#but she was petty please about the whole arrangement because she was lonely and he was kind and likable and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winxlava · 3 years

Text

Where Fate: the Winx saga fails

As a winx fan of 14 years (in and out), this fate thing is really scandolous. I’ve seen lots of ups and downs the winx fandom. As I’ve watched all of the development that fate had, I've had some thoughts, but I’ve waited until I watched everything.

This is going to be a reaction to all 6 episodes of Fate the Winx saga. This is coming from a fan of the og show so expect lots of comparisons.

If this bothers you, please don't keep reading. A lot of this is only my opinion. If you like it and think its great, that’s good! I’m not here to ruin it.

There is a list of what I liked most near the bottom of this post. Spoilers Ahead!!

Anyway, back to the post.

What made the Winx work

Lets start with the basic idea of Winx. Bloom, a normal girl, finds out that she has magic powers and is from another dimension. Seems like a simple concept? Well, Seasons 1-3 (and 4?) expanded this idea to the max.

Likeable characters galore and lots of fun, fashion, and magic.

For a lot of us that’s what sold the show.

So lets talk about tone and why its so important

The idea that teenage girls were exploring a world we could never see or experience. And the darkness that came with it.

Remember when Daphne, bloom’s dead sister, clung to life to help bloom figure her life out? When bloom became evil and nearly killed all of her friends? When Flora drowned to save her sister, only to get enchantix? (Actually all of enchantix was like this). When Musa gave up seeing her dead mom to save the world? When nabu died?

The show was full of these small, intense, dark moments. That’s what made winx special. The light came with dark.

By making the show dark and “eDgy” it takes away the impact of the dark moments. I’ve been saying this since the beginning.

Point of view and how Stella is affected

Stella was very misunderstood in the remake and it shows. The thing is, Stella was the first entry point into the magical world in the original show. She carried Bloom and her parents to Alfea. She was the transfer point to a whole world for the audience.

Her spunk and optimism and snark made her a fan favorite, but that’s not what made her character work.

She was Bloom’s first friend, and because of the that, we saw her in a good lens. She was reckless, but a pure heart nonetheless. She was confident, cunning, and powerful.

It was because we saw the good in her first that made us like her. She was good before she was bad in our eyes.

The remake takes all of that away. She’s just a generic mean rich girl now. To be honest, Stella is accurate, but the way she was introduced put her in a whole new light. In this version, she is annoying and trifling, seemingly taking the place of Diaspro in her liking for sky.

Also she hates her mother? Stella would never! She loved both of her parents dearly and was mad simply because she felt they never loved her as a result of their divorce; they never talked to each other and she felt split between the two of them. (See Stella’s nightmares sequence season 1 :https://youtu.be/wuvyw0OHA6A?t=129). She was lonely and her father, though he loved her, spoiled her with gifts instead of the love she desired.

You see this side of her when Chimera comes in and tries to take her place in season 3. Her worth is tied to what she has and looks like. Her title as a princess rules her.

Not only that, Stella learns about “commoners” through her friends. She was spoiled and never saw people who couldn’t afford things; it was new and she was a bit rude about it, but can you blame her, she was always put above everything else in her home country.

https://www.youtube.com/post/UgzCfOQ696rvwa51Z_J4AaABCQ?lc=UgzCDSxfcNaP9XogBSB4AaABAg

https://www.youtube.com/post/UgzCfOQ696rvwa51Z_J4AaABCQ?lc=Ugxl_sOsUSGBXEwagxJ4AaABAg

^^ These are comments of people saying similar things.

Stella also vents to Sky a lot in the remake. She seems like she is chasing him pitifully, something og Stella would never do.

Edit: Check the “liked” section; she has been upgraded to sort of like in episodes 5 and 6.

Aisha

They did Aisha dirty as well. (Just like Bonnie from Vampire Diaries, why am I surprised?) I would write a lot here, but someone else summarized it well:

https://rainbow-whitewashing-jar.tumblr.com/post/639787632624369664/its-just-there-is-so-much-background-on-aisha.

https://www.youtube.com/post/Ugx4WL5rIPTS1suGOed4AaABCQ

Tldr: Aisha was a very lonely princess of Andros. She only had one friend growing up but then they moved away and she was lonely all over again. She copes with her princess duties by being great at sports and even beating some of the men! She stood up to her parents when they wanted her to be arranged married, until she fell in love with Nabu HERSELF. She decided her own future from that point on.

Also, her relevance to the plot has been dwindled to being Bloom's right hand man; the black best friend sterotype! What a let down for one of the PRINCESSES of the original!

She had her own goals, drive, and motivations in the original! She did things for all of her friends; she definitely wasn't only driven by one person!

And she was closer to Musa than Bloom that's for sure!

Bloom

The fact that bloom transforms before everyone else gives bad vibes, considering that one of the reasons she was insecure about magic was because everyone of her friends was better than her and could transform. Why would she feel insecure when they are all around the same level?

The theme of sisterhood

Ever notice that none of the girls had the same taste in guys?

Bloom liked goody guys like Sky and Andy. Stella liked guys who were fun and flirty like Brandon.

In fact, none of the girls ever fought over a guy, they fought over things that actually mattered like someone being rude or a mission gone wrong.

That's what made them relatable. They weren't petty about guys and they mostly respected each other's relationships.

https://www.youtube.com/post/Ugz6TEOmGRV2Cfqy12F4AaABCQ?lc=UgwhLsToVbhLDYpFphB4AaABAg

^^ Look at highlighted comment

Not only that, but the winx represented a positive sisterhood. They stood by each other and respected each other; they never let men come between them and shared their power with each other.

Only the trix, the bad sisterhood, fought over men and power. The trix were foils to the winx and what they stood for! That's what made them some of the best villains in the series!

Instead of that, we get useless relationship drama! 😒

And that brings me to...

Stella/Sky/Bloom & Riven/Dane/Terra

What was the point of Dane? I'm still asking myself that question. He doesn't really do anything except act as relationship fuel for a love triangle.

Don't get me wrong, the representation is needed. But he adds nothing to the real plot at all except that Terra thinks he likes her, and he has a crush on Riven.

In terms of the Stella and Bloom love triangle with Sky, apparently she BLINDED someone because they flirted with sky. What?!? Stella isn't that cruel at all. The show clearly flanderized her to a cruel mean girl so....

Edit: Check the “liked” section; she has been upgraded to sort of like in episodes 5 and 6.

Lets not forget about “diversity”

Male fairies did exist before Fate:

https://www.youtube.com/post/UgziTWMf44kv0fkDt8x4AaABCQ

https://www.youtube.com/post/UgxWAFZRmqt_k3iBMhZ4AaABCQ

Flora/Terra, Musa, and Whitewashing

Terra and Musa are wonderful! Their actress' do a great job; their personalities are so similar to the original (except for musa's mind abilities and Terra's talkative personality)! Whenever one of them interacts with the other main cast, you feel actual friendship chemistry between them!!

But there is an elephant in the room: the whitewashing. If these characters were the correct race, they wouldn't be in this critical review.

Terra isn't flora, but her character was clearly based on her! Also, she has a cousin named Flora, so Flora is clearly in this universe.

Why change her race and swap her out! The personalities are spot on, which makes it even more disheartening to know that they would rather replace two POC characters with white characters who essentially are the same people and have the same plot importance.

What a shame and low blow that is! Especially since I am a black woman myself!

Sky and Riven

Them being bros make no sense really. Before they were more like enemies who were forced to work together.

Why are they friends?? What's the backstory?

Other than that, sky is pretty spot on. He's the pretty boy with good intentions. Not interesting but not very boring either.

Riven is cringy like I feared. He was also sort of cringe in the og but because of the darker setting in the remake he just feels even more so.

Other Criticisms:

- we gets some pretty cringy dialogue (mostly from riven). Some of the clingy dialogue (not from riven) ironically could have worked in a lighter setting and become "campy".

- The fact that there are no wings for 5 whole episodes, just makes the entire thing feel like Witches or something...

- why does everyone have the dead parent trope??

- no tecna

Things I do like:

- bloom missing her parents and feeling left out

- Musa and Sam before Musa and Riven (hopefully)

- Terra in general

- Terra’s dad and brother

- Musa in general

- Stella funny quips

- the scenery is gorgeous

- Stella's clothes are so fashionable! She has great outfits!

- Sky and Bloom taking during the party and/or being friendly with each other

- the magic cgi looks good 👍

- the rooms of the girls dorms and the castle looks great on the inside

- Aisha's personality

- Farrah Dowling is good as well

- Bloom is pretty spot on

- Stella's mom's powers are awesome

- imagine the genocide plot but with the happy fun show vibe and with the trix. The trix want to get revenge on faragonda for killing their cult, who wanted to revive the ancestral witches or something💥💥💥

- Stella in episodes 5 and 6 is cool

- the inclusion of the witches of aster dell (Beatrix said she was born there = witch)

- the inclusion of musa’s mother’s death

-Her transformation was lackluster to me, but I appreciated the effort to include it.

Conclusion

The pacing was all over the place to me; it felt like some episodes lasted forever and all of them seemed to have the vague theme of : be careful who you trust.

