably dropped dead. Once he succeeded at that, he swallowed thickly and focused on the two pairs of shoes you were holding, one in each hand.

Your face scrunched up while you mulled over your options. Without looking up, you asked absently and borderline shyly, “Did he respond?”

It took a beat for Yoongi’s brain to catch up; sundress season truly was the silent killer. In the pause, your inquisitive eyes flicked up to see if he’d simply ignored your question. He fumbled, pointed to the chunky, heeled sandals in your left hand, and then shot you a thumbs-up.

You rolled your eyes with a snort and knelt down to slip into his choice without further comment. As you did, you triple-checked that the ankle strap was secured and Yoongi didn’t have to guess why: the last time you wore them out, you hadn’t buckled yourself in properly. The thick tread had snagged on a curb; and your shoe didn’t come with you when you stepped up onto the sidewalk. You waited on one leg, the other foot bare in the wind, while Yoongi returned to the street to grab what you’d lost.

When you finished your ministrations, you stood back up to your full height — now with fifteen added centimeters — and brushed your hands against the back of your dress’ skirt. The expression on your face was somewhere between exhilarated and vaguely nauseous.

You clapped your hands together suddenly and sighed, “We doing this, Yoongs?”

He rolled his eyes so you wouldn’t get the wrong idea. He was endeared by that stupid nickname but unwilling to let you know as much. Still, he followed when you led him out of your bedroom; when you grabbed a laughably tiny and arguably useless purse off your hallway console table; and when you skipped out of your front door.

“Who’s driving?” Yoongi glanced over his shoulder at you as he hit the lock button on your door’s keypad. He didn’t need to ask — you had the alcohol tolerance of a newborn baby and couldn’t assume the wheel after more than two drinks — but he knew it made you feel better when he did.

Sheepishly, you pursed your lips.

He sighed with a microscopic grin, “Garage gate wouldn’t open, so I’m on the side of the building.” Then, he shuffled towards the elevator with you in tow. Even with the added height of your shoes, your short legs still struggled to keep up with his pace.

As soon as the elevator doors re-opened on the ground floor, you threaded your arm around his and handcuffed him to you with your elbow bent. Before he could make a joke at your expense, you raised a manicured finger and said, “Do not start with me, Min Yoongi.”

So, he didn’t. He simply opened his passenger door for you and closed it once you’d slid into your usual place. As soon as he slid into his and pressed the start button, your phone automatically hooked to his Bluetooth stereo; and he couldn’t even whine about that fact because you’d already queued up some song he’d never heard in a language neither of you knew well. True to form, you didn’t let that stop you from singing along as loudly as you could — all the way to the venue.

It didn’t take long for Yoongi to find a spot or to parallel park in it, much to your amazement. It did, however, take ten minutes of silent sitting for either of you to say a word.

“Do we have to go in there?” you asked, damn near inaudibly.

Where you sat, your left knee bounced at a speed almost imperceptible to the human eye. Yoongi only noticed because his knee was doing the same. He exhaled the breath he’d unknowingly held hostage and glanced at the time displayed on his car’s touch screen. He grimaced. “Shit started an hour ago. How much do you wanna bet that we’re still the first people here?”

You unbuckled your seatbelt. “Even if we are,” you started as you pushed open the passenger side door, “I’m not waiting to start the clock until guest number three arrives.” You shot him a pointed look as you slid out of the car. Adjusting your dress once you’d made it to your feet, you added, “One hour of kissing hands and shaking babies, then we’re out of here, right?”

Yoongi clamped his mouth shut, but it did nothing to ward off the laughter that made his shoulders shake. He nodded firmly, let his feet hit the pavement, then let his car door shut behind him.

“Compensatory lamb skewers, as usual?” He asked once he rounded the back of the car to join you on the sidewalk. On instinct, you threaded your arm through his to keep yourself on your feet, and your feet in your shoes. “But not from that place you picked last time. I’m ninety-nine-percent sure they clean it with a garden hose at night.”

You grumbled something about never being allowed to pick the restaurant before reaching for the door handle and petulantly jerking it open.

The second your respective feet stepped over the threshold, you both froze. It was the social equivalent of rigor mortis, the pair of you standing with locked limbs and gawking at the sheer number of people inside the hole-in-the-wall venue Namjoon had chosen. Clearly, he’d intended this to be as quaint as possible. Even more obviously, management hadn’t given a shit or fuck about that goal.

“This is,” you inhaled deeply as if you’d never get the chance again, and on the exhale, you wheezed, “So much. Oh my god.”

No matter how many times his shaking eyes scanned over the crowd ahead, Yoongi couldn’t find a single person he recognized, let alone wanted to spend an hour talking to. He snapped to look at you in the same moment you turned to him.

“What an hour this minute has been.”

“Lamb skewers?”

“Yes, please.”

Just as quickly as you’d entered, the pair of you turned to head out the door. Yoongi couldn’t grab the handle before a loud voice rang out from behind, “Hyung!”

A hand clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, spinning him around and leaving his emergency exit out of reach.

“So glad to see a familiar face,” Namjoon’s grin took up his whole face, but his mouth didn’t move with his words. They were forced out through gritted teeth, pleading the way his eyes were: If you leave me here, I’ll kill you.

Yoongi glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. He would’ve asked you — not with words, anyway — to make up some excuse to get you both out of there, to grab take-out and watch Naruto on his couch, but you couldn’t answer. Your starry-eyed gaze was aimed above you, and he’d venture a guess that everyone in the room had disappeared.

Everyone but Namjoon.

Damn it.

Somewhere, somehow, Yoongi heard a record scratch.

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi coughed, suddenly aware of his obligation as a mutual friend. Gesturing languidly between you and Namjoon, Yoongi reported for duty. “Joon, this is —”

Namjoon finally seemed to realize that you were standing there with Yoongi. He tilted his head to look down at you, and as soon as he did, Yoongi watched in slow motion as Namjoon’s eyes grew three times their usual size. Your name barely cleared Yoongi’s lips before Namjoon was extending a hand for you to shake.

Somewhere, somehow, the music seemed to swell.

Am I having a stroke?

The next minute that passed felt like an hour, too, and nobody said a word. It was you looking at Namjoon; Namjoon looking at you; and Yoongi’s eyes flitting back and forth between his friends with a kind of bemusement he couldn’t fake if his life depended on it. He’d crashed-landed in the middle of a drama, and he didn’t know what else to do, so he cleared his throat and said, “Uhh — shots, anyone?”

The next hour flew by in sixty seconds, and Yoongi couldn’t wrap his brain around how that could be. He’d lost faith in the concept of linear time, he knew that much. The two people he sat next to were meeting for the first time, but there was a familiarity present that he couldn’t put a finger on. Like you were both saying hello in this life after saying goodbye in a previous one.

Throughout the conversation, Yoongi couldn’t keep his attention on the words being tossed back and forth; not even the ones he was offering up. Huh, he thought, so, this is what it looks like when people meet who they’re meant to.

“Listen —” You smacked your hand down on the tabletop, swallowing down a laugh as you faked incredulousness. You pointed directly at Yoongi, causing him to choke on his whiskey. “I don’t care if I have to read translations on an app, Nas’ lyricism is unparalleled —”

“Facts,” Namjoon chimed in with a tip of his glass.

The way your eyes sparkled in response wasn’t lost on anyone.

Yoongi rolled his. “Okay, but from a production standpoint, we all know that —”

Simultaneously, you and Namjoon sucked in breaths. The arguments you let loose didn’t match in words, but the sentiment was the same, downright seismic in its intensity.

“Don’t you dare bring Kanye West into this!”

“Hyung, I swear to God, if the next name out of your mouth is Kanye West, I’m leaving my own fucking party.”

The eldest raised his hands defensively. “Fine, fine, fine,” he conceded. Yoongi slumped a little lower in his chair, accepting defeat. He glanced down at his phone to check the time — as if that wasn’t a lost cause — and when he looked up again, you and Namjoon had deviated down some winding tangent about the core of hip-hop being poetry.

It was odd, the way Yoongi’s stomach flipped then. Not jealousy, but fondness. Hunger, too, though that was secondary to the weird glimmer of pride he felt watching a bridge he’d unknowingly built link two spheres of his life together. There was a strange sense of clarity, to top it all off; one that changed all the question marks in his head to periods.

You and Yoongi would be friends.

Yoongi would be at peace with that fact.

The slightly sweaty hand that pulled you through that event wouldn’t be his; and he would be at peace with that, too.

Yoongi would grab lamb skewers on his way home and wait for your call tomorrow to hear how the rest of your night had gone without him.

With a signature, flat-line smile, Yoongi slid off his stool and slid his empty glass towards the bartender. Then, he clapped a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. The younger stopped mid-sentence with a start and blinked up at Yoongi, whose smirk immediately dropped, deadpan.

He glanced at you and confirmed that you were too busy ordering another drink to overhear. Then, he leaned down towards Namjoon and whispered, “Don’t fuck this up, Joonie.”

Namjoon gulped. Yoongi could hear it as he turned away, letting that smirk reappear once his back was to Namjoon.

He won’t.

2020/7/18; 21:06

Namjoon’s face hurt.

There was a telltale ache in his cheeks that confirmed it: he hadn’t smiled that much, that completely, in a long damn time. At the rate things had gone over the last two hours, he wouldn’t be surprised to catch his reflection in the bathroom mirror and find wrinkles demarcating just how crinkled his eyes had been. It was a wonder he’d been able to see you at all with the way his laughter leaked over his lash lines. Then again, your grin was burned into his brain already. Given the way you lit up, he was convinced that he’d see you — just you — even in the dark.

“Stop laughing at me!” you whined with your hand covering your mouth. Though you tried to hide it, Namjoon could still see you grinning, even with your mouth full. “I feel very attacked.”

He snorted. “Not an attack, just an observation. Can’t say I’ve ever witnessed someone order a beverage they don’t like just to eat the garnish.”

Quickly, you skewered another blackberry with the end of your straw and guided it under the hand covering your mouth. When you placed the straw back in your drink, the fruit was gone; your eyes were sparkling.

“Are you just jealous that you’ve never thought to do it?” You tilted your head to the side as you chewed. The little flex of your eyebrows made his stomach flip, so he swallowed hard and wondered if you noticed.

“Honestly,” he started with a sigh. He slumped down in his seat, looking as pathetic as possible while he eyed the remaining fruit in your glass. “Yeah. Little heartbroken, too.”

“Oh?” You pouted and Namjoon was on the brink of passing the fuck out.

The hand over your mouth dropped. You shifted on top of your stool, grabbed hold of your blackberry malt, and leaned in as you scooted it across the bar to Namjoon. The smile tugging at your lips was petal soft, though the flash of bright white teeth hit him like high-beams. He was a deer; he was frozen; and he didn’t give a shit if you ran right over him.

Elbows against the bar, you leaned even further. This time, when you tilted your head to the side, your hair gave way and left your bare shoulder in his line of sight. For the first time in his life, Namjoon finally understood why something as innocuous as a short-sleeve or exposed ankle was deemed pornographic a century prior. In the year 2020, he was losing his mind over an acromioclavicular joint and some — smooth, touchably soft — flesh.

“Because I haven’t offered to share?”

Jesus Christ.

He was seconds away from biting down on his fist to keep from groaning. That coquettish, candy-coated voice of yours was a problem in and of itself, but when you looked at him from under your lashes like that, Namjoon was ready to call in a bomb threat to his own party. He couldn’t simply fuck off with you, though — not without an excuse he could sell to Bang Si-Hyuk later.

Namjoon needed an out, now. Unfortunately for him, all he could think about was biting down on that shoulder, following the curve of it with his —

He needed to get a grip. Fast.

Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat. “Exactly. Rude.”

You smirked; he winked. To keep his mouth occupied, Namjoon grabbed the spare straw from your drink and speared a blackberry for himself. Holding his prize out in salute, he nodded his head with a smirk of his own. “Geonbae!”

You smiled sweetly again as you watched him pluck the fruit off the end of the straw with his teeth; but you grinned with all you had when the whiskey-drenched berry hit his taste buds like a punch. Sour, unbelievably potent after steeping so long high-proof liquor. Every part of him clenched at once, prompting you to laugh with your whole chest.

What a perfect fucking sound.

“Shit,” Namjoon sputtered. His face unpuckered and gave way to a grin that likely rivaled yours.

“How are you not tanked right now? Seriously, I’m twice your size and can handle my liquor. That —” He waved his hand towards your glass, “— nearly knocked me on my ass.”

You opened your mouth to respond — to tease him mercilessly, he hoped — but you were cut off by the horrendous sound of Namjoon’s phone vibrating against the bar and his own empty glass. The cacophony rattled in his rib cage. Both of you flinched at the sudden interruption, leaving him to wonder if you also forgot that anyone else existed.

Namjoon glanced quickly at the illuminated screen, then back up to you. He would’ve ignored his texts in a heartbeat — indefinitely, without hesitation — but you squeezed his hand as you slipped off your stool to your feet. With your promise that you were headed to the restroom and would be right back, he gave himself permission to look back down at his phone.

Yoongi [21:43]: you tell her about that comet thing? she’s an unrelenting nerd like you. she’ll be into it.

If he could have, he would’ve kissed Yoongi through the phone for two reasons. The first of which was that, in the time he’d spent talking to you, Namjoon had completely forgotten about the one thing he’d talked about incessantly for the past month: the upcoming appearance of Neowise. The second was that, once again, Yoongi had come in clutch with a reason to bail on a social obligation.

Namjoon [21:45]: You’re a lifesaver and I love you. Yoongi [21:46]: ew

Namjoon was still chuckling when, unexpectedly, he felt playful fingertips trail across his shoulder blades. You, he quickly realized as you walked behind him and sat back down on your stool. He shivered, even after the trace of your touch was gone.

“All good?” you asked with a soft smile.

Yeah, he thought, really fucking good.

Namjoon grinned automatically. He picked up the spare straw he’d used earlier and harpooned another blackberry, not having learned his lesson last time. The whiskey hit his tongue, burned beautifully on the way down, and emboldened him.

Without hesitation, he asked, “Do you wanna get out of here? There’s something I want to show you.”

Your wide eyes blinked back at him, then they scanned the room to confirm that, yes, it was still packed with people — up to and including executives from the label. Yes, he did just offer to ditch all of them for you, consequences be damned.

“Yes,” you responded, as if that was the easiest decision you’d ever made.

Namjoon got to his feet and held out his hand to you. “Not afraid of heights, are you?” His smirk all but dissolved when your fingers interlocked with his.

“Not if the fall would be worth it.”

He didn’t know what to say in response to that statement — one so simple, made so easily as if it was a thought you repeated to yourself often. You’d stunned him, really, and Namjoon was uncharacteristically lost for words. So, you both fell into a comfortable silence as he led you out of the venue, ignoring every wayward stare on the way out.

Even after he opened his passenger door for you and slipped himself behind the wheel, he couldn’t get over what you’d said. It took root in the back of his brain. In all the years he’d been in this industry, he’d determined that there were only two types of people: the ones who jumped without thinking and the ones who only ever did the latter. You, it seemed, were neither.

Not if the fall would be worth it.

As he drove, you hummed along to whatever played on the radio, gaze taking in the city lights. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the neon from roadside signs wash over your face as they passed. Pretty in all colors, he thought, in every light.

Five minutes passed before he realized that you hadn’t even asked where he was taking you. Maybe you’d made an assumption that you were headed back to his place, which, while true, still wasn’t entirely accurate. Or maybe you simply trusted him. Determined that he was one of those calculated risks worth taking.

Namjoon was warm all-over when he finally reached his parking garage and turned into his assigned space. By the time he rounded the back of his car to open your door for you, you were already standing and smoothing down the skirt of your dress.

God bless sundress season.

“Didn’t realize you were a fan of his work.”

He froze. Oh, fuck.

Swallowing down the embarrassment of broadcasting his thoughts out loud, Namjoon shrugged. The corner of his mouth twitched, threatening to ruin his nonchalance. “Credit where it’s due, you know?”

He then glanced down at his watch and confirmed that he was running out of time. When he looked back up at you, you were visibly puzzled but you didn’t question him. So, he questioned you:

“You didn’t develop a fear of heights on the drive over, right? Fall still worth it?”

Your response didn’t come in words. To his surprise, you held out your hand and stared expectantly — sweetly — at him until he took it.

You didn’t have the key code to operate the elevator or any idea where you were headed, but you tugged Namjoon along after you as you crossed the parking garage. It was then that he noticed the sheer height of the shoes you were wearing and how carefully you moved in them. Not like heels were foreign to you, but with deliberate steps as if you expected one or both of them to make a break for it. He made a mental note of it.

After typing in his access code to summon the elevator, Namjoon gazed down at you. Trying to hide his smile again would’ve been an exercise in futility, so he didn’t bother. Without thinking first, he mused, “You know, you still haven’t asked where I’m taking you. That’s a lot of trust.”

“I mean, if my untimely end comes at the hands of Kim Namjoon of all people, my ghost will have a really interesting story to tell.”

Your snicker made his knees wobble. You stepped into the elevator as it opened, leaving him to stand starstruck outside the doors.

“Coming?”

When Namjoon finally regained use of his limbs and joined you in the elevator, he pressed the button for the top floor, overshooting his own by three. With every second that passed as the two of you ascended, the centimeters slipped away — overcome by what Namjoon could only assume was a gravitational pull.

He’d orbit you if he could.

“This way,” Namjoon instructed. He gestured to the door at the end of the hall with a sign that promised roof access.

You stayed close, your hand so near to his that he could’ve grabbed it and held it a thousand times before you reached your objective. He held the door for you and watched you duck under his arm as you stepped through, damn near salivating at the way your perfume lingered in your wake.

The door in question opened to something halfway between an exposed patio and a fire escape. If Namjoon had to venture a guess, none of the other residents knew this place existed; it was exclusively for maintenance staff who needed to access the electrical meters contained in the locked room in front of you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at it, understandably struggling to figure out why Namjoon had brought you to a place like this.

Sensing your confusion, he nodded his head towards a steep metal staircase which led up to the building’s roof. Staircase was a generous description, really. The only difference between those steps and a ladder was the presence of handrails and a slightly more forgiving angle.

When you caught sight of them, your confusion dissolved into surprise. You paused. Anxious eyes darted down to your heels as you shifted your weight from one to the other.

Weighing your options, Namjoon figured. Bare feet or twisted ankles.

He offered a third and crouched down in front of you, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Coming?” He quoted.

You looked at him in disbelief, like he couldn’t possibly be offering to take you up those steps on piggy-back — but he was, and he was dead serious. He said as much, and you had to bite down on your lips to keep your shy smile to yourself. As had been the case all night, your reciprocal offer was intrinsic trust.

Once you secured yourself on his back, you looped your arms gently around his neck. A quiet giggle immediately flooded his ears. Namjoon peeked at your face hovering over his shoulder and smiled when he saw that you were, too. Your laugh was music, more than anything else.

“This feels like that scene in Twilight.”

Because Namjoon has a sister, he automatically knew what you were referring to, as embarrassing as that was to admit. It was worth it, though, when he bought into your bit. You beamed like the fucking sun when he warned, “Hold on tight, spider monkey.”

He kept one hand on the railing and the other secured over your crossed forearms as he took the steps slowly. When none were left, it was just you, Namjoon, and an uninterrupted expanse of orange and pink.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, squeezing his bicep.

He took your silent cue and ducked back down so you could return to your own two feet.

“Beautiful, right?” Namjoon kept his voice low as if he were in a place of worship.

In a way, he was.

You wobbled, not because of your shoes, but because you were staring straight up, spinning slowly in your spot while you drank in a fleeting, tangerine sky. As the sun continued to sink, bright white stars popped up to take its place. You seemed intent on counting them, but they couldn’t hold Namjoon’s attention — not with you fawning underneath them.

“Reminds me of home, kind of.” You matched his tone like this mattered as much to you as it did to him. “The buildings are always in the way here. After a while, I stopped bothering to look up.”

It felt natural, the way you reached out for his hand to keep you tethered. The same was true when he tugged gently and pulled you closer. You tucked yourself under his arm, nestled into his side. There was heat rising from his chest to his cheeks, but he still shivered.

Trying to keep his focus on the point of all this, Namjoon glanced down at his watch to confirm that the sun’s interference would be gone within minutes. Softly, he dropped his arm so he could place his hands on your waist. You let him turn you until you stood with your back to him; then, you followed his pointed finger with your eyes.

“Keep your eyes on the Northwest, alright?”

Playfully defiant, you turned your head to smirk up at him instead. “I’m admittedly shit at directions.”

Namjoon wouldn’t have noticed if the stars above him disappeared. For all he knew, they’d relocated to the dilated black of your pupils. There was a hint of a challenge twinkling there, too. He wasn’t known for backing down.

“This is the southeast.” Namjoon covered his fondness with a feigned frown and tapped your left hip bone with the pads of his middle and ring fingers. “The sun’s behind you.”

“I know it is,” you acknowledged. Despite that fact, you were still gazing over your shoulder at him.

Oh.

His eyes widened when he caught your meaning; yours crinkled at the corners. Namjoon didn’t have a single clue how you could smile that warmly without using your mouth at all.

It’s decided, he thought. Wherever this night takes us, I’m down for the ride. You lead, I’ll follow.

There was a distinct drop in his body temperature when you eventually — belatedly — followed his directions. Instinctively, Namjoon pulled you even closer so he could properly wrap his arms around your waist. Your shoulder blades pressed into his chest as he leaned down to your ear.

This time, you shivered.

“See that up ahead? Under the Big Dipper.”

You were quiet for a moment, likely searching for whatever secret he was pointing out to you. There was no room for doubt when you finally did see it because you gasped for the second time.

Breathless, you asked, “What is that? A meteor?”

Now visible against inky black, Neowise burned on the horizon.

“A comet,” he gently corrected you. “A new one — well, one we didn’t know about until March. It’s just now coming out of perihelion.”

At the forefront, its bright white mass led a slow charge down the sun’s gravity well. The tail was smeared behind it as if someone had dragged a paintbrush through the cosmos. Once-in-a-lifetime wasn’t scientifically accurate; and heavenly felt pretentious. Namjoon couldn’t think of a word in any language to describe the way he felt in that moment, but he prayed it would last.

You were equally awestruck. For a while, it was simple, silent wonderment as the two of you kept your eyes on the horizon. Peaceful, despite the faint blare of car horns wafting upwards from the streets below. Namjoon might venture far enough to call it perfect.

“What happens now?” You eventually asked. He glanced down at you when your voice cut through quiet, though your starry eyes didn’t register his movement. Thoroughly transfixed, you stayed still.

Namjoon felt himself frown. The answer was scientific fact, but it sounded like an unhappy ending.

Like leaving.

“Aphelion,” he sighed. “It’s headed for the point in its orbit that’s farthest from the sun. All that light you see right now comes from gas made by solar heat, so… it’ll grow colder the farther away it gets. Then, it’ll get so dark that it’ll be more or less invisible.”

You repeated that word quietly to yourself like you were testing the weight of it in your mouth. Aphelion. There was an undeniable heaviness to it. Namjoon wondered if you felt it, too.

He continued, “Not sure if or when it’ll ever be like this again.”

2020/7/18; 23:12

If you could have, you likely would’ve stayed on that rooftop until morning.

The back of your dress would be even dirtier from sitting down on the concrete the way you had; and your elbows may ache a little more after additional time spent leaning back onto flattened palms, but it’d be a small price to pay. Calm like that was invaluable. Until you stared at that uninterrupted sky, talking through every thought you’d ever had with someone who understood them all, calm like that was foreign to you.

You never had the opportunity to sit still, much less settle. Never got to be quiet, never got to linger. On that rooftop, you received a necessary reminder that your universe was bigger than a schedule full of obligations. Bigger than hotel showers, each less user-friendly than the last. Bigger than drinking boba tea alone in an airport, letting life carry you like a dandelion seed all over the map.

It was endless.

You wished that moment had been, but the news helicopter hovering nearby had said otherwise. As it turned out, television coverage of the comet was more important than your personal enjoyment of it. The loud chop of propellers against air had been bad enough; the gusts of wind those propellers kicked your way were even worse.

Even though he’d been sitting right next to you, Namjoon had to shout for you to hear him. You’d squinted as if that would make sense of the shapes his mouth had made — it didn’t. You’d heard his voice but not his words.

I need to learn to read lips, you’d thought. The problem with that realization was that the harder you’d focused on his, the more you wanted to nibble on them. And then the urgency you’d felt no longer had anything whatsoever to do with the aircraft. You hadn’t gotten the message until Namjoon stood up and offered his hands to help you stand, too.

Through the climb back down to the door, the walk up the hallway, and the elevator ride to his floor, Namjoon hadn’t dropped your hand. Now, it was taking longer than you imagined was usual for him to unlock his apartment door because the thumb of his dominant hand was still roaming over the back of yours.

“Finally!”

His sigh was half-exasperated, half-relieved, all swoonworthy when the key — at long last — did what he’d been begging it to do. Namjoon pushed the door open. This time, neither of you had to urge the other to come along.

The second your shoes crossed the threshold into his apartment, you damn near crumpled on the ground they occupied.

Holy shit —?

Less of an apartment and more of an archive, Namjoon’s space was artfully curated. In the literal sense. Everywhere you looked, there was some painting, some exquisite sculpture. All of it was breathtaking — and shockingly breakable, which made you wonder how they’d survived ownership by someone so endearingly clumsy.

He chuckled sheepishly when he saw the way you gawked, open-mouthed, at his collection.

“You didn’t tell me you lived in a museum!” You were dizzy. “I swear, you’re going to have to get security to escort me out at closing time. I’ll stand, and ponder, and muse all day; and I’ll never leave.”

In hindsight, that sounded more like a threat than a warning.

Suddenly rushing so that you could explore more fully, you moved to bend down and undo the ankle straps of your heels. That was, coincidentally, the moment Namjoon attempted to address his own shoes. Your heads collided with a thud that made you both hiss and retract.

“You good?” Namjoon frowned apologetically. As he did, he lifted his hand to run his fingers gingerly over the bump likely forming on the crown of your head. You were too busy vibrating to do much more than nod.

Is one touch all it takes? This doesn’t bode well for you.

As if his goal was to kill you where you stood, he dropped his hand slowly, caressing the side of your jaw with his knuckle and a touch that was barely there. Deep brown eyes smoldered as they focused on you. Then, that husky voice completed the attack combination.

Knock out! Game over!

He tapped your chin with the pad of his thumb and said, “Stay here.”

As if you’d want to be anywhere else.

Before you could wrap your brain around the turn of events, Namjoon knelt in front of you. His right foot remained planted on the ground, leaving his thigh parallel overtop. Thank god for his black jeans. If you drooled at the sight of his quadricep straining against the denim, no trace would be left.

Knees wobbling, you followed his cue and shifted your weight to one foot. The other was guided up to rest against his thigh so he could address the ankle strap for you.

Is your mouth hanging open? Why is it so dry?

Your body shouldn’t have clenched the way it did at something so innocuous. Really, he was being polite. Self-preserving after your eagerness nearly left him concussed. But he must have heard your heart hammering against the wall of your chest because he looked up at you and — no, there was nothing polite about the way his eyes trailed over your body.

Nothing innocuous about his low voice wrapped in velvet saying, “You look like an angel when you look down at me like that.”

It was a miracle that you didn’t break skin with the way you pinched your bottom lip between your teeth.

You must have blacked out after the first shoe was discarded; you weren’t mentally present to notice the other one’s removal. When your soul re-entered your body, Namjoon was back to standing at full height — and he was significantly taller now that you stood barefoot on his doormat.

Incapable of eloquence, you simply peeped, “Hi.”

Either you were going insane, or there really was a faint buzz of electricity humming in the few centimeters between Namjoon’s body and yours. Something was conducting through every nerve of your body, tingling.

“Hi.”

His little half-smile made your stomach flip. You didn’t know what to say next because the only thought in your head was something between a prayer and a plea.

kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me

When the tip of his tongue broke through the seam of his lips to wet them, the only conclusion you could draw was that he’d read your mind. He didn’t listen, but the glint in his darkening eyes confirmed it: Namjoon knew exactly what you wanted and he was holding back. Instead of his mouth, he gave you his hand.

Not bad for a consolation prize.

His fingers slotted between yours like they were the reason those spaces existed in the first place.

That’s the thing about magnets — they attract what they’re meant to. You didn’t need to look for him to find him. Unpaired electron that you were, you knew it intrinsically when someone was spinning in the same direction you were. Even though it’d been the furthest thing from your mind in every moment leading to the present, you couldn’t deny it now:

You found someone that clicked.

There was static sparking in the air when Namjoon led you from the foyer into the living room. Every breath was charged, even the one that caught in your chest when you saw the full extent of his collection.

“I feel like I’m walking barefoot through the Met,” You hummed, eyes flitting from portrait to portrait. Traditional, contemporary, modern — all of it chosen thoughtfully and displayed the same way. “What’s it like to live in it?”

He paused and you paused with him. He looked shy for the first time all night. “Like I’m not alone with my thoughts, if that makes sense?”

Perfect sense.

“You’re not coming home to an empty apartment if you’ve got a piece of Yoo Youngkuk’s mind on the walls.” You gestured with your free hand to a painting hanging to your right. It filled the otherwise neutral space with bright blues, greens, and yellows. “Gotta have some enrichment in the enclosure, or the fishbowl we live and work in will drive us crazy.”

When you glanced back at Namjoon — who was silent and completely still — he looked as if your words had punched him in the chest. Not like he was in pain, but as if the wind had been knocked right out of him. He was silent, though his mouth was slightly parted, and he blinked slowly back at you. You didn’t know what that look in his eyes meant, but it was a far cry from the lust in them before you started rambling.

Now, you had to worry about whether you’d offended him somehow. Fuck. You’d done it again, piggy-backed off someone’s statement to add the two cents no one asked for. Have you ever kept a single thought to yourself?

You quickly pointed to a different painting.

This one, unlike the abstract pieces you’d examined so far, was earth tones in oil paints. Sitting in the center was a young woman in white, staring down at her bare feet as if one of them had stepped on something sharp.

“What’s her story?” You asked.

Namjoon cleared his throat to reactivate the vocal cords you’d seemingly paralyzed earlier. “That’s Eurydice on her wedding day. She married Orpheus, if his name rings any bells.”

It doesn’t.

“She got bit by a snake on her wedding night, which is — uhh, admittedly not ideal.” Namjoon visibly struggled to hide his smirk when you snorted in response. He continued, “She died, which is even worse, but Orpheus went to the underworld to save her.”

“Did he?”

Namjoon grimaced. “Orpheus was not great with rules.”

“Did Orpheus leave his own reception to chase a woman?” You teased with a raise of your eyebrow.

You watched his eyes darken in real time. Viper quick, he tugged at the hand he never let go of and led you right back to him. To keep yourself from colliding fully with his chest, your free palm flattened against it. His pulse raced at your touch, but you couldn’t pay attention to anything other than the searing warmth radiating off of him.

“I suppose he did.” He leaned down, nose tip nearly bumping yours. “There’s an important distinction here, though.”

Namjoon’s hand left yours, lifted up to rest with his fingers under your jaw and his thumb above it. You were sure that your shallow, useless breaths were fanning over his chin, given how close in proximity his mouth was to yours. His breath hit your lips and left them tingling.

The best you could do was whisper, “And what would that be, Namjoon?”

“Orpheus went home empty-handed.”

You didn’t mean to growl in response the way you did, but he’d awakened something feral in you, and there was no turning back. No caging it in. Just your hands gripping tight to his shirt, pulling him down to kiss you the way you wished he had hours ago. That was primal, too. All teeth and tongue with his fingers threading through your hair, and —

And he laughed.

His shoulders shook just enough for you to notice. It was the quickened exhale of breath through his nose that gave him away, more than anything else.

“Is something funny?” You questioned him when you pulled back breathless. His eyes were crinkled, swimming with mirth.

Tease.

You and your now-unoccupied lips changed targets, dipping down to assault the exposed underside of his jaw. Mumbling against his skin, you urged, “Share with the class.”

He opened his mouth, and for a moment, he seemed to be on the brink of answering. Whatever words he might have found were lost again in an instant when your teeth nipped playfully where his neck met his shoulder.

“All those blackberries you ate — oh, fuck.” Namjoon groaned, even more so when your tongue flicked over the faint indents you’d left behind.

After leaving an opened-mouth kiss on his collarbone, you looked up at him from under a curtain of lashes. His head was thrown back, but he sensed your stare; half-lidded eyes fluttered down at you, transfixed. It was a look you felt everywhere, downright pulsing as it shot straight to your core.

You weren’t ready for the hands in your hair to migrate, and that fact was made abundantly clear by the tiny gasp he stole from you in the process. He reveled in it; the corner of his mouth twitched triumphantly upwards. His left hand resettled on your hip while the knuckles of his right hand brushed over the space just below your belly button.

Namjoon must’ve known he had you spellbound because his smirk was full-fledged when he pinched the fabric of your dress between his fingers. Gently, he tugged what he’d claimed, causing the hem to flutter against the tops of your thighs. You were left damn near liquified. More puddle than person, dripping dizzy under such a torturously soft touch.

He didn’t know you were kerosene until he struck the match.

“If your kiss tastes like blackberries...” He trailed off, head tilting to the side. His right hand dropped further. It hovered, red hot, just millimeters away from your core. “How sweet is the rest of you?”

You erupted in flames when his fingertips finally made contact with your clothed cunt. Clenching your desperate thighs together did nothing to extinguish the blaze, nor did the arousal that slicked the innermost parts of them. Swallowing down the whimper building in your chest, you did your best to keep cool.

Eyebrow arched, you whispered, “Asking questions won’t get you answers, Namjoon. You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

The intention might’ve been to wind up in his bedroom at the opposite end of his apartment, but the execution was short-sighted. The farthest your lip-locked staggering got you was the adjoining, open kitchen — more specifically, the kitchen island. The chilled, marble countertop forced a hiss out through your teeth when the undersides of your legs settled on it. With Namjoon’s hands scorching the tops of your bare thighs, though, you were far from frozen.

Fingers raking through his hair, you let him kiss you stupid — until you couldn’t remember how it felt not to. Whiskey-laced and wanting, you licked into his mouth with a stifled whimper and came to two irrefutable conclusions. They spun pirouettes in your brain as his fingernails scratched up your thighs and under the hem of your dress.

Kim Namjoon was made to be kissed.

Up, up, up, his hands moved slowly until you felt his index fingers hook over the waistband of your underwear. He didn’t have to ask for your help; automatically and eagerly, you dropped your hands until your palms flattened against the countertop and lifted your hips. Down your thighs, off your ankles, tossed carelessly over his shoulder, gone — accomplished with his bottom lip kept as a souvenir between your teeth.

Kim Namjoon tastes like blackberries, too.

He was panting when he finally broke away. Large hands slid under your knees and pulled you forward. Now sitting at the very edge of the counter with Namjoon’s body between your thighs, you could feel him throbbing behind too-tight jeans. You were seconds away from reaching out to touch him, but he was the quicker draw.

The tip of his middle finger slid through your folds, wading through the slick that had pooled there. He moved slowly from the button of your clit to your entrance. That teasing filled your head with static and the silence with obscenity: you cursing under your breath as your forehead dropped to rest against his shoulder; you gushing, though he’d barely begun to touch you.

“All for me?” He hummed. Namjoon’s eyes were locked on your face, as if he was collecting mental snapshots of the fucked-out expression he’d put there. “Sweet thing.”

His lips connected with the underside of your jaw in the exact moment his digit finally slipped inside of you. You were sure he felt the way your mouth fell open, even if neither of you heard your breath catching in your throat. It didn’t take much effort on his part to coax it out of you, though; just a few slow pumps, and then you were whimpering near his ear.

You had to rely on your arm around his neck to keep you tethered. If you let go, you weren’t sure where you’d end up — floating off to join Neowise in its orbit, or crashing down into a heap at Namjoon’s feet. But then he added his ring finger, and you clung to him so tightly that you might’ve wound up in his rib cage instead.

“Oh, s-shit,” you keened as his fingers curled upwards. He’d found his target and attacked it slowly, forcing you to walk towards your orgasm rather than sprint — the way you needed to. The way you were willing to beg for. “Namjoon, please. I n—”

You felt the curve of his smirk against your skin. Before you could finish asking, he murmured low in your ear, “Say less, beautiful.”