By trying to separate the winx from the og and have them have "their own lives" (which they already had), they ruined the intriguing backstories the characters already had in the og. Some were somewhat kept, but others were kind of left in the dust *cough*Aisha*cough*.

They took away with made them special: the teamwork, love, and friendship that brought them together and made them stronger. *They try it in episodes 5 and 6, but to me it just falls sort of flat.*

That said it isn't completely bad, it's mediocre at best, but it isn't Winx and that's that.

Edit: I know that it’s not supposed to be winx per say, but it has characters from the og and even the “winx” name in the title!

Credits: WCD channel on youtube, rainbow whitewashing jar on tumblr, and Youtube videos by the official winx club youtube channel.

#fate the winx club saga #fate the winx saga #winx club #netwinx

38 notes · View notes

kelyon · 3 years

Text

Golden Rings 8: A Mayor

The Storybrooke Sequel to Golden Cuffs

Rumple has a chat with Regina

Read on AO3

After that disaster of a meal, the walk to City Hall gave Rumpelstiltskin time to cool his head. It was one thing to lose control in front of Mrs. Gold, the poor woman would just blame herself for any change in his behavior. But now he was strolling into enemy territory. Going eye-to-eye with the Evil Queen. He knew better than to blink.

In the old world, there was no question that he was more powerful than Regina. She had learned her magic from him. Even then, the girl had a long list of grievances against a world that had, admittedly, treated her poorly. Rumpelstiltskin had trained her in the ways of dark magic, and that gave her the means to forge her anger into a weapon. Over the years, the queen had refined her rage, hammering her many resentments again and again until her pain was a folded blade, sharp enough to cut the world asunder.

The most important lesson the Dark One had ever taught his protégé was that true power was the ability to cause pain. If hurting people didn’t make her happy, clearly the solution was to hurt more people. As Regina’s abilities had grown, so did her list of enemies and potential victims. Her wrath had expanded from targeting one little girl, to a small rebellion, to the whole realm.

Storybrooke was Regina’s ultimate victory, even over him. It was not enough for her to simply end the lives of her enemies. She had to torture those who had wronged her, prolong their suffering. For twenty-eight years, she had trapped them all in a world without time. A world where every day seemed exactly the same as the day before--except, somehow, worse.

She had separated all of them from the people they had loved. She had forced them all to be the worst versions of themselves. She had destroyed their happiness in the hope that she would finally have some for herself.

Had it worked?

Rumpelstiltskin had reached Main Street, the unofficial border between the old part of town and the new. Regina lived in New Town, along with the rest of the Storybrooke elite. The castles of this world were made of drywall and stucco, and Mayor Mills lived in the grandest of them all. Did that satisfy her? Was it enough for her to be richer and more powerful than anyone else in town? Did she still feel like a Queen?

City Hall was in New Town as well, only a few blocks away from 108 Mifflin Street. That wasn’t the official residence for every mayor, but it was convenient that the only person who ever ran for the office lived within walking distance.

Main Street was deserted at this late hour. Even Granny’s had only a few stragglers inside, lonely people lingering over cups of coffee before heading back to empty houses. The loudest noise on the street was the opening of the door from the offices of Dr. Archibald Hopper.

A little boy ran out onto the sidewalk, jabbering excitedly to a blonde young woman.

“I’m telling you, the first step is to figure out who people are. Once we know, then we can help them remember on their own. Then they can find their happy endings!”

“Okay, kid. Sure. We’re gonna suss out people’s secret identities from fairytale land. How?”

“Don’t worry. It’s all in the book!”

The animated conspirators walked off. Neither one noticed the figure limping in the shadows behind them.

Well, Rumpelstiltskin thought. That was interesting.

Gold recognized the boy as Henry Mills. Ten years ago--though to a cursed mind it couldn’t possibly have been ten years, my how time flies--Regina Mills had come to Gold and asked him to arrange for an adoption. She had demanded a newborn with no family, preferably from far away. She had wanted a closed adoption, with a birth mother who would never interfere with the life she had planned for the baby.

It had been a tall order, but Gold had contacted a juvenile detention facility in Phoenix, Arizona. By some happy chance, one of their charges--herself an orphan who had spent her life in the foster care system and inevitably fell to a life of petty theft--had found herself pregnant. Gold had never gotten the name of Henry’s birth mother, but Rumpelstiltskin knew it well.

Emma Swan.

So that was why the Savior had come to town.

And, apparently, the boy Henry had some idea of the true nature of the people around him. Was it because of this book he had mentioned? Or was reality obvious to anyone who wasn’t blinded by the curse? Either way, the boy was trying to get Emma to help him make people remember who they were.

How very interesting.

The rest of the walk was easy. Rumpelstiltskin walked with a light step to City Hall. The lights were on in the Mayor’s office, but there was some activity in the garden around the back.

Rumpelstiltskin found the Queen on her knees, picking apples up off the ground. The sedate little garden had become a place of horticultural carnage. An entire branch of Regina’s prized apple tree was on the ground, with a fresh wound on the trunk. The grass was littered with sawdust and leaves and fallen fruit.

“What a mess.” Rumpelstiltskin announced his presence, walking into the enclosed space.

Regina finished what she was doing before she stood up. “Not for long.”

There was a smile on her face, and a sharp gleam in her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin could read his pupil like a book. Despite the chaos around her, she was celebrating a victory. So far, she was happy. How fragile was that mood?

“This will all be cleaned up in the morning,” Regina said. “And the menace responsible is probably halfway back to Boston by now.”

“You don’t mean Emma Swan, do you?” Rumpelstiltskin circled the tree as he spoke. “I just saw her walking down the main street with your boy. Two of them looked thick as thieves.”

It was always a pleasure to see Regina’s smile vanish, and her satisfaction sour into spite. But now there was an extra thrill in watching her ire. She hadn’t changed at all. Twenty-eight years of getting everything she wanted, and Regina was just as insecure and petty as she had ever been.

Marvelous.

“I told that woman to get out of my town.”

“Apparently, she didn’t follow your orders.” Reaching up into the tree, Rumpelstiltskin grabbed a low-hanging fruit and twisted the stem until it broke off in his hand. “That makes her rather a special person around here, don’t you think?”

Regina ground her back teeth, an ugly habit she’d had for years. “I spent all day trying to get rid of her.”

“And you didn’t come to me?” Rumpelstiltskin tossed the apple in the air and caught it in one hand. A whole day? No wonder the Queen was frustrated! Normally her will was worked much more quickly than that. Of course, she normally had help. “I thought you knew where to go when you needed something done.”

She turned her back on him to examine her tree. “I don’t make deals with you anymore.”

“And what a shame that is for us both,” Rumpelstiltskin lied. “After all, we have such a grand history of working together for our mutual benefit.”

“Your ‘benefits’ aren’t always what they seem, Mr. Gold.” Regina smirked, like she was pointing out some undiscovered fact. “Even when you got Henry for me, now I find out that there’s this woman.”

He held the apple in the palm of his hand. “Children are known to have mothers--”

“I’m his mother!” She cut him off sharply, and he knew that look. If this was a world with magic, the Evil Queen would be throwing fireballs right now. Her anger was always so close to the surface. She had never learned how to hold back, how to sneak and plot and keep your enemies close.

“Be that as it may.” He kept his voice friendly, the same tone Gold would use. “Next time you need something, I hope you’ll remember to call on me.”

She smirked again, that regal expression of amusement and disdain. It was one of her better masks. “Nice to see you so accommodating, Mr. Gold. I’m glad that woman hasn’t ruined everything in Storybrooke.”

He shook his head, all businesslike courtesy. “No matter what strangers may do, everyone needs a friend in low places.”

“And you are certainly the lowest,” Regina chuckled. The smallest show of deference was enough to restore her good humor. The slightest reminder of the power she thought she had. “By the way, how is Mrs. Gold?”

“Quite well, thanks for asking.” He looked her in the eye and lied to her face. His masks were better than hers and always would be. “She’s a little, ah, tied up, at the moment. But I’ll give her your regards once she’s free.”

“Please do. I always like seeing the two of you around town.”

Rumpelstiltskin polished the apple on the sleeve of his suit jacket. This type was called a Red Delicious, though Mayor Mills would tell people it was a Honeycrisp. She could tell people anything and they wouldn’t question her.

He began to saunter out of the garden. He had seen everything he needed to see.

“I wouldn’t worry about Emma Swan.” He left Regina with a reassurance that would only remind her of her real problem. “How could she possibly be a threat to you?”

He didn’t let Regina respond. He had asked her a question that would haunt her waking hours. Whatever happiness she had accumulated with her curse had popped like a balloon the moment the Savior had entered Storybrooke.

All he had to do was watch the show.

On his way out of the garden, he took one bite out of the apple. Red through it was, the fruit was far from delicious. It was bland and bitter, just like her. Rumpelstiltskin tossed the apple over his shoulder and left the Queen to the destruction that had once been her sanctuary.

****

Heading back to the house, Rumpelstiltskin’s mind went to another dark sorceress: Maleficent, the self-styled Mistress of All Evil. She had certainly been the mistress of Regina. Once Regina’s husband was dead and Snow White had fled for her life, Regina had taken Maleficent as her lover publicly. No one in the kingdom had dared speak a word against it. For a time, the two of them were inseparable, their mutual adoration a force that would move mountains. And they liked nothing more than to exercise their power on anyone who was weaker than they were.

They had done it to Belle. Rumpelstiltskin’s heart burned at the memory. Long before he married her, he had let them take her. When Belle had trusted him completely, he had been too much of a coward to defend her. Because he couldn’t have let the queens of darkness know that he had feelings for the pretty girl whose body he had bought and paid for. He couldn’t have exerted any force to protect her from them. He couldn’t have even said that she belonged to him and he didn’t want to share. That would have been a sign of weakness, tantamount to admitting that he loved her.

And he couldn’t have allowed them to know the truth. His reputation, his pride, could not endure it. At the time, he couldn’t even admit it to himself.

Belle had come back to him naked and bleeding, with a testimony of the worst kinds of torture. Every wound on her body screamed out his guilt. Every word of what she told him as an indictment of his failure. For weeks after she had suffered nightmares and attacks of fear--things he only learned about later, because he hadn’t wanted to hear it, and Belle hadn’t wanted to tell him. The selfless girl had stifled her own trauma for the sake of his ego.

On Rumpelstiltskin’s mountain of regrets, refusing to protect Belle from Regina and Maleficent was a towering peak.

Of course, Belle wasn’t the only one. Reports and rumors kept circulating about that kingdom, of the horrors inflicted on anyone who stood up to the Queen, or got in her way or even attracted her attention. Fair maidens with dark hair began to stay out in the sunshine to tan their skin and lighten their tresses. They wanted to bear no resemblance to the truest target of Regina’s rage, the girl who always evaded her grasp.

Eventually it had become too much, even for Maleficent. She had left, returning to her own castle. When Rumpelstiltskin had paid a visit to her, the witch had seemed more disappointed than heartbroken.

“It just got boring, Rumple. The same things to the same people, over and over! And Regina was never satisfied, not with me or anyone else. Evil is evil, but a person’s got to feel appreciated for the work she puts in!”

Maleficent would have taken Regina back, he knew. If there was even the slightest hint that things could change, that Regina was capable of growing up. Maleficent would have offered Regina a twisted version of happiness, if only Regina had really wanted to take it.

Sometimes, late at night while Belle was sleeping safely beside him, Rumpelstiltskin liked to imagine the reconciliation between the two queens. It was an inevitable moment. One way or another, destiny would bring them back together, at least one more time.

Regina would come to Maleficent. Perhaps she would say she was sorry, that she wanted a new start. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to say anything. Maleficent’s eyes would glow with her green fire. And her smile would be of genuine joy. She would lower her defenses and welcome her lover with open arms.

Welcome Regina into her heart.

That image had comforted him through many nights when his mind was tormented by how the queens had tortured Belle. They would pay for all they had done to her. Even now, the thought filled him with vengeful contentment.

****

When he got back to the pink house in Old Town, Rumpelstiltskin found the place dark and quiet. The lights in the entryway were shut off, the candles in the dining room extinguished. The cold, fluorescent light in the kitchen was the only illumination on the first floor.

Plates and cookware were stacked on the counter by the sink. They were rinsed off, but not scrubbed. Gold didn’t trust his wife to wash his precious antiques.

“Right,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

In preparation to wash the dishes, he took off his suit coat and draped it over a kitchen chair. Then he removed the cuff links at his wrists and carefully folded up his sleeves. There were black rubber gloves inside the cupboard door underneath the sink. A green canvas apron hung from a hook by the stove. Gold was very fond of protection, of layers and separation. At last, there was something about him that Rumpelstiltskin could understand.

He took off Gold’s moonstone ring and put it in his trouser pockets with the cuff links. Now the only thing on his hands was his wedding ring, the golden band that had once been a shackle around Belle’s wrist.

Before he put on the rubber gloves, Rumpelstiltskin brought his knuckles up to his lips and kissed his ring. He had never removed it in the old world. It was as much a part of him as his own hand. He wouldn’t take it off here, either. The ring was proof that he was Belle’s husband.

Belle’s husband, and Bae’s father. That was enough. When the world was right, that would be all he would need to be.

Once the dishes were cleaned, dried, and put away, Rumpelstiltskin gathered his things and went upstairs. Mrs. Gold had said something about taking a bath. She was surely done by now. If he was lucky, she would already be asleep and he wouldn’t have to talk to her again.

It was the end of Rumpelstiltskin’s first full day in Storybrooke. He was already tired, already heartsick, already waiting for the Savior to do her job and free them all.

The red lamp was burning in the parlor of the bedroom suite, just as it had been the night before. Mrs. Gold had turned it on to welcome her husband. The bedroom was dark, save for a beam of light that shone from the half-open bathroom door.

“Is that you, Mr. Gold?” Belle’s voice came from the bathroom, as well as the faint sound of sloshing water. The whole bedroom smelled like some kind of artificial perfume--the expensive bath oils that Mrs. Gold liked to buy.

“Do a lot of visitors come into this bedroom?” Rumpelstiltskin stayed on the other side of the door and began to undress.

Mrs. Gold chuckled, the way Belle did when she was relaxed and comfortable. “I never know when you might send someone over to surprise me.”

He winced at that, at the casual way she suggested the possibility. Gold had never allowed another man or woman to touch his wife, but it always seemed to be on the horizon. That was the next barrier to cross, the next thrill for Gold to seek. He had prepared Mrs. Gold to expect it. At any moment, he might invite some stranger into their home--into their bed, into her body--and her task would be to be a welcoming hostess.

Regina had made it that way. Everything about this marriage was her design, a reflection of what she had seen of him and Belle. It was possible that the torment was supposed to come from how much Gold and his wife both wanted to sleep with more people, but couldn’t find anyone in Storybrooke willing to indulge them.

“I’m almost done shaving,” Mrs. Gold called from the bathroom. “Then I think I could use some lotion. It’s getting colder now. I gotta keep soft and moisturized.”

She was inviting him to rub her down, to put his hands all over her silky skin and cover her body with a slick, sweet-smelling substance. They had done this so many times, in this world as well as the old one. He had made her soft and smooth and warm. He had found her wet and willing and open. His wife wanted him. She was offering herself to him. She loved him and he loved her and joining their bodies together was the most natural thing in any world…

“Fuck,” Rumpelstiltskin whispered as he pulled his pajama pants up over his hardening cock. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, more loudly, he said to Mrs. Gold, “Actually, I think I’m going to go to sleep. You take as much time as you need.”

For a moment, the silence from the other room threatened to swallow the whole of reality.

“Oh,” she said at last. “O-okay, Mr. Gold. What--whatever you say.”

It hurt to hear the disappointment in her voice. But this was what he had to do. He couldn’t indulge in Mrs. Gold’s appetites--or his own. She wasn’t Belle. Doing anything more than sleeping next to her would be an unconscionable violation of Belle’s trust.

And besides, that woman had no say over what she thought she wanted. Between the cursed personality Regina had devised and the cruel training Gold had inflicted, nothing inside of Mrs. Gold was real. She wasn’t a person, any more than Gold had been.

Rumpelstiltskin sighed, and got into bed. Maybe he could fall asleep before Mrs. Gold joined him. Or he could feign slumber until she went away to do something else. Would tomorrow be another day like this? And the day after that? Was he going to have to make excuses to this woman until the curse was broken? Coward that he was, he would run and hide from someone who thought she loved him.

He was still awake when Mrs. Gold came out of the bathroom. To her credit, she didn’t try to attract his attention. He had told her that nothing would happen tonight and she respected his decision--far more than Gold had ever respected any of hers. But she still strode across the bedroom to get to the armoire in the parlor. Gold had never made room in his closet for her clothes.

The light from the bathroom illuminated her body. Her hair was wrapped up in the microfiber towel she had bought specifically for that purpose. Aside from that, she was completely naked.

He should have looked away. He should have turned his face to the wall and closed his eyes until she put on a nightgown. But he hadn’t seen Belle in twenty-eight years. His wife, his beauty, his light in the darkness.

For a moment, he filled his eyes with her. Hiding in the darkness, he didn’t conceal his interest. He saw it all. Belle’s neck, her shoulders, her slim arms and round breasts. She was so pale and smooth, a statue carved from alabaster. The gentle slope of her belly and the soft curves of her waist and hips. Her long, lovely legs. And between her legs…

Rumpelstiltskin blinked.

Bile rose in his throat.

He clenched his jaw, and rolled over in bed. He couldn’t look at her for another second.

Between her legs, Mrs. Gold was bare and hairless. Like a child. Gone were the wiry curls that used to hide Belle’s treasures. He used to enjoy running his fingers through them, to tease his wife before he began to play with her properly.

It was a style in this world, for a woman to shave or wax her pubic hair. Men thought any hair on a woman’s body was unfeminine or even unhygienic. Apparently Gold was one of those fools.

But even worse for Rumpelstiltskin was the memory of when Belle came back from her time with the queens. She had been bare then as well. It had taken weeks for her hair to grow back. She said that Maleficent and Regina had shaved her with broken glass. That they had pulled out any stubble by the roots.