The kiss he placed on your temple was the last thing you remember before his increased pace lit the fuse waiting deep in your abdomen. His thumb pressed against your clit, winding quick spirals, and he didn’t let up until he blew your mind sky-high.

When the smoke cleared and your pieces fell back into place, you had to blink to get the stars out of your eyes. “You should’ve warned me,” you panted. Namjoon was puzzled, which only made you beam. “You didn’t strike me as the dexterous type.”

The feigned shock on his face didn’t stick for long; it was quickly replaced by a shit-eating grin that made you tingle for an entirely different reason.

“These hands are good for two things, and two things only.”

You snorted, flexed an expectant eyebrow. “Breaking shot glasses, and…?”

Namjoon shook his head. His fingers were still shining with your orgasm when he brought them to his lips. It was ridiculous how he could still look pensive with you dripping down to his knuckles.

“Making you cum, first and foremost,” he corrected you matter-of-factly, like it was an undeniable truth dictated in one of the many books you’d seen littered around his apartment — and really, it should’ve been.

He took those glistening fingers into his mouth to clean you off of him; you couldn’t look away from his tongue as it ran down their length. You swallowed hard when he did. Then, he released them with a lewd pop that made you clench around nothing. “And making you cum again.”

You rolled your eyes, as if you weren’t still irreparably charmed by him. Namjoon bit back a grin, like he didn’t already know.

“My hypothesis may be confirmed, by the way,” he mused.

The magnetism you’d felt earlier brought him back to you again. His arms snaked around your waist so easily that you had to remind yourself — over and over — that they were strangers to you, not a home. That this was adrenaline; this was infatuation; this was one night.

You hummed in response, “Is it?”

It felt like home when Namjoon kissed you, softness laced with eagerness. Or like wax pooling on an envelope, the deed now signed and sealed.

“I’ll have to re-run the experiment, of course. Scientific method and all that.” He waved his hand, as if this was obvious. Yours landed a playful swat on his bicep that only deepened the dimple at the corner of his smile. He kissed you again and you let him. Lips still flush to yours, he mumbled, “Your pussy may be even sweeter.”

2020/7/19; 01:04

You should’ve been exhausted. Your social battery — and your physical battery — should’ve been depleted. You, an introvert and a homebody, should’ve been halfway to sleep in your own bed by now, in your own clothes.

When you left your apartment all those hours ago, you were already prepared to hibernate for twice as long as you’d spent on the outside. That was the way it always worked. A plan you never deviated from; one you never wanted to. But you’d been firmly rooted in the moment — every moment — since you arrived at that party, and you hadn’t spent a second since wishing you were elsewhere.

Your voice cut through the music flowing from the speakers built into his bedroom walls. “I’m not buying it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You twirled at the center of the rug and watched the fabric of Namjoon’s loaned t-shirt attempt to keep up with you. It hung over your frame like a potato sack, leaving a comforting weight as the excess material spilled over your shoulders and landed halfway down your thighs.

Funnily enough, it fit like the dress it’d replaced.

Pausing to swallow down the last sip of the soju you’d been splitting, you gestured towards him with the empty bottle. From where he sat on his bed, Namjoon raised his hands defensively. That sheepish smile admitted that he knew your offense was justified.

“You’re a musician who is fluent in English. You’re also a human being living in a society,” you huffed. “There is simply no way that you don’t know the words to this song.”

He had to cover his face with his hands to muffle his laughter. Even before he hid behind his palms, you could see the way his mirth made his eyes swim. They sparkled even more in that moment than they had in the thousand other times he’d looked at you throughout the night. Once again, you tried to convince yourself that it was due to the rose-colored glasses you couldn’t seem to shake off.

A trick of the light.

You were doing it again, and you knew it — conflating relief and hope; confusing the temporary sense of belonging somewhere with the ability to stay anywhere. You weren’t looking for this, weren’t looking for him, because you knew exactly what you couldn’t have. But you also knew that your heart was racing in your chest, and its rhythm was starting to sound more and more like, “maybe, maybe, maybe.”

Apparently, you’d been staring. Looking at Namjoon for too long made your knees wobble more than your sore muscles did, so you had to avert your eyes when you snapped back to reality. Brushing off that odd flutter in your chest, you brought the empty bottle back to your lips, tilted your head back, and belted out the lyrics you knew he knew.

“Oh, wake me! I'm shaking.”

You took your clumsy choreography to the next level with an exaggerated shiver. Namjoon watched through the cracks between his fingers, unable to ignore the person coming unzipped mere meters away. Undeterred, you threw the back of your hand up to rest against your forehead.

“Wish I had you near me now.” Then, you wiggled your hips in time with the ad-lib. It was barely audible underneath the chuckling from the audience. “Uh-huh.”

His hands dropped to his lap as yours shot straight up into the air, where you held them. The expression on his face was indecipherable when he gazed back at you. Whatever it meant, it was quickly morphing maybe into something more hopeful and — terrifyingly — committal.

“Said there's no mistaking —”

Namjoon said it on an exhale, weightless and without any effort. It sounded natural tumbling out of his mouth and into the space between you. It sounded a lot like:

“I think I love you.”

Without missing a beat, you reeled your arms back down and set the soju bottle onto a nearby dresser. Head tilted to the side, you crossed your arms and smirked. “How sure are you? Enough to wager on it?”

He didn’t seem at all surprised by the way you bought in immediately. You wondered if you truly expected him to be. After all, you weren’t, even if a reasonably well-adjusted person should have been. Perhaps, you thought, you weren’t one of those.

Namjoon’s response came just as easily as his first admission, a perfect volley. “At least seventy-nine percent sure.” You couldn’t see the way you lit up, but you’d have liked to imagine that it matched the way he did. Quicker still, he added, “And yes, I would. All in.”

There’s that magnetic pull again.

You skipped back to where he was waiting on the bed and crawled over the mattress to settle in front of him. Up close, you could see the sakura tint to his cheeks; it blended perfectly with the faint freckles dusting over the heights of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. You’re beautiful, you thought, and it’s no wonder that the sun found you worth kissing.

Something about his proximity to you made you bold; you didn’t fight it. You simply smirked, “Then let’s make a deal, Joonie.”

Intrigued, he raised his eyebrows but didn’t interrupt.

“Two years,” you hummed as you tilted your head to the side. Then, with a thoughtful finger tapping at your chin, you elaborated, “If in two years’ time you realize that you were right — and you’re one-hundred percent sure — you’ll win a prize.”

Namjoon nodded firmly. He put his hand out to shake on it, but you sat up on your knees. His gaze followed, leaving him to stare up at you as your fingers slid through his hair. You kissed him to finalize the contract, like all true devils do.

“Deal,” he murmured against your lips.

It scared you, just a little, how melting into him already felt like a routine. Like you’d done several times already that night, you spilled into his lap with your knees on either side of his thighs. Namjoon’s arms accepted you immediately; they enveloped you, kept you anchored against his chest.

This time, it was you who laughed.

Namjoon nudged your cheek with the tip of his nose. “What was that about sharing with the class?”

“I just — I’m not normally like this, you know? Completely unable to keep my hands to myself,” you snickered. “Can’t stop touching you.”

To emphasize your point, you removed your right hand from its place at the nape of his neck. Once your fingers were no longer woven through his hair, your fingertips traced light, languid lines, starting at his collarbone. Your eyes followed as your ministrations led you over the slope of his left pectoral muscle, down the bare warmth of his chest.

“So, don’t.”

When your eyes flicked back up to Namjoon’s face, you got the impression that he hadn’t stopped staring at yours. Right hand trailing further down, you maintained that eye contact and watched his pupils blow when you reached the bulge in his boxer briefs. Experimentally, the pad of your index finger whispered along the length of his cock; you relished the subtle twitch you received in response.

“Is this where you want me to touch you?” You asked.

He was throbbing under your touch, growing hard once again, as if you hadn’t been at this for hours already. That didn’t stop you from driving him further wild. More breath than words, you teased, “Or here?”

With a light hand, you flattened your palm to encompass him more fully and squeezed, prompting him to curse.

“Fuck.”

Namjoon’s eyelashes fluttered, but he seemed entirely unwilling to let them close. Desperate brown eyes pleaded with you, sending heat straight to your core.

“Need you, pretty thing. Hand, mouth — doesn’t matter, just fuck me.”

Your fingers slipped away from the base until they resettled at the crown. Even without looking, you could feel the spot where his leaking tip had soaked through the fabric. He groaned when your fingers pulled away, though he stopped in his tracks when he realized where they were headed.

Namjoon shuddered when your hand dipped under the waistband of his briefs and picked up exactly where you’d left off.

“How do you want it, Namjoon?”

As you stroked him, you pressed your lips to his. Slow, hungry, like you’d die before you’d get the opportunity again.

To the best of his ability, Namjoon rolled his hips forward with each pass of your fist. And when you redirected that teasing pressure to his balls, he downright jolted, let loose some deep sound from the bottom of his chest. The sound hardly had time to dissipate before you felt the hem of your shirt lifting above your hips.

Breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head, it was gone in an instant, landing somewhere unseen off the edge of the bed. Ridding him of his briefs was a more concentrated effort. You pushed up on your knees so he could shimmy them down far enough for you to discard them entirely.

“How are your legs, pretty girl?” His palms warmed the tops of your thighs as he massaged his way from your kneecaps towards your hips.

Dipping his head down, Namjoon nipped affectionately at your earlobe and earned a squeak from you. His low chuckle vibrated through you. He was quick to redirect himself, though the teasing didn’t end at his teeth.

“You seem to like being bossy, but I can take over if you’re tired.”

You feigned a scowl. “Are you baiting me?”

The wicked grin on his face answered for him, but it was quickly replaced with wide-eyed surprise when you pressed your hands against his chest and pinned him back against the pillows.

He shrugged, eyes still sparkling with mischief. “Not my fault if you take it, sweets.”

“Never would I ever have assumed that Kim Namjoon is a pillow princess.”

You pointed accusingly at him with one hand while the other slid into the space between you to line yourself up with his cock.

Impish grin still locked and loaded, he leaned up on his elbows until your extended finger was centimeters from his face. He kissed the tip of it chastely between his words, like his own tip wasn’t dripping with you, seconds away from obscenity.

“Hook — line —”

You dropped down on his length, and it shut him up immediately.

Though Namjoon was certifiably, world-endingly thick, you’d acclimated well enough to the stretch of him in your time together so far. He didn’t seem prepared for you to take him to the hilt in one fell swoop, if the way his head crashed back against the pillows could be taken as a hint.

With a swirl of your hips, you grinded down into his lap. Coquettishly, you finished where he left off. “Sinker?”

“Christ,” Namjoon groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut, then followed up immediately with a sheepish laugh. “Feel like I can’t even watch you do this. You’re too fucking good — never gonna make it out of here alive.”

Pride bloomed in your chest at the compliment, even though he was prophesying his own downfall between your spread legs.

You imagined he could feel it for himself: you weren’t any more likely to survive. Not full of him, with your slick spilling down his cock as you bounced. Definitely not with the sick sounds of your ass colliding with his pelvis, squelching with every thrust.

There was something blooming below your navel, but this time, it wasn’t pride. A tingling heat coiled tight, desperate to snap again. You needed it, but the burn in your thighs was stronger by far.

“Joonie,” you whimpered, incapable of caring about how pathetic you knew you sounded. Your head, previously thrown back, drooped forward to find him and his flushed cheeks fighting to maintain composure.

God, he looked as fucked out as you felt.

Namjoon focused on you immediately, attentively, and your heart leapt of its own accord. He curled his finger and beckoned you to lean forward.

“Come here, pretty girl,” he sighed.

Less gracefully than you would’ve liked, you all but crashed into him, sweat-slicked chest to chest. Arms wrapped around you like they were made for that very purpose.

Anchored.

Dangling from the last, frayed thread of your resolve, you were damn near speaking in tongues. Namjoon pushed up onto his heels and buried himself in you — over and over and over — at a punishing pace, hellbent on unraveling both of you at once.

Your moan was halfway to a sob. All the words you knew had been knocked loose some time ago, leaving only his name and please. They rattled around your skull, alternating as they spilled out of your mouth.

“Say less, baby,” he panted.

There was a kiss pressed to your forehead, and then there were stars bursting behind your screwed-shut lids.

2020/11/2; 07:22

Namjoon sat across from you at his kitchen island with a mug of coffee in one hand and a book he’d forgotten the name of in the other. He’d started it over an hour ago, though the two turned pages might indicate otherwise. Instead, he’d spent his time attempting to read whatever scrunched-up, pensive expression you had written all over your face.

You hadn’t said much since the two of you sat down, just pushed your sliced fruit around your plate with chopsticks that had yet to pass your lips. Every now and then, you’d hummed in response to the random thoughts Namjoon relayed out loud. Ultimately, whenever you’d realized he said something at all, your eyes widened; and you’d blinked your way out of whatever daydream you’d gotten lost in.

He loved that about you, your internal wanderlust. Even if he didn’t always know where your train of thought was headed initially, he’d board it with you regardless, find out on the way.

Eventually, you plucked a blackberry off your plate and popped it into your mouth. Your eyes were still glued to your laptop when you started to chew. Then, he suspected that the tartness of it truly hit your tastebuds. The lightbulb switched on and you were back, beaming across the countertop, warming him like a UV lamp.

“Hi,” you peeped.

Namjoon loved that about you, too. Infinite hellos sprinkled throughout his day at random; feeling like you missed him whenever you looked away, and that you found it necessary to greet him when he finally stepped back into frame.

He lit up, too. “Hi. Where’d you go just now?”

You swallowed. Whether it was exclusively the fruit or anxiety, too, he didn’t know. That is, until you claimed your bottom lip between your teeth and mumbled, “Got a weird email from the Overlord.”

The sip of coffee Namjoon had taken while he waited for your answer was a bad idea. He sputtered, nearly spitting it out onto that book he couldn’t care about. The would-be spit-take made your brows raise on your once-crinkled forehead; your amusement was palpable, even if you did him the courtesy of not laughing in his reddening face.

“If Bang finds out you call him that, he’s gonna want it on the nameplate outside his office,” Namjoon coughed. Clearing his throat, he bumped his fist against his chest to shake loose any coffee that might be lingering near his airway. “Weirder email than usual?”

You nodded, then you waved him over to you. It was an odd thing to be grateful for, but he was glad you didn’t just turn your laptop around and scoot it towards him to read. You always took any opportunity for closeness.

When he crossed around the island to you, Namjoon threaded his arms around your waist and ducked down to rest his head on your shoulder. The second he laid eyes on your screen, he was paralyzed. You had so many browser tabs open that none had enough space to display what they contained.

Is this what the inside of your brain looks like?

“Jagi,” he started, breathing in deep to keep from laughing with his entire chest.

It was bubbling there beneath the surface, he could feel it. Begging for composure, Namjoon buried his face in your hair. Vanilla and honey. Instantly calm, perfectly prepared to nudge you further. “How — how did you even find your inbox?”

Just to fuck with you, he pressed his fingertips against that secret spot on the right side of your rib cage. It was the one place on your body he’d been able to confirm was ticklish.

Eventually, maybe, he’d learn his lesson. Today was not that day.

You squealed, thrashed wildly in his hold until your elbow wound up on the right side of his rib cage. It was hard enough to make your point, but way too gentle to hurt. Still, Namjoon had to capitalize on it. He sucked in a gasping breath and stood bolt upright to clutch his chest like he’d been shot.

With you watching wide-eyed, he staggered backwards — away from you, away from the kitchen — until the back of his knees hit the sofa in the adjoining living room.

At some point, Namjoon would have to shoot up a thank you to the God of Entertainment. Somebody had clearly been looking out for him when open-concept apartments came into existence. His slapstick would’ve been so underwhelming if there were doorways involved.

Flopping backwards, his limbs splayed out across the backrest and cushions. Whatever parts of him didn’t fit spilled over the edge and dangled above the floor. He froze that way, playing dead with his tongue jutting out of the side of his mouth.

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

“Hope you watered the plants before you died, Joonie,” you called out. You sounded distant, like you hadn’t gotten up from your stool. “If you left it up to me, they’ll be dead soon, too.”

Joonie.

God, the way his heart still fluttered at that. Coming from you, that nickname didn’t sound stupid, or inspire him to choose violence. It wasn’t patronizing, wasn’t followed by some shit-eating grin. It was soft. Made him soft.

Jooniejooniejoonie.

“Actually, for all you know, I’ve got a tab open somewhere with an article on how to keep plants alive.”

Namjoon heard the faint scrape of the stool as you pushed it away from the counter. Then, the soft pad of your slippers coming his way. The hints were lost once you hit the plush living room rug, and so were you — until he felt your knees slotting on either side of his legs.

You settled down on top of him with your cheek pressed to his chest and your hair tickling his nose. Bravely, he didn’t sneeze.

Hand slipping down to the small of your back, he rubbed spirals into the space between the hem of your sweatshirt and the waistband of your sleep shorts. He hummed, “What’s on your mind?”

For more than a few moments, you were so quiet — so still — that Namjoon had to wonder whether his ministrations had put you straight to sleep. If that was the case, he’d keep going, blow off his to-do list for as long as he could just to keep you like this.

This.

Neither of you had settled on precisely what this was.

For nearly four months, this something was one of few constants in his life. Yours, too. It wasn’t a secret that needed keeping, but whatever this was felt too important to share. It belonged to the two of you, not anyone else — with the sole exception being Yoongi, who would’ve noticed the massive, tectonic shift whether or not he’d been the one to kick it off. Everyone else, though? Non-factors, as far as Namjoon could tell.

Until —

“Label’s expanding overseas.” It came out muffled, either because your cheek was smushed against his sternum, or because you really had fallen asleep in the pause. You continued, slightly clearer, “Putting a flagship sub-label in Los Angeles to crowbar their way into the American market.”

Namjoon wasn’t surprised, not really. Si-Hyuk had been daydreaming about this leap for as long as Namjoon knew him. It was only a matter of time before he got his little contractual ducks in a row. If anything, Namjoon was surprised that it took him this long to do it — what, with American money and American awards on the table.

But he knew you, knew that you didn’t give much of a shit about executive decisions, so long as they didn’t get in the way of your decisions.

That was precisely why he knew you were bringing this up for a reason.

“The hard launch is at the end of the month, so Bang is hoping to sign some of us over in the meantime. He’s trying to boost the curb appeal, I guess.”

You sighed and Namjoon felt the rush of air leave your lungs.

Namjoon nodded carefully to avoid knocking the top of your head with his chin. He sighed, too. “To water the plants.”

You didn’t say the quiet part out loud, but he could sense your brain working overtime; damn near hear your train of thought as it picked up speed. He half-expected to feel heat seep from your head to his chest while all your synapses fired off at once.

The warmth came from your eyes instead. You shifted so that your chin rested in the space between his pectoral muscles; and as soon as your gaze settled on his face, the crease between your eyebrows relaxed. Your pupils dilated, too, blown wide enough for him to notice the shift.

So, that’s what love looks like.

Not merely a neurochemical reaction or some grand, Hallmark-style gesture. Love looked like you, looking at him, while a wave of patent relief smoothed out the worry digging trenches in your features. And if he had to describe how it felt, well… The only word that came to mind was home.

“Is he asking or telling?”

Part of him wondered; the other part knew there usually wasn’t much of a difference between the two.

Even more quietly than before, you responded, “Asking — like, actually asking.”

The wrinkle in the center of your eyebrows reappeared, informing him immediately that you were split between the answer you wanted to give and the one you felt you should. Namjoon wouldn’t dare to make that call for you — to press down on either side of the scale — so he leaned forward and kissed you in the middle, right on top of that conflicted little crease.

“Joonie,” you started in a tone split three ways. Shy, sad, and sparked with a sense of hope that made you wary.

Bang Si-Hyuk wasn’t alone in his daydream. You brought it up considerably less than he did, but Namjoon sensed that this was because you didn’t want your motives to be speculatively linked with the prospect of profit. That would be the furthest thing from the truth.

For you, it was about your craft — Namjoon felt comfortable calling it that — and the million ways you could improve it with new collaborators, new ideas, new experiences.

For Namjoon, it was about you; and hoping that when you dove into life head-first, you never touched the bottom. Wanting everything you wanted to fall straight into your hands like confetti. And, if he could remain just a little bit selfish, he wanted to stick around and watch you catch them all.

If you wanted him, too, the rest of it would fall into place, one way or another. It’d have to, because Namjoon was struggling to remember how his days passed at all without you laughing through them. Maybe he’d have to reacclimate to sleeping without your knee pressed into his back, but he was confident that he could.

He could wait for you until this detour was over.

He would wait for you.

Without needing to think twice about it, Namjoon kissed your forehead and smiled with his lips still pressed to your skin. It was routine, as easy as breathing when he said, “Say less.”

You both stayed there on that couch for a while, though he couldn’t guess how long. Simultaneously minutes and months, but somehow — confusingly — it didn’t feel like the clock was moving at all. He could’ve easily believed that the universe has pressed pause on the moment, but you peeped and he had proof to the contrary:

“I’d be there by Thanksgiving.”

The realization clearly made you a little bit giddy. If your tiny gasp hadn’t given you away, your pulse would have. Namjoon could feel that hummingbird heartbeat against his own rib cage, and — shit, did that fondness squeeze his heart with a vice grip

You sat up, wild-eyed and urgent. “Is pumpkin pie just for colonizers, or are they obligated to share it?”

Fuck, he loved you.

“Joonie, this is serious.” You pouted and it was all he could do to bite back a grin. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”

He nudged your cheek with the tip of his nose and smirked, “Just do what they do.”

“Steal it?” You snorted, devolving into a fit of giggles when he began to pepper kisses down your cheek, then along your jawline.

Eighteen in total, one for every stroke.

Saranghae.

Namjoon hummed in agreement, “Steal it.”

2021/6/19; 04:11

Most people — normal people — were in bed at four o’clock in the morning. You were not most people, though situations like this were becoming more and more normal to you. Unfortunately, you’d been forced to learn that normal and easy weren’t interchangeable. If they were, you’d have gotten used to taking the red-eye by now.

This was your third late-night flight. Not at all coincidentally, this was your third trip home since you left it for Los Angeles. You’d spent seventy-eight hours in the air, making this trip; flown more than 57,480 kilometers in less than a year.

Seven months, technically, but who’s counting?

The elapsed time seemed to run in dog years, though the calendar maintained that only seven months had passed. At the rate they slipped through your fingers, it felt like seven years of trying your best to take advantage of every break in your schedule. Flinging yourself across a black sky on a semi-regular basis, even if you’d just gotten off a tour of your own. Praying that the odd hours and lack of layovers meant your thirteen-hour trip didn’t steal a second more than was absolutely necessary.

Time, you’d learned, was a luxury you failed to properly budget for. Unable to do much else, you accepted whatever scraps you could afford. Make them worth it, you’d demand of yourself each time you landed at Incheon. Every time, your excuse would follow: I’m trying, I swear, but I’m so tired.

Instead of a bed, you were slumped in Namjoon’s passenger seat, clutching the small bouquet he’d brought you in a hand too exhausted to register the brush of soft, white petals. You’d never lose track of his fingers interlocked with yours, though. His touch was inimitable, and the warmth of it stuck with you long after it was gone.

“Pretty,” you mumbled, gaze zeroed in on the flowers. You lifted your right arm to bring them in for closer inspection. It was futile, mostly, given how bleary your eyes were. You guessed, “Baby’s breath?”

This airport ritual of his combined two of your favorite things: the careful consideration he made in choosing flowers that conveyed messages, and the dimple that appeared on his cheek when you guessed correctly. Gifting you an additional prize, Namjoon raised your clasped hands off the center console. Without taking his eyes off the road for too long, he flashed a sleepy grin at you and kissed your knuckles.

Fuck, you loved him.

He turned onto the expressway, let your hands drift back down between you, and yawned. Automatically, you yawned, too.

As he drove, Namjoon’s sleep-drenched brain did its best to ask about all the updates you might’ve acquired since your last phone conversation. He asked about the extended play you were writing, the weird leak in your apartment, and the only friend you’d truly made in the time you’d lived there.

“What’s their name again?” He asked, visibly embarrassed that he’d forgotten. “Jisoo?”

With a chuckle, you corrected him, “Jinseo.”

He echoed you firmly under his breath, clearly determined to commit it to memory this time. Word association was apparently part of that process, you realized. Your heart fluttered wildly when Namjoon proceeded to state the first thing that came to mind about her, proving that he did listen when you talked.

“Jinseo’s the attorney who tried to slide into Yoongi’s Instagram DMs,” Namjoon stated, as if he were being quizzed. “He never looks at them. She’s been checking for three weeks to see if he’s even opened it.”

The way he recited this fact made it sound like he’d learned it from a book, rather than overhearing your friend’s complaints directly while he spoke to you on the phone. Still, he glanced at you for confirmation that he was correct. You nodded, proud.

Then, you provided the update he’d been seeking: “For the record, he still hasn’t.”

You mustered enough energy to laugh along with him, but neither of you was awake enough to keep the conversation going. At least, you hoped that was the case. The alternative — that you’d run out of things to talk about — was worse. It was all you could think about, and now silence crept into the lulls, sitting heavy.

Namjoon was the first to speak again, after a long pause: “It’s lunchtime back home, isn’t it?”

It was an innocent question — a caring one, checking in on you — but it struck like a sucker punch, nonetheless. There might come a day that association didn’t sting, but you knew intrinsically that this wasn’t it.

Los Angeles wasn’t home, even though you’d lived there for the better part of a year. Seoul wasn’t home, either. You had no real roots in either location, continuously jumping back and forth between the two. Namjoon was home, though he was beginning to feel temporary, too.

“It’s so early for you, Joon.” You squeezed his hand. “We can go back to bed, and grab food later. I’m not hungry yet, anyway.”

A lie, but a well-intentioned one. You hoped your stomach kept quiet, kept your secret.

Though he wasn’t looking in your direction, there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes that you couldn’t have missed if you tried. You were sure it matched yours whenever the sixteen-hour time difference made you miss his calls. His schedule lately had made them fewer and farther between.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighed.

He meant it, and he emphasized as much with a reciprocal squeeze of your hand. It stung, knowing that he was apologizing for all of it, up to and including this moment; and that neither of you was at fault for any of it.

“We’ll be back in sync in no time. I’ll —”

You cut him off with a whisper and your best attempt at a smile, “Pssssst.”

Thankfully, Namjoon was stopped at the only red light that still separated the two of you from his parking garage. Otherwise, the way his alarmed eyes flitted in your direction may have had consequences.

“Say less,” you mimicked, like any of this felt the way it did before. He beamed, but his grin left just as quickly as it appeared.

Namjoon looked away when the light changed, unaware that your face fell before you could catch it. Something that insignificant shouldn’t have had the power to make you that sad; but it did, and you didn’t know what to do with that fact.

The rest of the ride continued in silence. If Namjoon also felt like that silence was suffocating, there were no hints about it in his expression or his posture.

Does this feel easy to you? Am I the one making it hard?

He had to let go of your hand to park in his assigned space, and he forgot to reach for it again when he finished. You knew it wasn’t intentional, but that didn’t make it hurt less. Didn’t make the tears biting at the corners of your eyes any less embarrassing.

For two people as jet-lagged and otherwise exhausted as you were, it didn’t take long to drag yourselves from his car to his apartment. It took even less time for Namjoon to begin shuffling off towards the bedroom. Halfway there, he realized you weren’t still close behind.

“Where —?” He turned his head to search for you before he turned his body fully. Ultimately, he found you hovering near the kitchen island. The relief in locating you was quickly diluted with concern. “You okay?”

Are we? Is this?

“I think I left my phone in the car.” You patted down the pockets of both your joggers and your jacket, brows furrowed. Then, you picked up the keys he’d just set down on the counter top. “Gonna run down and look for it.”

Too tired to be steady, Namjoon swayed slightly where he stood. You couldn’t help yourself. That magnetic pull tugged you over to him, pushed you up onto your toes, and demanded that you kiss him until that confused frown curved upwards.

For a moment, you smiled, too.

“Go back to bed,” you whispered, leaving a kiss at his temple. You hadn’t meant to speak so softly. Your voice was caught wherever your breath was, and they refused to cooperate. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

He nodded, accepting a proper kiss before his bedroom-bound shuffling continued. Out of sight, you heard the thump of his lead limbs collapse back into his mattress. You felt it in your chest, which was tightening by the second.

You turned for the door, ready to run, only to stop dead in your tracks. Just ahead of you, tending to a snake bite, was Eurydice. The sight of her portrait hanging on the wall threatened to rip out the sob you’d worked to keep buried. She was all you could think about when you slipped out the door, and stumbled down the hall.

Maybe Eurydice would’ve lived if she’d never met Orpheus.

Shoulders shaking by the time you reached the stairwell, you shoved your hand into your pocket as you crumpled downward onto the concrete steps. You pulled out your phone and gripped it tight, like closing your fists around it could keep you together, too.

With the extent of your tears, you couldn’t make heads or tails of that bright, white screen. You did what you could, though, like you always did. Warbled voice bouncing off the walls around you, you found a loophole and slipped through it.

“Hey, Siri —”

The swirling grey, red, blue, and green at the bottom of your screen looked more like a life-preserver than anything else. Automatically, you pleaded, “Call Yoongi.”

It was a fifty-fifty chance, calling him at this hour.

He’d either be awake because he never went to sleep in the first place, or he’d have just drifted off. Either way, you were already sorry for bothering him. When he picked up on the first ring, that was the very first thing you said to him.

Immediately, his tone shifted from the grogginess of his initial greeting. Now, he sounded worried. You wondered if you’d woken him up, but you didn’t ask.

“Hey — whoa, whoa, whoa — what’s wrong? Your plane didn’t crash, did it?”

He wasn’t trying to be funny and you didn’t mean to laugh, but you did. Sort of. It was some odd, gasping sound that felt wrong as it came out of your mouth.

“I’m fine,” you kept repeating, as if you could manifest the outcome. “I’m fine. I just — I need someone to tell me if I’m crazy, or just doing this whole thing wrong —”

“Doing what wrong?” Yoongi cut you off. “It doesn’t sound like you’re breathing properly, if that’s what you mean. Can you take a deep breath? Count to five on the inhale and on the exhale.”

You did what he said. It helped with what it was meant to, but hyperventilation had been the least of your concerns.

“Sit on the floor if you aren’t already. If you can, lean your back against a wall and flatten your palms on the ground, okay? That’ll help you feel anchored.”

Halfway compliant, you slumped against the metal railing next to you. You threaded your left arm over the lower of the two rungs and held on tight. Part of you wanted to laugh at this, too. It wasn’t much different than the safety bar on a rollercoaster; the way your stomach dropped was identical.

“I can come get you if you tell me where you are,” Yoongi continued. “That twenty-four-hour place has lamb skewers now. We can eat, and you can tell me what’s wrong.”

You didn’t know where to start. All of it, you thought, it’s all wrong.

The answer you blurted out was, “I love him.”

“I know, kid,” Yoongi sighed, and it sounded like an apology. He didn’t need any further explanation. “I know you do.”

Your voice broke when you continued, splintering painfully in your throat. It wasn’t a question you had any conscious intention to ask. It was simply shrapnel flying out of your mouth:

“Is loving someone supposed to hurt this much?”

2021/11/13; 14:36

Your fourth trip home felt different than the rest. There was something in the air that you couldn’t quite put a finger on. Whatever it was, it’d kept your stomach in knots from the time you left your apartment until you wandered through customs in Incheon.

It’d only gotten worse when you finally reached the sidewalk outside the airport. Your first instinct had been to cry, though not for the reason you usually did; you’d swallowed that urge with a hastily taken sip of boba. Just like he had for your three previous homecomings, Namjoon was waiting for you, flowers in hand.

Flower, singular.

Of the two of you, he was the one with encyclopedic knowledge of floriography. Regardless, you knew enough to understand what that lone, white tulip said. It was an apology; and by now, you were well acquainted with those. Even still, you hadn’t gotten any better about accepting them because he still hadn’t done a single thing to be sorry for.

Sorry.

That word had slowly mutated into a punctuation mark over the last year. It’d wormed its way into every sentence, whether or not it had any business being there.

Hi, sorry, I was in the studio when you called. I love you, sorry. I miss you, sorry. I’m so proud of you, sorry, I wish I could have been there.

You heard it even when neither of you spoke, felt it in every bit of quiet. It sat between you on the drive from the airport to that restaurant you used to like — the one by the lake. It filled your unoccupied hands on the walk in from the parking lot, rested like a centerpiece in the middle of your table.

Neither of you ate much. You wished you’d had some semblance of an appetite, if only to fill the pit growing in your stomach. To distract from the way Namjoon’s eyes went glassy whenever he looked at you, or to keep your bottom lip from trembling.

Silent and sorry, the two of you watched the wind force waves; which, in turn, forced anchored row boats to collide with the dock.

Anchored.

There was that word again.

It’d been sitting untouched in the backlog of your vocabulary for longer than you’d care to admit. You knew its dictionary definition, of course, but it’d never been a word you’d ascribe to yourself. Leading up to last November, it wasn’t a feeling you’d knowingly craved, either. If you were honest, you might have hated it and its synonyms, too.

Rooted. Tethered.

They were on the tip of your tongue now, finally yours to taste. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that your resistance to them had always been a coping mechanism. Your amygdala trying to intervene.

Until you met Namjoon, stability had been unfamiliar and elusive. It’d outrun you for so long, there’d only been one conclusion left for you to leap to: You didn’t deserve to catch it.

But you did catch it. You found him, opened yourself up to believing that you were the kind of person who got to have roots. For a year, you tried so hard to nurture them, loved the beautiful thing you’d grown in spite of yourself.

You earned them, so why couldn't you keep them?

Namjoon noticed your breathing pick up. He knew you well enough to see precisely what direction your brain was spiraling in; and that you needed a gear shift. So, he hummed, “Been thinking about changing up my hair.”

“Oh?”

It certainly caught you off-guard, but you figured that was the point. You weren’t sure if you should have — or why you felt you couldn’t — but you reached up to run your fingers through it. Longer than last time, lighter.

“I’m not sure if the blonde has ever actually suited me,” he laughed. “What do you think? And, seriously, give it to me straight.”

You nibbled on your lower lip as you studied him. No matter how many times you stared at his face, you uncovered some new, favorite feature. Today, it was his irises, warmer than you remembered them being. Namjoon became more beautiful the less you saw him, as awful as that thought felt.

“I do like the blonde,” you mused. His cheeks blushed, just barely, but it squeezed your heart to know that was still a reaction you could pull from him. “But I think it would be nice to see Kim Namjoon as he exists naturally, you know? I haven’t met him yet.”

He smiled — genuinely, with his eyes and all his teeth — and it ached.

“I’ll make a note of that,” he promised with a laugh. Then, he gestured to your largely untouched plate “D’you want a box for that before we go?”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. It slipped out before you could stop it. “Sorry, I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.”

The corner of his mouth lifted again, less happily than the last time. You knew as soon as you saw it that his half-smile was an apology, too.

2021/11/25; 19:59

Over the last week, Jinseo Kang had spent more time in your apartment than in her own. The spare key you’d given her at the start of your friendship was intended for emergencies, and while this wasn’t what either of you had in mind back then, that was the only word she could use to describe the state of you now.

In twelve months of knowing you, she’d gathered enough trivia about you to fill a memoir. Of the facts she’d collected, two came to mind immediately whenever Jinseo thought of you. The first was that you were a workaholic to a borderline clinical degree; so resistant to rest that the mere thought of being unproductive gave you hives. The second was that, despite the cursed hours you kept, you were never not in contact with Min Yoongi.

Since you’d flown back from Seoul, you’d done neither.

Jinseo didn’t have to ask to know what happened; you didn’t need to say a word. In fact, you hadn’t — not that she’d heard — since you touched down at LAX, two days ahead of schedule. The only reason Jinseo even knew to pick you up was a direct reply on Instagram that didn’t look a thing like she’d hoped. Worse, the only way she’d been able to recognize you in her passenger seat was by the signature, mint green headphones clenched tightly in your hands.