Belle had not described the pain, but he could imagine it.

He didn’t know if Mrs. Gold had put on a nightgown before she got into bed. She didn’t touch him or try to speak to him. She probably thought he was angry with her. And while Rumpelstiltskin did seethe with fury, Mrs. Gold had very little to do with it.

Regina. The name pounded through his mind, until the very instant he succumbed to sleep. Regina will pay for all of this.

****

He is in a cell, in the deepest dungeons of Snow White’s castle. The cell is enchanted, so his magic is useless. It is a dripping cave, carved from solid rock. There are no other prisoners nearby. The guards are stationed at the other end of a long corridor. The only time he ever sees a living soul is when people come to him for help.

He is exactly where he wants to be.

“I tried your curse,” the Evil Queen rants from the other side of the pointed bars. “It didn’t work!”

“Considering we’re all still here, I should think that’s rather obvious, dearie!”

The Queen snarls at him. Her dark jewels glint in the torchlight. “You know why it didn’t work.”

“Well, I can make an educated guess...”

“Then tell me!”

Leaning back against the rough stone wall, he chuckles at the Queen’s demands.

“There’s a price to that, dearie.”

She sneers. “Name it.”

“When--” He stops. He makes a show of changing the word. “If you can cast this curse, you will be creating a whole new world. Everything will be as you want it to be, Your Majesty.”

“I know that!” she snaps. “That’s the whole point! This world is stacked against me. This curse is the only chance I have to get my revenge!”

“Yes.” He grins at the Queen, and runs his tongue over his teeth. “You will control everything. All of our fates will be in your regal hands.”

“So what do you want?”

“Oh nothing much,” he waves his hand. “Only what I already have.”

“It’s a world without magic.”

“But not a world without power, yes? Not a world without wealth, or a world without comfort? Not a world without any pleasures at all?”

“Tell me what you want, imp.”

“It truly is a simple request,” he lies. “What is mine, stays mine. Everything I had before I came to this…” He gestures to indicate his captivity. “So the power, the wealth--”

“The woman?” The Queen smirks. “Is that what this is? You want to make sure you keep your little plaything!” Now she laughs. “Are you sure you still want her? She is a little worse for wear.”

“You made sure of that, Your Majesty.” His voice is low, but she doesn’t hear the threat.

“I could make you a lothario instead. Give you a new girl every night? That would be a punishment for quite a lot of people.”

He moves so fast she cannot see him until he climbs the bars and grabs her by the throat, pulling her toward him. He growls at the Queen. He almost roars: “I. Want. My. Wife!”

The Queen jerks from his clutches, stumbles backwards to get away from him. Quickly, she allows haughtiness to mask her fear.

“Fine,” she says stiffly. “She will be your wife in the new world, though that will not save you from the curse. Neither of you will remember a second of this place.”

“That’s not as cruel a fate as you might think, dearie.”

“Nevertheless.” She acts like that’s the end of an argument she has won. “Now: how do I cast this curse?”

“You need a heart, dearie.”

“Yes, I know that!” she snaps. “The heart of the thing you love most. I killed my own father and it didn’t work!”

“Poor Prince Henry.” He shakes his head. “He died as he lived: being betrayed by women who never loved him enough.”

“I did love him!” The Queen seems on the verge of tears. “Daddy was the only person who stood by me through everything!”

“Oh!” He widens his eyes and purses his lip in a mockery of her sorrow. “While it is true that the love between father and child can destroy worlds, that doesn’t seem to be enough. The curse doesn’t demand the thing you love much. You must give up the thing you love most.”

“Snow White killed the only other thing I ever loved.”

“Oh, then you’re in trouble, aren’t you, dearie?” He giggles. “You don’t understand what you’re trying to do!”

“I’m trying to get revenge!”

“You’re trying to make yourself happy!” He grabs the bars of his cage. “You said it yourself, there’s nothing for you in this world. You think you have no choice but to destroy everything here and start over. Do that, and you’ll lose things, dearie. What you love most is just the first step.”

“But I have nothing to love!”

“And nothing loves you? No one loves you, Your Majesty? No one in this world wants to make you happy? No one would embrace you, if only they thought you might embrace them back?”

She begins to speak, then stops. Her royal countenance freezes. He can see the thought blossom in her mind.

“There it is!” he cackles. “You know what you love, dearie. Now… Go kill her!”

#golden rings #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #ouat #regina mills

16 notes · View notes

my-miraculous-headcanons · 5 years

Text

End of Chameleon

In which Marinette tells Adrien about Lila threatening her, and things go a little differently.

“As Long As We Both Know”

• Adrien makes the same speech as he did at the end of Chameleon. He doesn’t know Marinette was threatened, and he wasn’t around when Marinette told Alya and Nino about the event she “witnessed” in Volpina.

• Instead of just agreeing with him, Marinette goes really silent. The look on her face worries him, so he pulls her to a more private place, like an empty classroom. He asks her what’s wrong.

• “She threatened me,” Marinette tells him. “In the bathroom, she said she’d turn everyone against me, even you. I freaked out and almost got akumatised. I got really scared. I... I don’t want to lose my friends.”

• Adrien is very quickly rethinking his stance on the whole matter. It’s one thing if Lila’s just telling a bunch of petty lies to get attention, but threatening someone he cares about is crossing the line.

• “I take back what I said before,” Adrien says. “It’s not enough just knowing. Knowing didn’t stop her from scaring and hurting your feelings. But I still don’t think constantly trying to out her lies is going to work. It didn’t work before, right?”

• Marinette can’t really argue against that. He’s right. Every time she tried to say something, it got turned around until she was suddenly the bad guy. Confronting her didn’t work.

• “I mean,” Adrien continues. “I privately spoke to her and asked her nicely to stop, and she still got angry enough to get akumatised. And if she threatened you just because you didn’t believe her, then clearly there’s... something wrong. Telling her to stop lying doesn’t work, and trying to expose her lies doesn’t work. So maybe we can just warn our friends on the side? We could tell Alya and Nino that she’s lying.”

• Marinette’s lip trembles, and he has a feeling he may have said the wrong thing.

• “I already told them,” Marinette says simply. “They didn’t believe me. Alya asked me for proof.”

• Adrien frowns. “Well, maybe they’ll listen if there’s two of us?” He doesn’t say anything about the proof. He’s actually a little angry on Marinette’s behalf for that comment, considering Alya never asked Lila for proof.

• “You could tell them. But I don’t think I want to be there when you do. I’m still a little upset with them, and I really don’t want to get in a fight...”

• They agree that Adrien will talk with Nino and Alya tomorrow, and the bell rings. They both get to class. Since Marinette had that talk with Adrien, she doesn’t have a romantic daydream when he sits next to her. The worry about what tomorrow will bring has her wanting to focus more in class, to forget about her troubles, so Madame Bustier doesn’t ask Marinette to sit in the front. She and Adrien remain in the back.

The Next Day

• Marinette arrives to school and tells Adrien about what Lila had said yesterday at the stairs. Adrien realises that Lila’s a lot worse than he had thought, and is even more determined to tell Nino and Alya the truth later.

• When lunch starts, he pulls Alya and Nino aside, and Marinette decides to eat at home. He tells Nino and Alya that they should be careful of Lila, since she’s been lying about a lot of things. That they shouldn’t trust the promises she tells them.

• Alya laughs. “Did Marinette tell you to say that? I don’t see what her problem is. Lila’s cool, she’ll see that soon!”

• That surprises Adrien. And makes him very, very uncomfortable.

• “Marinette didn’t make me say anything. Lila threatened her twice already, because Marinette knew she was lying.”

• “You shouldn’t believe whatever Marinette tells you,” Alya says dismissively. “She’s just jealous. She’ll get over it soon.”

• “Yeah,” Nino hops in. “Marinette just hasn’t gotten to know Lila, yet. Whatever problems she has, I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

• Adrien’s beginning to understand why Marinette didn’t want to be here for this talk. Why she was worried they’d get into a fight. It’s making him angry. Marinette’s best friend is writing off her feelings and calling her jealous, and outright telling him not to believe a word she says. Nino’s known Marinette since forever, and he’s apparently not gonna defend her anytime soon. He’s agreeing and blowing off her feelings, too.

• “What do you mean, ‘she’ll get over it soon.’ You guys realise who you’re talking about here, right? Don’t you think that, maybe, if Marinette’s acting really upset and seems to have a beef with someone, there’s a reason for it? We’re her friends. We should trust her.”

• “Yeah, and that reason is because she’s jealous,” Alya says, rolling her eyes. “I know that girl like the back of my hand. Trust me, she’ll calm down and apologise soon.”

• “Why should I trust you?” Adrien’s a little aware that his voice is rising in volume. Nino and Alya give him surprised looks. He doesn’t care. “Isn’t that a little hypocritical of you? And why are you so calm about Marinette being upset? You should be worried! You’re her best friend! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

• “Hey,” Nino intervenes, looking really uncomfortable with how quickly this is escalating. “Dude, not cool. Don’t speak to her like that. Let’s just calm down, okay?”

• “Don’t speak to her like that?! She thinks it’s a bright idea to go behind Marinette’s back and tell other people that she’s an untrustworthy, jealous liar!”