Immediately, she’d noted the absence of your smile. That was a seismic shift, in and of itself. As was the case with those pastel headphones, that smile of yours wasn’t something you’d ever be caught dead without. Part of you never got off that plane, she’d thought then. Looking at you now, crumpled on your couch, Jinseo knew better. A piece of you was missing long before you boarded that return flight in the first place.

From your kitchen, she glanced over at the heap of blankets, though she didn’t know why she bothered. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t done much of anything since you shuffled out of bed at two o’clock in the afternoon. Still, she had to check for proof of life. Proof that you were still there, somewhere, even buried.

Illuminated by the television screen and underscored by A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, there was movement. Half-hidden by a pile of knitted throws, she spotted the top of your head. Like it did every other time she saw the tangled bun sitting crooked there, her heart sank. I know you’re in there. I’ll find you, I promise.

In the absence of an instruction manual, she’d have to make one. This was a crash course — what to do when love dies in slow motion — and Jinseo was flying by the seat of her fucking pants. Maybe she didn’t know how to pull you out of this pitfall you were trapped in, but she could hold your hand and refuse to let it go.

So, that’s precisely what she did.

Before making her way to you, Jinseo grabbed the dish she’d been preparing off the counter. Spare fork in hand, she rounded the kitchen island and made a beeline for you. You didn’t react when she reached you, unless you counted the way you hugged your knees a little tighter to your chest. Jinseo certainly didn’t; she would’ve sat directly on your feet if you hadn’t cleared the space.

This close to you, she could see the way your jaw was still clenched. Going on eight days now, it was impressive, in some sick way, that the unrelenting pressure hadn’t left you with a mouth full of dust. See? She wanted to grab your knee and shake it, make sure you heard it loud and clear: Look what you can survive!

She didn’t, though. Jinseo simply held out the plate in her hands and stared at you expectantly until you sensed her gaze on you. Red-rimmed and glassy, your eyes lifted to meet her face and she was not going to cry at the sight of you. Nope. Swallowing thickly, she glanced pointedly at the plate, then back up to you.

You were unfazed, barely conceding a blink. You didn’t even look down.

Please, sweet bean. Please eat something.

She tried again, nudging your knee with hers. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

For whatever reason, that holiday greeting was the only thing to reach you in a week. Finally, you looked down.

Jinseo hadn’t finalized her expectations prior to this moment, but the short list had included an eye roll, a groan, something. Even if you didn’t reciprocate, she would’ve been grateful for a response of any kind. Her list hadn’t included you bursting into tears over a piece of pumpkin pie, but that’s exactly what she got.

Charlie Brown can go fuck himself. There’s no such thing as good grief.

It was a reflex, dropping that plate onto the coffee table like it’d bit her. With her hands now free, she grabbed your shaking shoulders and pulled your limp body towards her until you all but collapsed in her lap. Even then, she squeezed you tighter.

I will not let you shatter. I will not let you slip away.

The two of you stayed there, just like that, for however long it took you to let go of the tears you’d stockpiled for eight straight days. And when you were finally quiet — finally still — Jinseo thought for sure that you’d finally fallen asleep.

“I think I hate him.”

Your voice was weak from lack of use; so much so that Jinseo could barely register that you’d spoken at all. Once she did, she didn’t know where to start.

Quietly, she asked, “Namjoon?”

With your head in her lap, Jinseo felt it shake. Again, you surprised her.

“Yoongi,” you whispered. God, you sound so broken. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I know it makes me a bad person, but I’m so fucking angry at him. I went to that party because he begged me to. I wouldn’t have — I wasn’t looking for him.”

Your voice cracked. “I wasn’t looking for him, for anyone. I’ve lost everything, and I don’t know what to do now. I’m so angry that it hurts.”

“That’s grief, sweet bean,” she corrected you gently. You sniffled, glanced up at her from the corner of your eye. “Not anger. Grief is just love with nowhere left to go.”

At this, you sat up more fully than you had in eight days, albeit looking more hollow than you ever had. Face tear-stained and bottom lip quivering, you croaked, “I don’t know what to do with it all.”

“Call Yoongi,” Jinseo hummed as she squeezed your knee. “If you need a place to put all that love you have left, then write one.”

2022/7/7; 00:00

Namjoon couldn’t remember the last time he had a day go the way it was supposed to; and frankly, he was getting sick of his own shit.

That morning had started off fine.

Scratch that.

It started off as well as he could possibly expect it to, waking up in an empty bed with no kneecap pressed into his spine. He drank coffee at his kitchen island, alone, and ignored the blackberries he’d unwittingly scooped onto his plate with the rest of his fruit. Dumped them in the trash before he lost his mind over a berry. Read half a book and remembered none of it.

All things considered, Namjoon was doing just fine.

Unfortunately, things started going off the rails somewhere around sundown. He and Yoongi had wrapped up the last track on Namjoon’s upcoming release; and for once, Yoongi agreed to leave his studio. Agog and aghast, Namjoon dragged his favorite recluse to every sordid bar in that pocket of the city. As he piloted his tailspin, Namjoon repeated one thought, over and over:

Any dive he stumbled into was better than an empty apartment.

As he spiraled, he drank enough to blur the image of you, which was plastered on every television and burned inside his brain — but not too much. Namjoon learned a long time ago that he couldn’t sleep if he went to bed alone, so he made a habit of not doing that. After all, he didn’t have to like himself; he just needed to live with himself.

Whatever her name was, Namjoon only fucked her because she looked like you.

Her presence on your side of the bed might’ve summoned you because, when he finally checked his phone, your name was tied to a missed call. Better — or worse, he hadn’t decided — there was also a voicemail. The thought alone left him dangling precariously between wanting to cry and needing to vomit. Phone in hand, he staggered toward the bathroom before he’d made his choice.

Closing the door behind him, Namjoon leaned back against the wood. Everything was spinning, though none of it could be attributed to the whiskey he’d had several hours prior. This was all you.

You and that gravitational well he couldn’t ever seem to leave, trapped at his furthest point from you and growing colder all the time. Darker, too.

Aphelion, he remembered with a humorless laugh, not sure if or when it’ll ever be like this again.

Fuck!

Namjoon startled himself when he slammed his hands down on the counter, less due to the involuntary action and more due to the fear of breaking his phone. In a panic, he glanced down. It was perhaps the one thing left that he hadn’t shattered.

Typing in the code to his voicemail felt like disarming a bomb, given how urgently his fingers moved. He needed it, whatever it was that you deemed important enough to say to him. Needed you, but this was the closest thing he had, and that was fine.

“Hey, Joonie. It’s me — well, that much is probably obvious, I guess? Uhh — Anyway, Yoongi mentioned that you finished cutting the album today. I just —”

Namjoon’s racing heart stopped dead in its tracks. You’d paused for so long that he feared the recording stopped there. Thankfully, you started up again, taking his pulse along with you.

“I just wanted to say, congratulations. You’re — I’m sure it’s incredible,” you sighed, “I hope you’re proud, and I hope you’re doing well.”

He was neither of those things. It’d been months, and it still hurt to breathe whenever he thought about you. He thought about you all the time, asleep or awake, no matter what — or who — he attempted to distract himself with. No matter how much of himself he lost track of in the process.

You were all he wanted, all he wants, all he’d ever want.

Namjoon caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Purposefully avoiding his own eye contact, he looked up, just above his crumpled brow. That bleached blonde hair still didn’t suit him, now even less so than when he asked for your opinion that day by the lake. He made a note of what you’d said, just like he'd told you then. It’d been sitting inside his medicine cabinet since the day after his whole fucking world exploded.

Jaw clenched, he broke the magnetic seal between the mirrored door and that bottle of black dye.

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bittersweet-riley · 8 months

Text

Angel (Chapter 4)

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!OC!Reader

Summary: When simon's mission went terrible wrong, she was there to save him. So far only her call sign was angel, but maybe she was his angel nonetheless.

Ghost stretched his index finger to her collarbone. He didn't wanted to touch her, but his finger ran over her skin just seconds after the thought.

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of torture, manipulation, brainwash, weapons, kidnapping, swearing, smut (kind of) in later chapters, mention of medical stuff that may not be true or accurate, description of a reader that may not be like you imagined reader, still use of Y/N, clearly female reader, perhaps bad english, third person view (switching from reader to Simon), multiple chapters

Opening

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

He could feel her nervousness across the room. Now that all she could do was wait. She was like a mouse under his gaze, though she couldn't see through his sunglasses if he was looking at her or not. When he sat down next to her on the couch, she got up and went to the pot on the stove to spoon the soup onto a plate. She had brought him one of the plates with the reason that he should have food in his stomach for the medication she had selected for him. When he only accepted her kind gesture critically, she took the suitcase that had been standing next to the sofa and inspected the contents at the kitchen table.

He was strict with her, he knew that. She'd done more for him than some of his teammates would ever have done, but helpfulness was a form of manipulation he couldn't risk.

When Zakir came back he had joined Angel at the table. Since the open space wasn't particularly large and the sofa had its back almost directly to the dining table Angel was leaning against, Ghost could hear almost the entire conversation. Zakir told her that the car was in the garage for the time being and was temporarily hidden from prying eyes, but warned her that there was almost no gas left and she wouldn't be able to go back without contacting someone else.

If only she knew she wasn't going back to being a wife for now, Ghost thought, shoving the last spoonful of soup into his mouth while Angel wasn't sitting next to him. He pulled the mask back over his mouth, once again hiding his face.

"How long will you stay?" Zakir asked and a tense breath left Angel's lips. Ghost couldn't see her expression as his back was to her.

"Only as long as you would risk it for us." Was Angel's reply and Ghost wondered how much longer he should wait to contact his captain.

Zakir thought for a while. "Ivanov will be stubborn. After all, his angel is missing. Your friend there will be in trouble not only because he escaped, but mainly because it seems like he's taken you hostage."

"I know." Angel sighed. "I need a maximum of 3 days." She sounded like she was begging for those 3 days. Ghost wondered how she would look begging and almost turned around.

Zakir's voice grew quieter. "I hope you don't go back to him again, Y/N. You managed to escape, stay here until he loses track of you and you can be free."

"Yeah, i know." Whispered Angel. It was so delicate and quiet that Ghost almost didn't hear it over the crackling of the fire.

"Upstairs is the surveillance system for the property. I'll be keeping an eye on everything through the night, but as long as no one's been following you it should be safe for the next few days. I'm up the stairs, the door to the right if you're looking for me. You're free to roam around, but I recommend you sleep. You've got a rocky road ahead of you." Explained Zakir. Then Ghost could hear the creaking of the wooden stairs as the man disappeared to the upper floor.

Angel went back to Ghost and pointed to the things she had previously dug out of the backpack and placed on the side table next to the sofa. "You should take care of your wounds again, Ghost. Especially the one on your leg. The sooner we treat the injured muscle, the less damage you will suffer from it."

Ghost didn't answer her. It wasn't that he didn't wanted to, he wanted to see her reaction. How quickly her nice side could change. After all, she was a soldier once and they would never have had such a soft side as Angel made it out to be.

Instead of getting unpleasant, she had grabbed some medication from the small pile on the side table and held it out to him. "It's for the pain if it gets too bad. You should wait a while before taking any though. At least until I get another diagnosis. But you can take this one, it's anti-inflammatories. One pill every 8 hours."

He took the two packages from her. He almost felt like he was with a real doctor. But she hadn't done more, not even the diagnosis that she had previously announced. She had taken a box of plasters herself and stood by the mirror that was hanging on the wall next to the front door. She took a plaster and stuck it over the laceration on her forehead.

Ghost watched as she inspected her dark circles under her eyes and then pulled the hair tie out of her hair to tie a new braid with all the escaped hair stuck back in. For the first time he eyed her properly.

She was young, so young. Her blue eyes looked almost black in the reflection of the mirror. She was thin and small and delicate. Her skin was covered with freckles. The darker spots were visible not only on her nose, but also on her arms up to her shoulder blades. Her black top was still slightly damp and clung tightly to her skin. Ghost could see almost every curve in her body and he understood why Ivanov wanted her.

Did her new name came from her looks?

Reluctantly, his eyes left the young woman and landed back on the medication in his hand. He got up slowly and walked to the dining table on which the water bottle was standing. His leg hurted when he walked. He had almost no adrenaline in his blood, unlike on missions where he was constantly on adrenaline and the pain was numb.

He swallowed the pill as Angel had told him to, then went back to the side table where the rest of the things were sitting. Angel had picked out various bandages and bottles that Ghost had made acquaintance with on a number of occasions, but was not particularly good at handling.

The soldier grabbed his glasses and removed them from his face. After that came the first layer of his uniform, his vest. The clips on the edge were quickly undone and the vest slipped off his shoulders, followed by the jacket. He put everything on the sofa. When he was down to his t-shirt, he grabbed the collar at the back of his neck and pulled the rest of the fabric over his head as well. Everything was covered in blood, most of it was his own.

Ghost removed the plaster from his arm. The gunshot wound was carefully stitched and cleaned. He figured the wound was probably getting better care than from the fierce field doctor, Dr. Reaser, who accompanied the SAS on missions.

Then he removed the patch on his stomach. The spot was provided with many more stitches. However, nothing was bleeding there either, or was bloodshot. The big bruises on his ribs from the punches Nika had given him looked far more dangerous than the small seam on his hip.

"Do you-" Started Angel and Ghost lifted his gaze. The redhead had taken a few steps towards him. She still kept her distance from him. "Do you have broken ribs?" She asked. There was something like concern in her eyes. Her gaze was focused on his torso. Ghost, on the other hand, only noticed the extreme size difference between Angel and himself.

"May I?" she asked cautiously, pointing to his chest. Ghost's silence didn't deter her from walking closer to him and putting a hand on his ribs. "Are you having trouble breathing?" She asked, to which Ghost just shook his head. Angel had looked up at him for the first time to study his silent gesture. Her skin was much whiter, almost porcelain colored, without the dark lenses of his sunglasses, and the blue of her eyes was much more brighter.

She ran her fingertips over his ribs. Her touch was cautious. "It just had to be a bad bruise. At most a sprained rib. Let me know if the pain gets worse."

"Why are you so worried about my condition?" Ghost needed more answers.

Angel lifted her left shoulder to her ear in an appraising gesture. "I guess I'm doing it more for me than for you. I couldn't stand to see another broken soul caused by Ivanov, when it's too late to save them... Ever since I got this tattoo-" she raised her hand with the tattooed ring on it. "-every human being killed by Ivanov died because I haven't stopped him. Every day there's more blood on my hands." She looked into his eyes as if seeking a spark of sympathy in them. But Ghost forbade any reaction to her explanation.

"Why didn't you contact us? We could have found him and stopped him." Ghost accused her and her eyebrows drew together.

She took a few steps away from him as if she couldn't bear to be near him. "Have you ever been taken hostage, Ghost?" The question surprised Ghost. He was already in bad situations where he was surrounded by enemies and he only got out of it fighting. But he was never really taken hostage.

Angel seemed to read Ghost's mind as she raised her hand in a pointing gesture as if to say, "See, you have no idea what my situation is like." It was true, he didn't know.

"I want you to do something for me when you get back to England." She now said emphatically. She didn't gave Ghost time to reply. "Find my grave. Put some flowers down. And when someone speaks to you, reply with the current date and time."

"Why should I do that?" Ghost didn't know if it was a trap. Whether Ivanov's real attack began when he was back at England. Or if Angel's behaviour was part of Ivanov's manipulation techniques. "Why don't you do it?"

"I can't. I have to get Max out." she explained. Then she sighed and went to Ghost. She put her hand on his forearm and her eyes bored into his. "I beg you, Ghost. You are my only hope; you are my only salvation." He saw in her eyes how broken she was: how she wanted to kneel down in front of him just to ask him for the favor. "You'll get all your answers, I promise." She said now and exerted a light pressure on his arm before her fingertips detached from his skin.

Ghost seriously considered whether he should comply with her request or even answer at all, but she straightened her shoulders and the sad glint in her eyes faded. She changed the subject so quickly that Ghost felt momentarily dizzy. "Let me see your leg again. If everything is okay there too, I'll leave you alone."

As if in a trance, he sat down on the sofa. He was able to push his trouser leg up to the stab wound after removing the old bandage so that he didn't have to take off his pants completely. Angel knelt in front of him and carefully put her hand on his leg for support. With the other she felt his leg up and down to see if he still felt everything and he suffered no nerve damage.

Ghost watched her sit between his legs. She didn't looked at him, but she stretched across his left thigh to get to the bandage on the side table. He saw her cleavage as she knelt in front of him. A chain hung around her neck, the pendant disappearing between her breasts and under her top. She had several birthmarks on her delicate skin, but mostly scars. Two large scars each under her collarbones. One left, the other right. Another scar ran from her wrist to her elbow. The last scar Ghost noticed was on her forehead, just above her eyebrow. It was a distinct indentation in the skin, about an inch long. It had to be where the crowbar hit her.

"Where did you get the scars from?" His voice seemed to startle her, or it was his question that made her shrug tensely.

She clipped the new bandage together and then looked up at him. She didn't left her place between his legs. "Which?" She asked.

Ghost stretched his index finger to her collarbone. He didn't wanted to touch her, but his finger ran over her skin just seconds after the thought. "This."

Angel inhaled audibly. "Manipulation doesn't work without torture. At least not the kind that Ivanov uses."

"How long?" Ghost wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

Angel shrugged again. "The others lasted 3 weeks, Max and I were worked on by Ivanov's henchmen for 29 days." Her hand went to where Ghost had touched the scar. "I know what their methods are. That's why I can't leave Max behind. They would let him go through hell again. And he won't make it again."

This time she straightened up and looked down at Ghost. He had to lean his back against the back of the sofa to avoid being at eye level with her chest. "I know you'll most likely want to take me back to your base. But I'm asking you not to tell anyone about me. If the spy at the SAS finds out that I helped you, they'll kill me before I can get Max out and surely they'll take you back to make you on of their brainwashed soldiers. And that is worse than being killed."

Her jeans were wrapped tightly around her legs. She was far too skinny for someone with military training. Her muscles weren't particularly developed, but then again, there wasn't much fat on her either. Ivanov probably starved her into a model figure. Ghost's eyes continued to travel up her body until he was back at her face. She had seen his wandering eyes carefully, after all he was no longer wearing his glasses. She put her hands on her hips, waiting for his next words. "How do you know I'm not the traitor?"

She bit her bottom lip in thought for a few seconds before a smile spread across her lips that she tried to hold back. "Ghost." She said his call sign. Her voice was soft. "How do you know I don't work for Ivanov?" She voiced the question Ghost had been asking himself all along.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod x oc #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #price mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mwii #simon x reader #könig mw2 #simon ghost riley x female oc

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yeenybeanies · 1 year

Text

Smallest Cyber Specialist (pt. 9)

if you found out that your dead partner's ex-wife was trying to contact you, would you give her a call? this is the question pip contemplates after receiving some of the worst news of her life. i apologize––i know my stuff tends to be pretty dialogue heavy, but this one is thick with dialogue --w--" first • previous • next call of duty | john mactavish/soap, simon riley/ghost, & pip lagomorph/lag (oc) 4,221 words strong language warning reblogs > likes!! thanks for reading!! patreon ✨ ko-fi ✨ ao3

Pip woke up with a gasp, her limbs flailing, tangling in the fabric around her. Where was she? When has she fallen asleep? What—?

With a frustrated grunt, she kicked the fabric off and sat upright.

The barracks. She was in the barracks, in a nest of blankets on someone’s bunk. It smelled like Soap’s.

Soap, asleep and snoring softly to her left, confirmed that it was, in fact, his bunk. The sergeant was lying on his stomach with his arms hugging his pillow to his chest and his head turned towards her. His face was soft and relaxed. Her stirring hadn’t disturbed him, it seemed. Good.

The adjacent bunk—Ghost’s—was empty. With Soap blocking her view of the other side, she couldn’t tell if Gaz was in his either. Many of the other bunks were occupied, though. It must have been night time. That would explain why the lights were out.

Gods above, she’d slept that long?

Passed out for that long, more like. Pip could taste the lingering notes of whiskey on her tongue. At least she didn’t have a headache…

Unconsciously, she reached to the side for her glove, but paused when her fingers met the coarse fabric.

The glove.

Heat rose in her cheeks. This was Ghost’s glove. And, in her half-drunk, grief-stricken stupor, she’d humped the damn thing.

A fucking glove. How embarrassing.

Worse still, she could see herself doing it again.

Pip dropped her head into her hands and bit back a groan. Alcohol and humping spare articles of clothing was not how she wanted to mourn the loss of her best friend. She scrubbed down her face and stared off into the darkness, brows pinched.

Laswell had mentioned that Dana was trying to contact her. For reasons she couldn’t begin to comprehend, Looker’s ex-wife was looking for Pip. And, against her better judgment, Pip was coming around to the idea of obliging her. She already had Dana’s number—an in-case-of-emergencies bit of information Looker had given her to use in case no one else was able to inform his family of his death.

She never told him that she’d found Dana’s contact information and run a thorough background check on her long before that. The point was: one way or another, she had Dana’s number.

Pip reached past the glove for her backpack and the computer within. She glanced at the time on the screen. Three thirty-seven AM. That would make it six thirty-seven PM back in Texas, where Dana lived. That wasn’t too late to call.

But did Pip actually want to call? Of course she didn’t. Why was she even entertaining this idea? It was stupid!

She pulled up her SMS app and scrolled to Ghost’s contact.

>> it’s lag. where are you?

His response came only a minute later—admittedly, much faster than she’d expected.

How did you get this number <<

Pip rolled her eyes.

>> i have everyone’s number. even the secret ones. you’re not in your bunk.

Observant of you. <<

He was being annoying. To use his own words, a right wanker. Pip clenched her jaw and took a breath. She was trying to figure out how to rephrase what she wanted to say to him without all of the nasty words, when he started typing again.

I’m talking with Price. What do you need? <<

>> i need to make a call. need to go somewhere private.

Get Soap to take you. <<

Ugh. Why was he like this? One minute, he was compassionate—in his own weird, Ghost-y way—and the next he was being an ass. Or, in Soap’s words, a bawbag.

Human insults were so… dissatisfying.

A part of her welcomed the banter as a distraction. But most of her just found it frustrating. She typed back:

>> he’s asleep. assuming gaz is too. don’t want to wake them. >> if you don’t want to help, fine. i’ll jump down, hope i don’t break my other leg, and find somewhere to go on my own.

Sounds dramatic. Be there in a minute. <<

Yes, it was dramatic. But it worked. Pip snapped her laptop shut and dug her fingers into her hair. Soap stirred next to her, drawing Pip’s attention to him. He adjusted his hold on the pillow, and nuzzled further into it. His chest heaved in a heavy sigh, the warmth of his breath washing over Pip. The pink of his tongue flashed momentarily between his lips.

Pip shivered. Gods, she missed Looker.

And then she silently looked away and berated herself for that thought. Pull yourself together. You’re probably about to talk to his ex-wife.

“Lag?” Soap’s voice made Pip jump. Her head whipped around to face Soap again. He still looked half asleep, his eyes half-lidded. He breathed out sharply through his nose. “Spooky. You’ve got those glowy eyes.”

Pip blinked. It was true; in low light, hideling eyes did shine red.

“Go back to sleep, Soap,” she said.

A soft smile shaped his lips, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. He shifted to lie on his side. “You okay?”

Pip’s expression fell. She looked away and fidgeted idly with her hands. “No, I’m really not,” she said honestly, “but I’m going to have to be.”

Soap reached for her, his knuckle lightly brushing her shoulder. “Rough week, hm?”

She snorted humorlessly. “You have no idea.”

“I might—” he paused mid-sentence, eyes darting up. Pip followed his gaze to see Ghost’s silhouetted figure approaching. The lieutenant stopped at Soap’s bedside, his arms crossed over his chest. Even through the dark and his mask, Pip could see his raised brow.

“‘Soap’s asleep,’ huh? ‘Didn’t want to wake him’?”

Pip scowled up at him. “He was asleep,” she said tersely.

“‘M still asleep, LT,” Soap said with a lazy grin. “Sleep talking.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. Pip was tempted to do the same. “Shut up, Johnny,” he growled, but there was no real bite in his words. There never was, when it came to Soap. “Shut your eyes too, while you're at it.”

Pip put her hand to Soap’s knuckle. “I’ll be alright,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

Whether or not he believed her, Soap nodded, and pulled his hand away. He exchanged a quick glance with Ghost, then rolled over onto his other side and pulled his blanket up to his shoulders.

Ghost’s hand came down next to Pip, silently inviting her on. She grabbed her backpack, her crutches, and her glove, then climbed into his palm. A faint smell of cigar smoke clung to him, his clothes. Pip inhaled slowly, subtly, drinking in the smoky-sweet aroma. Price must have lit one up while he and Ghost were having their late night chat.

She wouldn’t mind a few second-hand puffs, if she was honest.

“Where to?” Ghost asked once they were out in the hall, well out of earshot of any sleeping operators. “Price’s stash room again?”

Pip thought for a moment. She didn’t need the temptation of liquor again so soon. Ghost didn’t need to enable her either. “No,” she said. “No one’s in the mess hall, right? I can work on my pelt when I’m done with the call.” Doing so would probably distract her from some of the grief, at least. And it was a more productive distraction than anything else she could see herself doing.

“Should be quiet in there,” Ghost said. He turned down a corridor, headed towards the mess hall.

“I still don’t want to talk about it,” Pip added. Just in case Ghost was curious.

The lieutenant shrugged. “Still wasn’t gonna ask,” he said. “How much longer until your pelt’s ready?”

“I’ll finish it today.”

“Good. Then you won’t have to defile my glove anymore.”

Pip froze, her mind coming to a momentary standstill. Fuck. Did he know? How had he found out? Heat rose in her cheeks, but she refused to give him a reaction. She wouldn’t even acknowledge his comment. It could mean anything, right? Absolutely.

“Why are you and Price still up?” she asked, pointedly changing the topic. “It’s almost four in the morning.”

“Woke up. Couldn’t go back to sleep. Not sure if Price ever went to bed.”

Of all her handlers, Pip was the least familiar with Price’s sleeping habits. Gaz slept pretty solidly, but he did tend to toss a bit. Soap, for the most part, was dead to the world when he slept, though he had woken up once in a startle. Scared the shit out of Pip that time. Ghost was more tumultuous. He didn’t move too much, but he was easy to wake, like his sleep cycle was on a hair trigger.

But Captain John Price? Pip had never been around Price while he was asleep.

She hummed a thoughtful note.

“Who are you callin’ at almost four in the morning?” Ghost asked.

She hesitated to answer, deciding how much she wanted to tell him. A part of her wanted to tell him everything in hopes that he would talk her out of this very, very stupid idea; another part of her wanted to tell him to fuck off and mind his own damn business.

Ultimately, she settled on a vague middle ground: “It’s not four AM in America.”

Ghost eyed her through his peripherals, but didn’t ask for any further elaboration. “Just don’t compromise us, yeah?”

Indignation flared in her chest, hot and fast. Pip whipped her head around to glare at the lieutenant, her lip curled. “Fuck off, Riley,” she snarled. She was pulling out the last name for this scolding. “Me? Of everyone here, I am the least likely to compromise anything.” Asshole.

Ghost snorted. “‘Riley,’” he repeated. “Sounds like I’m back in Basic getting an ass-chewing.”

“Probably deserved it then, too,” she grumbled.

“Probably.”

The mess hall was dark when they entered. Of course it was dark. It was four in the morning, as they’d established, and no one was in here. Ghost moved to flip on a light switch, but Pip stopped him.

“I don’t need the light,” she said. “You can leave it off.”

“All fine and well,” he replied, “but I can’t see shite, and I’m the one carrying you to your pelt.”

“I’ll guide you. Sidestep to your left, turn to eleven o’ clock, and start walking.” When Ghost didn’t move, Pip tipped her head back in exasperation. In doing so, she locked eyes with Ghost. “We’ve done this already, Lieutenant. A week ago.”

“Same day you got blown up, yeah. I remember.”

She grimaced, none too appreciative of that little reminder. “Just walk,” she said sternly.

And he did. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much of a change in his gait. His steps were a bit more careful, but he largely walked the same way he normally did, and followed Pip’s direction like a good soldier. When he was one step away from the table, Pip instructed him to stop, and he did. He felt out with his free hand for the table’s surface, finding it with ease.

“This is good. Thanks,” Pip said as he set her down.

“Let me know when you need me to come get you,” Ghost said, pulling his hand back once she disembarked.

“I’ll be fine here tonight,” she replied. “You should rest.”

“You sure?”

She gave him an annoyed look, her wide pupils catching that red glow in the low light. “Am I sure that you should rest?”

She knew that wasn’t what he was asking about, but she turned it on him nevertheless. Her handlers needed their rest if they were to keep her safe. That was the only reason she cared. Absolutely.

Ghost put his hands up. “Lucky I can’t pull rank on you for that attitude,” he said, his voice halfway to a growl. Damn right, too. Technically, none of them could pull rank on her—not even Price. She didn’t actually work for the 141; she was just here to help on Laswell’s request.

She also had half a mind to mention that Soap was regularly insubordinate—in how he spoke to Ghost in particular—but she kept that to herself.

“Good night, Ghost,” Pip said with a dismissive wave. She turned away from him and pretended to examine her pelt, at least until she heard his soft footfalls recede into the hall and beyond.

Gods, for such a massive human, he could be scarily quiet.

Once she was sure he was gone, she released a heavy exhale. So, she was really doing this. She was going to call Dana.

Why? She didn’t know. Closure, maybe? But what closure would this bring her? Was it guilt? These questions rattled around in her mind as she opened her computer and pulled up Dana’s contact information again. Before she could have any more second thoughts, she hit the call button.

And it rang.

Nervous energy drove her to fidget. She adjusted her headset. Adjusted her scarf. Adjusted her computer. Adjusted her headset again. Audio only to her? Yep. Voice modulator still working? Of course.

The line rang twice more. Hope bubbled in Pip’s chest. Maybe Dana was busy. Maybe she wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t be able to call this number back—

“Hello?” Dana.

Fuck!

Pip couldn’t find her voice.

“Hello…?”

If she didn’t say anything now, Dana was going to hang up. Pip muted her mic, cleared her throat, and forced herself to speak. Mic back on, she said, “Miss Ortega?”

Dana Ortega. Formerly Mrs. Dana Ortega-Looker. She’d dropped his name when they’d gotten divorced.

“Yes? Who is this?”

Pip’s mouth felt dry. Swallowing didn’t help any. She cleared her throat again. “This is Agent Lagomorph. I was told that—”

“Lag? You’re Lag?”

She stammered for a moment. “Uh—I’m—yes, I’m Lag. Miss Ortega, I was told that you—”

Again, Dana interrupted, “You sound different than I imagined.” Pip didn’t know how to respond to that. Dana continued, “I imagined you sounding more like a stupid bimbo bitch from California.”

Damn. Pip stared at the screen with brows furrowed, a little taken aback. The sudden hostility was simultaneously a surprise, and not surprising at all. “...Did he say I was from California?”

“No. He never told me anything about you. Not even your real fucking name. A part of me thought you weren’t even real, but, with how tight-lipped he was about you, and how much time you two spent together…” She trailed off with a sigh. She sounded frustrated. Angry.

“We were partners,” Pip said, keeping her voice even, “and our line of work requires the utmost secrecy…”

“Shut up,” Dana snapped, making Pip flinch. “I don’t want to hear it. You say you two were partners, huh?”

“Yes—”

“Then why is my husband dead, Lag?”

The question hit her like a punch to the chest, dead center. It felt like it could have knocked the air from her lungs. “He—you—” she paused to take a breath, eyes closed. Calm. Steady. “He was your ex-husband. And he was KIA.”

Dana scoffed. Pip tried to imagine her body language. Human nonverbal communication was still an enigma to her, but she’d been noticing some things since her introduction to the 141. Balled fists when frustrated. Raised heads. Puffed chests. Clenched jaws. Narrowed eyes. Some things were similar to hideling behavior; others were very different.

“‘Partner,’” she spat the word like it was a curse, laced with venom. “Don’t partners protect each other? Have each other’s back? So why is Dominic dead?”

His first name was less like a punch to the chest and more like a knife slotted between her ribs. Pip grimaced and dragged her hands down her face. She tried to keep her voice from breaking, but couldn’t completely mask the strain as she spoke. “I wasn’t near Dom when he was killed. I was performing my duties elsewhere at the time. There was nothing I could have done to protect or save him.”

Nothing at all. And that hurt to know.

Even if she had been there, what could she have done? The “protection” in their partnership was largely one-sided, as it always was with hideling-human dynamics.

She hadn’t even been able to see him before he was sent back home in a body bag… The last time she’d seen his face was right after he’d discreetly let her out of his backpack near the server room. He’d wished her luck with a thumbs up, then rushed off to rejoin Ghost’s squad. Fearless Looker...

“So you’re kinda useless as a partner, huh?” Dana cut in. Pip felt her nose crinkle, but she said nothing. She wouldn’t acknowledge that. “You’re the reason he and I divorced, and you got him killed.”

Well, so much for holding her tongue. “I had no part in your divorce,” she snarled. “You left him because of your own insecurities. That is not on me.”

“Tell me, Lag, were you fucking him? Huh? Did you two fuck?”

Pip nearly choked on her own spit. The audacity of this woman! “Wha—that’s none of your business.”

“Anything other than a resounding ‘no’ is a ‘yes,’” Dana said. Pip could hear the cruel smile in her voice, which only pissed her off more.

Who did this woman think she was? Why was Pip even talking to her? This had been an enormously terrible idea.

“So he was cheating on me,” Dana continued.

“No,” Pip said quickly. Defensively. She took a pause to breathe in through her nose, out through her mouth. Calm. “No. He wasn’t. Never did. He loved you, Dana.” Another pause. “We only ever had sex after your divorce.”

That was unnecessary. It really was none of Dana’s business who Pip—or Looker, for that matter—hooked up with. Pip didn’t know why she’d said that.

“Whore,” Dana spat.

Childish. Petty insults wouldn’t hurt her.

“Why didn’t you come to his funeral?” Dana asked. It sounded more like an accusation.

“I couldn’t attend,” Pip said simply. It wasn’t a lie. “I’m still on mission. Our mission. I’d like to send flowers, though, if you tell me where he’s b—”

“Keep your goddamn flowers.”

Pip pressed her lips together, a little frustrated, a little confused. Humans liked to place flowers on the graves of the dead, right? Americans, at least…

“You really are the worst fucking person to be paired up with.” Dana said. “First you let Dominic die, and then you don’t even have the decency to take off work and lay him to rest? Did the CIA give you a new partner yet, hm? Another poor bastard for you to get killed?”

Pip was starting to see red. She clenched her jaw. Balled her fist. Dana had to be intentionally ignoring what she was saying.

Breathe in… breathe out… Disregard the comment about her new partner…

Partners. Plural. Pip stole a glance at her cast, and the four signatures scrawled across it. She felt a pang in her chest.

This was a woman lashing out in her grief, Pip reminded herself. But fuck! Pip was grieving too!

“You have no idea what we were involved in—what I’m still involved in.”

“Because Dominic would never tell me any—”

“Because you are not authorized to know,” she interrupted. If Dana wanted to act childish, then Pip would speak to her like a child. “Don’t get mad at me because you’re in the dark; it is not my decision. It wasn’t Dom’s decision to withhold things from you, either—about his job or about me. It comes with the territory. You agreed to this when you married him, Dana. When you first started dating him!”

Gods, she remembered that day—the day Looker told her that he’d met someone that he really liked. Someone he really wanted to pursue.

Pip had been skeptical from the get-go, but she wanted Looker to be happy.

“It isn’t my fault that you couldn’t handle it—that you couldn’t trust him—and chose to divorce him. As soon as you signed those papers, you lost all right to what little information you were allowed. Even this conversation—I am calling you as a courtesy, because I cared about Dom, and I know he cared about you.”

“Fuck you,” Dana spat.

Fuck you too, you hollow bat. Rot in the sun. “I think that’s enough. Good night, Miss Ortega. We—”

“He has a child.”

Pip froze. She went silent for nearly a minute. Had she misheard? “...What?”