• “That’s not what I said!”

• “That’s exactly what you implied!”

• Adrien’s confused by his anger at first, but he quickly realises why, exactly, he’s so angry. Why he’s reacting so badly. These were Marinette’s friends. They’re both close with her for different reasons, both have looked out for her in the past. They’re people Marinette thought she could always count on.

• These were his friends. And he’s watching his friends turn their backs on Marinette, their Everyday Ladybug, like it’s nothing. He’s watching them talk about her like her thoughts and feelings don’t matter. What does that say about them? What does that say about his relationship with them? Would they do this to him, too?

• These were people he thought were loyal. His friends. Marinette’s friends. But he and Marinette were wrong. These two won’t always have their backs. And that’s terrifying.

• He leaves that argument feeling devastated. He evades his driver and walks straight to Marinette’s house. She opens the door, sees his face, and lets him in without a word. She’s not surprised, but she had hoped.

Not Our Problem Anymore

• Adrien and Marinette decide not to do anything about Lila, especially after Adrien told Marinette about what happened with Alya and Nino. They’re both pretty heartbroken with how their friends had acted, and they’re both very angry. Their friends won’t believe them? Fine. When the truth inevitably comes out, they better not come crawling back.

• With Adrien’s prompting, Marinette tells her parents about what had happened at school. Tom and Sabine are understandably furious, but also know that Marinette does not want to get involved with any more drama. They make plans to transfer her into a private school, and buy her a new phone. The only numbers Marinette puts in are her parents’, Master Fu’s, and Adrien’s.

• Adrien puts a file together to convince his father to move him into the same private school as Marinette. He doesn’t trust his classmates anymore, and he doesn’t think he’ll be happy there without Marinette around. He's scared of the people he believed were his friends, and he acknowledges that’s unhealthy and wrong. He should have felt safe and trusted with them.

• So, he pulls up a logical, detailed list. The school has a great academics program, famously exceptional sports teams, and has spurned quite a lot of creative minds over the years. His father seems rather pleased, seemingly under the impression that Adrien’s getting more serious about his other activities. Gabriel has Nathalie make the arrangements for the transfer.

• Adrien also buys a new phone. He only has Marinette, Chloé, his father, Nathalie, Kagami, and his bodyguard entered into his contacts. Later, Marinette’s parents put their numbers in, too.

• Adrien and Marinette adjust to their new school pretty well, but have trust issues, and don’t make many more friends. Marinette gets over her stutter around Adrien, and they both become much closer for it. Kagami and Marinette put aside their differences and become friends, and Chloé surprisingly doesn’t make a fuss about Adrien’s transfer, but doesn’t really try too hard to make friends with Marinette.

• When the truth about Lila comes out, Adrien and Marinette are blissfully unaware, up until someone gets akumatised over it. Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat and purify the akuma, both now equipped with the knowledge that Lila’s reign is finally over. They don’t feel relieved.

• Alya and Nino had both tried to visit their houses and apologise. They were ignored. They were given many chances, and they blew all of them. Marinette and Adrien don’t want their apologies. Whatever happened with Lila, it’s not their problem anymore.

+ Bonus Content

• Adrien realises that even though he lost Alya and Nino as friends, and left school, he still manages to have way more friends than Marinette. All Marinette has is him, while he still has her, Kagami, Chloé, Plagg, and Ladybug. He starts visiting a little as Chat Noir, which may be an abuse of his powers, but... He hates the idea of Marinette being lonely. A girl like her should be surrounded by friends. It’s a little awkward at first, because of her love confession from last time, but she’s even more goofier and sassier with Chat Noir.

• Rena Rouge and Carapace don’t make an appearance again. When Chat asked why, Ladybug said that they couldn’t be trusted anymore. Knowing how it feels to lose trust in people you thought you could count on, Chat says nothing. He simply nods and accepts it.

• Lila was exposed when Jagged Stone had visited the school to ask about Marinette and why she hadn’t been answering his or Penny’s texts. One of the students asks him about his apparent close relationship with Lila Rossi, and he outright states that he’s never heard of the girl. Everything crumbles from there. Jagged Stone leaves to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, seeing Marinette’s not at school, and informs her parents that he wants to commission her again. He gets her new number there.

• Almost everyone at Adrien and Marinette’s new school are completely convinced that the two are dating and are some sort of power couple. It doesn’t help that Adrien’s fans have taken pictures of the two on “dates” and that they only ever seem to be super close with each other.

• Marinette’s grades actually improve quite a bit in her new school. They take their academics very seriously, but they’re not harsh. When they see a student struggling, they take careful steps to help the student through whatever it is they can’t understand. Every student is is individually taken care of on some personal level. The art club is also fully stocked all the time and very calming to work in, so her design work improves as well.

• Wayhem goes to school there, which is a surprise to Adrien. Despite his newfound trust issues, he’s been emailing Wayhem for a while, so he doesn’t mind becoming better friends. Wayhem is also a fashion nerd and, when Adrien introduced him to Marinette, the two got along really well. (When Adrien’s not looking, the two are gushing a little about their apparent shared crush on the boy. There’s no love rivalry, they kind of enjoy getting to gush about Adrien together, actually. Also, Wayhem’s convinced Adrien and Marinette are secretly dating.)

• Chat Noir suggests Marinette to Ladybug as a new temporary hero, recommending the Fox Miraculous because of how creative and smart Marinette is. Ladybug almost starts crying. She tells him to ask Marinette, because she knows she’d have an easier time rejecting the offer as a civilian instead of Ladybug telling Chat no.

• Ladybug suggests Adrien for the Turtle Miraculous and Chat Noir panics and mentions Adrien’s very busy schedule. Ladybug thinks about it for a moment, agrees that Chat’s made a point, and drops the idea.

That’s all I have for now. You guys can do with this what you want, either add your own HCs, use for a fic, etc etc. My blog is meant for everyone to take creative inspiration from, so knock yourself out. Hope you liked it!

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Alya Césaire #Nino Lahiffe #long post #Adrienette #Adrinette #Marichat #Ladynoir #anti-Alya #anti-Nino #ML salt #Wayhem #Kagami Tsurugi #Chloé Bourgeois #End of Chameleon

6K notes · View notes

oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

Small Town Swoons

Hello buttercups! Here is the big fat project I was talking about. I am giving you snippets and teasers of the whole thing, just to let you know what you’re all getting yourself into.

There are some spicy tidbits here and there, so I would suggest only mature (18+) people read and/or engage with this post.

I’ll be starting with Yoongi since his piece is really in the holiday spirit and I’m super hella inspired to write it, but don’t worry, Steamy waters is still coming (just know that I’m not done publishing stuff for the night 👀)

Let me know what you think about this project, what story you like the most and which one you really really look forward to reading 💕✨

Just in case you need it, here is my masterlist

Enjoy 💜

Apple of My Pie — Jin

In the bakery and café near the university many students barge in, desperate for coffee and the delicious apple pies served there once October comes. Some of them barge in for the sweet sight of the owner, still mysteriously single. Little do you know that he’s been pining after you for years, since you ran into his café in a slow, rainy Sunday morning, drenched like a stray kitten, asking only for friendly help. Friendship sparks easily and his comfort tastes as sweet as autumn apples. That’s how you find yourself flatmates, watching movies with his secret recipe hot cocoa on Saturday evenings and waking up to the delicious scent of his pies on Sunday morning. But the sudden apparition of a rival makes you wonder, what would it be like to fall asleep in his bed every night?

Mold Me New — Taehyung

Divorce is a mess, especially when you’re so young and you had bet your life on your high school crush. All those things you never had to learn are scary now: dating, friends with benefits, all those secret rules on social interactions and flirting. But then your friends gift you a clay modelling lesson at the local pottery. Your teacher looks like a quiet, grumpy man who slowly warms up to you, offering you his kind smiles and gentle laughs. Right when fear that your lack in courtship manners might cost you your greatest chance at a new happiness, his lessons indirectly turn into small advice, and suddenly it feels like his hands are shaping your heart into the perfect, beautiful whole you needed. And to show him your gratitude, you’re more than willing to gift the artist his creation.

“Don’t let it dry too much. Too much water will mess it up. It will become too pliant and it won’t hold up.” That was it. The rule to love. You had bathed him in reassurance and affection, and just like that he had melted underneath your touch, and he had turned into nothing. And the love had run out. “Every shape has its specific requirements.” He explained, dipping his hands in the basin and letting the droplets fall from his fingertips. “Wet hands, but not drenched.” Once he was happy with the result he sat up, his foot starting a small pressure on the pedal. “See, here we go. The clay will show how much water it needs. Easy on the pedal. Very slow. You’re warming it up. Be gentle. You’re not sure it’s good. Just like with people. Easy at first, and once it works you speed up.” He smiled at the material underneath his hands. “Gentle. Easy.” He said, his sinewy fingers gently pressing into the art piece to be. His fingers seemed to stretch and bend imperceptibly, as if he was feeling the very texture of the material, and of the final result he wanted to obtain. “That’s the secret to good things.”

The Shrew, Untamed — Jimin

Everyone gets married in small towns. The hairdresser’s daughter, the butcher’s niece, the doctor’s granddaughter. Even your best friend. And someone has to organise all the weddings. You have taken part in so many it is unnerving. You’re not asking for a husband, a simple fuckbuddy would suffice. You don’t even need someone with skill, you just need to have sex with a human. Though your goal seems unattainable and life apparently truly sucks, the petty florist where you order the flower arrangements offers you a beacon of hope, comforting you and spoiling you whenever you visit his shop, condescending to your every whim. Will he satisfy your every wish or will you have to supervision your best friend’s wedding on the verge of sanity?

“Sit down, sweet pea.” He said, offering you his chair. He immediately stood behind you, digging his fingers into your shoulders, massaging them. He always smelled like greenery. It was relaxing. “Who pissed on your roses, tiger?” He asked, his thumbs drawing circles at the base of your neck. You moaned and closed your eyes. “Poor baby. So stressed.” He purred, laughing. “Portia is getting married.” You groaned. He ohed. “Your friend, Portia?” You frowned and pouted. “That bitch. Portia.” You growled. He laughed a silvery sound. “It’s your best friend.” “It’s a stressed out insult. She wants me to plan it. Jimin, I am so tired of watching people getting married.” He kneaded the nerves near to your spine. “It’s a professional hazard, baby’s breath.” His finger stilled as he reached the middle of your back without finding the clasp of your bra. He moved upwards, ignoring the small detail. “It’s the third in two weeks. I can’t. Is everybody getting married this spring?” You asked, your head rolling forward. “I’m tired. Stressed. Grumpy.” You whine. “Baby, you have your sugarcane at home, use it.” He said, referring to your swirl shaped dildo. You shook your head. “It’s the warmth. Human touch. Sympathy.” Ask me, please — Jimin mentally begged — I’ll be so sweet to you. “And now I even need a plus one for Portia’s wedding. Lest she pairs me up with her cousin. Did I mention that he’s thirty and bald?” You sighed. “I can help.” He said. “With the Plus one.” He clarified. “Don’t expect me to get my fingers in your pie, blossom.” He stated. You shook your head. “Your loss.” You tutted. His loss, for sure. Not like you wanted him massaging your breasts as you sucked him off, laying on your white silk sheets, his dulcet moans filling your lonely room and your empty

Natural Connection — Namjoon

The city sucks. And before you definitely choose to resign from your job, you spend the money earned with your all-work-and-no-play attitude in a reinvigorating holiday in a natural resort in the woods. What you find is true heaven on earth, an eden of wonders and explorations. When you meet your guide, who will follow you and you alone, you almost cannot believe your luck. The closed-off man leads you through all the breathtaking sights of your location, offering you emotions and landscapes unrivalled — both in terms of wildlife and... well, humans? The steamy atmosphere seems to keep growing hotter together with the summer days, and before you can think twice your big friendly giant helps you get rid of the hots. What happens when your Adam and Eve idyllium gets interrupted by a ruckus of stag-partying jocks?

Namjoon knew your average blood pressure at rest and under effort, your shoe size, your weight and height. Still when he found you right before him he could barely believe the sight of you. He knew you were small but this small? He was surprised. Amazed. Completely dazzled by your size. “Uhm. Kim Namjoon?” You asked, hesitant. God, even your voice was small — he noticed. As you got even closer, he realised you barely reached his sternum. He was endeared. He imagined how hugging you would feel. Why was he imagining to hug a stranger? “Hello! Welcome to the Valley!” He said, offering you his hand. You took it and shook it energetically. “Thank you. I assume you will be my guide during my stay.” You commented. “Exactly. I'll be your coach and your guide through the whole experience.” “Perfect.” You smiled. He was dumbstruck by it. So sweet and bright. You noticed he had a nice voice. And a kind smile. He looked like a very gentle giant. “Have you brought any specific equipment with you or would you prefer to use the one we offer?” “I have trekking boots and walking sticks. You know, basic stuff that's difficult to find when you're the size of a teapot.” He laughed a loud belly laugh, which surprised you and pleased you. “Okay, we can head to the hall and chat about your activity plan.” He said, leading you. Walking behind him was definitely a hard challenge, both because his legs were kilometric — and damn fine — and because how could you not stare at that ass right in front of your gaze, clad in oh-so tight shorts? Once he realized you were basically running behind him, he turned, a bit confused. And then embarrassed. “Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, taking shorter steps. "Don't worry, it's okay. I'm a fast walker." You stated. He grinned. He barely stopped himself from murmuring a 'cute'. You were adorable.

Ink ‘n’ Run — Jungkook

People find awful ways to inculcate mean insecurities in our lives. It is to get rid of insecurity that you head to the talented tattooist in a small town near your campus, ready to ink your fears away. Ready to start from zero, you let yourself enjoy a night out clubbing and a steamy one night stand with a tattoed god. Hit by the morning-after regrets, you run away before he wakes up. Little do you know that he’ll be the man you’ll be spending several hours underneath, half-naked as he inks you. Such a shame that you keep running away each time he is ready to ask you for a date. And that he keeps running away after you convince yourself to concede him one. Will you manage to let each other see that you click perfectly or will you let that night be just an accident?

“Oh. You’re back. Lovely to see you, how can I help you?” He looks sweet. God, he was sweet, of course he looks sweet; you thought. He was the most gentle man you had ever been with. Wicked hips, but such a sweet mouth. “Uhm, I have an appointment?” You said, showing him the business card with the date and time of your appointment. “Oh.” His expression was the perfect depiction of confusion. “Uhm. I guess you can come into my studio, then. Do you have someone with you? Would you like Daisy to come in?” He said, looking at the girl sitting at the reception table. “No, I’m cool.” You forced yourself to form a tiny, polite smile on your face. As he walked ahead of you you noticed the way his tight black t-shirt hugged his narrow waist. And his wonderful, jeans-clad, toned ass. God, he had rammed into you like a mad man that night. You shook your head, trying to bring yourself back to reality. Meanwhile, his mind was fuelled by millions of questions. Why had you run? Were you freaked out by what was happening? Were you as affected as he was at the idea of him working on you? Did you think he was a fuckboy? Would you let him take you out on a date? Would you let him fuck you again? Wait, scratch the last one.

Head over Heals — Hoseok

You are the most talented ice skater of your state. Or rather, you were. Your career was harshly interrupted by an unfortunate accident. Healing from the hurtful events takes strong nerves and positive energy. Luckily, your physiotherapist — the neighbour of your childhood home — is the most positive, enthusiastic person. New feelings bloom like daisies on a warm spring morning, while old feelings rekindle and light your way back home like a field of fireflights, back to places that you’ve always loved. It takes little time to get used again to his sweet energy and his gentle hands, healing your body and your soul. It takes even less time to fall head over heels for him.

“What changed?” He asked, drying your tear with his thumb. “I don’t know. It feels like it changed.” He smiled. “You’re still the same to me. Same bright eyed little girl running around in a summer dress, smelling like honey shampoo and sun cream. You feel like home. I think nothing has been okay since you were gone.” Your heart took a second to melt and resolidify around that new truth. “Hobi.” His eyes were glittering. “I think I always had a soft spot for you. You and your knees always scraped, the small curls framing your face, the way your braids came undone that night as we were driving away after prom in the convertible your parents ran away in when they eloped.” He looked so sad. And so beautiful. “Hoseok, I never forgot you, you know. You were my first.” You confessed. “And you were mine.” He replied. He paused. “We were perfect.” “We were.” You replied. We still could be. We are.

Sugar and Spice — Yoongi

A new girl moves into town, her goal starting her life from scrap. And then on a foggy autumn night she ventures in the local pub, where she meets a cute, tattooed bartender who happens to be the local sweetheart. Fate — and the sweet granny next door — seem to push them together; it’s only a matter of time before feelings bloom and attraction becomes too intense to resist. The magic of a small town, and that loneliness that they share and understand so deeply, bring them close at the most wonderful time of the year. Love can blossom even in the dead of winter and who knows, maybe they’ll find a new life by the time of the new year?

“How does it feel to live in a small town?” You asked, stretching your legs out the flannel blanket. Sunlight came in through the yellow leaves of the apple trees. “Like time doesn’t really exist. Until you don’t have any left and suddenly your friends are getting married and having children and all you have is a useless piece of paper stating that you’re a doctor.” He said. “But it’s okay. It’s lovely, at times like this.” He said, looking at the sky. “Marriage and kids are overrated.” You said, laying down. He looked at you, your eyes closed, your hair coming out of his beanie, currently covering your head. “Don’t leave me alone here.” You had a beauty he had never known. Or that maybe he had seen in his mother. That rough, tough beauty that looks dangerous from afar. Delicate from up close. You weren’t gracious. You weren’t cobwebs and golden hair and clouds. You were the ground, the trees, the stone. You were the mountains capped in ice, beautiful and so endangered. Still, so steady. You were the forest, eternal. Nothing could marr you. No man, no humanly disgrace. You would weather and transform, like nature does. Maybe he was idealising you, maybe he was giving you all those traits he had always wished in a woman. “Stop staring at me. Lay down. Enjoy your seconds before you turn into a fifty-something lonesome worm.” You teased. He laid. Your hand found his. “I’ll tell you how a small town feels like, based on the opinion of a girl from a big city.” He exhaled a laugh. “It’s comfort. Like when it rains outside but you’re in your bed and you’re warm and you don’t have to get up. You can simply lay.” He rolled onto his side, staring at your eyelashes. If I blink, will she disappear?