“He has a child,” Dana repeated, sounding smug. “Almost two years old. Born not long after our divorce.”

Looker never told her about a child. And Looker told her damn near everything. She knew that man inside and out. She knew him better than Dana ever could. He would have told her if he had a kid. Which means that either Dana never told him, or that she was lying.

She hunched over and started to type on her computer. “You never told him that he was a father?” It was her turn to sound accusatory.

“Why would I?” Dana said. “It wasn’t like he’d have time for a family. He was always too busy gallivanting off with you.”

Pip started a search. She could comb through hospital records of births in Dana’s area in the general time frame of a human pregnancy, but that net was too wide. She could do better. She felt no obligation to operate within human legal channels, either. Her whole job revolved around ignoring human privacy laws.

It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. Pip’s typing slowed. She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re a liar,” she said dryly.

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re a liar, Miss Ortega.” Dana waffled, but Pip didn’t let her gather her bearings. “There is absolutely no record anywhere of a child born under your name. And believe me, Miss, I am very thorough when it comes to looking through records.”

“I—what—how could you possibly—”

“What’s the child’s name?” Pip asked. She was no longer interested in playing nice. “When is its birthday? What is its favorite toy?”

Dana had no answers. She could only sputter and stammer.

“Why would you try to lie to me about something like this, Dana?” Pip leaned back onto the heels of her palms and turned her head to the ceiling. Her energy was spent, and her patience along with it. “Even if there was a kid, telling me this is a disservice to Dom, more than anything. Not me. I’m done talking to you. We will never speak to each other again.” That was a promise. “Have a good evening, Miss Ortega.”

“You bitch! If I ever find out—”

“You won’t.” Click.

Pip breathed out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging under the weight of… of everything, really. She shouldn’t have done that. She should not have called Looker’s ex-wife. Nothing was gained from their conversation; it only served to reopen still very fresh wounds.

“Fucking pile of rotten coyote’s guts,” Pip muttered in Hidespeak. Her native insults always felt so much better than English ones. Calling someone a female dog? A sex worker? A body part? Please.

Telling someone that not even the hungriest vultures would touch their corpse—now that was an insult.

Regardless, Pip once again found herself questioning why Looker had ever married that gutpile. She’d never liked Dana, and Dana hated that Looker had a secret work partner. Looker knew of this animosity. But it was never Pip’s place to intervene in his relationships. He was a grown man, after all.

When Dana presented Looker with the ultimatum: her or Pip, their marriage or his career, Pip remembered his heartbreak. He’d taken emergency leave to try and work things out with her. Pip remembered the anxiety she’d felt, waiting at their HQ, not knowing whether or not Looker would come back, wondering if she'd have to be assigned another new handler… But he’d returned.

Now that she thought about it, she couldn't recall Looker ever explicitly telling her that he’d chosen the CIA over Dana. He’d only said that she was divorcing him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And now, here she was two years later. Looker was dead, and Pip was stuck with not one, but four untrained handlers, on the most dangerous mission she’d ever been assigned.

This had been the single-most stressful week of her life. However… not that she'd ever tell them, but these four rough-n-tough soldiers were growing on her. Even Price.

Ugh. She didn't want to think about that.

Pip rolled her head to the side, looking at her pelt. It was dried and treated. Now it just needed to be shaped. She glanced quickly at her computer screen, noting the time. Quarter past four.

Damn, she’d suffered a conversation with Dana for more than ten minutes? How miserable.

The 141 would be waking up soon. Hopefully Price and Ghost could manage to get some sleep. In the meantime, Pip had a pelt to work on. She could try to distract herself from her woes with the prospect of finally having a proper disguise again.

A sidelong look to Ghost’s glove gave her pause. She considered it for a long moment, then snorted softly to herself. It was a shit replacement for a pelt in almost every way.

She wasn’t done with it, though. Ghost was just going to have to make do with his mismatched gloves for the foreseeable future.

#g/t #g/t fiction #g/t writing #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #g/t cod #john mactavish #simon riley #pip lagomorph #poor gal's really goin' thru it :')#hyena writes #hyena ocs

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mochi-myles · 5 months

Text

Lore for Maple and Honey

Starting off their story as regular turtles, the two were sold at an auction early on, where they fell into the hands of a young human boy called Koda. The boy, naming them Maple and Honey, wasted no time in taking the two on all sorts of adventures; from a late night heist into the kitchen for a snack to facing the rough waters of a bath, there was nothing the trio couldn't handle. Which was why when the kid started school, he wanted to take them along without hesitation. In their little minds, Honey and Maple didn't quite understand but he spoke so happily and looked so excited that the two turtles soon enough gained the same energy. Although told no by his parents at first, this did nothing to stop him, and a few weeks into school, Koda slipped the turtles into his backpack.

And it worked well during the first few days, the kid keeping the pair in his backpack for the most part, allowing them fresh air every so often and small interactions with his human friends. Honey and Maple were praised, pet, given snacks, and got to play more than ever during recess. Honey was especially proud of being the 'first turtle in space', whatever that was. It didn't take long for the word to spread that, "Lil Koda brought an odd looking turtle to school-!" And with that, they had even more attention, not all of it enjoyable. The turtles were tossed around like a football, kids poking their shell and getting in their face. The worst part was the pair wasn't allowed to return to Koda. In fact, they had at some point lost sight of the kid.

Finding themselves in the grasp of a different kid, fear slowly seeped in. Honey chirped in distress but Maple, seeing this as nothing different than their usual adventures, lashed out. He bit the kid's hand, hard, and latched on, even while the kid screamed and tried to free themself. Their shell was soon slammed into a wall, forcing Maple to let go- and mere moments later, the turtles were falling into a small pool of water; a toilet. They were flushed, being sent down into the sewers.

Being swept through the sewer waters, it wasn't long before they were found by a person named Marie Palmer. Although attempting to fight back, Maple didn't have much energy left to begin with and the two were brought back to her lab. It was some time after that- that Maple and Honey's true story began. With the use of a mutant lizard's DNA by the name of Blueberry, the two turtles were mutated. It's through this mutation that the two gain a sort of 'connection' to one another, able to not only communicate with each other without verbally speaking but seem to sense their emotions.

The two would stay with Blueberry and Marie until the day came that, somehow, they were saved and able to escape. They have faint memories of a person that, while not fully making sense, bring the feeling that they're looking for something- or someone? Regardless, Honey insists upon finding out more. Noting he can't stop her, Maple takes it upon himself to keep her safe and aid with his ideas, though part of him does also wish to discover just what it is they're missing.

Blueberry belongs to @trashyandtiredsol , Marie Palmer belongs to @mikebeanz . Check them and their OCs out because they're both brilliant and incredible!!

#tmnt foodie au #foodies siblings and friends au #maple and honey #tmnt

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itsmadamehydra · 3 years

Text

My Savior || Wayne McCullough

A/N: Just some teenage girl trying to write the story inside her head, hope u like it.

Pairing: Wayne McCullough x oc

Warnings: rape, intention of rape, harassment, blood mention, bullying, language (a little strong)

.................

I've always like to watch him by far, he just seems different from the rest (and oh boy, he is).

The first time I saw him I was in 7th grade. I was just one more girl of the many others that her tities just had started to show and my period started to visit me. I remember that day clearly, I was sitting at the hallway with my bestfriend at the time, eating infront of our lockers when I saw him.

"Am telling ya girl, the answer of number 5 was c." I said trying to reason with her about the science test answers "I told you that if u needed help to study, I could help ya." I smile at her and move my arm upward to touch her shoulder

"Yeah, yeah, I know...are you sure it was not D?" she said frowning her eyebrows once more. We stayed in silence for a sec before bursting into laughter and tears

Little by little our laughs started to fade, allowing ears to hear the background and aswell some loud voices, it sounded like an argument but by the hears of it a fight was going to start soon. "What you think is happening over there?" Cassie murmured, I stared at the end of the hallway where apparently was were the voices were coming from.

"I don't know..." my lips formed a thin line while I was thinking about what could have been happening in there, "You wanna, you know, go and see?" I looked back at my friend

"Freak yeah" she laughed grabbing my hand and running down the hallway to see the soon to be fight.

Once we got there, there was a mass of students surrounding what appeared to be the ones who where arguing. "Ugh, I can't see, I hate been so small." I said, "Hey, that smallness is beautiful and you know you can use that in your own benefit" Cassia said and winked at me.

"I mean, yeah but I can't-" my word stopped at the moment I heard a want sounded and I believe to be a punch in the face. "You saw that!?" Cassie said, "That was freaking awesome, please tell me you saw it!" "Um, nah Cassie, I cant see a crap" i said while trying to find a whole where to see through.

It was only a matter of seconds until more punches were heard. I started pushing people more frantically, I wanted to see what was happening. When I get pass a few amount of studens I almost slipped, looked sown to see what was it and it was stains of blood, only a few but still.

"Oh gosh, disgusting." When I look up only a few students are still in the cafeteria and a guy wearing a grey hoddie was just there, staring at the bloodie face of another guy. I stared back at the hoddie guy and noticed a little hammer in his hand, and the words just came out of my mouth without even noticing, "Why the hammer? Want to be a constructed or something?" He just stared at me and pass by me without saying a word and keeping a neutral face.

"Who the hell was that crazy ass weirdo?" I hear Cassie's voice behind me. "I don't know" I responded, "But I will know...one day."

"Ok,ok, am not going to get in between your little search thingi but am sure he is not good news." Cassie said, "You saw what he did, and he has a FREAKING hammer, y/n! Covered in blood y/n!" She grabbed my shoulders from behind, "I think we all understood the message, stay the fuck away from him, honey."

And I just smiled.

Months later I learned his name. Wayne, Wayne McCullough. Fits the ring if you ask me. Everyone was speaking about how violent, crazy and wierdo he was, about how he was going to show up at your house to beat the hell put of you.

I just observed him by far, well, I like to think that I noticed him. I noticed how he usually beats up those who are some assholes jerks that have only one brain cell as much. Noticed that he is not much of a talker and a shy boy. Noticed how he makes his lips thin when he gets lost in thoughts. How he closes his fist when he is about to do something. His strangely high pain tolerance. His pale skin and dark hair appeared to me to be very llamative and aswell his strength. He was and is skinny but somehow has a great strength, maybe do to the unincredible amounts of fights he gets in. Experience makes the master is what the say...right?

Years went by, we entered to highschool and the nervousness along with the fast beating, sweating and butterflies were still there every time i either tought about him or saw him walking around.

Cassie stayed with me for a while until she decided to join the group of nasty ass bitches with no brain cells who believed no one was better than them. While I...well, I stayed small for a big part I guess, always with good grades, teachers love me and try to be nice with every one I guess.

Everything was going great until Cassie along with some guys recorded me somehow while being drunk and them trying to overpass the boundaries, and let me tell ya.. that was just the start.

The had videos of me at the school bathroom, pictures of my underwear under my skirts and dresses, them trying to touch me. I had to learn to defend myself, stopped using skirts, dresses, shorts even do I loved wearing the. Replace my shoes with tennis and always had hair ties.

"Y/n, wake up! You're going to be late for school, don't think ama wait for you!" I mom yelled.

"Yes, mom! Dont worry, am up!" I run down the stairs with my backpack, went to the kitchen, grabbed an apple and went straight to the car.

"Oh for God sake, y/n" she said went she looked at me and noticed my new hair style.

"What? You don't like it? I just cut it a little." I satered at her innocently

"Your father is not gonna like it and you know it." She said and the stress lines appeared in her forehead, "You know this is his weekend and-"

She couldn't finish her sentence because I started taking, "Am not going to that dickheads house, mother." I said strainly, "Don't want to see his and face of that bitch he cheated you with..." i lowly said but loud enough to hear.

"I know, honey but you have to and besides you get to see your brother!" She patted my thigh, "Haven't seen him in a while right?" She said with a sad tone

"You should be the one seeing him...not me." I stared outside the window, there were just some trees and houses and garbage.

Mom and dad divorced a while back, he cheated on her. The house was a mess that day, screams and broken glass everywhere. Sammy was lucky, he was at grandma's but I was home...listening to every single word. That was also the first time a sneaked out and the first time I sort-of spoke to Wayne.

"What are you doing here?" I heard someone said behind me, I looked and it was fucking Wayne

"Just trying to have some quietness i guess..." I stared at my fingers and started playing with them because of my nervousness, "...What are you doing here?" I asked softly

And he stayed silent...the whole time after that. Either way, his company was nice and the side profile, ufff, amazing.

"Ok, we are here." I stared at the building for a sec before giving my mother a kiss in her cheek and entered to the building.

"Hey y/n! Nice ass!" That was the jerk of all jerks, Jonathan.

I turned around and stared at him, "Oh yeah?" He nodded, "Want to see me shop of your dick?" Changed my tone while saying that into a lower and more serious tone. He just stared at me with sealed lips and left.

I continued walking to my locker and I come to see tgat my freaking lock is broken, I search in all the spaces but nothing is missing.

"Come on! They had just changed me of locker!" I silently yelled. Started grabbing my books for the next few classes when I felt a hand in my shoulder, by instinct I grabbed the wrist, pushed the person against the locker and added pressure in the throat with my other arm.

"Hey y/n" Orlando smiled, "New move?" I chuckled and removed my arm, now, standing face to face I respond

"You know you shouldn't do that Orlando bunny." I laugh st the nickname I gave him a few time ago. Orlando was one of the few FEW people who talked to me, well, he talked to everyone but still.

"I know... I just forgot I guess man." He looked down, "Y/n...have your tities grown bigger?" His face looked confused.

I slapped his head and punched his shoulder, "Could you please stop looking and thinking 'bout tities when am around you?"

"I mean, yeah sure...and sorry about your lock." He points the locker, "Wayne thought it was still his but since-" I cut him off before he could continue

"Wayne?" I asked confused

"Yeah, Is tha-" i cut him off again

"Why did he tho?" I murmured staring at my lock in hand.

"It used to be his locker but oh well...he missed school for 3 weeks and yeah." He grabs his backpacks laces after explaining.

"Oh...ok, is he still here tho?" I looked at Orlando

"I guess..." he was about to say pther thing when the bell ring and we started to go toour classes, "See you later gorgeous!" He yells from the corner of the hallway.

I stayed there...just staring at my lock for a while, then order my things fast and left to class. What I didn't know was that someone was watching at me.

Three days later, i was walking back home and i heard s car going at full speed and nasty comments were started to be listend. I kept walking trying tk pretend they didn't exist when the car is suddenly over the sideway and infront of me.

"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME ASSHOLES!!" I yelled.

"But...you are bot dead right, bitch?" Jonathan said getting out of the car. There were five, 2 guys and 3 girls. "Don't prefer to suck my dick and be my slut, promise I'll pay a good amount." He said infront of me,

"She is already a slut baby." Veronica said

"I bet she has sleeped with half school, wouldn't surprise me if you haven been org*e or something." You know, comments are comments, you are the one who decide what hurt you and whats does not, but being Cassie the one who said that...broke my freaking heart.

I couldn't stand it anymore, wanted to leave the place so i came up with a plan very fast. I walked closer to Jonathan trying to be the most seductive I could, touched his chest, abs and got closer to his ear and said, "You are going to regret everything" Punched him with all my strenght in this genitiles, stomp on his feet, punched his nose and ran the faster I could out of there.

"You bitch!" I heard from far but i continued running, I couldn't stop, i was scared, didn't know what could happen if the get me. I could hear the car engines behind me, but i didn't stop.

I was close a bridge, ran underneath it, passed some houses but i could still hear the voices and car. My legs hurt, i needed to catch my breath, i could hear my heart beat, my body felt on fire. When I less expected am suddenly trapped, there were some abandoned buildings and warehouses but no way to get put of there. This was it, my end.

"Couldn't escape from me you nasty little bitch!?" I heard his voice, i was never one to pray but believe when i say i begged to God to save me. "You ain't going anywhere...bitch" he was behind me, I could sense it.

My hair was pulled, he pulls me by my hair to his car and i notice that it's just him and another guy. Am not getting out of here.

"We are going to have so much fun!" He licks my cheek and i try to kick him wherever.

"HELP!" I yelled, "SOMEBODY PLEASE, HELP!" my voice sounded horrific, like if i hadn't drank a single drop of water in ages, "please" y murmure my last pledge before he finally puts me over the capo of his car.

"No one's gonna help you, you slut." He says, the other guy was just watching and standing still, doing nothing.

I gave up, didn't even notice I was crying until I tasted the salt in my lips. I felt him over me, unbucking my pants and then...i didnt felt his weight anymore, instead, i heard a cry of pain, and then another cry, and another and another.

I lifted my head and there he was, grey hoddie and little hammer in hand...my savior. I smiled.

My smile just grew bigger and bigger every second I saw that boy swing that motherfucker hammer, every second that Jonathan's blood was spilled. I lool around in search pf the pther guy scared that he might try to grab but I get calm when i see him unconscious on the floor.

A few minuts later th cries stop and i look up, Jonathan was missing 3 teeths and face covered with blood, i think he could even have a brocken rib or something.

Am sitting on top of the car's capo when a feel a slight, fragile touch.

"You ok?" Wayne askes pulling a string of my hair behind my ear.

"...now I am." I smile to him and he returns a little small tiny one with a grin. I was about to say something else when he suddenly speaks

"Want to be my girlfriend or whatever?" He says looking exhausted, I chuckle

"Try a little harder and I might be." I say soflty with a small thin smile and he avoids my eyes but I still get to notice a small blush.

...................

Hey! So, yeah. This is my first ever published thing. Hope you enjoyed it and if you want a part two or to keep writing, am open to any suggestion! Am not very good with the warnings section so if you could help me with it, i would totally apreciate that!

Thank you for reading,

#fanfic #wayne mccullough #wayne mccullough x reader #wayne mccullough x y/n #fanfiction #wayne mccullough fanfic #wayne mccullough fanfiction #wayne #wayne x reader

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a-smile-hides · 3 years

Text

A WARM CUP OF COFFEE - A.H.A.

Pairing: Alex x reader

Warnings: none, just ... not really - that great?

Sum: This was a request (thank you for that!) and I would like to apologize because it took so long and.. Yeah. The request:

"Hi 🥰 do you still take request for Alex Andersen? Something like the OC is alex teacher at university and they fall in love with each other but the age gap is a problem so she broke up with him but BOOM they really love each other!! With some fighting and fluffy 🤤🥲hahah sorry if its bad 🥰 thank you!"

A soft ‘thing’alerted the old man behind the desk, making him look up from today’s newspaper and push his glasses further back on his nose. The small café he owned was somewhat concealed from the busy streets, tucked away in between two large buildings. It created the perfect escape for the chaos of life. Oh, how he was proud to own this little palace. A simple, ‘back to basics’ coffee shop where people could enjoy a good cup of coffee. Where people could talk or just relax, or in your case, find some inspiration to prepare for a new class.

Returning his friendly smile, you easily manoeuvred between the mismatched tables and chairs until you reached the one next to a small window. As usual, a silver sign stood on the table reading ‘reserved’ in a beautiful font. And as usual, you plopped down on the chair that gave you a look out on the street, sliding the sign to the end of the table so that it could be picked up by one of the staff members. Throwing a notebook and different prints out on the table, you breathed in deeply.

It had been a long day already... And it was like... what? – 11 a.m.?

“There you go, honey.”

Without even looking up you already knew who stood next to your side, presenting a large cup of coffee with one of those delicious self-made biscuits.

“Jer, I can’t thank you enough”.

The man laughed, seemingly pleased with himself after seeing the frown on your eyebrows clear up for a second. He waved your gratitude off and returned to his kitchen.

He had grown used to your visits over time. It wasn’t hard to miss you, sitting stressed in the corner of his little café, browsing through pictures and notes trying to decide which was the best one.

It hurt him every time he saw a lost soul enter his little café, in a rush and completely lost to the world around them. In you, he saw one of those lost souls. Busy, busy, busy... Overloading themselves with work.

It seemed as today would bring no exception. And you once again would ignore the beauty and comfort his café hoped to give to its customers. Especially when he saw you fiddling with a large package, no doubt filled to the brim with new photos for a possible lecture, he knew you only came here to work even more. Sighing, the old man turned around, reaching towards the different treats and cakes his little shop offered. He knew you would be there for a while and figured that the need for sweets may come soon. In the background, he could hear the familiar sound of your papers falling onto the ground. Accompanied by some swear words, immediately followed by mumbled apologies. And he could not hold himself back as a laugh passed his lips. It became a routine really...

Still chuckling, he turned around and placed a large piece of cake on a plate, decorating it with an extra piece of dark chocolate. The sound of someone entering his café made him look up momentarily, greeting the young man who just entered with his signature smile. The young man returned his smile warmly, before letting his eyes wander over the place. He had clearly never been in here before. His eyes narrowed once he focused on something in the back of the café, furrowing his eyebrows in worry. Skilfully, he walked between the tables and chairs as if he had decorated the place himself. To a small table next to the big window, where you were still mumbling under your breath about how life seemed to hate your guts. And it made the young man chuckle. Loudly.

Freezing for a second, you immediately collected all the pictures that had fallen off the table, carelessly throwing them back on the table. Refusing to meet the eye of whoever found enjoyment in your clumsiness, you side stepped back to your table. Hoping and praying that they would just go away. But they stayed.

“It’s good to see you’re still as clumsy...”

It was a good thing you were leaning against the table, otherwise you would have been knocked to ground right now.

“Mister Anderssen.” You nodded your head.

The young man pressed his lips together in a tight smile at the greeting, feeling a sting in his heart that he believed to have been long gone by now.

The long silence that followed felt dense and awkward. He was trying to make eye contact, his lips were turned up in a little, comforting smile. He did not know what to say or feel as he looked at how your body seemed to turn away from him. Your arms were wrapped around your middle, your eyes glued to the pictures on the table without truly looking at them. And then, his gaze fell on the smallest amongst them. He could recognize that gloomy setting from anywhere. His heart jumped, he felt overjoyed and the smile on his face grew larger.

“You kept it?” He breathed out, making it sound more like a question.

Slowly, he crouched down, careful not to make you run away. As he took the card from under one of the chairs, brushing some dust of it. Looking up, he waved with the picture he once offered you to use in your classes.

Nodding to himself, he kept his eyes locked with yours as he slowly came up. “You kept it.”

“I did” You spoke out softly.

***

“Fuck”

The curse had left your mouth before you could hold it back, as you watch yet another one of your cards fall on the ground.

It was good that none of your students had the habit of arriving in time for your class. Choosing to rather arrive just in time for the lecture to begin instead of showing some interest and being there before it began. Otherwise, they could enjoy this little comedy show as you desperately tried to stick those cards on a timeline.

You had never thought that one day, you would stand in front of class, as a teacher. Talking about something that had been a passion for so many years. Movies are a piece of art, a way to express and communicate. And now, you had the power to let others see that as well.

And even thought the path of being a teacher had crossed yours rather unexpectedly, it had made you happier than you’ve ever been.

And it had let you to some beautiful and interesting moments.

Looking down at the picture in your hands, a warm feeling overcame you, painting a very small smile on your face. It was a simple photo of a man standing alone in the street. The sky was pitch black; the only light provided by a single streetlight on the far right. The yellow light cast dark shadows on the ground. And on the left, almost completely hidden in the shadows, you could see the silhouette of another man. His back was turned to the man he had left behind under the streetlight. And thus, he missed how the other reached his hand out in a desperate attempt to call him back.

Every year you would collect pictures to show off how a simple setting can bring out different emotions to an audience. This scene would often bring feelings of sadness, grief, loss, misery and heartbreak to your students. Ironically, this scene brought you only a warm feeling. The beauty of the shot together with the memory of how you had come across this movie, cancelled out those unhappy emotions.

Completely lost in the moment, you almost jumped up when two hands sneaked around your hips.

“Morning”

His voice was raspy as he failed to conceal the chuckle that passed his lips.

“Morning, mister Anderssen”

He laughed, rubbing his nose in the crook of your neck. He found it almost amusing how you spoke so formerly to him now when at night...

“Mister?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your way out of his grip. Without giving one look to the young man behind you, you picked up the card that fell out of your hands. Looking down at it again, you sighed and returned to your desk. The classroom needed to be ready before the students would arrive.

“I thought we made an agreement; you would not visit me this early to avoid suspicion, right?”

Alex smacked his lips, nodding his head slowly. He played with the straps of his backpack as his mind brought him back to that memory. It was around three weeks ago; you were collecting everything to go home after a long day when the young man suddenly sneaked in to share some ‘alone time’. Sadly enough, another student had forgotten her scarf that day and ran back to retrieve it. Even though you tried your hardest to not succumb to his advances, his willpower was way too strong. And the poor girl had almost walked in on you and him kissing. He had pushed his luck too far that time.

Still, if he could, he would not take that moment back. Every second spend with you was worth it.

“It’s nice to see you still like that picture...” He said, pointing to the card in an attempt to effort to change the subject. “After you told me what subjects we would discuss in the future, I immediately thought of that movie and-”

Alex’ voice died once your eyes met his. He was always the first to enter your classroom. In those moments you always could be yourselves. There was no reason to hold back. In that way, these few minutes of privacy would always be filled with love and jokes, stolen kisses and hugs. He couldn’t really recall the precise moment his dream came true, and you returned his affection. The way to earn it had been long and filled with obstacles. The boundaries that needed to be crossed were great. And it felt unlawful, disgusting, wrong... And still, so right.

Now, as he stood only a few feet away from you, it felt like a mile. Your eyes danced across the room, only meeting his for a mere second before quickly darting away again. Your hands brushed some imaginary dust of the picture, while you tried your hardest to breath normally. Little signs of how the nerves started to creep up.

“If you want other recommendations...” He tried, but again... The strength in his voice died before he even finished his sentence. Alex grew concerned as he watched you turn around and hung up the card. The whole thread portraying different scenery throughout film history over the last 50 years shook as you clumsily pined it next to a very bright photo, depicting two children running around at a fair.

Alex frowned when you still did not respond to him. Softly, he moved his hands to rest on your shoulders, trying to turn your body towards him. His head was lowered down a bit, a friendly look on his face as he shakily asked: “What’s on your mind?”. Hoping that whatever bothered you, he could help you solve it.

You didn’t need to see his face to know how his eyebrows were scrunched up with concern. Or how his mouth was slightly twisted as he pondered over who or what could have made you behave so coldly.

But the reason was crystal clear to you.

The adoration you had received from the man in front of you was overwhelming. These past months have been a dream. Almost indescribable. Just as all those sappy quotes on Pinterest say: some things just need to be felt. And this, this felt great.

It had been great.

Felt.

Had.

You bite your lip, feeling nervous all the sudden. Turning around, you tried your best to avoid his blue eyes. They were hypnotizing, demanding for a reason, an explanation.

“Mister Anderssen-” You started again.

“You know, we never did that kind of play, but I am open to anything.” He tried. His attempt to lighten the mood was only met with silence. A silence that felt deafening. And it made his stomach turn.

With his finger and thumb, he slowly lifted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eye. He was a bit taller than you, and he loved that. He used it to his advantage on every occasion he got.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked again.

You sighed, feeling it was better to speak the truth. “This.” You answered, “Us.”

Alex lifted one of his eyebrows, scratching the back of his neck. “Us? What's wrong with us?”

“You’re smart, Alex.” You answered. “Deep down, you know.”

Alex eyes widened. He was speechless, dumbfounded.

“I am a teacher, your teacher to be exact.”

“And you’ve been teaching me amazing things.” He snickered, wiggling his eyebrows.

You snorted, shaking your head. Until you remembered what you wanted to share with him, and your face went blank again. It was almost impossible to not give in, to hold back your laughter when he was around. But you had to.

“Alex.” You said, pushing him lightly away. “The age gap is way too big.”

His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he turned your body more towards him. His eyes narrowed. And although they still sparkled, the hurt he felt could not be hid. The time he could hold back secrets had long passed.

“What made you start doubting us?” He asked.

You sighed, looking down at the ground.

“What if I said... What if the doubt never left? What if it was a thought that always bugged me?”

That made him halter. His muscles stiffened for a second. A millisecond in which he let the guard down and his pain became visible. But just as quick as it fell, the wall was back up again. He stood upright, the hands on your hips now slowly making their way up towards your shoulders. The corner of his lips was pulled up, a fine grin that silently asked you to laugh or say it was just a joke. That it wasn’t the truth.

Alas, it was the truth.

The lingering thought that had been filling your mind with doubts and questions for a while now. Making you question yourself and your choices, but above all, the day on which you gave into his charm.

He was a young, handsome man filled with life and chances. He was almost at the end of the first big chapter in his life, ready to begin a new one, to step into an adventure. After this... Did he want to work somewhere? Move back in with his parents? Maybe he wanted to travel? See the world after being closed off from it after keeping his nose in his books all the time. He could explore, try to discover who he really was. And... Fall in love with someone else. Someone … more of… his age.

How could you hold him back from that?

His thumbs started to stroke small circles of comfort on your neck, while he kept on trying to make eye contact with you. With each passing second, he felt himself grow more uneasy and lost.

“Little one... Love.” Alex winced as he saw you flinch with each nickname that passed his lips. His voice pitched and he sounded in a rush, as he wanted to find a way to ease those doubts. “Y/N, what...?”

The corner of your lip twitched in a weak effort in making a smile appear on your face. It failed horribly, as you felt yourself get overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow. “We have to stop this now, Alex.” You managed to make out. “It’s done.”

In the back of the room, he could hear the slow ticking of the big silvery clock. It was only five minutes until the lecture would begin. Any time now, someone could enter the room and walk in on their teacher standing in a, what they would think, romantic embrace with her own student. It only made you more nervous and desperate to get out of his hold. To just say goodbye. To leave this all behind and start new.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head widely. “The age gap is just a number, not even a high one. You want me as much as I want you, right?”

“I do- I- I did. And now, I am ending it.” You said, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the stinging feeling in your eyes. “I am letting you go.” you whispered, finally pushing his arms away.

Alex breathed in deeply, stepping forward as you took a step back. Again, and again, you shoved his hands away. He tried to make contact, to touch your arms, to hold your hands, but every time you slapped his hand away. And his heart broke as you kept on avoiding him. He grew frustrated.

“What do you want, Y/N? Since when are you afraid? So, what if they say something? We- We are the ones in love! They-”

“Alex! It’s done! I don’t want this anymore. I don't want- I-”

At this point, he felt the blood in his veins boiling. His heart clenched. His stomach turned. “So, we-this meant nothing to you?”

“That’s a low blow, Alex” You bit back.

“What do you want, Y/N?!”

“I don’t want this. I don’t want you anymore, Alex! This is done! Over!”

He scoffed, his fists clenched at his sides while his chest went up and down with every heavy breath.

“Over? Why are you acting like this? When have you turned into this scarred shell of-”

“I don’t care if you don’t see the problem. Someday you will. And you will understand I made the right call.”

The clearing of a throat ended the discussion sooner than Alex would have wanted. Another student had entered the classroom. Her eyes were wide open as she stared at her teacher and the class top student. Her mouth was slightly open as she tried to form a sentence, but no sound seemed to pass her lips.

You swallowed, quickly wiping a fallen tear off your cheek, stepping even further away from Alex, whose eyes were still glued to you.

“Good afternoon, miss Tuffin. Please take a seat.”

Alex slightly shook his head from side to side, unable to comprehend the situation.

“So, mister Anderssen. Now that you know your answer, please take a seat.” You said quietly, flinching as your voice cracked a bit. Your eyes did not meet his anymore, even though he was hoping you would look him in the eyes again. He knew deep down you did not mean one word of the things you had said. "Class will begin soon.”

***

The silence that had formed was killing the both of you. No one knew what to say or do. The awkward tension held him back from taking the first step, the fear mixed with the embarrassment from a few moments earlier made it impossible for you to move. It felt strange to be in each other’s presence without having the ability to look each other in the eye for longer than a few seconds. And even stranger to know how different this was only a few months back. You had resorted to dust off the pictures that had fallen onto the ground while Alex let his eyes wander around. He did not know what overcame him as he walked up to you. The little café had never come to his attention before. He blamed the big buildings that flanked the warm place for that. As he stepped in, looking for a place to enjoy a good cup of coffee, he wished he had discovered it a long time ago. The mismatched tables and chairs, the hanging lightbulbs, the old paintings decorating the flower wallpaper… Everything breathed out comfort and safety.

The older looking man had greeted Alex with a warming smile, until both men were distracted by the loud curses of a woman in the far back of the café who had dropped her papers all over the floor. Alex did not know whether to laugh or run away when he saw that you were the poor soul collecting all the different photos of the ground. And before he even knew it himself, he stood in front of you. Trying his best to make a casual conversation, without losing his cool.

He was failing miserably.

He really wished the sudden urge of confidence hadn’t left so suddenly.

Jeremy frowned upon the sight in front of him from his place behind the counter. The large piece of cake he had prepared for you earlier stood abandoned next to him. He had never seen that young man in your presence before. Every day you visited his little café alone. Never were you accompanied by a friend, nor had you ever invited one. He could not help the chuckle that passed his lips as he saw the strange boy fumble his way towards your table. But by the way his steps slowed down with each second and how he now stood before you as if he had committed a crime, the old man could not help but wonder what your relationship had damaged to become so uncomfortable.

“Y/N…” Alex started, sighing as he noticed you close your eyes for a second, turning your body slightly away from him.

“Y/N.” He tried again; his voice sounded a bit stronger, more certain. As if he had found his courage and willpower again. But then it crumpled again, his shoulders dropped as he frantically tried to make eye contact. “I am happy to see you again.”

This made you look up. “Me too.” You nodded. “How are you?”

Alex snorted, looking around the café as he tried to find words. Why had it become difficult to speak to you? “Good?” He nodded, more to convince himself than you, “Yeah, I have been good. Taking pictures, trying to improve my photography-“

This made you laugh, the sound making his heart jump for a second. “As if you needed any more improvement.”

Alex bit his lip, glad that you weren’t paying attention to his red flushing cheeks. He breathed out deeply as he looked down at the different cards. His eyes glided over the different pictures depicting scenes of romance, hope, grief and so on. Without saying anything, he sat down, flipping through them one by one. Some of the pictures made the corners of his lips slowly turn up, while others made his brows furrow.

This gave you the opportunity to finally take a look at him. His hair had gotten longer since the last time you saw him. Back then it was cut short, but now his long locks were held together in a little man bun. His jaw was accented by a subtle beard. It’s crazy how much he changed in a few months time… Yet he still looked as dashing as back then.

“I still think this one is the best.” He smiled, showing you the gloomy picture from earlier.

His words made you snap out of your daze, clearing your throat as you took a seat opposite from him after he arched one eyebrow, pointing to the empty chair.

“That’s a shocker,” you shrugged, “You came to me with that movie.”

Alex nodded, the confident smile on his lips reached his eyes for the first time, making them shine bright. However, that light quickly died. Absent-mindedly, he let his finger wander over the picture, contemplating if he should speak up about the shared past or not.

“I… I knew we would meet again, you know? Well, I hoped”

You looked down at your coffee, once again escaping his eyes while wrapping your hands around the lukewarm beverage. It didn’t offer you much comfort anymore.

“Now that I am older,” He lightly joked, “More mature, more-“

“Alex” You interrupted his train of thoughts. “Don’t- Don’t do that.”

“Maybe now you can give me the real reason as to why you gave up on us so easily.” He continued, his voice was low, almost a whisper but the sneer in it could not be ignored. All of the sudden, it felt as if you were on the artic. The blood in your veins ran cold as he had backed you up in a corner. Alex knew he could have pushed you even further away from him, but simply needed to know. The young man sat there before you with his heart beating loudly in his throat. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers lightly drummed on the table.

You sighed, not daring to look into his eyes. Before you even opened your mouth to answer his burning question, he softly spoke up again. “The truth, please.”

You laughed dryly, now really feeling trapped under his demanding stare and the growing tension between the two of you. “I did not want to.” You confessed, feeling your eyes well up. “I really… I really loved you, you know? The time I shared with you was wonderful, and I want you to know that it wasn’t your fault or anything… I just let myself get carried away by my feeling for you, Alex.”

“And why is that a bad thing?” He asked, not understanding your motive.