#bangtan sonyeondan #Bts blog #bts fanfiction #bts au masterlist #bts au teaser #bts fic

10 notes · View notes

fulfillinglife2021 · 3 years

Text

My Full Truth

I’m sorry that I have always been such a lousy partner in my relationships.

Carissa, we were together from 2003 to 2008. I cheated on you 3 times. Once with Collette in 2006, once with Linda in 2007, and once with Crystal in 2008. I am remarkably sorry for my behavior. I was a dumb, young, cheating asshole. I lacked maturity in every sense of the word. I didn’t understand what true loyalty meant in a relationship. Although I kept my actions a secret, I know that I hurt you. I deserve your ire, even though you never knew to express it. I regret my actions, and one day, I hope to have he courage to tell you, and ask for your forgiveness.

—- Crystal, we met in late 2008 and I was infatuated with you from that very first moment. I never cheated on you, but I was still inexperienced when it came to understanding, and expressing my love, and my sexuality. I am sorry that I came on so strong, and scared you away. you left me in early 2009, and I made it so much worse after the fact. I dragged your name through the mud in a form of petty revenge for the heartache you caused me. I am so sorry if that had long-standing effects on your life. —- Alexis, we weren’t together for a particularly long time, from May 2009 till August 2009. I knew from our 2nd date that you and I werent going to mesh well. But I decided to play along, and make you believe we were an element. You had gotten me a job when I needed one, and I was afraid that if I broke up with you, I’d lose my job as well. So I knowingly led you on for a few months before I had to break it off. In that time, I met someone, and started dating them without your knowing. It was a month into dating the both of you that I decided to break it off with you. All of this was in extremely poor taste on my part. You were a good, decent, love struck person, and I took advantage of you to keep my job. I am eternally sorry for what I’ve done. We haven’t spoken since 2009, I don’t know where you are or what you are doing, but I do want you to know, that I apologize for my actions. —- Lori J when I met you, and started dating you, it was under false pretenses. I was dating Alexis at the time, but wasn’t interested in her. I met you in June of 2009, and we stared dating in July of that same year. I was honest about Alexis with you after about a week into our relationship. The whole time we were together, I was immensely attracted to you, but felt that we didn’t click on any other level than sexually. We broke up in Sept of 2009, and I can say that I never cheated on you, despite the fact that you accused me of it repeatedly. Never the less, I did enjoy my time with you, and was sorry to see that ending our relationship was so hard on you. —- Lori F, the woman who would become my wife. We met in November of 2009 in person. For over 11 years I have loved you, and would have done nearly anything for you. But I regret to admit, I treated our relationship worst of all when it came to my philandering.

I cheated on you, a lot. I slept with Carissa when you and I were first dating. I also slept with Jenny, and Niki one night stands at separate times. I was also openly flirting with 3 other women from work, Cheryl, Marissa, and Kira. This was all in the period when I was referring to us as casual dating. When we finally took the step to being in a committed relationship, I stopped sleeping around, for a few years. 3 years later, I had become a real flirt again with the same 3 women from my job. I also began to steadily flirt with our friend Kim. The two of us had arranged to meet privately, but in the last moment, I called it off because I didn’t want her to cheat on her boyfriend as well. At the same time, Flirting had gotten so intense between me and Kira, we wound up sleeping together.

You and I got married in July of 2013, but I had actively made it a point to sleep with one last person before we got married. 3 days before our wedding, I met Jennifer in Las Vegas. I had been chatting and flirting with her for months before hand, and convinced her to meet me there to have a fling before I was married. After that, I remained loyal to our marriage for 4 years till 2017, when we had built up a fair bit of resentment towards one another. I went looking online to start flirting again. At the same time, I had just been urged to start talking and patch things up with Crystal. The opportunity was there, and I took it. Crystal and I began flirting. At the same time, I reached out to Carissa, and slept with her again, while you were out of town at a show.

In 2018, flirting with Crystal became an almost daily thing. By the fall of 2018, I took several jobs in the midwest that would take me closer to her for a short time, and for a single night, I met her in a hotel in Michigan, and we slept together.

The two of us continued our flirting over the next year, and we would meet up again a couple more times in fall of 2019. After which she begged me to come back in December of that year for a full week, and I did. It was at this point I had my car accident, and knew I couldn’t hide my behavior anymore. Although I knew I had done wrong, I chose not to own up to what I had done, and lied about it to you. At the same time, I also chose not to stop talking to Crystal. I did try on and off throughout 2020 to cut things off, but I found myself growing very lonely in your absence, and kept seeking Crystal out to fill that void. It wasn’t till Jan of 2021 that I finally did cut off communication with Crystal, we haven’t spoken at length since the 3rd week of Jan 2021.

In early 2020, I discovered you were having your own affair, and after doing some digging, saw that you were partaking in the exact same behaviors I was and you had been for years. For the first time, I felt the actions of what I had been doing, from the other side of the experience. For the first time, I really saw how badly my actions were hurting the people around me. And for the first time, I felt real, deep remorse for what I had done. I felt it so badly that I could not fully put it to words, I knew then that I was being punished for my years of horrendous behavior. That I would feel every ounce of grief I had inflicted on the people I had hurt. These were the consequences of my actions. I deserved what I got.

That all being said, I never expected you to fully leave me. I never thought you’d dive full in to an extra marital affair, and maintain it for over a year. Something beyond sex. Something beyond physical attraction. You found love in someone else, and ran away to pursue it. I know you are chasing your happiness. I don’t want to stand in your way. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be in a better relationship than the one I’d be able to offer you. I am a liar, and a cheater, and I have been since the early parts of our relationship. You should leave me behind. I just wish you’d gone about this in a very different way.

My bad behavior doesn’t excuse your bad behavior. Likewise, your bad behavior doesn’t excuse mine. I don’t want you to lie to me, I don’t want you to cheat on me. I want you to be better than me. Now, because of what I’ve felt and the intense emotions and ramifications of my actions I’ve needed to face, I don’t want to lie or cheat anymore either.

I want to be a better person. I need to be a better person. Whether our futures have us staying together or not, I swear I will be the best person I can be going forward no matter what relationship I am in. I have felt the pain, and I know that it has changed me for the better. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry for every single second of my deplorable actions. I’m sorry for choosing to be my worst self, when I had so many opportunities not to be. Where we are now, is my fault. I started us down this path and invited this bad karma and bad energy into our lives. I ruined our marriage long before you started flirting with others as well. I wish we could both come back to the table acknowledging our faults and pledging to be better people, but in truth, you deserve better than me. You deserve to be happy, and I pray that you do find your happiness. Lori, I am sorry. I am so very sorry. Please forgive me.

6 notes · View notes

gatesofember · 4 years

Text

Frailty and Fortune: Chapter 9

PJO Arranged Marriage/Royalty AU Part 10

Rating: T | Pairing: Solangelo

Prev | Next | AU directory | Read it on AO3 (Recommended) | Arranged Marriage AU Masterpage

Summary: A few months have passed since Prince Nico’s wedding to William of Solace. Even with his husband at his side, Will sometimes feels lonely as he settles into his new life. He misses his home, his family, his friends, and his studies in Venadica. Meanwhile, Nico is uncertain how to help him, awkward about expressing himself, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to truly make his husband happy. As time goes by and Will continues to feel lost in his new home, Will and Nico must both learn how to make their marriage work.

Will was on the edge of the marble fountain in the garden with Bonnie on his lap, sitting for Hazel as she sketched, and he was conspicuously not looking at Persephone’s balcony. Nico was on said balcony having tea with his mother while Hedge stood guard, and he was not with his husband because he still hadn’t managed to properly apologize.

“You can go join them if you’d like,” Persephone said.

Nico tore his eyes away from Will and Hazel. “What?”

“You seem distracted,” she continued, selecting a different thread color for her embroidery. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you’d rather spend time with your sister and husband than stay here drinking tea and watching me embroider.”

Nico sighed and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I’m welcome.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Persephone said, like she always did when Nico said something self-deprecating. She thought she was being helpful when she did that. She wasn’t.

“No, it is,” Nico mumbled. “Will’s not talking to me. We fought the day before yesterday and he’s barely spoken to me since.”

From behind Nico, Hedge glowered. “This is exactly why I said that you were too young to marry!”

“You may have a point,” Nico admitted. Perhaps he should have waited to bring Will into his life until he’d learned to control his temper. Perhaps he should have discussed Will’s expectations for marriage more clearly before the wedding. Perhaps if they’d waited longer, things wouldn’t have ended up the way they had.

“He’s acting like a child,” Hedge went on. “It’s ridiculous.”

“No, he’s not,” Nico said. “Stop saying that, Hedge. I was the one in the wrong and he has every right to be upset.”

Hedge grumbled to himself and left to guard the balcony door instead.

“Why is Will upset?” Persephone asked, setting aside her embroidery hoop. “He doesn’t seem like an angry sort of person.”