You grinned, looking at his confused face. “I was your teacher, Alex. We had this conversation before, I wasn’t-“

His hand immediately flew towards your hand, making you fall quiet. “So what? I never cared. Not then, not now. I am no longer your student, there is no reason anymore to hold back anymore.”

You snorted; he would never change. He would always be this cocky little brat and-

“Wait. What do you mean… ‘no reason to hold back anymore’?”

He grinned, squeezing your hand a bit. “I always hoped we could meet again, so I could tell you should not be afraid of our relationship anymore. Or your feelings. Or… us. Don’t say anything because I know that fear held you back. We can be together, Y/N! Please, just-just leave behind your doubts for once. Don’t give a fuck about other people!” He said, his voice becoming louder with each word, growing with passion. “Put yourself first…” His face sprouted a smile, but it was not one of happiness or relief, no, it was because he felt helpless. He could feel you slipping right through his fingers again as he saw you shaking your head. He saw the doubts written all over your face. The questions rummaging through your mind. Was he being truthful? Was it unethical? Could you just start over again and continue this relationship? Was it worth the risk? “Just, choose with your heart for once. You know my feelings for you, but I am waiting for you.”

His words warmed your heart and made the corners of your lips turn upwards slightly. The worries clouding your minds made it hard to really focus on his words, still… You could no longer deny how he made you feel deep down.

As you licked your lips, the both of you suddenly got shaken out of your little bubble by a friendly voice complimenting the handsome man in front of you.

“My dear boy, you could not have a better timing. She really needs someone to make her laugh and escape that world of hers full of work and deadlines she dares to call a life.” Jeremy laughed, waving off your shocked expression, knowing you were about to contradict him. “You both need each other, children.” He paused, placing down two cups of coffee, accompanied with two large slices of one of his famous cakes. “Listen to an old man’s wise words.” Without any further words, and still ignoring your shocked face and Alex’ gestures that he had not ordered anything yet, he left the table to go back to his counter.

From there, he watched how you both broke into a fit of laughter, figuring it was better to enjoy the food and drinks than let them spoil. As Alex shrugged his shoulders and took a careful first bite of the pie, you took a first sip of your new and cup of coffee, never breaking eye contact with him. And… it felt good.

The old man behind the counter watched proudly as the two of you slowly picked up a conversation, sharing what you had been up to these past months to the finest details. The words suddenly came easily and talking felt comfortable again. Laughs, giggles, and loud exclaims of shock and delight were audible throughout the whole café, often making the other customers look up from their spot in the far back of the café. But you couldn’t be bothered by them. No, you were far off in your bubble. A bubble that was warm and joyful, filled with light and love now that Alex was in it.

And as the hours passed and the second slice of pie had been devoured, Jeremy’s heart filled with joy as he saw how your hand was still in the hands of that handsome boy.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! xxx

#alex hogh andersen imagines #alex hogh andersen imagine #alex andersen imagine #alex andersen imagines #alex hogh andersen x reader #alex x reader #vikings imagines #vikings request #alex andersen request #alex høgh andersen #alex høgh #ivar the boneless #vikings season 6 #i am still alive

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scribblersvale · 2 years

Note

🖊 Good ol' Pan

This Boy

H I M

Panphilos

He is my obnoxious ass lil dork of a son and I love him so much

He was the first ever oc I came up with years back, and will always hold a special place in my heart because of that.

To this day though he still doesn't really have a set-in-stone story that he fits into. When I was little and first came up with him, his story was that he lived in an alternate dimension of earth, hidden on the other side of mirrors. Then his story turned into him being a wizard living in a harry-potter-esqu dimension full of magic users, with a job to collect magical artifacts with his friends. To just a wizard living as normal of a life as he can in a normal earth without alternate dimensions.

His story now is that he was born and raised in Greece. He lost his parents when he was a baby, too little to remember them, and was adopted and raised by his non-magic father. In his world, the ability to use magic manifests in a person as a defense mechanism, in response to an incredibly traumatic event happening to someone. Panphilos doesn't remember what happened to his parents, but has had his magic for as long as he can remember, which unsettles him a bit when he thinks about it too much. He's a necromancer, but has never once used his powers for anything even remotely "evil," and he absolutely hates when people jump to the conclusion that he must be a "bad wizard" or "evil warlock" for using what many consider to be "dark magic."

When he was a kid he met and became friends with a boy named "Chance" who possessed magic as well. Chance being down on his luck and initially trying to use his illusion-based magic to scam Pan out of some money, but Pan seeing right through the others magic, and holding no hard feelings afterwards. The encounter basically becoming like the meme "You're my friend now. We're having soft tacos later!" And the two being close friends ever since. Even dating briefly at one point, though eventually breaking up and returning to being just friends.

Nowadays he and Chance share an apartment together in the US. They spent their late teens backpacking and traveling around Europe, then backpacking and traveling around the US, and despite having settled down a bit still travel frequently when they can. Chance working as a waiter at a fancy restaurant, and Pan working as a writer/author with a couple published books, as well as being the creator of popular zombie app game called "Pandemic."

I'm thinking about maybe fusing his story into the universe of one of my other main character ocs.

He is chaos incarnate. He is a goofy ass obnoxious lil dork. And he will say or do most any random thing that pops into his head if it amuses him. He has made multiple videos pranking his friends or dragging his friends into incredibly silly situations.

Fucker has been kicked out of multiple walmarts for various reasons.

He most likely has had several signs put up as a result of him like this-

He is 22 years old, Asexual and Panromantic, and trans

He can't actually bring people back from the dead 100%. He can summon skeletons and zombies. But if someone passed on, he couldn't bring THEM back. He could reanimate their corpse, but couldn't bring back the person themself. The way he tries to explain this is; "It's like a combination of like, uh... seashells and robots. Okay that made more sense in my head, lemme explain, um. The things that I can summon with my magic are in a sense like seashells. You find shells on the beach, pick em up and use em for stuff, but the thing that used to live in the shell is long gone. The lil dude, snail clam or whatever used to live there before is long gone, you're just messing with the shell it left behind. And they're like robots in the sense of like, I'm programming them on what they do. They don't have any like, minds or thoughts of their own, and I tell them what to do. If I just summoned one and did no magical programming, gave them nothing to do, then whatever I'd summoned would just stand there until they fade back away. The part of them that was able to think and make decisions, the part of them that was who they were before is long gone, and I don't know if I even could bring that part back, but I sure as fuck never wanna try to. I'm just taking an empty shell and programming it to do something for a few moments."

#oc #origianl character #Panphilos #original story #headcannons #backstory #necromancer #dakscribbles

47 notes · View notes

truglori · 3 years

Text

Homebody (Ch.5)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language, Robbery, Smoking

The smoke from the three burnt out blunts fogged the car. Erik’s head hung low as he tried to focus on the topic of discussion. Looking to his right he watched as Durk sparked a lighter to light up the fourth one and started a new rotation. Taking it from his hand Erik put the blunt to his lips and pulled. He had to admit that he was feeling high but yet nowhere near done with the session.

It was a Monday morning. Almost ten am to be exact. They were parked in Erik’s car in front of Frank’s Auto Garage. To a normal person it look like a regular place of business but it wasn’t. Durk used the shop to clean his money so he wouldn’t have anything tracing back to him. Erik glanced up and watched two corner boys walk out with a backpack each before getting into their vehicle and driving off.

“Aye man I appreciate you for coming through with this assignment. Once I get this nigga Shawn out the way I could finally do some business with the new connect.” Durk spoke before inhaling the blunt.

Nodding his head Erik slouched in his seat.

“I told you it’s nothing. Just don’t forget I’ma need one person to come with me. Someone who can watch my back.”

After going into almost two years without doing a job Erik felt a little rusty. He wanted to be certain that he could bring someone with him who could look out. Someone who he could trust that had to be skilled enough to keep up. The last thing Erik wanted was for this to go wrong and he end up in prison or even worst, dead.

If it was any other person coming to him to offer him work Erik would decline them with a quickness. This wasn’t something that he wanted to be a part of anymore. He had aspirations to become a better man. And with that, that means he had to give up the lifestyle to live a better one. But it was Durk. The man who had the opportunity to gun him down right in front of the trap house when they first met five years ago spared him. Gave him a second chance.

Erik witness Durk do way worst to people who didn’t do nearly as half as much compared to what Erik was going to commit that night. So he felt in a way obligated to come through for his best friend. There was no other option. He owe him his life.

“No doubt. Actually I got this one associate that’s in debt with me. Told him I could use his help whenever I needed him to pay me off. Heard he a shooter that don’t miss. Anybody who have your back I think it’ll be him.” Durk grinned confidently.

Erik nodded his head absorbing the information. Trusting his brother with whatever choice he went with he continue to ask him where the drop would be.

“Okay so what about this nigga Shawn. You got an address.”

Durk pulled out his burner. Going to a text message he clicked on it and passed the phone over to Erik.

He read over it. 4523 Lanely Rd. Pulling up his notes icon Erik typed in the address and saved the information. He gave the burner back to Durk. Realizing the area that it was in Erik shook his head. Nice suburban area where it was mostly Caucasian which amount to one thing. Nosy ass neighbors. It was a risk but he would just have to deal with it.

Hearing Durk sighed he studied him. His hands was rested over his eyes as he was leaned back in the chair. His boy looked stressed.

“You good?” A genuine tone came out.

“I think my sister fucking around with someone but I just don’t know who yet.”

Erik’s eyebrows lifted up. Glancing up to the ceiling as he listened carefully.

“I just really hope it’s not one of these fuck niggas. I might need yo ass for another job after this. We could rob this nigga together.”

The two chuckled.

‘Damn I can’t rob myself.’

Erik thought to himself before engaging back in the conversation.

“What makes you think she fucking with someone?” Erik curiously wanted to know. It would give him an advantage on what he should not be doing.

“Well the other night I walk in the livingroom and there she was sitting there with her titties all out, make up done like she was getting ready for a dick appointment or sum shit.” Durk replied in a stressful tone.

Daydreaming at the ceiling, Erik’s memory jogged back to her outfit from that night. He could still see the way her cleavage appeared in front of him as she sat across from him in the diner. The soft flesh looking at him. He had to control himself multiple times that night from staring at them so much. But he couldn’t with the way they would bounce a little every time she laughed.

Speaking of her smile. Erik adored that about her the most. He love how her lips curled up showing off those pretty white teeth. The way her lipgloss color made her lips appear more fuller than what they already were. The same lips that drove him crazy from the softness. If he could sit in the booth kissing her all night he would have. That was enough to satisfy him. Erik sucked in his bottom lip as if he could still feel hers on his. She just had to let him get a taste.

‘Why she let me do that?’

Erik berated himself with that question as he shook his head about his lack of self control. He felt guilty. He was the nigga who his best friend was worried about hurting his sister. Right now he was feeling like a pussy. It was like he didn’t have the balls to speak up and tell him the truth. He was feeling Amiyah.

“Why you don’t like her dating anyway? I get you trying to protect her but I mean she is 21, you can’t stop her from living bro.” Erik wanted to sound reasonable but without suspicion.

“I know she got a life to live but the fact that mine is tied up with hers don’t help.”

“What you mean?”

Durk paused glancing at his phone. “ I mean besides you I can’t trust none of these niggas man. What if whoever she talk to know that she my little sister? No telling what they’ll do to her just to get to me.”

Erik listened understanding his perspective.

“I done did some foul shit out here that I’m not proud of, you know this. This why I am what I am because if I don’t get them first then I know for damn sure they’ll try to get me. I’m just worry about Amiyah getting caught in between.”

To Erik it seem like Durk just wanted was best for his sister. To him family came first. It was important to him. He valued it and would do anything to protect the ones he love. Erik comprehend this.

“You worried she won’t be able to know who and who not to trust?”

“Every-fucking-day. That’s why I don’t want her going anywhere besides home and work. I just want the best for her.”

“You should that’s your sister. Just trust her. She not gon let you down.”

Durk looked at Erik, who gave him a sincere look. If there was anybody else he could trust with his life aside from Amiyah it was his friend. His brother. Erik.

____________________________

Amiyah leaned against the register as she wrote down her completed work assignment. Blowing the air out of her mouth she let the pen fall from her fingers and on to the counter. She was exhausted and ready to clock out and lay in her bed. Her mind began to wonder about the events that transpired over the weekend.

The last time she spoke to Erik was after he dropped her off. He sent a text asking if she made it in safely and that was it. Nothing else since then. His on and off again of inconsistency irritated her. She wanted him to be all about her just as much as she was for him. Of course under the circumstances they had to be cautious but he didn’t have to go another two days without hitting her up.

Checking the time on her Apple Watch she had an hour left before she was up and out of the boutique. She started cleaning certain areas and rehanging the merchandise back onto the racks to make time go by faster. Hearing the sound of the bell ring brought her back to reality.

“Welcome to Bella Ella’s.” She greeted them without looking up and only focusing on her task out of habit.

“Thank you. Hey girl!”

Peering in the direction of the voice she saw Alexis. She was going through the dress section. Amiyah sighed inwardly before walking over to her.

“Hi welcome back. Can I help you look for anything?” She faked a smile.

“Yes actually, I’m looking for something the same as last time just not too revealing this time. I want to tease him. You know?” Alexis sent her a smirk as she walked in front of one of the mannequins observing the clothes.

Hesitant but curious Amiyah asked her. “For another date?”

“Uh you can say something like that. It’s a surprise.” Alexis eyed her up and down.

“Well we have this ruched bodycon dress. It’s an off the shoulder long sleeve lace type of look. I think it’ll fit you. Check it out.” She handed her the dress.

Alexis put the dress up to her frame. Looking in the mirror she smiled at the choice of clothing. Shaking her head she grinned pointing her finger at Amiyah.

“See girl you get me. It’s crazy. Almost like we like the exact same thing.”

“You can say that again.” Amiyah whispered under her breath.

“Huh?”

“Oh I was just talking to myself. If you’re ready I can ring you out.”

They walked to the counter. Amiyah logged in and scanned the dress. Folding it up and putting it a bag she heard Alexis speak.

“Girl how do you do it?”

“Do what?” Amiyah answered confused.

“Work a nine to five. I mean don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just that I personally wouldn’t do it.” She smiled.

“ I like working honestly. I get to meet new people. I have fun here sometimes. This is where I met my best friend and I get to get away from home.” Amiyah shrugged her shoulders as she spoke truthfully.

Alexis nodded slowly. “Right. So are you seeing anyone? Anybody caught your attention?”

Laughing lightly Amiyah shook her head. “No. I met this one guy and gave him my number but nothing popped off yet.” She was talking about Cane.

“Hm if that don’t work out you should let me hook you up. I know a few niggas that’ll blow ya back out and then pay ya bills after.” Alexis grabbed her bag and started to walk away.

Before she could stop herself the question came out faster than she expected. “Is that what you do?”

She stopped midway before turning back around. Her face was contorted. Sizing Amiyah up as she stepped in front of the counter.

“Bitch I do whatever the fuck I have to do to get what I want. Even if it mean that I have to fuck around here and there. It keeps my bills paid and my nails from getting dirty. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two.” She gave her one last look before she strutted out the shop.

Amiyah rolled her eyes. Taking a ‘How to get a man’ class from Alexis was the last thing on her list. Girls like her and Amiyah don’t mix too well. She just couldn’t understand how you could trade in time spent on a fake relationship just to get what you want with true happiness.

Her shift was finally coming to an end. Amiyah sent her brother a text fifteen minutes early just so he would be on time to pick her up. Looking towards the entrance her coworker Kacy was coming in to relieve her.

“Hey Kace, it was pretty much a slow day so there’s not any go-backs that you have to do. I would just try to act like you’re cleaning up. Look busy because you know Rhonda be watching the cameras.”

They both laughed.

“I know. She think she slick but go ahead and get out of here. Enjoy the rest of the day. See ya Amiyah.”

Waving goodbye Amiyah exited the boutique. There she spotted her brother waiting outside in his all blacked out Audi A4. She strolled in his direction and got in.

“Wow it’s been forever since you’ve been here on time.” She teased fastening her seatbelt.

Durk kissed his teeth as he pulled off driving to their home. “How was work?”

“Boring I do the same thing everyday.”

“So quit.” He took a quick glance at her.

She sighed irritated. “I’m not quitting my job Durk.”

“You the one who said it’s boring. Just quit.” He laughed.

Amiyah rolled her eyes. “Why? So you can keep your eyes on me 24/7. You always trying to babysit me, damn.” She snapped at him. The mood changed instantly.

Durkio’s jaw clenched as he turned looking at her with his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Babysit you? Where the fuck you get me trying to babysit you from telling you to quit-“

“I know that’s what your intentions are! Not that you care about me not liking my job but because you just want me to have to depend on you and ask you for everything!” Amiyah’s voice kept getting higher with every word.

“Miyah you already depend on me. That two thousand dollar bed that you sleeping on I brought that. Your whole bedroom set, I brought it. The apartment that you living in comfortablely without worry about having to pay one muthafuckin bill, is because of ME!”

Durkio’s hand gripped the steering wheel tightly as he parked in front of their building. He could feel his breathing began to spike as he felt himself get more agitated and angry. Getting out of the car he headed towards the entrance to avoid going any further with her.

Amiyah jumped out and followed closely behind going inside. The elevator ride going to their floor was quiet and tensed. Amiyah tried her best to not argue with her brother but she had more to get off her chest that she didn’t want to go unheard.

“You know you’re a fuckin control freak.” She slammed her purse and jacket on the couch one they made it threw the door.

Durk paused his steps from going into his room.

“How? Tell me what I do Amiyah.” He walked leaning against the counter with his hand folded over the other waiting for her to talk.

“Durk stop playing dumb. Everything that I do you have to be a part of somehow. Like the time I couldn’t take the job offer from the mall because it was ‘too far’. Or how whenever I want to hangout with Kelley you think I’m going to fuck some man-“

“That’s because you are! I know Saturday night you ain’t go out with no fucking Kelley dress the way you were. I’m not fucking stupid Amiyah.”

Amiyah got in his face. “Why would I go fuck someone and I’m still a virgin Derrick. I’m not dumb. I’m not just sleeping with any and everyone.”

Her eyes burned with tears threatening to fall.

Durk used his forearm to move her out of his space. It triggered him whenever someone would walk up to him with disrespect. He knew he would never put his hands on his sister but he didn’t want to feel the urge like he would so he gave her a light push.

“Miyah back the fuck up.” His jaws were tensed and his nostrils became flared out.

“So you can speak your mind but I can’t? I’m not your girl Durk so stop putting rules and regulations on me like I am. I wish our parents were still here so I wouldn’t have to be in this shit hole of a place you call home.”

Amiyah’s blood was boiling. She spoke without thinking. She let her emotions get to the best of her before she could calm down to try and talk to her brother like the young adults they were. But it was too late. She’d gone too far.

Durk shook his head before releasing a dark chuckle.

“You an ungrateful ass bitch, you know that?” His voice spoke lowly but loud enough for her to hear.

Amiyah looked at him in disbelief as the tears came down her face.

“I had to put my life on hold to take care of you. I put myself at risk everyday just to make sure you’re taken care of. So that you won’t have to go out there doing anything you didn’t want to do just to put food in your mouth and clothes on your back. And this how you show some fuckin appreciation?”

He looked at her confused.

“Durk I do appreciate-“

“Get the fuck out my crib.” His voice spoke coldly.

“What?” She unfolded her arms before she walked towards him.

“You heard what I said. By the time I get back you better be gone. Good luck supporting yourself with that weak ass job.”

With that being the last thing spoken to her he brushed past her shoulder and left. Amiyah waited in the same spot hoping that her brother would come back and just tell her to forget this whole argument. But he didn’t.The tears that she thought she had control of were now cascading down her face nonstop.

“What the fuck did I just do!” She scolded herself as her hands covered her face.

She walked to her room. Pushing her door opened her eyes scouted around the room taking in all of her belongings. Where would she go? What could she take? How much could she take without having a vehicle of her own?

Walking over to her bed she sat in silence. She had to think. She had to find away to get her out of the mess that she put herself in. Picking up her phone she dialed the number of the only person she could run to without judgment.

“Hey, Kelley.”

_______________________________________

Erik rolled up to Frank’s Auto Garage. It was time for him to go on the mission. His attire was all black to make himself easily invisible in the shadows. Getting out and walking to his trunk he popped it opened and lifted his secret compartment befor grabbing a duffel bag.

Closing the trunk behind he locked it using his key fob and walked to the front door. He banged four times doing the code knock before he was invited in. One of Durks look out men opened the door.

“Oh shit, what’s good E. You working tonight?”

Giving a silent head nod of approval Erik dapped him up.

“Ok. Well boss is in management. I don’t know what’s going on but he definitely not in the mood. Tread lightly man.”

Taking note Erik walked to the room where Durk was. When he reached it he saw him sitting at his desk talking to someone that he never seen before. Erik tapped lightly on the door making his presence known.

Durk eyes shifted up. “Erik what’s good? Why you knocking? You my brother, you know you ain’t gotta do that.”

“Didn’t wanna interrupt. What’s good? How you doing?” Erik gave him dap with a hug. When they pulled apart he looked in his eyes trying to find an answer. Durk was hiding something.

“Yeah I’m straight. But I want you to meet the person who gon be going with you tonight.” He replied quickly before walking back to his desk.

The guy that sat there quietly got up from his seat. From Erik’s view he didn’t look too much younger than him. He seen his attire matched his as he seen that the young dude already had some leather gloves and a ski mask rested on his head.

Erik gave him a fist pump. “What’s up, I’m Erik.”

“Cane. Nice to meet you bro.”

Durk watched the two interact before interrupting.

“Alright it’s almost 3am. Just got word that nigga Shawn was at the club,which should be closing now. If y’all make it to the address before him-“

“That’ll give us time to find an area to stakeout and then bum-rush him. Catch him off guard.” Cane spoke.

Durk turned to look at Erik before smirking giving him a ‘I told you’ look.

“Exactly. Listen just make sure y’all get the M and dip.” He was referring to the million dollars stashed away.

“I know how this go. Just make sure this nigga straight before we go out there. You know what you doing lil nigga?” Erik questioned Cane.

He kissed his lips. “Look man this ain’t my first rodeo and if I didn’t know what I was doing I’m sure ya boy wouldn’t be calling me.”

“Whoa nigga you owe me a solid. Don’t act like I need you.” Durk stepped in to check him.

Cane waved the two off.

“Aight I trust ya judgment Durk but if shit hit the ceiling, you bailing me out nigga.”

Durk laughed. “Nigga get fuck and go get my money.”

They dapped one last time and Erik left with Cane trailing behind him. He went up to a shelf that had multiple sets of keys sitting on it. Erik grabbed one before walking to the back. There were five different cars out there. He hit the unlock button on the key fob that led him to a dark burgundy Toyota. It was the getaway car for the night. Erik never used his own when he had to do jobs.

He opened the back door and place the duffel bag in the bag. It had two Beretta M9’s, an Ak-47, as well as a roll of duck tape and rope in case the situation went left. Erik got in the driver side. He heard Cane slipping in the passenger seat as he place the address in. It would take them 37 minutes to get there.

Glancing at the clock it was now 2:24 am which gave them plenty of time to find a place for a hideout. Entering the highway Erik and Cane rode in a comfortable silence. Cane every now and then giving Erik a quick glance over before turning his head.

Some time had past when they noticed that they were arriving in the neighborhood of the house where Shawn stayed. The houses were a few yards away from each other but Erik knew that they would still be able to hear the sound of a gun if one went off.

“If you park on this side that bush will be a blind spot. That nigga won’t be able to see us when he pull up.” Cane pointed to the area.

Erik shook his head in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Pulling into the spot Erik parked the vehicle and shut it off. The light from one of the houses landscape slightly shined in the car to make it possible for them to see each other as they waited.

“So you the infamous Erik I heard about. Ya name got some clout to it with all them licks you did when you was coming up.” Cane broke the silence.

Ignoring his comment Erik reached in the back unzipping the duffel and taking out one of the Berettas. He began to load the clip.

“I never thought I see the day where I would be doing a job with you. Heard you was one hard ass nigga”

Chuckling Erik stopped to face Cane. “What you want an autograph or something. Damn nigga you sound like a fan.”

Cane smacked his lips and then laughed.“Aight you got it. But nah I’m just showing respect to an OG.”

“I don’t look that much older than you.”

“Still one of the OG’s.” Cane showed him respect.

“I appreciate the courtesy. I heard some good things about you as well.” Erik was referring to his previous conversation with Durk.

Cane shrugged. “I do a lil sumn.”

Reaching in the back Erik pulled out the Ak-47 and handed it to him.

“So then you should be able to handle this then.” He was testing him.

“What! This is personally my favorite. This thing could make any nigga dance.”

Erik laughed watching the thrill of excitement in Canes eyes. He reminded him of himself when he was first getting started. Ready and down for everything.

The headlights of a Cadillac SUV caught their attention. It was Shawn pulling up. They watched as he hopped out the driver side.

“Heard this nigga keep one on him. You think he gon try and pull it.” Cane took the safety off of the AK. He was talking about his piece.

“I don’t give a fuck what that nigga got. He better not flinch.” Erik pulled the mask over his face. He watched Shawn walk to his passenger side and opened the door.

“Oh shit! This nigga got a bitch with him.” Cane blurted out.

“Plans don’t change. It is what it is.” Erik spoke truthfully. He had to get the job done.

Cane nodded his head and pulled his mask down. They watch Shawn walk to the front door with the girl following close by. Three minutes later the couple went inside the house.

Erik and Cane exited the vehicle making their way onto the front lawn. Staying away from the security lights they crept on the side. There was a side door that they found that lead right into the kitchen. Peaking through the crack of the blinds Erik spotted the two in livingroom sitting on the couch facing the opposite way.

“Let me pick this lock.” Cane bent down to eye level with it. It took him nothing but a minute to get it open.

Quietly Erik turned the knob and entered. Both him and Cane slowly tipped toe to the livingroom putting a gun to both of their heads. Erik had Shawn and Cane had the girl.

“If you want you and your girl to make it to see another day I suggest you to comply with my instructions and not try anything stupid.” Erik threatened as he cocked the gun.

Shawn froze in his seat as the girl next to him started to scream. Cane hopped over the couch and snatched her up by the arm.

“Bitch shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in yo head. You know what get against the wall and stare at that muthafucka.” He pushed her towards the wall.

“Y’all niggas know who I am?” Shawn finally spoke up.

“Yeah nigga. Why else you think we here? We just want the money. It’s simple.” Erik negotiated with him. He pulled him off the couch by his shirt.

“I don’t know what you talkin-“ He was interrupted by Cane hitting him in the mouth with the butt of his gun.

“Nigga quit fuckin playing with us. Run that shit.”

Erik shook his head but smirked. This was one reckless ass dude and he liked it.

The girl screamed again. Erik could hear the terror in her voice. It sounded like she was going to cry.

“You got five minutes to give us that money or you and ya bitch die. Which one is it? Yo life or some dead presidents”

Cane started to run the show and Erik let him as he sat back and watched.

“Aight nigga. It’s in the fucking safe.” Shawn spit the blood out of his mouth.

“Lead the way then bitch.” Cane pushed him and followed him to the back.

Erik was left alone with the girl who was facing the wall. From behind she had a bad ass body. Gazing over her wardrobe she was Burberry down and her fire red locks fell down her back. He kept glancing back and forth between the dark hallway and her back before Erik finally heard a few words slip out of her lips.

“Please don’t hurt me.” She pleaded.

The moment her voice reached his ears his face scrunched up. Walking up to her he turned her around to face him. Backing up he put his gun down shaking his head with disbelief.

The bitch that Shawn had with him was Alexis.

____________________________

Please excuse any mistakes! I will edit this chapter soon!

Tag-list (If you’re not on it let me know and I’ll add you if you want to be added)

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @mymeira12universe-blog @bellanay

#black panther #erik smut #erik killmonger #erik x plus size reader #killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens #killmonger x reader #truglori #black panther killmonger #homebody

187 notes · View notes

yuzukult · 3 years

Text

effortlessly pt. 9 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader words: 5.0k genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut some chapters notes: this is more of a self-realization chapter, less of the romance :) oc development & one more chapter left before an epilogue!!!! thank you all for your support and patience, i know i took a while with this one, mostly because i really wanted to take a break and write something else. :)

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue

Yura’s cheeks are stuffed with the pastries from the bakery that was recommended by one of Jungkook’s teammates, something you’ve been meaning to take her to lately but with your mind flooded with thoughts on your future, there hasn’t been much time to dedicate to her.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” She’s eyeing you quizzically, uncomfortable with your distraught gaze. “You seem like you have something to say, so spit it.”

“I’m sorry,” You blurt with an agonizing frown. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“Why do you say that?”

Pushing the plate of baked goods away from you, your body slouches in the seat. The aroma of the flakey croissant beside the in-house made strawberry jam wasn’t appealing anymore and your previous conceptions stole away your appetite. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to be a cook.”

She rolls her eyes with a soft smile, shoving the plate back toward you. “Eat, loser.”

“Oh, come on. Stop acting like you’re not mad at me. I had no idea you were even going through anything—”

“Idiot, I’m not going through anything. I’m also not trying to be a cook. I’m trying to be a chef.” She corrects you, tearing off a piece of the croissant and bringing it to your lips. “Now take a bite of this, it’s crazy good.”

Abiding by her instruction, you open your mouth for her to feed you, chewing the soft pastry as it melts effortlessly on your tongue. “Good, right?” You nod in agreement. “I can’t help but think that I could’ve been there for you when you needed me the most. You were going through something, you were just as lost as I am.”

“Well, don’t feel bad. I kind of knew for a while, but I wasn’t sure. Sometimes we have to go through things alone to learn more about ourselves. Then Jungkook asked if I could help him with your little date, so I offered to do a picnic basket. It was for practice, and he seemed to be okay with it. How was the omelette?”

“Amazing. Which is why I was upset that I wasn’t a good enough friend to know that you cook so well.”

“Oh, please. Stop exaggerating... but really though. Was it that good?” Her eyes lit up at the compliment, emitting a chuckle from you. “It was, Yura. I’m seriously so proud of you. I wish I knew about your talents sooner.”

Yura’s kind and patient, the qualities in a friend that everyone searches for. She has developed into a person who you found yourself depending on, someone who you wanted to stay around to share both good and bad times. Knowing that you weren’t there when she potentially needed you only made you disappointed in yourself. It was your turn to return the actions she provided for you; it was your turn to be a good friend.

She’s rolling her eyes again, a smile appearing upon her lips. “I told you, this is nothing. I’m still learning things about myself, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out on anything.” You don’t believe her, but you take her words nonetheless, because you promise yourself and to her that from this day on, you’d try harder to be a better friend to her.

Walking out the café, a backpack slung over your shoulder, you glance at Yura who zips up her hoodie, snuggling in closer to the fabric to regain warmth as the night approaches along with the cool wind that blows in your direction. “Are you going to take the apprenticeship?”

“How’d you even hear about that?” You’re surprised she knows this; there hadn’t been much exchange between the two of you since the last time you hung out. Yura scoffs, shaking her head as she fixes the straps of her backpack, strolling down the street beside you. “I’m your best friend, of course I know about it.”

“Jungkook? Hoseok? Which one was it that spilled?”

“Jungkook,” She confirms, a playfully innocent grin glued to her face. “But that’s besides the point. You got an offer of a lifetime, what does that mean for you?” There's not much of a reaction from you, other than a slight shrug that you give her. It seemed great— getting an apprenticeship for a position that isn't for just anyone, but for you specifically. This was an endeavor that you never imagined yourself encountering. Goals and aspirations were a list to some people, especially Jungkook, but for you, that list hadn't been anything more than a title. So what did it mean to you, this opportunity that presented itself? "I don't know," You respond honestly, uncertain of what next steps to take. "I kind of am going through a dilemma." Yura raises a brow questioningly at you. "What is it?" You chew your bottom lip for a moment, trying to gather all your thoughts in a place before taking a deep breath of courage before exposing yourself to your friend. "Is it weird that I've been with Jungkook all my life, and now my so-called aspiration is on the same route of his?"

"Nobody is calling it that." "But if he's on the path of being a professional— what does it mean for me? Am I just a follower? Oh, Jungkook wants to be a professional swimmer, and now his girlfriend wants to do the same thing. How stupid does that sound?"

She shakes her head in disagreement, walking side by side with you along on the sidewalk, the sun slowly beginning to set whilst the wind makes its appearance again, sending chills down your spine. “Why does everything have to be about Jungkook? Why can’t it be about you for once? When you think of swimming, you think of Jungkook immediately, but why can’t you consider it being something you’re interested in?”

“Because Yura, I don’t know!” You exclaim, stopping in your tracks. It was hard, dreadfully hard making a decision that you weren’t sure of. You’re only in your teens, you think to yourself, at such a young age with the responsibility of making choices that may determine where your route is headed for the rest of your life. In all honesty, you want to cry; force yourself to shed all the tears even if you have to because the amount of pressure sitting on top of your shoulders was wearing you down.

You’re immensely grateful for the opportunity that just happened to land at your feet, but with a chance to do something big, you can’t help but feel that guilt eating you inside, wondering if this was truly what you wanted to do, and what if it wasn’t? Did it mean you took away the possibility of an experience from someone who yearned for it more than you did?

Yura ceases her steps, eyes meeting yours that were pools of pity. “It’s okay to not know. But you’re running out of time and have to pick what you want to do soon.”

“But Jungkook really wants me to do it.”

“Why do you care about what Jungkook thinks?”

Because Jungkook is the only person in my life whose opinions that I actually care about, is what you want to say to her, but it goes against all of the rules you’ve given yourself. You want to be independent, you want to be selfish in these moments that allowed you to, but at the end of the day, pleasing other people was a flaw you had never been able to grow out of.

“I don’t,” You lie, fiddling with the straps of your bag in between your nimble fingers. “I don’t care about what he thinks.”

She’s flabbergasted. “You absolutely do care. You care about what he thinks, and you’re afraid of disappointing him.” Yura says your name lovingly, in a tone that brings chills down your spine because she’s serious this time, a rarity in its form. “Please stop caring about what others think of you and make this decision on your own. There’s a chance that Jungkook won’t be with you at the end of this road, and you have to be prepared for it.”

“But it’s so freaking hard, Yura,” You finally admit, bending down to sit at the curb on the street. “I spent almost my entire life with Jungkook. My parents never approved of anything and weren’t ever happy with anything I did; he’s the one person who has supported anything I did and all I worry about is if he’s going to turn away like they did.”

“Did you just forget my existence again?” Yura interjects, sitting down beside you, giving you a slight nudge. “Listen, whether or not Jungkook decides to be by your side for this entire thing, I’m still here, right? It’s true, I can’t swoon you nor can I give you kisses because well, no offense, you’re not exactly my type—“ you snort, “—but I can be the friend portion here. You got me, you don’t need some boy you love, you have a friend.”

How crazy is it that you’re living in a fanfic trope? Your best friend from childhood is your neighbor, your first kiss, first time, first kiss... the list goes on.

So when you’re walking in the direction of where he stands in the parking lot of your high school, Jungkook’s car parked alongside his other teammates, while he leans against the hood of his car with the guys crowding around him. He looks like every other main character of a romantic film; hair slicked back, changed out of his uniform and swim clothes, now in a t-shirt that’s tight around his frame paired with light washed denim pants with tears and rips that hugs his thighs so deliciously. The laugh that escapes his lips is melodic, melting your heart seeing how happy he looks just by being with his friends.

You’re going to miss the hell out of this if he’s disappointed in your decision.

Approaching the group, the guys holler at the sight of you. “Hey! You’re finally here! Jungkook refuses to leave without you, so we’ve been waiting around until you came.”

“Were you?” You ask, eyes meeting your boyfriend. “Are you waiting for something in particular?”

Jungkook glances at the guys before back at you nervously, palms getting sweaty. “Uh... how do you feel about coming with us tonight?”

“Where to?”

Hoseok snorts from behind, almost bursting into laughter at how anxious Jungkook is around you. It’s cute, really, because despite officially together, he still acts as though he’s pining over his crush on you. “Oh, come on, it’s not hard to ask, just ask her!” Jimin adds into the push by actually pushing him.

Jungkook stumbles closer to you, slightly breathless. “So... there’s this party tonight...”

You giggle— mostly because he seems as smitten with you as you are with him. “Jeon, are you trying to ask me to be your date to a party or something? Why are you jittery?”

He is. And he can’t help but feel like his heart quickens whenever he sees you in a skirt and your hair down, first few buttons of your uniform unfastened and blazer hanging off your arm. Even in makeup that’s been on for 8 hours straight, he thinks you’re pretty. “Yeah,” his response is airy, “I’m hoping we could set aside a sleepover and head over to Hoseok’s place tonight to blow off some steam. How’s that sound?” Chuckling at his lack of confidence in the question, you nod in agreement. “Okay, that sounds great. When are we heading out?”

Getting ready for the party proves to be one of the most nerve-wreaking things you’ve done in a while, including that apprenticeship offer.

“Why why why are these jeans so tight?”

“This dress shows my belly rolls.”

You’re patting the fabric that’s wrinkled around your stomach region as you sigh when you see the sideview of your body in the mirror. “I should workout. Does Jungkook find this attractive?”

“And this skirt is too short. It shows my freaking underwear.” Bending over in the mirror to see yourself from behind, you grumble at the sight.

“Wait— turn over here, I want to see.”

“Holy—“ Flinching in the direction of the voice, you place a hand on your chest to ease your breathing; Jungkook sitting at his window sill, hair let loose, fresh from a wash, still dressed in his sweats. “You look cute in that. Twirl for me. Oh, and bend over too.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not going to bend over for you, Jeon.” He frowns. “Why not? I want to see what color your panties are.” Just when you’re ready to drop the blinds on him, he has his hand out. “Wait wait wait, don’t close it. Wear those jeans you wore the other day. And that black t-shirt. I think you look pretty even in casual clothes.”

While searching in your closet for said outfit, he stays seated by the window, resting his chin on his arm. “So... can we talk about break?”

“Uh, sure,” You respond, only half paying attention as you’re shuffling through the tremendous amount of clothes you have, the space between your brows crinkling in focus. “What about it?”

“So... the team and I had these plans to go on a lake trip...”

“Okay...?”

“And it’s an all guys trip.” He finishes, finally getting to the point. “I know we talked about the possibility of spending break together—“

“You should go, Bub.” You interrupt, eyes soon lighting up when you find the shirt, then meeting with his gaze. “I think it’ll be good for you. We’re not going to be in high school forever and you guys might separate when you get to college.”

Jungkook thinks he hit the jackpot with you. From your understanding nature, to your independence, support... all the qualities you had were stacked up on the pros pile for him. “You’ll be okay? Without me?”

He asks this question and it stings a bit. You know he doesn’t mean it in that way but you can’t help but think about it in that direction. There had been a lot of dependency on Jungkook throughout your friendship; hardship, accomplishments, direction of your dreams— he’d be there for all, guiding you and lifting you up. But did he think that you wouldn’t be able to be without him?

“I’ll be fine,” You reply, attempting to hide the disappointment in your voice. Head peeking out the window, you grin mischievously. “Well, I’m going to get ready now... so...” Quickly backing away, you shut the blinds immediately, and Jungkook groans. “I wanted to see a show!”

Arriving at the party with Jungkook by your side is more than an accessory— he’s the main point of an outfit. You learn that he wanted you to wear that t-shirt just because he wanted to match with you, knowing that you’d oppose it but would be too lazy to even change afterwards.

“You guys came!” Hoseok cries, weaving his way through the crowd of people while having to raise his voice for you to hear. He has a solo cup in hand, liquid sloshing around as people push and shove around him. “Go to the kitchen! Grab a drink!”

To two of you do, eventually Jungkook being pulled away by friends, chatting up a storm with his face slowly growing crimson from his asian flush. Deciding that it was a night to enjoy yourself, you play around with the ingredients from his fridge, cooking yourself up a mojito.

“Are you making a mojito? Can I join and make myself one too?”

“Sure,” You grin, looking up at the stranger. “Help yourself.”

This girl is absolutely gorgeous. Hair jet black and straight, stretching to her lower back with skin milky smooth and makeup done effortlessly naturally, with a body so slim and appealing in her body-con dress, a sight for sore eyes, you’re suddenly boiling inside because you’re wishing it was you. You learn her name is Somin, a University student who attended your high school last year, friends with the swim team but you never met her before.

“So, what brings you here?” She asks, searching through the drawers for a knife. “You don’t seem like the type to go to parties.”

Rinsing a couple limes under the faucet beside her, you nod. “Yeah, I’m not. Got dragged here so I guess I’m left with no choice. What about you? Trying to get away tonight?”

She laughs, so feminine and light. “Actually, trying to get closer. There’s a guy I’ve had my eyes on for the longest time. His mom and mine used to be friends so I saw me occasionally. I mentioned that I was in love with him and he freaked and left. But! I heard from Hoseok that he was coming tonight, so I’m hoping I get to see him.”

“Ah,” You respond, mouth open while taking the knife from her hands, slicing the lime into pieces. “Well, I wish you luck. I know how that feels.”

“Wait!” She exclaims, nudging you as you wince, startled and almost cutting yourself by her sudden action. “He’s coming!” Looking from the cutting board laying on the island counter, your eyes trail up to see the familiar figure walking toward the two of you as Somin waves eagerly. “Jungkook!”

She’s in love with Jungkook? When the hell did she know him?

“Oh, Somin!” He greets, smile so wide from the amount of alcohol in him. “I didn’t know you were here. I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” Well, how awkward. Somin turns to look at you, mouth agape, shunned. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah!” He’s almost yelling in your ear now, rounding the counter to pull you close with a hand on your waist. “The love of my life. Isn’t she so cute?” Your lips tug into a painful smile, apologetic toward Somin. How is it that every female you encounter just so happens to be so in love with Jeon Jungkook?

You can’t even blame them, in all honestly. He’s handsome, generous, has a car and can drive, a freaking athlete, and he can sing. This guy was the entire package and he hasn’t even graduated high school yet. Forget high school girls chasing after him, Jungkook already had college girls swooning and it’s left you wondering what it’d be like once the two of you head to University.

That night home, you drive. Deciding to spend the night taking care of him since he seemed totally wasted, you’re on route to his house while pondering deeply about the events of the night.

“What’s going on in your head, bubba?” Despite the amount of slurs that slip from his mouth that night, he’s oddly stable.

“Bubba?” You laugh at the new nickname. “Uh, just some stuff.”

“Be honest?” He asks, looking over at you with glassy eyes as his head is laid back against the seat. “I wanna hear what you’re thinking about. I like hearing you talk.”

Licking your lips, you’re having an inner debate on whether or not to let Jungkook in on your thoughts. Succumbing to his request, you sigh because communication is important in a relationship. On the bright side, he might forget about this conversation tomorrow anyways.

“The girl earlier tonight? Somin? She told me she was in love with you.”

“Huh?” He seems just as surprised at this new information. “That’s crazy. We used to hang out during Sundays when my mom would force me to go to church. Then I got old enough to decide if I wanted to go or not.”

You hum, stopping the car at the red light. “Well, it had me thinking. We’re going off to college soon. What does that mean for us? You’d have girls dropping at your feet, completely smitten with you. What if I end up at another college?”

“We’ll figure it out then. But I know how much I’m in love with you, whatever you do and wherever you go. I’ll be sad if I can’t follow you or you follow me to college, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Although he’s slow when he speaks, he finishes off what’s on his own mind before drifting off into slumber before you could even chime in a response.

A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts.

It takes a lot of soul searching.

You’ve spent a week away from everyone— Yura, your family, everyone, even Jungkook. He thinks he did something wrong but you assure him that he hasn’t, rather that you needed some time for yourself. Coincidentally enough, that week was break; Jungkook and his teammates had a vacation planned and Yura picked up a part-time job at a bakery anyway.

Maybe it’s the breeze from the salty sea, the humidity sticking to your skin or the taste of the strawberry ice cream that hits your tongue, but the air feels lighter here. Inhaling in the fresh aroma the beach brings, it brings you back to when you came here last time with Jungkook and he professes his love. It brings a smile that tugs on the edges of your lips, a memory that you would never forget, your first love reciprocating his feelings for you.

“Oh, did you drop this?”

Quickly turning, you realize that what was in the hands of the person in front of you is your wallet—how irresponsible do you have to be that you dropped your wallet and didn’t even notice? “Oh my gosh, fuck, it’s my wallet!” You call out, grabbing it from their grasp before meeting eyes with them. “Thank you, I wouldn’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t find it!”

The person waves you off, a grin drawn across the face of a male, cheeks so supple and milky smooth. “Think nothing of it. Be careful though, there’s a lot of pickpocketers around here.”

You nod in agreement, lips pressed in a straight line, slightly disappointed in yourself. It’s like he reads your mind because he then says, “It’s okay though. It happens to the best of us.”

“Can I at least get you something for not robbing me? And my fate being that you so happen to not be a pickpocketer?”

The guy laughs; something about the warmness he radiates makes you trust him, fraternizing with this stranger with qualities of a sweet friend. Something about Junmyeon makes you fearless, trusting him enough to propose the idea of treating him out to anything for being a good samaritan.

You learn that his name was Junmyeon, and he’s way older than you in comparison, but he has a lot of words of wisdom to share. After a lot of convincing, Junmyeon takes your offer for a cup of coffee—iced please, he begs, and in exchange, he in addition, tells you about his life like a middle-aged man.

He’s only 29.

“You’ve got a couple years ahead of me,” You begin, and it only sparks Junmyeon to raise a brow at you questioningly. “I’m stuck in a dilemma. How did you know what you wanted to do in life?”

Junmyeon chortles, mostly because he finds it interesting that you seem to think he has his shit together. The both of you had decided to take your cool drinks out on one of the benches on the boardwalk that faces the water. “You realize that I’m just twenty-nine right, not ninety-two?” You blink in confusion at his light-hearted joke, watching the sunset behind him. He continues on, “It means that I’m not that old, kiddo. I’m a bit older than you. And despite what you think, I don’t have my shit together.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“Well,” He starts, imitating your own words against you, “for one, I graduated college at the age of twenty-three. With a degree I didn’t end up using, by the way, and decided that the best thing for me at the time was to follow this girl that I was head over heels with. That being said, it didn’t end very well. Fast forward to today, I’m back in school trying to get my PhD... in a completely different field than what you’d expect.” Reminiscing back to his past mistakes, he shakes his head in disbelief. “There are just things you should be selfish about, and it took me a while to finally get that.”

“How did you decide on those things? And how do I decide what I want to do?”

“Well, for one, if you’re really hesitant about it, you probably don’t want it.”

And that’s when it hits.

A day at the beach alone, meeting a stranger who finds your wallet and gifts you words of advice was more of a helpful trip than expected.

“You... got really tan?”

“You can be honest. I know I’m more red than tan.” You stifle a laugh, watching from his bed as Jungkook enters his room with his bags, waddling around to unpack his belongings from his trip. He’s in so much pain, and not to mention crimson red like he’s Santa’s suit, mostly from forgetting to put on sunscreen despite the many exchanged texts reminding him to remember to put on SPF. Turns out the entire team was burnt as well.

Browsing through a magazine that you found on his bedside table, you smile at the sight of your boyfriend wincing while sitting on the carpeted floor, attempting to unzip his duffle bag. “I didn’t know you were still shy seeing me. You’re all red and blushy.” You joke, leaning over to tap his nose, only for him to groan in agony. “Baby, I love seeing you, but I’m resenting asking you to come over.”

You gasp in feign surprise with a hand on your chest in exaggeration. “Jeon Jungkook, you couldn’t possibly mean that, could you?”

He throws a dirty t-shirt at you in hopes it lands on your face, and lucky for him, it shoots his target.. “Bullseye,” He says, content with his shot. “I worked out in that, just so you know.” Grimacing and tossing it back at him, he lets out a chuckle at your disgust. “That was horrible. It reeks.”

“Speaking of horrible, I couldn’t believe we didn’t spend the break together. I know it sucked without me. How was your week away?”

You roll your eyes, opening a drawer to drop the magazine back into it. “You’re the one who made plans, lover boy, with your group of other boys. But it was great, I think I learned a lot of things about myself.”

“That’s a step in the right direction. What’d you do in that time?”

Where to even start? Do you tell him about Junmyeon? What about the weather down the shore—humid and sticky, just how Jungkook likes it— or maybe that funnel cake you got to try that was so sweet and melted on the tip of your tongue? Or would that defeat the purpose and he’d be sad he missed out on that?

“I met someone,” is the words you manage to formulate out of your mouth, and the expression on his face is distorted in shock. “Oh— wait, not like that, I just met someone at the beach and they became a friend.”

“Scare a guy to the point of breaking his heart, why don’t you?” He’s stopped to listen to you in the midst of packing, attention fully yours. “So, what about this friend?”

Leaning against the bed frame, you take a moment to let your mind sink into your thoughts. There’s a lot to unpack, more than what’s in Jungkook’s duffle bag that’s similar to a clown car, but you want to do this right. “He gave me some life advice. He’s a bit older and gave me some guidance that could help me on what next steps I should be taking.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to make a decision?”

You chew on your bottom lip. In the end, you know that whatever you choose is solely based on your happiness but you can’t help but worry about what Jungkook thinks. “I think I am. What do you think I should do?” Maybe you should test the waters first.

He wrinkles his brows in perplexity. “What do you mean?”

You shrug at this question. “What do you think I should choose?”

Jungkook stops pulling things from his bag, eyes locking with yours and you feel your chest tighten at the serious shift in the atmosphere. “You’re not really asking me this, are you?” Now you’re the confused one. “What?”

“I don’t care what you choose. I mean, I care, but I don’t care as in I won’t be upset if you rather do one thing over the other. Is this what’s bothering you? Do you feel guilty about all of this? I told you, I’m always here for you, even when I’m trying to drill that into your head it seems like you don’t get it.”

“So...”

“So if you said that you didn’t want the apprenticeship, I wouldn’t be opposed to you going another route. Vice versa, same result. We’ve been together our entire lives, it would take a lot for me to actually upset with you. I just need you to be honest.”

Your heart swells. If anything, that’s all you really wanted— his support.

Sitting in the seat that you presumed that Jungkook had sat in when he’d gotten his offer, you feel slightly uneasy finding yourself in this situation. The room is filled with cases of books, most that you’ve never heard or seen before; the unfamiliarity churning a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. There’s even a fireplace in this office, a portrait of what seems to be one of the founders of the university that hangs over it, and a fuzzy... bear rug that lays in front of it.

The recruiter closes the door behind her, striding to her desk before settling down in her large swivel chair that only seems to make her look even more powerful than she was already.

“So,” She begins, straightening the pile of papers on her desk. “You’re here to talk about the offer?”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #gyukultfics #highschool!au #bts high school au #f2l #jeon jungkook

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

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37 and 66 from I love you things with Ollie and Jess?

A/N: Hi Nonny! Thank you so much for this prompt. I’m so sorry it took me a while to write, but I hope it was worth the wait. I went back and forth while writing this between making it a reader-insert and using Jess as an actual OC and finally settled on the latter, because it just felt right. (Which is probably how I will continue to write this pair going forward also.) Word Count: 3493 Rating: G - mostly fluff - heights (and fear of influencing how it’s written), a little swearing, referenced/implied panic attack

Jess closed the shop at 6pm on the dot, giving herself an hour to get ready for...whatever Ollie had planned. There weren’t a lot of places to go out to dinner in the area, and she desperately hoped he wouldn’t start out by inviting her home to meet the infamous Charlie Sway. She chewed nervously on her nail, staring at her closet. She knew she needed something that would work for anything, but her mind continued to run in circles trying to decide exactly what that meant.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given this much thought to what she looked like on someone else’s account. It felt strange to say the least. But, she mused, not a bad kind of strange. Eventually, she settled on a cute cream-colored sweater and jeans, hoping that the evening temperature dropped enough to make them reasonable.

There was a soft knock on the door and she frantically cast one last look over herself in the mirror, smoothing down her shirt and hair, stomach twisting nervously.

She threw open the door perhaps a bit overenthusiastically, a warm expression on her face.

“Hi,” she greeted him, the single syllable all she could get out as she met those soft blue eyes.

Ollie grinned when he saw her, the excited, adoring expression making her heart flutter. It was hard for Jess not to scoff at the cliché, when she was behaving like the protagonists of the romances she sold by the dozen. But at least he was looking at her the same way, and seemed at least momentarily speechless.

“Uh, do you want to come in?” she offered meekly after a moment, gesturing over her shoulder. “Or I can come out, and we can...I mean...um...”

The two of them stood there, staring at each other dumbly for a moment, on either side of the doorway.

“So...where are we going?” she asked after a long pause ripe with awkward tension. She wanted to kick herself. Ollie had been so easy to talk to from the moment he walked into her store, but now, suddenly they were going on a proper date and everything felt different?

“I have a picnic bag in the back of my car, and I thought we could drive somewhere, and then maybe hike a bit?”

“A hike?” she asked nervously. “Like, up into the mountains?”

“Yeah. There’s a point up there that has great views of the entire town and the lake. Nik heard about it from one of the girls at the bar we were flirting with…I mean he was flirting with mostly. It wasn’t...I mean I didn’t...and this was before I met you…”

“Ollie,” she laughed lightly, tilting her head to one side to look at him. “I’m not the blushing, swooning virginal maiden, and I don’t expect you to be either.”

He coughed, face turning crimson and she couldn’t help smiling fondly. Finally, things were feeling a little more normal, this was still the same Ollie she had come to adore.

“You’re also only here for the summer, or however long it takes you to find your Dad’s record. So I hadn’t set my hopes on serious, or exclusive. I just think you’re cute, and fun to be around, so why not enjoy something and see what happens with it?”

“Oh.” His face twisted as he considered her words.

“However, I don’t think a hike is a good idea. It’s going to be dark soon.”

“There’s still almost two hours before sunset, and I brought flashlights so we can get back down the mountain.”

Of course, he had planned ahead. It would be stupid to plan a hiking date and not account for that, and he was far from stupid. And they were both dressed fine for the occasion. Her mind quested desperately for some other reason that they shouldn’t go and came up blank. So instead she held up a finger for him to wait, and went back to collect her camera. If she were going to do this, she might as well get some good photographs out of it, she rationed. Maybe even one she could sell prints of, if she was incredibly lucky. (She already felt insanely so, when such a wonderful boy wanted to go out with her, so why not see how far that streak ran?)

The first part of the hike went surprisingly smoothly, and it didn’t take long before Jess and Ollie were joking and laughing, scrabbling over rocks like young goats, playing eye-spy with the woods, any weirdness melting away in the evening sun. She barely noticed the way their path climbed, and felt completely relaxed.

Gradually, without her noticing, the trail narrowed and became steeper, until it rounded a tight bend up ahead, nothing but air off to her left and solid rock to the right. She swallowed nervously, trying to keep her eyes from the empty space. All of her joviality dropped away like the ground.

“Jess?” Ollie asked, noticing her discomfort as she edged very slowly along. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yeah. Fine. I just...don’t like heights.” She answered, breath and words coming in short bursts.

“Oh. Shit. Um, we can turn back if you want? I didn't realize you--”

“No. No, it's fine. We're here now. I'll make it through. You just might have to hold my hand for the way back down.”

She’d meant it as a joke, a light flirtation to distract her from the many, many feet she could fall with one misstep. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be doing any good, as her mind found a way to focus on both the space and how cheesy the sentence was.

“Do...you want me to now?” he countered, holding one slim hand out.

She flashed him a small smile, taking it with her own and trying not to think too much about how nice, how right it felt. “You’ve been taking lessons with Nikolai haven’t you?”

“What?”

“That was smooth, Oliver,” she teased, enjoying the way he turned red all the way to the tips of his ears.

Eventually, the young couple made it to the overlook, with much gentle guidance from Ollie to keep Jess’s nerves from overwhelming her, and she gasped. The lake stretched out below them, still and silver in the evening light, shining like a mirror. Tiny specks of color, moving too fast or too far for the eye to really track marked the boaters and jetskis, and kites flown from the small public beach. Most of the buildings disappeared into the verdant green surroundings, and the ones she could still spot looked like houses and shops and mansions for Polly Pockets, not people. The sun was just starting to dip behind the mountains on the far side of the lake, hazy outlines of shadow against the sherbert sky.

“Oh, Ollie,” she breathed, stunned. “It’s beautiful.”

He mumbled something she didn’t catch and started unpacking the picnic he’d brought in his backpack. Not wanting to disturb him, and clearly left to her own devices for the moment, she took out her camera, adjusting the lens carefully, capturing as much of the view as she could. Then, on an impulse she turned around and snapped one of Ollie, silhouetted against the forest and the peeks of sunset between the trees, before he could notice. The sound of the shutter, or the finishing touches being put on dinner, made him look up.

“What are you doing, Jess?” he asked, confusion written across his features.

“Taking pictures of beautiful things,” she answered with a shrug, bringing the camera to her eye again.

“No,” he held up his hand to block it, laughing.

“I’m serious. This place, up here away from it all, suits you.”

“You’re full of shit, Jess.” He shook his head, his hair falling across his face.

She took another photo while his guard was down.

“Come sit down. Marlena put together a good meal.”

Relenting after another photo out into the distance, almost wishing she dared to get closer to the edge of the overlook, she carefully disassembled her camera, storing each piece with reverence back in its bag, before sitting across from him. He had set up quite the array on the blanket: simple but delicious looking toasted sandwiches, glasses and lemonade, berries and chunks of watermelon, and what looked like very freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.

“Ollie, it looks amazing,” she said with a smile, popping a sweet, juicy blackberry into her mouth with a small, exaggerated moan. “And tastes even better.”

He blushed, shrugging and laughing sheepishly. “All I did was carry it up here.”

She rolled her eyes as he deflected yet another compliment. He seemed to always be doing that, much to her frustration, and she made a mental note to find a way to make him see how much she meant them, how true each one was.

Silence fell over the two of them as they started picking at the buffet between them, but it was an easy one, a pause rather than an interruption, and eventually conversation resumed. She asked him about his search for his father’s record and listened as he spoke of the things he had found, which weren’t what he was looking for but seemed to bring (mostly) happy memories of his childhood. He asked for stories of her family, and of what the town was like when summer-people left.

“Sway Lake is a different place,” she concluded eventually, casting her eyes about her on the clifftop, “just like it is from up here. Or frozen in a moment in your record.”

By now the remains of the food had been set aside, and the pair had scooted closer on the picnic blanket, sitting side by side and facing out, instead of across from one another. Hesitantly, Jess shifted her hand closer so that their pinkies brushed, daring him to take action and hold her hand again. He didn’t seem to notice as he turned to face her, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“I…” he cleared his throat and started over. “You have a really unique view of the world.”

Something in the way he said it made it feel like the kindest compliment someone could give, and it was finally her turn to blush, ducking her head to hide as her cheeks heated furiously.

“I mean I guess,” she fiddled with the edge of the picnic blanket beside her, plucking at a loose thread so she didn’t have to meet his eyes just yet. “I’ve never really thought about it like that...”

“The view up here must be great for photos,” he said, making her laugh at his abrupt change of subject, obviously picking up on her embarrassment and knowing it well.

“Yeah, it is. I’m hoping they come out well. Thank you for showing it to me.”

“The way people were talking, it’s pretty well known...how come you haven’t been up here before?”

“Heights, remember?” she flashed him a half-smile as she tilted her head to one side. “I’ve never had someone invite me before who seemed worth the risk.”

“How do you know if something’s worth it without ever seeing it?”

“You know your record is without hearing it don’t you? Besides, I said someone, not something.”

He froze, blinking owlishly at her.

“Ollie?” she asked after a long pause, wondering what was going on with him suddenly.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted, and now it was her turn to freeze, the question momentarily incomprehensible.

“Yes,” she breathed, barely getting the word out before his lips were pressed against hers.

The contact was abrupt, almost a headbutt but more romantic. There was a moment of awkward fumbling, of bumping noses and clashing teeth, until their mouths finally slotted together properly. Even after finding the right way to connect, there was a split second of hesitation, and then his hands came up to frame her jaw, pulling her closer, the tips of his fingers teasing at her hairline and the small hairs that had escaped the scrunchie holding most of it back. Keeping one of her own hands on the blanket to hold herself steady, Jess wrapped the other around the back of his neck like an anchor and leaned into the pressure of his soft lips on hers.

All too soon he pulled away, panting breathlessly, and staring at her with an awe that made her own breath catch in her throat. She was half tempted to pull him back into another kiss, if only to make him stop looking at her like that.

A distant roll of thunder shattered the moment, and her eyes flickered toward the clouds gathering on the blue-purple horizon.

“We should probably head back, before that gets here,” she said reluctantly, wishing she had more time.

Ollie nodded in agreement, and the two of them made quick work of packing back up the remains of the picnic. He handed her a heavy black flashlight (that, she noted gratefully, and then laughed internally at her own thought, would double as a decent weapon against a rogue mountain lion at least long enough to run) and set off down the mountain. She tried to follow him without looking down, but the uneven terrain in the growing darkness made that too difficult to maintain. Soon the very idea filled her with just as much fear as looking. The edge of the path seemed to drop sharply, drawing ever closer to her feet in the narrow beam of yellow light, until it felt like she was walking along the very line of the drop.

She stopped short with a yelp, head spinning from the sensation and whole body trembling. The sound made Ollie turn around sharply, placing himself as a barrier between her and the fall as she pressed her back firmly against the rock.

He took her by the shoulders, trying to get her to make eye contact instead of staring blankly at the sight, or lack of sight beyond him.

“Jess? Can you hear me?” he asked. “It’s alright, Jess. I’m right here, I won’t let you fall.”

Her blood roared in her ears and she saw his lips move but it was too loud for her to hear him.

When talking didn’t seem to work, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a tight hug. Her fingers curled into his sweatshirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. Face pressed into the side of his neck she let out a sob, as the world spun around her much too fast.

The rest of the journey down to Ollie’s station wagon and much of the drive were a blur. Jess wasn’t completely unconvinced that he had somehow found a way to carry her down, although that was giving his physical strength more credit than he looked like it deserved. The storm picked up as they drove, clouds turning the sky to black, lit only by the occasional crash of lightning, and rain slamming against the roof and windows.

All too soon, the car stopped, parking in the narrow street in front of her building. They exited the car and promptly Ollie took her by the hand, lacing their fingers together. Not wanting to stand in the rain, she used the point of contact to drag him along, running as if she could dodge the water falling from the sky until they made it to her door. They stood there under the eaves, hair and clothing dripping, facing each other reluctantly, not wanting to say goodnight just yet.

“Tonight was…” he said, pausing.

“Amazing?” she finished, smiling and feeling the light heat of a blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah. That.” He smiled back, and looked for a moment (during which her heart beat like a bird trying to escape her chest) like he was going to kiss her again. “I should let you go inside…”

“Stay over,” she blurted out before she could consider the words.

“W-what?” he stared at her like she’d just grown an extra head or twelve. “Jess I can’t do that…”

“It’s late. And the weather’s bad. And I saw you yawning while we were driving back. I’d worry about you if you tried to go home now.”

“It’s just around the other side of the lake…”

“Yeah, but that’s like half an hour unless you drive recklessly. All it takes is drifting off for a second...please stay?”

“But...what will people think?”

“People,” she raised an eyebrow, “or your grandmother?”

“I don’t just mean her. I don’t want you to be treated like--”

“A slut?”

He shuffled and looked away.

“People aren’t that bad, you know. There are a handful of dicks, but most of town doesn’t give a shit.”

“I didn’t mean…” he frowned. “I’m a Sway. I know people don’t like my family. If you’re seen with me like that...I know what being an outcast feels like, and I don’t want you to have to feel that way.”

“Well I guess you'll just have to make sure no one sees, then.” She smirked, before she sighed. “Look, Ollie. We're grown adults. What we do at night, or any other time, or with whom is no one's business but our own.”

“I know but--”

“No. No buts. I wouldn't have invited you to sleep over if I didn't mean it, or I wasn't prepared for gossip and fallout. It’s up to you. I just would feel a lot better if you did.”

“You really want me to stay?”

She rolled her eyes and fixed him with a look rather than actually answering. The wet breeze sent a shiver over her as she turned to unlock the door, not waiting anymore for him to make a decision.

“And it’s not...too fast?”

She shrugged, taking him by the arm to pull him into the house and into a kiss. Her other hand threaded into his hair and his hovered over her hips as if he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to touch her .

“Too fast is a myth,” she murmured, breath ghosting across his face. “Besides, I was inviting you into my house, not my bed.”

She’d lost count by now of the number of times she’d managed to make Ollie blush tonight, but each time you did was just as adorable as the first.

“Although, I was going to offer to take the couch,” she said over your shoulder as she led the way toward the furniture in question, “so I guess it was...also...into my bed…this is...I’m making it weird.”

“What? No!” he fumbled to reassure her. “I mean, no. You’re not, not no I won’t sleep in...I don’t want to, without you. Not that we have to sleep together. It’s just. It’s your bed.”

“God we’re a pair,” she said, laughing now as she dropped down and motioned for him to sit beside her. “Tripping over ourselves like romantic baby deer.”

“I just don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted sheepishly, sitting awkwardly perched on the edge of the cushion as if he was going to run at any moment.

“Is there...something to mess up?” she asked, reaching over to take his hand and lacing her fingers through his.

“I think so,” the words may have been a statement but his face was a question as he turned toward her a little more. “I don't want this to be some summer fling, Jess. I want it to be real.”

“Hey, summer flings can also be real. There was this one guy who…” she paused at Ollie's expression and shook her head, “never mind. The point is they're not mutually exclusive. But I appreciate the sentiment. And I’d really like that too.”

“What does that mean though?” he asked.

She paused. “That’s what we have to decide. But...not tonight. It’s late. We should go to bed and talk about it when we’re rested.” She fought back a yawn that emphasized her point as she stood.

He nodded, watching her turn and cross the room, eyes lingering low. It took him a moment to realize when she had stopped moving again.

“Well aren't you coming?”

“What?” he squeaked out.

“It occurs to me, the bed is big enough for two and way more comfortable than the couch.”

“I…”

“I just mean to sleep, for real. And, I guess, maybe cuddling?” She bit her lip nervously. “Unless you're not good with that…”

He stared for another long, awkward moment. “Even with my nightmares?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I’ll deal. Or maybe having someone else beside you will help.”

Ollie scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to join her by the doorway. She laughed, lacing her fingers with his and leading him further through the apartment, silently marveling at how well things had gone, for a first date.

#it only took...almost 2 months to get to this. that's totally fine...#I had to do a lot of tweaking and pronoun conversion #so please (politely) hit me up if I missed anything #Oliver Sway x Jess O'Neill #Oliver Sway x OC #Song of Sway Lake fic #The Song of Sway Lake

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 3 years

Text

Blame Me - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 5.8K

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader,

TW: canon typical violence, canon divergence, gore, somewhat major character death (OC), Child death, murder, implied/suggested threat of rape,

Genre: Horror ig?

Series: Blame Me

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: This one is a tad dark, so, uh, get ready. I forgot to clarify last chapter that this series is going to be about 10 chapters, possibly more. Enjoy!

It happened overnight. Well, that was what it felt like. (Y/N) had only been in South Carolina a week, a few days before she was set to return to Georgia. Weird stories started arising on the news, stories of increasing cannibalism, and a weird illness going around. At the time, she and her mum had thought nothing of it. She wished she had paid more attention to it.

The sun was peaking through the windows, and the birds were chirping. It was any other day when it started. She would have never expected anything. (Y/N) rushed down the stairs, smiling as music filtered from the kitchen, blaring her moms' favourite song "Easy Street". Despite her daughters' constant teasing of immaturity, she still loved it. And admittedly, it had grown on her as well. (Y/N) danced into the kitchen, pressing a kiss to her mom's cheek as she passed, and sitting down at the kitchen island.

"Morning, honey," Her mom, Lily, smiled, placing some food on the table for the pair of them. They both sat down, and ate quietly, listening to the birds outside, and the lighthearted music. "So, I was thinking, since you're heading back to Georgia in a few days, maybe you could finally talk to Daryl about coming back up and giving me crossbow lessons," She teased, raising an eyebrow. (Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully and went to respond when a loud scream sounded from outside. They shared a panicked look with each other, eyes widening. before they dashed outside, not even bothering to put shoes on, looking for the cause of the noise.

A gasp escaped her mom when they caught sight of the noise' cause. There was blood everywhere. And some dirty, almost decayed, man with his teeth sunk into Alisha's, her mom's neighbour, arm, pulling flesh and muscles away. Blood all around his mouth, blood all over Alisha, blood on the ground. Blood fucking everywhere. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Was this what those news reports were blabbing about?

"What the fuck!" She exclaimed, and the guys head moved to look at you, quickly losing interest in Alisha, who fell to the ground, clutching her arm in shock. The blood wouldn't stop flowing. Lily pulled on her arm as the man started stumbling forward towards them, making an awful snarling noise. More neighbours were flocking from their houses, gasping, and running over to help Alisha. One of them, Daniel, she thought his name was, sprinted to this man and tried to pull him back and restrain him, but to her disgust, the guy's arm pulled straight from the elbow, when Daniel tried to pull him away. Daniel froze in disgust, and apparently, that was enough time for the man to take a chunk from his neck.

"(Y/N), c'mon, we need to get out of here!" Lily whispered to her, tugging her again. This time, her daughter allowed her to pull her into the house, her heart pounding in fear, and her eyes still wide. When they were back in the house, she seemed to snap out of it, but her mother knew it would come back to haunt her later. She rushed into motion, grabbing one of the large backpacks from under the stairs, and going to the kitchen, grabbing as much canned food and water she could find. Lily watched her for a second, before following her lead, snatching up food and dashing upstairs to grab them a few spare pair of clothes, as well as one of her picture albums. She knew it wasn't a smart plan and took up space, but if she was leaving this house, she'd be damned if she left this behind. (Y/N) made quick work of raiding the bathrooms of medicine and supplies, as well as grabbing the gun her mother kept for self-defence.

She didn't know what had just happened outside, but the increasing volume of groaning and screams that filled the street told her it was bad. If this was the cannibalism that the news was talking about, she wasn't risking being caught without a weapon. With this thought, she dumped some of the knives in the bag as well and by that point, her bag was full.

A loud bang on the door made (Y/N) jump, and she darted out of the kitchen to lock the door. She glanced out the peephole and saw that same guy banging on the door. Mouth red, and flesh caught between his teeth. His eyes were milky white. There was no way this guy was still alive. Fuck, they had to get out of there. She shoved her feet in her boots, quickly making work of tying the laces. Lily came racing down the stairs and followed her daughter in putting her shoes on, before the pair did a quick look around the house, ensuring they hadn't missed anything. There were two things on (Y/N)'s mind right now. Keeping her mom safe, and getting back to Georgia. Back to Daryl. Georgia was only a three-hour drive - they could get there before midday. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Damn fucking wrong. They got an hour into the drive before getting caught in a complete standstill of traffic. People were rushing out of South Carolina. The air was chaotic with fear, the beeping of the cars, and aggressive shouting from everyone in the traffic. (Y/N) was getting antsy, and she couldn't stop bouncing her foot anxiously. Her mother kept looking at her from the corner of her eye, but (Y/N) hardly noticed. Daryl and Merle had gone on a hunting trip. Did they come back? Are they at home, waiting for her? She doubted it, but what if they were? What if they were in trouble? What if they were already dead? Her panicked line of thought was put to an abrupt stop as her mom reached over and squeezed her knee.

"Those boys of yours are survivors. They keep each other safe. They'll be fine. We'll find them," Lily reassured, eyes skimming over the people who had climbed out of their cars. It was starting to get dark, they'd been there so damn long. If there were more people like the man this morning, being outside at night couldn't be safe. They wouldn't be safe. (Y/N) let out a sigh, putting her hand over her mothers, and giving her a tiny smile.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just worry about them," She replied, biting her cheek. "They may be survivors, but they're damn idiots too."

"Well, I can't lie to you and say that you're wrong," The pair chuckled lightly, ducking their heads. She always made her feel better, even if they were talking about her idiot husband and his dumbass brother. But the calm moment was once again broken as the sound of gunshots broke through the air. Their heads shot up and saw a woman fighting off another one of those decaying motherfuckers.

Shit.

As soon as the woman went down a second later, (Y/N) shot from the car. There was no saving that poor woman now, not with the decaying thing's fingers wormed into her stomach, ripping out intestines. Her stomach churned, and she heard her mom open the car door and throw up onto the road. They couldn't stay here either. It was time to go.

"Mom, grab a bag and get off the road," She hissed out instructions once her mom was done emptying her stomach, as chaos broke out around them. Her mom nodded almost instantly and followed her instructions without defiance, and (Y/N) followed suit, but while her mom ran to the tree line, she was stopped dead in her tracks. She was vaguely aware of Lily calling her name, but she couldn't take her eyes off the sight in front of her. The woman who had been dead on the floor a minute ago was up and walking. Her stomach was spilling out, blood still flowing from the wound, but she was walking. Movement slug-like and staggering, but moving nonetheless. Her eyes. Milky white. How the hell?

Some stranger grabbed her elbow, pulling her back. While she had been stuck like a stick in the mud, the dead woman had gotten close. Close enough that (Y/N) could hear the noise her teeth made as they clashed together. The stranger, pushed her behind him, before using a knife to stab this woman in the head. He was talking to someone on the other side of her. When had they gotten there?

"What the hell! You killed that woman!" The person said, but it was muffled like she was underwater. She could feel someone touching her back, but the touch felt familiar. Her mom.

"She was already dead, Danica! We've got to get these two out of here!" Her 'saviour' snapped back, pulling the bag off (Y/N)'s back and shoving it on her own. Slowly, their words grew more clear, but so did the crying, screaming and snarling. Her head looked over to her mom, who had a panicked look in her eyes, but showed more relief when she finally looked over.

"Are you okay, honey?" Lily asked, fear making her voice tremble. Her daughter paused but nodded. She gave her a reassuring smile before Danica narrowed her eyes at them, and giving them a slight shove further into the trees.

"Let's go, unless you guys want to become zombie dinner," She snarled, and her companion (brother, boyfriend? who knows) glared at her. She stormed ahead, her buddy following after her. (Y/N) looked over at her mom and raised her eyebrows.

"Well, isn't she just a peach?" She whispered a mischievous look in her eye and Lily choked out a hushed laugh before the women followed after the couple. They didn't know if they could trust them, but hell, what other choice did they have?

It had been months. The walk from South Carolina to Atlanta was only meant to take 3 days, but as always shit happens. They were a few miles out from Atlanta, but they'd learnt from another member of their group that Atlanta belonged to the dead now. (Y/N) and her mom was still with Danica and Ben (as she'd found out his name was). They were non-identical twins, and while Danica was sometimes a pain in the ass, they all took care of each other. (Y/N) couldn't deny that she'd never been more glad she married a hunter, who'd taught her more than a few things. She kept them fed, so they didn't need to use as many cans of food, and she'd even managed to teach her mom a thing or two. A few days after the highway traffic, they met up with some more people too, and they'd joined their merry band. A married couple, Andrew and Oliver, and their daughter Anna, and an ex-military soldier, Kai. Kai and (Y/N) had become the unofficial leaders of the group, which seemed to get under Danica's skin, and they'd made a little camp in an old service station they'd found while on their way to Georgia. It had been pretty much untouched, and they'd found a shit ton of food, medicine, and even some ammo behind the cash register. Andrew and Danica were the people who went scavaging went they were running low, while Ben and Lily helped take care of Anna, along with Oliver of course.

(Y/N) hadn't wanted to stay for so long. If she were on her own, she probably would have left the group by now, and would already have been in Georgia months ago. Maybe she would have found the rest of her family by now. Her stupid, bigotted brother in law, who was amazing at running his mouth, and her man. Her stupid husband would always put her and his brother before himself. She just wanted to see him again. Just one last time, if that was all she could get. But she couldn't take off. Not without her mom. And she wouldn't leave a little girl. (Y/N) honestly didn't think she could either.

"What're ya thinkin' about, Dixon?" Kai asked as they come to sit beside her on the roof. It was her turn on watch, and she couldn't help but notice that the number of snarlers that had come through the trees was getting higher and higher every day. She and Kai had become good friends, though it was what you'd expect after spending months with them, planning almost everything together. They were kind, and actually listened to what the group had to say, but also knew when they should step in. It was refreshing to see Danica getting put in her place every once in a while. a

"Nothing much. How's Anna doing? Has that fever gone down?" (Y/N) asked, glancing over at them, and they let out a heavy sigh, shaking their head. Anna had caught a cold or something a week or so again, and it was only getting worse and worse. She was a sweet kid, and Andrew and Oliver were worried sick. Everyone was working ten times harder to take their jobs, so they could be by their daughters' side. But she wasn't getting better, and the medicine was starting to run out.

"Her fever is higher than before. She was throwin' up blood this morning. I hate to say it, but I think she ain't gonna make it. We've scavenged every house and buildin' near here and there ain't no medicine left. We're runnin' low, and a few more days and it'll all be gone. It's gonna ruin Andrew and Oliver," They answered, running a hand over their face. (Y/N) looked over to them, and she couldn't help but notice the bags under their eyes. They were exhausted. But, she supposed she probably didn't look much better. Her mom kept fretting over how skinny she was. But the apocalypse didn't exactly result in the healthiest figure.

"Well, if, or when, it happens, the only thing we can do is be there for them. Make sure they don't fall in on each other," There was a heavy pause, and Kai took the rifle from her hands, signifying it was their turn on guard, but she didn't move. "We can't stay here much longer, Kai. The snarlers in Atlanta are running out of food, and they're starting to venture further out to find it. We've had more snarlers today than we had all of last week. It's not gonna be safe here for much longer."

"Believe me I know. But until Anna gets better, or until she-she goes... we can't go nowhere," Kai's voice shook slightly, but their shoulders soon tensed when a tree bristled, and out came three snarlers. "Shit."

Thank god they were a good shot, otherwise the group would have lost way too many bullets by now. The snarlers went down quickly, and Kai relaxed again and they let out a sigh but shot (Y/N) a bright smile, that didn't quite reach their eyes.

"So, ya know what I did before snarlers took over, but I don't know shit about ya. C'mon, it's nostalgia hour," Kai joked, nudging her, to which she rolled her eyes playfully and nudged back.

"I didn't do much. Just another 9 to 5 job. Nothing interesting. My life was good though, despite it all," (Y/N) answered, chuckling slightly. Kai raised their eyebrows, then nodded towards her ring, which she'd started spinning around absentmindedly.

"What was he like?"

"Without sounding cliche, he was the best thing that ever happened to me. Daryl was one of those guys that people were scared of, and who could look scary, especially with my brother-in-law, Merle, by his side. But he was sweet. He liked to pretend he was made of stone but, he did pretty much anything I wanted. Hell, he didn't even want a wedding. He just wanted to go and get it registered, get some rings and be done with it. But he remembered me telling him that I dreamt of getting married as a kid, and suggested having a small one. And it was small; Merle, my mom, some of my friends and one of Merle's biker buddies. But it was perfect," Kai smiled at her, seeing the adoration in her eyes. They didn't think they'd seen her this happy for the whole time they'd been together.

"Merle used to make these dumb videos of us when he found this video recorder. He'd film us all the damn time because he knew it pissed Daryl off. When we were on a hunt, in the kitchen when we were cooking, even if we were just walking around the house. I, um, I was going to visit mom, and he and Merle were going on a two-week hunt. Gave him the recorder so he 'wouldn't forget me. Then, the world went to shit. Mom and I came from South Carolina back down here to find him," Her face fell further as she got into the story and Kai put a hand on her arm and squeezed.

"I hope ya find him. He seems like a great guy," Their eyes flicked over as the squeaking of the roof's latch told them someone was coming up. There was Lily, face sombre and eyes sad.

"(Y/N), Andrew and Oliver want to talk to you. Ben is coming up to sit with Kai," She said, and (Y/N) knew it wasn't going to be good. She didn't say anything, just got up and went through the hatch, climbing down into the service station.

Andrew had tears going down his cheeks, holding Anna to his chest as she coughed and sneezed, looking deathly pale. Oliver looked like he was barely holding it together as he pulled her to one side. Danica was sat next to Andrew, trying to comfort the pair.

"She's coughing up more and more blood. We're running out of options and time and me and Andrew we want-"His voice hitched, and his eyes filled with tears. She rest a hand on his shoulder, telling him to take his time and he took a deep breath. "We know she's not going to get better. We-we want to take care of her so she doesn't turn. So she doesn't have to suffer."

(Y/N) eyes softened, and she tilted her head to look at Anna and Andrew. Anna was dying. Everyone knew it. She was such an energetic kid, but for the past few weeks, she'd been drained and quiet. Normally, she'd be pestering Ben or Kai and asking to play games, filling the air with questions and laughter. It had been quiet. Too quiet.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver. Is there anything I can do?" (Y/N) whispered. Oliver was quiet before yanking her forward and into a hug. He clung to her like she was the last thing on Earth. He needed this.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but we know neither of us could do it. I- We'd like to know if you could. I know we have no right to ask. But she adores you. And you're the one we trust with our little girl. Please, we're begging you. Don't make her suffer," He was sobbing by that point, tears seeping through her clothes and onto her shoulder. She felt for them, she really did. She wished she could have saved Anna. But if this was what they wanted, they knew what was best.

"Of course. Of course, I will. You shouldn't have to go through that, either of you," She stated simply, squeezing him tightly, and not pulling back until he let go. Oliver scurried to wipe his eyes, not noticing the hard look Danica was giving him. She'd deal with her later.

"Could we, uh, possibly wait until tomorrow morning? Or even late tonight if tomorrow is too much to ask? We just want to say goodbye to her. Spend as much time with her as we can," He wasn't asking anymore. He was begging. He was desperate. She only nodded. The look in his eyes only read gratitude as he left to sit with his family. Danica stood up as Oliver came over, glare fixed on (Y/N). She grabbed her arm, but not in the kind way that Kai had previously. it was bruising and painful as she tugged her to the back of the store.

"What the hell are you thinking? Anna could survive!" Danica snarled, getting a little too close for comfort. (Y/N) took a step back, and glared at her, with pissed off eyes.

"Look, Danica, I know it's hard, but this isn't my decision. It's what Andrew and Oliver want," She shot back, glancing over as Ben came down the ladder from the roof, wandering over.

"What's going on?" He questioned, softly, coming to stand by his sister.

"She's going to kill Anna!" She barked, looking up to Ben with a dark look. (Y/N) stepped forward again, and stood in front of Danica, grabbing the front of her shirt. She was at the end of her fucking tether with this damn woman

"You listen to me, and you listen well. That little girl over there is dying. She's been in pain and dying for two weeks now. Her fathers are struggling and they can see there are two options here. Either we keep giving her medicine and using up our supplies, and continuing to let her suffer. Or, we put her out of her misery. Quick and painless, and she doesn't have to live like this anymore. Now her dads have chosen the latter option, and who the hell are you, or I to argue with that? So you keep your fucking mouth shut and trust her own fathers to make this decision. It's not in your hands," Ben's eyebrows shot up, looking between her and his sister, not sure who he should side with, so he stayed quiet, watching as the two women stared each other down before Danica shoved her off and stormed over to the cash register. Ben hesitantly trailed after her, shooting (Y/N) an apologetic look.

Lily was running her fingers through (Y/N)'s hair, humming quietly. It was something she did when her daughter was a kid to soothe her. Her head was resting in her lap and Kai was sat next to them, fast asleep. (Y/N) wasn't asleep but with how still she was being, she might as well have been.

"Ma?"

"Yes, love?" Her fingers were working her hair into a tiny braid and with the small amount of moonlight that shone through, she watched as her daughter's eyes opened.

"Am I doing the right thing? With Anna? Do you think the groups going to hate me for it?" There was a pause, where Lily could tell (Y/N) was about to continue "Do you think Daryl would hate me for it?"

"Oh, honey. Andrew and Oliver would never have asked you to do this if they didn't think this was right," she whispered and looked over to the family, curled around their daughter as her rattled breaths shook the air. "The rest of the group understands. Well, maybe not Danica, but we both know she isn't exactly your best friend regardless of what you do."

"And Daryl?" (Y/N) questioned, and Lily glanced at her. She was finding it harder and harder to be vulnerable, and she could see her daughter was losing herself. Losing who she was. Losing the joy. One of the only things that was keeping her going was Daryl, and she didn't know what would happen if that hope were to be destroyed. She was finding it hard to vulnerable and only Lily and Kai got to see that side of her, even if it was rare.

"Daryl could never be ashamed of you. You know him better than anyone, but I know him pretty damn well. He knows you wouldn't do anything like this unless you had to. He loves you," She stroked her cheek, and she saw a bright but reluctant smile rise on her cheeks. But it seems they could never have a calm moment. A snarl filled the air, but no one could respond before Oliver's scream followed through. (Y/N), Ben and Kai were immediately up and Andrew's scream of pain and fear soon accompanied. Fuck

"Did you guys see all that smoke earlier? Looked like it was coming from the old prison a few miles down the road," Ben inquired meekly, watching the fire flicker and dance. He was perched on a log beside Kai, while Lily, (Y/N) and Andrew sat on the floor. No one said anything. No one really said much anymore, unless it was necessary. Everyone was hurting too much. Ben was the only one who tried to keep the group alive, in more ways than just survival.

"Does it matter?" Andrew asked flatly, not even bothering to hide his annoyed look. Lily nudged him with a noise of discontent. Kai huffed, turning their head to look at Ben.

"If it was the prison, and someone was seekin' refuge there, I pity the poor bastards," Was their comment before turning back to the fire. Ben's shoulders slumped looking deflated.

"Where should we go next?" (Y/N) asked, trying to ease poor Ben's rejection. All heads looked to her, surprised she said anything. Out of them all, she was, unexpectedly the one who has spoken the least. It was her fault they were gone. Oliver and Andrew had trusted her to take care of Anna, and she'd made the stupid decision of waiting until the morning when she should have known Anna wouldn't have lasted until the morning. She knew Andrew held it against her. She tried to do the good thing and she got Oliver and Danica killed. Fuck, she didn't know how much longer she could do this. Kai cleared their throat.

"Well, I was thinkin' we should start headin' up. I mean, there clearly ain't nothin' left in Georgia. Nothin' worth our time, anyways. Now, I know y'all said South Carolina had gone to shit, but what about further up, like Washington or something. They got a shit ton of medical facilities and research centres up there. I'm willin' to bet it's our best shot. We got nothin' to lose," Kai explained quietly, head perking up slightly as the branches nearby rustled.

"What's the point?" Andrew grumbled, aggressively stabbing his knife into the ground next to him.

"We could find someplace safe, even if we don't find a research centre. A refuge, or a sanctuary. People are bound to have started them. We can't be the only people left in the whole of America," Ben's optimism was starting to get on everyone's nerves but this time, (Y/N) couldn't help but appreciate it. Maybe Daryl had the same idea. Maybe him, or maybe his group (would he even be in a group?) were already up there.

"But, Washington? That's a nine-hour drive, pre-apocalypse when we could easily get gas. Is there any promise we'd even get there?" Lily piped up, knowing she had to be the rational one, even if her daughter was already dreaming about it. Andrew opened his mouth to leave a snarky comment when there was a click, and (Y/N) stiffened at the feeling of hard metal behind her head. The whole group went stiff, panicked eyes watching behind her intently.

"There ain't no promise at all missy," A gruff voice spoke from behind her. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to calm her breathing down. It was okay. She was okay.

"Hey, look, we don't want any trouble," She declared, trying not to let the confidence in her voice tremble. A sinister chuckle sounded as more rustling was heard, before more men, at least 12 or 13 surrounded the group.

"Neither do we. Just hand over all your supplies, and we'll be on our merry way."

"But, we'll die!" Ben exclaimed, looking terrified. She narrowed her eyes at him, telling him to shut up, before locking eyes with Kai, who quietly shushed him.

"Ho, ho, boys! I think I found the leaders first try! Well, I say leaders, but there's only ever one really in charge, no matter how much they both claim to be," The man with a gun to her head climbed around and knelt in front of her, so (Y/N) was staring right down the barrel of the gun. He was old, and he looked disgusting, blood and grime mixed into his overgrown teeth. No one really looked good any more, what with the lack of clean water, but he had a dark look in his eye, and a wicked smile on his lips, yellow teeth shining at her. "So, who is it?"

Kai gave her a look, clearly telling her not to do anything rash. But she'd be damned if she didn't try to save her friends.

"Me, I'm in charge. And I say you can't have our supplies," She said, holding the man's amused gaze. He dropped his head, laughing bitterly, before raising his gun and shooting Kai, right between the eyes. "No!"

She lunged forward but two of the men held her back as the rest of her group made varying noises of grief, shock or fear.

"No! No! Let go of me, you motherfuckers!" She growled, not hiding her panic or the anger that was bubbling up inside of her. Lily had started crying as soon as the gun went off, and she couldn't bear to see her mom like that. " Okay! You win! Take it all! Please, just take it!"

"Hmm, well if you'd listened to me the first time around, maybe your little friend over there would have survived. But because of your stubbornness, your friend is dead. And now, the deal no longer stands. Boys, you know what do to do," He grinned, as his men stalked forwards, becoming more visible with the early light of dawn. They started raiding their belongings, taking their guns, food, water. Anything they could take.

"Boss!" One of the guys' goons pulled out the photo album her mom had brought, holding it up and the man in front of her snatched it but still keeping his gun trained on (Y/N).

"Well, is this baby you? Weren't you just a cutie! And oh, what's this?" He was flicking through the pages, stopping near the end and twisting it about, so she could see. It was (Y/N) and Daryl on their wedding day, grinning at the camera. Her eyes hardened, her heart aching at the thought of Daryl being used against her. "Hell, you're a married woman! What a damn shame. The things I would have done to you."

Andrew was glaring at the men, under those thick ginger eyebrows, but Lily and Ben were trembling. They were frightened, but (Y/N) was trying to promise using only her eyes that she'd keep them safe. She didn't know what she'd do if she couldn't.

"Well, I'll be virtuous, and let you keep this since you don't have the real things anymore. Count that as a favour," He grinned, and she went to ask what he meant before the men holding her tightened their grip.

One of the other men took a knife to the side of Ben's head and he fell forward, lifeless eyes staring back at her. Next, they took Andrew, and hell if he didn't go out fighting. Tears were streaming down (Y/N)'s cheeks as she cried out in fury and anguish, begging them to stop. Andrew kept swearing and spitting, and he even managed to get a good punch in before they shot him, point-blank. He'd had nothing to lose. He got to be with his family now. Finally, they grabbed Lily's hair, and (Y/N) had never fought so hard in her life, swearing at them and sending death threats their way. Lily kept talking and talking, never taking her eyes away from her daughters even as they brought a knife to her throat.

"Please honey, this isn't your fault. Find Daryl. Find him. I love you, I love you, I love you, I lov-"

A quick slice was all it took, and she let out a cry that left her throat burning and definitely alerted every snarler for miles around. She could hardly get a breath in, she was sobbing so hard, hiccups taking her throat. The men just laughed, shoving the bag of spare clothes and photos at (Y/N) as they let her go, the bag void of anything other than that besides a half-full water bottle, a knife and a can of beans.

"See, we've left you stuff to survive, so really you should be thankin' us. Appreciate the gifts you've given us darlin'. You've been a real treat. C'mon boys, let's move."

She didn't know how long she was frozen in place. How long she sat there, begging her mind to wake up. To take her back to the gas station. If she just kept pinching then maybe she'd wake up to Lily's fingers in her hair. Her tender motherly touches that no one else could possess. Maybe she'd wake up to her and Daryl stood at the aisle, her mother grinning up at her.

But that's it. It was a nightmare. This was real. She was alone. She didn't get to wake up from this. She got reminded of that as a snarling rose from next to her as Lily's milky white eyes. She knew that when she had to put a knife into her own mother's brain because that damn group wanted her to suffer. (Y/N) felt anger coursing up her spine, filling her every atom. Every part of her was burning up, and she didn't know how to control it. So she glared at the dying fire and picked up the backpack. She used her fingers to close her mother's eyes, before fishing the knife out and bringing it to her side. She walked and walked, and she didn't look back.

'Terminus. Sanctuary For All. Those Who Arrive, Survive' read the sign as (Y/N) crept closer. Her bag was heavy with food she'd gotten lucky with when scavenging. It didn't sound right. It sounded too good. Maybe Andrew had been right. What was the point?

Daryl. Daryl was the point. Maybe she could follow those tracks. Maybe she'd find Terminus. Restock, spend a few days there to get better, then head to Washington. Wasn't like she had much of a choice otherwise. Besides, maybe she wasn't wrong and Terminus was true to its word. Or maybe she was right. What did she have to lose?

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @graniairish @fuseburner @gloomystorm @bxxbxy

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purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

characters unlocked

basic info:

Chung Minkyung/Mae

The Boyz 12th member

birthday: 1999/01/14

birth place: Seoul - South Korea

Chung Minji

TXT 6th member

birthday: 2001/05/31

birth place: Sydney - Australia

a/n: have I gone insane and made two ocs at once? kind of. actually, I haven’t made up my mind about actually going forward with them yet but I’ve had this idea for about two months and my mind couldn’t rest unless I actually wrote it down. and since I already had it typed out, I might as well share it right? (awkwardly laughs and runs away).

also disclaimer, this is 100% focused on the ocs and not on their groups, you may be asking why since I never really cared this much about backstory before... I honestly don’t know, my brain thought of it like that and that’s how this turned out.

2011

Minkyung watched the teacher leave the room from the corner of the classroom and began packing up her things as the girls around her whispered between themselves. She didn’t blame them for talking, considering this was the first time in months she had made it through the first period without her mother showing up.

Actually, some days she wouldn’t even go to school due to her day packed with auditions and art-centered classes. But this time she had, and just for a moment, she allowed herself to think she would have a normal day. Until the teacher had to answer a knock.

Walking back inside, the middle-aged woman speared a pitied glance at the girl and nodded once she excused herself. The official routine of letting her know her mother had arrived was long gone after the fifth consecutive time it had happened.

Going outside as fast as she could, so she wouldn’t hear anyone talking about her. Minkyung met her mother near the school entrance.

“Let’s go, we can’t be late” The woman rushed her, picking up her backpack and throwing on the backseat before circling her car and sitting in the driver’s spot. She barely waited for her daughter to buckle up before driving away from the parking lot. Wheels scratching the pavement as she did so.

“What is it this time?” She asked with half the excitement of her mother, leaning her head on the window as she watched the school becoming small in the rearview mirror.

“Acting gig. You got this in the bag” The older woman spoke cheerfully and Minkyung hummed. Once they stopped at a red light, her mother turned to her and brushed her a strand of hair behind her ear “Hey. I know you’re growing tired but I think this one might be it. Just blow them away with your talent, alright baby?”

“Alright, mama”

2011

Minji sat at the curb as she watched her friend jumping into the backseat of her parent’s car.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride sweetie?” The friends’ mother asked her leaning out of the window “Eliza was telling me you usually wait quite a while, I can talk to you mother and arrange a carpooling system with her”

“No, it’s fine Ms.Smith” Minji hugged her lunch box and smiled sweetly, her small feet tapping the ground in a rhythm she had made up “Mom should be arriving soon, I don’t want her to worry if I’m not here”

“Well okay, be sure to mention that to her so next time you don’t have to wait” The blond woman smiled politely before driving off.

Minji waved at them and stared at the empty sidewalk in front of the school. Checking her pink watch for the fifth time, she noticed she only had to wait five more minutes before she gave up on waiting and walked home.

The girl knew there wasn’t a big chance of her mother remembering she had a younger daughter to pick up, but still, she allowed herself to wait for an hour every day. Just in case she would show up.

After the five minutes were up, the 10 year old grabbed her stuff and began her usual walk home. The neighborhood wasn’t too dangerous and she would only have to walk six blocks to arrive, but still, it felt too cruel for the teacher to see it happening constantly.

The woman had walked half of her way to get to the girl when she saw a tall man approaching, she sighed relieved as Minji gasped surprised.

“Dad” She jumped on the man’s arms and he laughed, waving at the teacher before picking her lunch box that had fallen on the ground.

“I came home from work earlier today, I figured you’d want some company on your walk home” He patted her on the head and the girl smiled brightly “I’m sorry for not being able to do this every day”

“It’s fine. Come, I’ll show you the pet store I walk by. Oh, and there’s this old lady resting on her porch every day, she always gives me a good afternoon” Minji smiled pulling him by the hand as they made their way back.

2014

Minkyung quietly stood in the hallway as she heard her parents discussing. Earlier that day, her mother got an email confirming her acceptance into a trainee program in Korea, the multiple years of singing lessons and learning various instruments had finally given a bigger result than the acting route had.

The girl had never seen her mother more excited than after getting the news, but since she told her father about it they had been locked in the kitchen arguing about the changes this opportunity brought to the family.

“I don’t know about this, it sounds pretty expensive” Mr. Chung sighed walking back and forth.

“It’s an opportunity for our daughter to finally become someone. She worked so hard for it, we don’t know when the next one might come. This is her chance”

“She is someone already. She’s our daughter, a sister, and a student. What will happen with her studies after she’s gone?”

“She can keep them overseas, she’s homeschooled after all”

“Only because she couldn’t keep up with school and your obsession for making the girl famous”

“She wants this just as much as I do”

“What’s going on?” Minji showed up out of nowhere startling her sister, who whispered for her to keep quiet and listen.

“They’re discussing moving to Korea” Mikyung waved her off and returned to listen, but the younger slapped her arm and frowned. “Ouch, stop that dumbass”

“Why would we move to Korea?”

“I passed an audition there. Mom is convincing dad to accept it”

“No, absolutely not” Minji shook her head, walking determined downstairs only to be stopped by the older “Let me go. I’m not moving because of you”

“Minji don’t, let them discuss this, mom almost has him”

“I’m not moving. I don’t care what you want. Different from you I have friends here, I have a life. I’m not going because of you”

“Hey, stop that” Their father opened the kitchen door to stop the two arguing girls.

“No, I’m not stopping. You’ve always given Minkyung the fancy tutors and expensive courses without thinking twice. She can go on her own, I don’t want to leave our home”

“We are a family, if one of us is going, the rest is too” Her mom spoke up pointing a finger at her “And this might be your home, but Seoul is your dad’s and mine. We’d be going back to our family. No more trips during holidays and all of that. Think about it, it would benefit us all”

“No, it wouldn’t. Dad would have to leave work, and I have school and my friends. We built a life here” Minji cried out looking between the two of them. In the back, her sister leaned on the wall and watched them ultimately deciding her future.

“And you’ll build a new one in Korea too. Think about all the work your sister has done for us to have this chance”

“This is her chance. Not ours”

“Minkyung” The man spoke, shutting the two up and getting the girl’s attention. “Do you honestly want this? We would be investing a lot once you sign with them”

“Yes, I’m sure of it” She answered, it was honest. But considering that was the only thing she had worked for her entire life, there was no way it wouldn’t have been.

2015

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” Minkyung’s mom asked her again as they made it in front of the building.

“Yes, mom” The girl rolled her eyes fixing the big duffel bag under her arm “Most people leave their families for this. I don’t want to brag that mine follows me no matter where I go”

“They deserve to know we support you” The woman cupped her face in adoration and she laughed.

“It isn’t a matter of support, some people just can't afford to move around”

“Okay, but I’ll come by your accommodations later to bring the rest of your stuff and you’ll tell me everything then”

“Fine. Oh, and mom. Can you give Minji my guitar, she might have a better use for it than leaving it untouched”

“You don’t want to have at least one of your instruments with you?” The woman frowned, reluctant in passing by her daughter’s belongings to the younger.

“I’m sure they’ll have a bunch I can practice on” The girl shrugged moving around on her feet.

“If you say so. Don’t forget not to let the boys mess with you okay. And don’t stress if you don’t get along, remember this is only one phase for you to become the star you were born to be”

“Uh, okay. I have to go” Minkyung gave her a hug and walked inside the building, blushing furiously as her mother screamed good luck to her.

Walking to where a receptionist was, she noticed a boy, a little older than her, getting some credentials with her. Standing behind him, she waited until the woman asked for her name.

“Chung Minkyung” The girl said and she nodded.

“Right, the girl from Australia. I have your stuff here too” The woman said and the boy, who was puzzly looking through his papers, looked up at the mention of the Country and quickly stared at her, wondering if he should introduce himself or wait a little more “You’re both going the same way, press two in the elevator down the hallway and go to the room on the far left”

Thanking her, Minkyung picked up her things and nodded for the boy, giving him a tight-lipped smile as they walked together.

“I’m sorry, I think I overheard you’re from Australia. I’m from Canada, and my Korean is a little rusty. Do you speak English?” He smiled embarrassed and the girl nodded.

“Yeah, no problem. Mine would be too, but my mom made me take lessons as a child because speaking both languages would be good for the resume” She told him as they entered the elevator “A little TMI, I’m sorry. I’m bad at making friends”

“It’s fine” He laughed nervously and looked around before hitting him that he hadn’t introduced himself “I’m Jacob, sorry for not saying my name”

“I’m Minkyung but I guess you can call me Mae if you want to” She smiled generously at him and he nodded. The elevator’s doors opened up for them to step out.

Walking inside the room they were told, several heads turned around to stare at them and a buzzing boy came straight to greet them.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Youngjae. Where are you guys from?”

“Uh- My name is Jacob, I’m from Canada”

“Oh, you came from the international auditions, right? In that case you can call me Eric, I used to live in LA” Eric smiled and looked expectantly at the girl.

“I’m Mae, I came from Australia” She smiled nervously and he gasped.

“Oh wow, we’re all from different places”

“Yeah um could you show us around, I’m kind of lost right now” Mae said and Jacob nodded from her side making Eric laugh.

“It’s my first day too actually” He said making both their eyes widen “But everyone seems nice, let’s introduce you to them and they’ll help us figure things out”

“How are you so comfortable?” The girl asked on a whim and cleaned her throat embarrassed after realizing what she had done “Sorry, I’m sorry. I- I suck at meeting new people”

“It’s fine” Eric laughed, intertwining his arm with hers “We’ll get along, all of us. Let’s talk to the others because they’ve been staring for a while”

2017

“Your sister is debuting today?” One of Minji’s friends, Yoojung, gasped on her left as they stood in the food court at the mall. The three of them wearing their school uniforms while deciding what to eat.

“Yeah, and my mom is a mixture of excitement and annoyance at home, that’s why I’ll stay in this place until her and dad leave for the stage”

“Annoyance?” Jisoo, her other friend asked while looking at the ice cream store “Let’s go to the parlour”

“Sure. And yes, her original plan was for Minkyung, I guess Mae now, to go solo after a while. But last month she came home exclusively to tell her she wasn’t going to leave her group” The girl said nonchalantly as if it were old news for her.

“Wow, that’s so cool” Jisoo gasped, making Minji roll her eyes.

“Why are you not going to the debut showcase?” Yoojung asked again, making her shrug.

“We were never that close, since she became a trainee we haven't talked at all. I’m sure she won’t miss me that much”

“Still, you would meet a bunch of good looking idols, I’d give everything to be there” Jisoo said in a dreamy tone and both of the girls laughed at her expression.

The three of them were slowly walking to get their sweets when a couple stopped them in the middle of the aisle, quickly handing a card to each of them and introducing themselves as scouts from an idol company.

“We’re holding auditions tomorrow and it would be lovely if you could attend, I’ll make sure to remember each of your faces” The lady smiled politely, her gaze sticking a little more on Minji than on the other girls.

They gave some more information to them and gave a quick goodbye. Looking at the card and back at the girls, Minji tried to sound as casual as possible while asking if they would show up for the process.

“Nah” Yoojung said making Jisoo nod along “But you should, they seemed more interested in you than us”

Humming along, Minji stuck the piece of paper on her pocket in the promises of deciding that night.

2019

“Hey, what are you doing?” Mae asked after coming out of her room and seeing Kevin, Changmin, and Haknyeon huddled up around a computer.

“A new group just debuted” Kevin mumbled, scrolling down what seemed to be an article and she snorted.

“So what, rookie groups show up literally every day” She rolled her eyes standing behind them and reading some of the words flying by “Tomorrow X Together, isn’t that Bighit’s new group? Wait, why are they talking about us there?”

“Because there’s a rumor that one of the members is your sister” Haknyeon said and as if on clue Kevin stopped in a picture of Minji.

Feeling like time had frozen, Mae widened her eyes and gasped, pulling Kevin away and scrolling down herself to check if she wasn’t having a fever dream.

“You never said you had a sister” Q noticed casually as she freaked out in front of the computer.

“She never came to visit us either” Kevin complained for a second and then gasped “Wait, was she missing? Did you just find your missing sister?”

As the boys began sharing conspiracy theories as to why they didn’t know about the existence of Minji, Mae turned to them with a shocked expression and waited until they fell silent to quietly mumble

“That little devil never told me she wanted to become an idol”

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hanawrites404 · 3 years

Text

Journey

@oc-growth-and-development

(trigger warning : smoking, mention of death)

Another day, another restorative morning, as if nothing else can motivate me enough to finally cut my laze and start the new day already.

I got off my bed and my eyes instinctively gazed out the window beside me at the wall. As usual, there wasn't much outside, just the same trees and lawns you would find in any other neighbourhood, yet I never seem to get tired of looking at them over and over every time I wake up. It was like a part of my everyday morning ritual which I definitely shouldn't miss, and honestly, I was fine with it. I was not the type of person to actively look for spices in my life after all, and even if I start to crave for it someday, I just wait for it to come to me.

Otherwise, everything just gotta be restful, that's all I want, to be honest.

The water was pleasantly chill to bathe in, too, and so was the dawn's sea breeze swishing through the balcony as soon as the curtains were tucked out and the windows were pulled open. If anything warm right now, it was the brisk sun and the brimming cup of steaming café au lait thawing my bare arms and fingers as I stepped out to lean onto the grill of my terrace. My feet were bare as well, touching the cool tiles beneath them as I felt the tingling sensation through my nerves.

I was still in my pyjamas, my hair up in a bun and it was still seven. Other than some elder citizens walking outside to get the minty air rushing and stray cats and dogs yawning and stretching, the scene in front of me was almost deserted.

It all felt quiet, but it wasn't prickly. The birds were still tweeting, the bulk of leaves rustled in a shimmer, and I could even hear my sigh as I blew the hot vapour from my cup, my lips slowly savouring the coffee bit by bit. It was very peaceful, I liked it.

But unfortunately, it wasn't real.

"미스......미스.....일어나 미스!"

I jolted up from the unfamiliar voice presumably calling out for me. So it was all a dream? I wasn't enjoying a utopian morning at my balcony back in Miami?? But it all felt so real....from the taste of coffee to the warmth I felt of the drink. So it was all my imagination? Wow huh....looks like the power of my mind is going to be a mystery to me for a while. I never knew that my brain could fool me into believing that I was relaxing at my home, and not dozing off in a Korean tourist bus.

"Ugghmm...Huh?" Still groggy from my sleep, I blinked twice before looking outside the window of the bus. By the look of it, I think we had come to the final stop. Before letting out anything else from my mouth, I silently turned my gaze onto the one who broke my slumber, namely the bus conductor.

He is looking right at me. Come on, say something....!!

"U-Ummm...." I stumbled, my index slowly moving to point at the complex the bus had stopped near at.

"역???" I cringed as I tried to pronounce the exotic word. Fuck. I didn't expect my voice to crack right in front of the bus conductor. And before anyone raises a question, no. I don't know Korean. I just happened to memorize only the important words I might need to communicate during my journey to Korea. But while I was still at home I felt pretty confident in myself, what happened to me now? It wasn't unusual of me, I am a human after all and I get nervous at times too. Yet it was.... surprising.

Hmm...it must be the anxiety of being in an alien country where everything is different from what I am aware of and what I have experienced so far. Different ambience, different language, and different people. Very strange and foreign, to be frank. But fresh and young, like a bite of a ripe green apple.

Nevertheless, the conductor just laughed at me and patted my shoulder very strongly. Ouch but Woah, now I could see why he was hired as the conductor. Strong arms, sharp eyes, along with a charm of his own to make people at ease. Even to a 'lost' newcomer like me.

"Yes yes! 역! Correct! Wanna come out??" With a grin twinkling on his bright face, he stepped away to let me through. I felt more relaxed than before as soon as I heard English from him, and it was pretty fluent too.

A small relieved smile broke on my lips too as I grab hold of my guitar case and my backpack and get up. My legs had gotten a bit numb inside my boots from not moving them much throughout the ride, and my jacket was almost off my shoulders.

"감사합니다" I quickly muttered before adjusting everything on me and stepping out of the bus. I didn't want to stammer again and, even if I wasn't in a hurry, I still wanted to make sure I reach where I was called to at an early hand.

"Have a safe journey!" The conductor waved at me, and I gladly turned around to return the gesture before entering the lobby. After I had made it inside, I left my belongings at a convenient place and went to the bathroom to fix my face and clothes.

I had been travelling for almost twenty hours; An eighteen-hour flight and a two-hour bus. It was back-to-back, and hardly I had the time to refresh myself properly and smoke a bit, but now was my chance to do so before I carry on to reach my destination.

With the help of the large mirror on the wall, I first removed my contact lenses and then washed my face and combed my hair. It had grown pretty long. But I wasn't planning on cutting them any sooner. I also dusted my jacket and jeans off and straightened my t-shirt inside.

After I was sure everything had been set, I put my lenses back on and vaguely looked around the room, and finding no one except me, I quickly stand near the ventilator above me and light my cigarette. What I was doing right now poses a threat to my health and is illegal, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine. I admit it shamelessly because why not. I have nothing to lose. We all are gonna die one day, so it's better we make the most of our lives and I was just doing that. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just because I said I don't seek adventure vigorously, does not mean I don't have any thrill in my life at all. I do have it. Everyone has it. You just gotta make it interesting in your way, and that's how you gotta roll, champ.

Anyways, after a couple of puffs, I got disposed of the cigar and shooed off the smoke around me. It was only after everything seemed clear that I washed my life hands and dried them, then left the restroom and grabbed my luggage back before I started to stride again, to the reception counter.

After all the formalities were taken care of, I finally breathed the outside air of Korean afternoon. The sun was luminous and overhead, but the heat wasn't as severe as back in Miami. The number of clouds here are much more than there, or was it just for this particular day? I had no idea.

I am not a tourist here. I came here for a business trip, you can say. A man from here, a freelancing musical artist, had personally requested and invited me for a musical collaboration. The deal itself sounded quite intriguing, also with the fact that I'm half-Korean thanks to my father's lineage, yet ironically I have neither ever seen Korea with my own eyes nor I have witnessed its culture. Until today, that is.

So here I am now, strolling in the middle of the bustling city surrounded by college students touring around, laughing and talking with their classmates and munching on unique dishes and snacks I had never seen before. And while I was busy observing them, someone bumped into me, breaking my contact.

"Oh! 실례합니다!" It was a young blond guy, wearing a light blue hoodie with a couple of smiley badges pinned to his chest. He quickly bowed after apologizing and for briefly taking a glance at my face, hastily trots in the opposite direction. I eyed him, judging by his clothes and the books he was carrying in his arms, he looked like a college student. Hmm...no wonder why he was in a hurry. He must be late to class or something.

But anyway, I continued walking. That musical man had told me to wait near the back alley of a coffee shop that was close to the station. Hmm, that would be easy to locate. The coffee shop was right in front of me! Hah, how easy.

And so, without wasting any time, I ambled towards the cafè. It was a cute little shop, in my opinion. The smell of roasted coffee beans and bubbling creamy milk was evident in the atmosphere, and the colour scheme of the shop had pallettes of vanilla and caramel. It was like I had entered not a shop but inside a nestling coffee cup! Pretty cool, especially for someone who loves coffee like me.

Also, a bunch of customers were inside too. This place was not lonely at all. Some couples were on a date, singles who just want peace of mind with a complimentary cup of coffee, and business workers too! To be honest, I liked one of the employee's suits too. It was of a short brunette woman with glasses. She was kind of cute too. And by how she was still typing away rapidly on her phone even while on her break, tells how much of a busy woman she must be. Damn, God forbid that I ever be this much busy in my career.

Working even at breaks. Scary, in my opinion.

Needless to say, that wasn't why I was here for. The city was new to me so naturally, I would be curious, but business comes first in such a case. And in this case, it's my case. So bringing myself back to schedule, I leave to the back alley, waiting for that man so we could finally meet after talking through emails and phone calls.

But......what was that man's name again?

Ah....Zen.....

Hmm, weird name. But as someone who prefers to be called CJ than Catherine Joseph, I am no one to say so. Or even judge so.

Zen......I wonder what kind of person he would be in flesh. Same friendly and confident as the impression of him in my mind? Or just some different personality I never saw coming? Well, only time will tell that. But right now, we wait.

#catjose #mystic messenger oc #mystic messenger cmc #mystic messenger mc #mysme cmc #mysme oc #mysme mc #mysme #mystic messenger #cmc #oc-tober

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akp-1327 · 3 years

Text

dear diary // chapter ten

Auditions have arrived...O_o

Fair warning, I don’t know much about drama...anything? So I did a bunch of research from the original books, websites, and friends with experience...so let me know if any of this is inaccurate!

Also...hello! It’s been waaaaaay way way too long since the last update, but I’m beyond happy to be back! :)

As always, find the series masterlist here (Tumblr) or here (AO3) to catch up! :)

Pairings: Ajay Bhandari x f!MC (Charlotte Parker), Skye Crandall x f!OC (Leila Maciel)

Word Count: 6.5k

(*) Warnings: the briefest mention of dementia, otherwise there’s just a roller coaster of emotions in this chapter!

After one of the fastest weeks known to man, it was the day that classes started

This morning was all too familiar; the sudden remembrance of signing up for the morning classes, then the curse as I woke up with the sun. However, it was comforting to have this routine again. It made me feel normal, which had been a feeling I missed all summer back at Dad’s.

Walking to class on days like these, where the sun was warm and the sky was clear, had been another thing I missed. Birds chirping, the light foot traffic around campus, the smell of coffee wafting on the light breeze...

I could only think of how many hours spent pouring over the script for The Enchanted Kingdom. There were also points where Rory physically had to tear me away from the script to get outside, which to say, was not a task he succeeded at...

“C’mon! It’ll be fun! We can go find you some new blazers or something, since you insist on wearing them all the time.” Rory was slowly easing a highlighter from my hand. I gave him a death glare and he backed away, “At least take a break? You’ve been hunched here for hours.”

After a pointed look into his eyes, I focused my attention back on the script in front of me.

“I’m completely fine. Also, while I would love to get a few new blazers, I don’t have the time right now.” My voice was rough. I hadn’t been able to sleep much or eat anything but instant ramen for the past couple days. Though, I was feeling adventurous this morning and drank a piping hot cup of coffee. That felt like it did the trick, at least for a good while...until I fell asleep on my script for an hour or so. Ever since then, my eyes have been pretty droopy.

“Just let me be, Rory.”

Without another word, Rory sighed and left with a frown.

...was I a jerk that day? Maybe. But that was my nature; I’m a director and I’m supposed to be that way.

Another drift of wind caught the unbuttoned flannel I wore. Flannel was definitely a go-to right now, especially since all my blazers were much too warm for this kind of weather. Also, who knows who I’ll see?

I adjusted the backpack on my shoulders with a heavy sigh and tightened my grip on the straps. Something about today felt different from first days of class in the past. Could it be how nice the weather was today? It’d been raining on the first day for the past two years...

Maybe it was about where I was going? Performance Theory wasn’t the most interesting thing on the planet, but it was also something I’d taken the past two years. By now, it was something to wake me up in the morning. So why would that make me feel weird?

I shook the feeling away and continued to walk at a relaxed pace, focusing on something else.

Naturally, my eyes traced over campus. A big group of students laughing in the shade of a tall maple tree, a few couples walking shoulder to shoulder, and many stragglers like me with their textbooks in hand.

The environment was serene, and it was definitely one I enjoyed. The long summer of renting out that spare room at Dad’s apartment was, at last, something I didn’t need to worry about for a while. Or...ever again, now that I’ve visited Amma.

Maybe that was the feeling? Amma looked so happy to see me, and so did Mo. I guess I missed them more than I thought...

My feet fell onto a familiar path towards the arts building. I was almost there; only a few more steps and a small staircase until the doors--

“Ajay!” A voice shouted from behind me, making my eyes roll. I fought the urge to keep walking and just ignore them, but I knew that’d be a bad choice with who this was.

Craaaaaap.

“Danielle.” I greeted through gritted teeth. I turned around to face her. “Hello.”

She gave her normal maniacal grin, creepy as always.

“Auditions are tonight, yeah?” She asked, and then held up her already battered script for me to see. There was bright yellow, green, and pink post-its peeking out from the pages. She’d always been dedicated to her auditions...but she just couldn’t execute.

Honestly? That was okay. She was an alright person for ensemble roles because she’d been a good dancer. But that doesn’t mean she was a great actor.

“They are, so make sure to be at the auditorium by four.” I sounded a little annoyed, but Danielle was oblivious. She wouldn’t notice; even if she did, she wouldn’t care. “Don’t be late, otherwise I’ll make sure you can’t audition.”

Her eyes widened a little, but otherwise that annoying smile still stretched across her face. Ugh, absolutely obnoxious.

“I won’t let you down! Oh, and tell Rory to save me a seat!” Danielle said before walking away with a wave. Once she was out of sight, I rolled my eyes with a shudder and started walking to class again.

As expected, classes were already boring. One lecture after another, going through all those stupid, stereotypical ice breaker games. Your name, your birthday, your major, your entire life plan...

I didn’t have another class until noon, and that was about an hour and a half from now. To pass the time, I decided to pull out my script. The sun reflected off the white paper and instantly obliterated my retinas, so with a watery blink, I looked away and tucked it back into place in my backpack, vowing to look at it later.

There was...nothing left for me to do.

Wait, is this what people call a break? This is what breathing feels like? Wow, this is so surreal...

Something about the moment just felt wrong. I shouldn’t be idle like this.

Students were laughing as they walked by. I recognized a few of them, but only by their faces. Some I recognized from past classes, others from past ensembles, a few from Lafayette...

Then, though, I found a familiarity within the group.

Erin.

“Ajay,” Erin smiled, looking relaxed as she sat next to me, “didn’t expect to see you sitting here.”

I gave her an eye roll. “Is it...illegal?”

Her loud laugh drew the attention of people around. “In the book of Ajay, it definitely is. It’s almost concerning to see you so calm on audition day.”

So it was noticeable. Huh. Immediately, my posture straightened and I crossed my legs, prompting Erin to laugh a little.

“I guess it’s just weird coming from you. I’m not a drama nerd, but I know this isn’t how directors normally act when they’re hours away from auditions.” She slowly turned to face me before continuing. “Anyway, what brings you to this bench?”

Her voice was surprisingly even. She looked like she’d been doing a lot better, but I could still see the sadness and exhaustion in her eyes. Erin had always been extremely resilient and level-minded, but even she could only handle so much stress at once.

“My next class is at noon so I figured I’d sit for a little while.”

Almost immediately, she sighed. “Preach. I have psych, so I’m in for a treat.”

Then, silence. It was thick, deafening, excruciating...I quickly wracked my brain for a question to get rid of it. Her confession about her grandma came up, then so did something else.

I hated to bring it up, but my mind wouldn’t forgive me if I chose something else to talk about.

“Erin, what happened to your grandpa?”

The question was met with another sigh, but this one was heavier. Regret already plagued my brain, but it was too late now. Nice job, Ajay.

“Let me guess, Rory told you?” Her expression wasn’t much different, but it definitely solidified into a more serious one than before.

“Yeah, on the first day back. With your grandma and all, I was wondering if they were both...”

Before she spoke again, she took a deep breath. “No, no. You’re right to wonder. It’s nothing concerning, though. He just didn’t like the idea of being separated from my grandma while she gets treatment, and so he let out a lot of his frustrations on me in an argument a few days before I came here. Said he didn’t like everyone he loved leaving him,” she shrugged, shaking her head, “I called Rory afterwards, since his parents were the same way when he left for college, and that ended up being a three hour-long conversation.”

I nodded when she took a break, and in that moment, I wondered how she worked through this. It was terrible, especially when her family was so far away.

“It hurt when I left this time, of course, but I think it’s good for me to get away from them for a while. I just need some space to process everything.” She shook her head, almost like she was shaking the thoughts away. Instead, she changed the topic. “Did Rory say something bad happened to my grandpa?”

Another nod, and Erin clicked her tongue.

“Rory was just being a gossip like always, then. Pops is just adjusting,” A genuine smile came back to her face, which was always reassuring. “So, I heard you went to your mom’s house? How was that?”

I groaned. “Can we talk about something else?”

She laughed loudly and, again, prompted lots of attention to our bench. “That great, huh?”

I sighed. The weird feeling from earlier came back, slowly eating away at my thoughts once more.

Erin quirked an eyebrow. “You’re making a face.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, challenging her gaze. “I always make a face. Everyone makes a face. It’d be concerning if someone didn’t make a face.”

That answer only made her eyes narrow even more.

“You’re rambling,” With this realization, she looked me over, “are you...okay? You never ramble.”

I could feel my leg start to bounce. “I can assure you that I’m fine.”

She hummed loudly, and I noticed my hands were starting to sweat a little.

“Add that to the pile of other lies you’ve been telling Rory for the past week. He’s been keeping me in the loop since, y’know, you never text me,” her elbow nudged my arm with a force that made me let out an uncharacteristic squeak, “so I’m sorry, but I’m not buying any of that crap. I can easily tell something’s bugging you.”

“I’m just stressed and on edge for tonight. That’s all.” Was all I could say. Knowing Erin, she wouldn’t take that as a viable answer.

“You’re never on edge for auditions. You say it’s one of the most laid back parts of the process...” Erin’s voice was accusative. She could see right through me. Sadly, that had always been one of her talents.

“Sometimes auditions are easy, but this isn’t one of those times,” I heaved a loud sigh and rested my chin on my ever-so-slowly tightening fist, “It’s a big cast, and so that a lot of decisions need to be made.”

Erin was quiet for a second. I could hear her drumming her fingers against the cover of her textbook softly, and then she spoke. “Sure, I get that part, but you’re off, too.”

I whipped my head towards her and found a teasing smile growing on her lips. “How so?”

She cocked her head to the side and playfully squinted. “You’re not wearing a blazer, for one,” she was keeping a tally on her fingers, “you’re too relaxed, you’re bouncing your crossed legs, your posture is super straight, you’re rambling, you’re defensive, you’re even a little jumpy...”

I slouched back down at the mention, and this only made her smirk grow into a full-blown grin. “You’ve been pretty quiet about the show, too. By now, I’d usually hear you going on and on about them like a proud grandma.”

“Erin--”

“Oh, this scene will be so interesting to choreograph, and this scene will bring an audience to tears, and even this--” Erin’s voice was mocking. Of course she was fairly accurate, but it still got on my nerves.

“Okay, I get it,” A helpless sigh escaped me, and she had that knowing look in her eye that made me want to gag.

“What’s up with you?” Erin laughed, narrowing her eyes a little in curiosity. “Don’t leave a poor girl in suspense!”

The truth was something I could barely admit to myself. It was the thought of a feeling I never, ever wanted to experience again. Heartbreak.

“Ajay, you’re blushing...” Erin was smiling now.

And then it hit me. All hope was lost when she covered her mouth and squealed. I’ve never, ever blushed in front of her.

“Ooooohhhhh, do you like someone?” Erin started to cheer. I opened my mouth to stop her from getting too loud, but she was already squealing again. There was no stopping the stares from the passing students now. “Oh. My. God! And that someone is making you nervous, right?”

I grimaced, the reminder of why I kept quiet surfacing for the millionth time. People always make a big deal out of your feelings, so that’s why you never show any emotion.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t--” The heat sweltered on my cheeks, and I knew it was still visible when Erin clapped. She looked so relieved while I wanted the world to open up and swallow me whole.

“Oh, I called it! I so called it!”

I looked up at her and found her grinning with some emotion I couldn’t quite place. She looked like she was about to scream! “Erin, if you tell anyone, I swear to any and every deity in this damn universe--”

“Anyone does not include Rory. He needs to know!” Erin said excitedly.

“He does not need to know! That information is not on a need-to-know basis!”

And he’ll know exactly who it is!

“Ajay! This is awesome! It’s been so long since you liked someone!”

Awesome? Awesome?

“Awesome is one of the last words I’d use.” I could practically feel the blush on my cheeks slowly burn me from the outside in; it made me wonder if there were actual flames dancing on my skin. “They might be auditioning. I...can’t let something like that distract me from the show. You know what happened with Kelly.”

Finally, Erin let her smile turn into something more composed.

“That was two years ago. Plus, not to mention, it was with a girl who was as blind as a bat.” Erin lifted a hand onto my shoulder and patted it gently, “You’ve changed since then, so I think it’s safe for you to let that fear go.”

“I know I’ve changed,” I was basically whispering at this point, “but I guess I’m just...”

She patted my shoulder again. “You’re scared.”

Before I could bite my tongue, I blurted, “Terrified.”

She sat in silence for a minute, but then, that sly grin of hers was back. “Well, then.”

“What do I do?”

Erin placed her hands on my shoulders. “One of the healthiest ways to overcome a fear is through exposure therapy. So, maybe...you could tell me who they are?”

I searched her eyes, and much like her grin, all I found was warmth. It was the warmth that’d been missing from Erin since we’d arrived on campus. It was nice to see her start to heal from her summer and return to her normal self.

Still, I blurted the one word on my tongue. “No.”

She sighed, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “Ugh, fine. But just build the courage up sooner rather than later, please? I don’t handle anticipation very well and I’d very much like to know who made you this way.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You think I’m ready for that?”

Erin stood up, suddenly, and laughed. “That’s up for you to decide. Though, from an outsider’s perspective, I think you would’ve been just fine two years ago.”

Her gaze went soft for a second, but it was gone before I could decipher more. “Anywho, text me if you need help asking this mystery person out. You know I’d be happy to help!”

She was off with a sly wink before I could retort, already whipping her phone out to text Rory. Even if I didn’t want that to happen, I smiled.

My noon class was both a bore and a nightmare. Calculus was all gibberish - well, all math was - so I did my best to not pay attention to the professor. I needed to keep my head screwed on straight for later, so instead, I focused on reading through the script and notes I added in the margins. It ended up being quite nice, actually.

After the class spawned from the fiery depths of hell finished, I had a quick lunch consisting of a pack of rainbow goldfish crackers and hurried across campus to my next class.

Theatre arts was the perfect class for today, especially with it being audition night. Prime location and a great way to get back into the swing of things.

When I arrived, the auditorium entrance was buzzing with people. The drama building has never been a popular destination during the day, so what gives? Were auditions really something special this year?

Among the many faces, I spotted Rory, Skye, Leila, and Charlotte all huddled around a bulletin board on the front lawn. From the looks of it, they were...arguing, I suppose.

“...but wait! Skye, you’re good with computers!” Leila gasped, pointing at whatever was pinned on the board. “There are still tech spots available! And there isn’t an audition necessary for them.”

I watched Skye shake her head. Her hair was down, per usual, and she looked uptight. That was normal for her. But she also looked anxious when her eyes were looking at the bulletin board.

“Leila, you never need to audition for a tech spot,” Charlotte sighed, shaking her head, “can we please just let Skye make her own decision?”

“But there always needs to be more tech people! And it’d be fun to have another friend be at rehearsals.” Rory was pleading. He looked at Skye like she was his saving grace. “Please, Skye?”

It wasn’t an exaggeration at how small the tech crew was. Everyone in the drama program wants to act, not do tech. So, if anyone in the cast or crew heard about another tech, they’d jump at the opportunity and recruit them.

Skye gave everyone a look of dismay, then before she spoke, her eyes met mine.

“Ajay,” Skye said loudly, waving me closer. I hurried over and became apart of the huddle, and somehow fate was nice enough to put me next to Charlotte. “Does the drama program need more tech people?”

She was about to hate my guts.

“There’s never enough of them,” Memories of failing to do sound board last year flooded my mind, “don’t mind me asking, but would you be willing to give it a shot?”

That’s what made Skye groan. “Ugggg, you too?”

Her response made Leila laugh, but that was the only sound before a few moments of complete silence.

Finally, Skye sighed in defeat. “Depends. I’ll have to see what the software looks like first.”

I’ll take that as a yes...for now.

“Auditions are--” I started, but then Skye rolled her eyes.

“If I hear about auditions being tonight one more time, I swear...” Skye said, a hint of a smirk coming onto her face as she started to laugh. That was different, too; I don’t think I’ve ever heard her actual laugh.

“So does that mean you’ll do it?” Rory asked eagerly.

Skye smiled; it was small, but it was genuine. All the anxiety in her eyes vanished. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t feel forced to, though!” Charlotte squeaked, her voice cracking a little. “There are plenty of techs out there--”

“No! Don’t you dare rub her the wrong way!” Rory exclaimed, making Charlotte giggle.

It was cute. That thought alone made me blush a little.

Then, Leila gasped, her eyes widening in panic.

“Oh crap! I have to go!” Leila yelled, checking her phone. I decided to check my watch, and it read that it was almost two. Then she piped up again. “Skye, wanna walk with me?”

Skye let out a soft, surprised gasp. Her cheeks visibly reddened against her pale skin as she nodded.

“Sure,” Skye said, clearing her throat, “uh, maybe I’ll see you guys later,” she waved, allowing Leila to quickly drag her away by the arm, “jeez, lady, slow down--”

“Bye guys!” Leila yelled over her shoulder, then disappeared with Skye down the sidewalk and into a crowd of students.

Rory was the first one to speak, looking right at Charlotte. “Let me guess, you gotta go to the drama building?”

She nodded. “Whoa...it’s almost like I told you that when I got here...”

The two kept joking around as we started to walk into the building, but I kept thinking about what Erin had said about forgetting the whole Kelly situation. It felt like a great idea, but I couldn’t shake away all the fear associated with it.

It was another one of those things that’d eat away at my brain, but I guess that’d be okay. There wasn’t anything I could do about it now...

Theatre Arts wasn’t as boring as usual, but it was definitely a lot more chaotic. Commands for props here, calls for help with setting the lights up over there, and somewhere in between, lots of laughing coming from Charlotte and Rory.

It looked like Charlotte was blushing from here, but I couldn’t exactly tell. She and Rory were on the complete opposite side of the auditorium.

Professor Olson and I were skimming through the lists we had in front of us. It was hard to focus on the character descriptions I’ve read a gazillion times when I heard Charlotte’s vivacious laugh in the background.

“Alright,” Olson said, sounding exhausted already, “I’ve had some people hang posters around campus, so this shouldn’t be a hard place to find. Hopefully we get some new faces around here...”

Instantly, I looked over to Charlotte, still laughing at something Rory had said. Her smile brightened tenfold when she met my gaze, and she eagerly waved. With a small smile, I shook my head and looked back at Olson.

“That shouldn’t be too much of an issue,” I pulled out the form with all the auditionees on it and pointed to her name, “Charlotte Parker. Freshman.”

He nodded quizzically. “Anything unique about her?”

A lot, my brain immediately responded, though I shook the thought away.

“She performed at the Spotlite festival in London as a lead a few years back,” The professor’s eyebrows shot up, “and her school won. So I’d say she’s a pretty strong contender tonight.”

The fact that she was auditioning made me feel like I’d been punched in the gut by the universe. Exactly what I wished to not happen...happened. Though, at the same time, I couldn’t help but be a little excited to see what she could do on stage.

“That’s quite the accomplishment. Is there anyone else you know?”

As we ran through the list once more, a few names stuck out like sore thumbs; Rory, Danielle, Natalie, Clint, Jordan, and some frequents I’ve seen over the past couple years.

What finally tore my attention from the conversation was a gleeful scream.

“Skye!”

Charlotte. Duh.

Then, rushed footsteps up the aisle and towards the doors. A collision, then a groan of “why”. My guess: there was a hug and it’d been extremely one-sided.

That was Skye, alright.

Wait, my thoughts started to jumble together in panic, it’s already four?

Sure enough, I checked my watch. It was already a quarter til four.

“I hope you’re ready. It looks like this’ll be a long one.” Olson gestured back to the doors where Skye and Charlotte had still been talking. Several people were starting to flood into the seats, all with scripts in hand, and began to mingle.

“Jesus,” I mumbled.

As the start time approached, I got a little more nervous when thinking about the inevitable crashing and burning of this show if I let my feelings come before my job as a director.

Then, a loud timer rang off of Olson’s phone. He leaned over and whispered. “Show time.”

“Next, please!”

Already an hour in and we’d only made it through half of the list.

Jordan was on stage and running through their lines. They had a great way of controlling their emotions, but it all felt a little bland. However, it could’ve quite possibly been the scene they chose; a scene of the princess or prince daydreaming about the knight.

I knew it’d be a popular scene for auditions; it really goes into the character of the princess or prince by going through ranges of emotion, from happiness and love to humiliation and regret. The scene is extremely captivating and is a great choice for actors to showcase the abilities they could bring to the table if they got the role.

What I wasn’t prepared for, though, was the majority of the people auditioning for the role to use the same exact scene. Especially Jordan, who was usually someone who chose scenes that’d be risky for others.

Strange.

“Alright, thank you, Jordan.” Professor Olson said, composed as ever. It took him a few moments to finish writing in notes next to Jordan’s name, but then he finished and glanced at the auditionee list. “Next, I’d like to see Danielle. Start whenever you’re ready.”

My eyes rolled. She scampered up onto the stage, script in hand, and started with a completely different tone than the millions of other scenes we’d heard. I quickly searched for the passage she’d been reading from in the never-ending stack of papers on the table.

She was reading for the witch, surprisingly enough. Her voice was startlingly dark. It was deep, it was evil, it was rich, it was...what we’d been looking for in a witch. However, her downfall was the lack of control over her emotions.

“Alright, Danielle, thank you.” Olson held up his hand, jotting a quick note down next to her name. Voice: dark, brooding, menacing. Emotions: uncontrolled.

During the transition, I took a glance back at the list to see who’d be next, and my heart stopped. It’s like I couldn’t feel it beat in my chest; it’d felt like it stopped entirely-

“Kelly, whenever you’re ready.”

My eyes snapped up to the stage, and there she stood. For the most part, she’d been the same Kelly I fell for two years ago, but this time, I didn’t get the butterflies in my stomach. Instead, the sight made me a little uneasy. Obviously it wasn’t her appearance, because that was the same, but her very presence.

The only feelings I had were irritation and sorrow and cowardice and regret--

“Ajay, are you ready?” Olson asked. The room was silent, and so I realized they’d been waiting on me.

“Oh. Um, yeah, go ahead.” My voice was rushed, but I barely noticed as the nostalgic feeling of her chocolate brown eyes burning into my being washed over me. It didn’t make me nervous like it used to, nor did it render me speechless.

“Right. Um.” Kelly said anxiously, fiddling with her script before she started to repeat the average line for the prince and princess roles. I noticed that her voice had the same lilt, but something didn’t feel right with it.

It’s not for the right character, that’s why.

I tapped Olson’s shoulder and pointed to another character on the list, watching as he nodded.

“Kelly,” He interrupted her mid-sentence, and a look of fear glazed her eyes, “have you read over any lines for the witch?”

She shook her head, the look of fear melting into one of utter confusion.

“Flip back a page in your script and choose a line from the witch, then read it as you see fit. Take your time.”

I was so happy Olson was the one doing all the talking. I’d probably just tell her to move on at this point.

After a few moments, Kelly nodded and took a deep breath. Much like Danielle, she had the sharp undertones we’d been looking for, but they weren’t as clear as Danielle’s. Kelly, though, did have more control over her emotions.

I never thought I’d find myself saying this, but I hoped Danielle would have more advantages over Kelly. I just didn’t want to work with her again, not after what happened.

“Alright, Kelly, we’ll consider you for both options. Thank you.”

At this point, Olson sounded exhausted beyond belief.

Kelly left the stage with a nod. My eyes met hers just before she vanished, and there was some emotion in them that I couldn’t quite place. Guilt, annoyance, confusion...I really didn’t know.

When she left the stage completely, it felt like there was a heavy weight lifted off of my shoulders.

“Well...let’s see here...” Olson mumbled under his breath, taking a sip of his coffee before he pointed down at one last list of names. “Only a few more left. How’re we looking?”

There’d been several great candidates for each role; this was always great, since then we’d have understudies and members for a complete ensemble.

“Like we’ll have some decisions to make, for sure,” I ran a hand through my hair as I read through the notes I made for each auditionee, “especially for a few of our veteran actors.”

It was true. Some were better for other roles, some didn’t have the strength or spark they did last year, some were improving...

“People change, scripts change, expectations change. It’s just a new journey to start,” When the exhausted professor smiled, the faintest purple bags beneath his eyes deepened, “and new journeys require a fresh and open mind.”

Somehow, Charlotte was the last to audition. When she was called to the stage, it was almost eight. Everyone in the house seats looked like they wanted to go home.

A familiar fluttering in my stomach appeared when she looked at me from beneath the stage lights. She looked like she’d been in her element, her smile shimmering and her eyes sparkling as she looked around at the red velvet seats in front of her. The script she held was neat and shook a bit, but her resolve remained calm and composed.

A good stage presence, I noted.

“Alright, Charlotte, because you’re new, do you have any questions I can answer before you start?” Olson’s voice gave way to his fatigue from asking the same question all evening, but Charlotte shook her head.

“All of my questions were answered throughout the evening,” She smiled, her voice smooth, “but if I have any, I’ll be sure to ask.”

That was an answer that made Olson blink in surprise. He wasn’t someone to be speechless, but those few seconds were definitely silent. It was clear she’d impressed him with just a sentence.

I definitely know the feeling...

“Excellent, so I believe you’re ready to go,” Olson wrote a few notes on his paper, then looked back up, “any specific role you’re auditioning for, or are you open to any?”

Charlotte cleared her throat and glanced at me before she focused on Olson once more. Her posture visibly straightened.

“I’d be open to any role. Lead, understudy, or ensemble.”

Jeez, she really does carry herself well.

“Sounds good...” After another scribbled note, Olson waved at her to continue. “Alright, whenever you’re ready.”

Her shoulders rose with a deep breath and she closed her eyes. It stayed that way for a second, and I couldn’t help but continue to admire her. It took strength to be that calm in front of a crowd.

She’s looks so natural up there, almost like that stage was built for her...

When her eyes opened, it’s like she’d transformed into an entirely new person. Her expression radiated innocence and her eyes filled with life, even more so than usual.

Then, she started to speak from a scene we hadn’t heard at all today. It was one where the prince or princess would come across the witch for the first time; this was a powerful and somewhat challenging scene, as the actor needed to portray multiple emotions at once while still keeping themselves under a neutral mask.

A minute passed, and then two, and then maybe even three. I had no idea. But, what I did know for sure, was that her acting was out of this world.

From what she’d put forth so far, it looked like she’d barely broken a sweat. Her voice was perfect and her control on her emotions was even better. She wasn’t overconfident, but calm. She was a force to be reckoned with on that stage, and it was equally empowering and terrifying. She had so much power, so much passion, so much potential...

She had everything we were looking for in this role.

Olson leaned over with wide eyes. “Wow. I...would like to believe we just found our princess.”

I couldn’t help but smile when the response left my mouth. “Absolutely.”

Then, the sudden horror dawned on me.

Princess. Charlotte...was princess.

It’d only been about ten minutes after she left the stage with a polite bow and dazzling smile that the entire auditorium started to empty out. Only a few stragglers were talking by the stage or the exits.

One of them in particular smiled and sped over to me.

“Ajay,” Charlotte grinned, “hi.”

“Charlotte,” I responded, “how’re you?”

She puffed out her rosy cheeks before letting the air out in a long sigh.

“So tired,” She was lightly laughing now. It was a little out of place, but it was cute. “Since I just decided to audition a few days ago, I’ve been pulling all-nighters with Leila to get my lines right.”

I feigned a smile and let a white lie slip through my teeth. “I’m glad you decided to audition.”

“Me too. I’m excited to see your directing skills in action,” She said this with a wink, “because it’s all I ever hear about from Rory.”

“Really?” Why does he talk about my directing...?

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “He gushes about how great of a director you are, like, all the time. You really haven’t heard any of this?”

I gave her a deadpan look, and she huffed out a laugh.

“Well, you should ask him about it. I’m sure he’d gladly tell you about how amazing you are,” she said thoughtfully, “he looks up to you, you know. It’s easy to see by the way he talks about you.”

I can’t imagine why...

“That’s surpris--” Before I could get through my sentence, I watched Charlotte stumble forward into me. Everything felt like it’d been in slow motion; her eyes widening slowly as her arms opened to hold onto me. Without another thought, mine did the same, wrapping around her small form carefully.

“Whoa!” Charlotte gasped with her arms tight around my torso and cheek pressed against my chest. I felt my heart start to pound, so I started worrying she could feel it thumping against her cheek.

The sound of laughter could be heard behind her, and when I looked up, I caught a glimpse of Danielle and a few others sauntering away. I glared at their backs, my grip on Charlotte tightening by a fraction.

Danielle better keep to herself from now on, because if that happens again--

The thought made a snarl appear on my face, and I quickly shook it away.

“You okay?” I asked, instantly feeling her rapid nod against my chest. I expected her to move...but she didn’t.

“Y-Yeah, just caught off-guard, um, I’m good.” Her voice sounded panicked. She pulled away from me slowly, looking up into my eyes with a deep red blush. “Thanks for not letting me fall.”

“Well, you didn’t really give me a choice.” I teased, watching her eyes widen for a second before she looked away.

“Right. Well. Uh, I should probably get going. I already have a ton of homework,” she hummed, smiling once more, “I’ll see you...sometime this week?”

I nodded, returning her smile. My heart felt like it was floating.

“Of course. Good night, Charlotte.”

“G’night,” She smiled and waved, awkwardly walking out the door. This whole goodbye thing felt like the new normal - that is, watching her run off while I stay glued to my spot, still living in the previous moment and imagining her eyes, her voice, her smile--

“Ajay! C’mon, man,” Rory shouted from the stage, “let’s go get dinner before we starve.”

It was like I snapped from a daze when I blinked.

The effect she had on me was maddening, but I realized I couldn’t get enough of it. Everything about her was just so frustratingly perfect--

“I’m in the mood for some absurdly overpriced pizza,” I said abruptly, walking with Rory out into the cool September night air. He laughed, nodding in agreement.

“Ohhhh, me too!”

I could swear the scent of her perfume drifted along in the breeze, but that was probably just my mind playing tricks on me.

It was hard to fall asleep that night. Maybe...maybe greasy pizza wasn’t the best idea.

I kept flipping over, hoping to find that one magical position and miraculously succumb to sleep.

But I just couldn’t get her out of my head.

This shouldn’t even be happening. Why did I let this happen? She was definitely involved with the show now. My rule still applies to me!

But...Charlotte. Sweet, kind, talented Charlotte.

Ug. The temptation to scream into my pillow was terrifyingly high.

For the love of...

Then, a thought. With a blink, I reached over to grab my glasses and a pen. After I turned my phone’s flashlight on, the feeling of a leather book from underneath my pillow brushed against my fingers. At the feeling, I sighed.

September 17th, 2020

Dear Diary...

Why does life have to be so complicated?

It wasn’t anything extensive, but my brain felt tired after writing all of that. So...short entry it was. Oh, did I sign it?

Too late. It was already closed.

I still felt like I was going to explode, but it was less severe than before. Progress. Maybe I could fall asleep now.

When I put everything back and folded my glasses, my head dreadfully hit the pillow with a soft thud. To make matters even better, I thought about her audition. How it was breathtakingly powerful and absolutely stunning. About how her voice was perfect for the part. About how...

It’s going to be a long night.

#high school story class act #ajay bhandari #rory silva #erin ward #skye crandall #mc: charlotte parker #oc: leila maciel #ajay x mc #skye x oc #chapter ten! 🥳#<< why do i still use that tag #no idea #brief dementia mention #choices stories you play

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