Nico shifted in his seat reluctantly. “I lost my temper while we were arguing and I said some things that I shouldn’t have.”

“Like what?”

Nico took a deep breath and sank deep into an ashamed slump. “I told him that he was only my consort and that he didn’t have any authority in my duchy.”

“Nico,” said Persephone, her voice sounding scolding and disappointed.

Nico shrank further into his chair. “And that’s not all,” he admitted. “Apparently he’s been frustrated for months but I never bothered to notice. I’ve been making everything worse for him without realizing it.”

“Did you apologize?” Persephone asked.

“Not immediately,” Nico answered. “I tried to yesterday, but....” He winced as he remembered calling out to Will in the corridor the day before, hoping to win back Will’s favor after he’d spent the better part of the day avoiding Nico.

“I have nothing more to say to you at this time,” Will had told him.

“Will, please,” Nico had said, grabbing his sleeve. “You can’t go on avoiding me this way. This isn’t what I want—”

“What you want?” Will had demanded, pulling his arm away. “You petty, spoiled prince. Why would what we want matter? It doesn’t seem to matter what I want.”

Nico cleared his throat. “The apology didn’t go well.”

“Do you understand why he’s been frustrated?” Persephone asked.

“I think so,” Nico answered. “He hates the restrictions of palace security on travel. I tease him too much about the way he dresses. But I think it’s mostly that he misses consor work. He said that he feels useless here and that I’ve done nothing but make it worse. I did ask for his help in Phrygia, though. I think he liked that—or at least, he would have, if we hadn’t been fighting at the time.”

“You fought then, too?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Nico mumbled in embarrassment. “When we argued yesterday, I was angry because I’d found out that he and Reyna had been discussing ways to update Divitia’s sewage system without telling me. That’s why I said what I did—I felt like I was being left out. But I ended up making him feel useless.”

Persephone hummed thoughtfully. “I think I understand what Will is going through,” she said. “I also spent many years studying on my own in Venadica because I was going to be a soror before I married. When I moved here after the wedding, it was difficult for me to adjust to how much less freedom I had. But I think I had an easier time than Will because I’m a woman.”

Nico frowned. “What does being a woman have to do with it?” he asked.

“Because it is traditionally the wife’s duty to be the source of wisdom. When we married, I immediately became your father’s chief adviser—just like Reyna is for you. Will has rather feminine interests. He may prefer feminine spousal roles, as well.”

“Then he involved himself in city planning because he’s a consort, not in spite of it,” Nico said. “You think he was performing spousal duties.”

“I think that you should ask him instead of assuming,” Persephone said. “But I do believe it’s possible that he thinks you are in charge of the traditionally masculine marriage roles, whereas he takes on the feminine ones.”

“I had not thought of it that way,” Nico admitted. Perhaps if Will had been a woman, Nico wouldn’t have felt so demeaned for being left out of the planning. Perhaps Nico had been looking at Will’s gender rather than at Will himself.

“One of the reasons I married him was because he was a consor,” Nico recalled. “We thought he’d provide valuable counsel. I’ve completely ignored that.”

“Even if Will doesn’t prefer the feminine spousal roles, his feelings of uselessness might stem from the fact that you and Reyna take care of everything so well on your own,” said Persephone. “With you handling the masculine duties and Reyna the feminine, maybe he feels like there’s no room left for him on your team.”

Nico closed his eyes. “And now I’ve upset him so much that I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Nico.”

Nico pursed his lips in annoyance. He hated when Persephone said things like that. It made him feel like she wasn’t listening. “Mama, you didn’t see how angry he was. And...there is another problem. Something beyond our relationship.” He looked over his shoulder at Hedge to make sure he was still by the door, then leaned forward and whispered, “Just before we fought, I told him the family secret.”

Persephone glanced down at Will and Hazel, still together in the garden. “You don’t think he’d tell anyone, do you? Surely he wouldn’t.”

“I don’t think so. That wouldn’t be like him. But...he’s never been this angry before. Mama, I’m so sorry—I lost my temper with him and I might have put the whole family at risk.”

Not to mention that with his marriage unconsummated, Will could still leave. And Nico intended to tell him as much.

He’d made up his mind on the matter already. Will thought that he was already trapped in his marriage to Nico, but Nico could not let him believe that. He would not force Will to stay in a marriage with someone who hurt him. If Will wanted to leave, then Nico would let him go.

But it wasn’t just Nico’s fragile heart on the line. An annulment would mean that all dowry payments would be reversed. An annulment would send Pluto crashing back into debt.

Nico swallowed. A part of him wanted to confide in Persephone, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t deal with the mortification or shame of telling her how badly he might have failed the family. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he may have lost the love of his life.

“What do I do?” Nico asked. “How do I apologize to Will?”

“First of all, let’s try to think of ways to solve the problem. That way when you talk to him next, he’ll know that you are serious about making things better. Do you have any ideas?”

“Make him an advisor, firstly,” Nico said.

“Yes, I think that’s necessary,” Persephone agreed. “What else?”

“We could talk about things he can do around the palace,” Nico went on. “He likes animals. Perhaps he could look after their health.”

“He could be Akhlys’ assistant,” Persephone suggested.

Nico grimaced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s already sent him away several times after he tried to help her. I’d have to force Akhlys to take him and I don’t think that’s what Will wants.”

“Then what about things outside the palace grounds? You said he’s frustrated that he has to stay here all the time because of security.”

“Perhaps I can be less strict about it,” Nico said.

“I don’t think that attitude will fix the problem,” Persephone said. “His safety is still important and I don’t know that strictness is the issue. The issue is that you are the one being strict. Let him work with Hedge to plan his security on his own. I think he will feel like he has more freedom if he has more control.”

“More control?” Nico repeated.

“Yes. Autonomy is a powerful thing, Nico. Will needs it—and that includes control over the way he dresses, even if he is horrible at pairing separates.”

“I’ll let him dress however he likes,” Nico promised. “And then what? How do I apologize?”

“First, you have to stay calm and in control of your temper. Do you think you’re ready to do that?”

Nico nodded. “Yes.”

“When you talk to him, you must recognize what you did wrong and acknowledge the way Will feels. If you’re not sure how he feels, you can always ask him for clarification. Say, ‘can you help me understand what I did wrong so that I don’t hurt you again?’”

“And then?”

“And then you apologize. Express regret for your behavior and tell him how you plan to do better in the future. Talk to him about some ideas that you came up with to make Will’s life here better and ask him for his own. Then you move forward and do better.”

If Will even decided to stay, Nico silently added. He bit his lip and clenched his fists in his lap.

“I’m scared, Mama,” Nico said.

“I know, sweetheart,” said Persephone. “You’ll figure this out.”

“Not just this,” Nico said. “I keep losing my temper with him. I’m scared I’m turning out like....”

He didn’t continue. Persephone didn’t ask him to. She placed her hand on top of Nico’s and squeezed.

“You are nothing like that man,” Persephone told him.

Nico didn’t meet her eyes. He wasn’t so sure.

After a few moments of silence, Persephone said, “Do you remember when you came back from the countryside and the Matestra sent a soror to help you adjust?”

Nico nodded.

“We could write again to see if Artemis can recommend someone to help. Would you like that?”

Nico tried to swallow a lump in his throat, but he couldn’t, so when he spoke his voice came out as a croak. “Yes. I would.”

* * *

“You really don’t want to work on the project anymore?” Reyna asked.

Will was slumped in his seat in the library, his arms folded as he glowered at the documents Reyna had brought him. “Of course I want to,” he said. “I’m not allowed. If you have complaints about it, take them to Nico.”

Reyna sighed and deposited the documents she’d brought on the carved wooden table between them. “First of all, you are allowed,” she said. “Secondly, why do you care whether or not you’re allowed? Isn’t the health of an entire city more important than some silly rules or spite?”

“It’s not spite,” Will protested. “I’m doing exactly what Nico wants me to do.”

“This isn’t what he wants,” said Reyna.

Will snorted, remembering Nico’s weak attempt at an apology the day before. “You can’t go on avoiding me this way,” Nico had said. “This isn’t what I want—”

“He wants attention,” Will said. “And he doesn’t want me involved in policy matters—he made that quite clear.”

Reyna put her hands on her hips. “I think you misunderstood what the Prince was trying to say when you argued. He wants you to be happy. Do you realize how hard he worked before you married to make the palace feel more like home for you? He talked to Her Majesty about it nearly every day, asking how he could make life here more comfortable for someone from Southern Jupiter. He’s asked the kitchens to make food that reminds you of Diana. He requests for the temperature to be higher in your apartments because he knows you prefer the heat. He gave you the bedroom that traditionally goes to the heir. He even found a dog to be your companion. The Prince can be difficult, stubborn, spoiled, and immature, and he has a terrible temper. I know that—I’ve been with him longer than you. But, he’s also sensitive and he has a good heart. He’s been through more than you know.”

Will looked away. “He’s told me about Minos. I already know what he’s been through.”

“Told you everything?”

Will opened his mouth to say that yes, of course he had, but reconsidered. “I...I think,” he said.

“He hasn’t,” Reyna said. “I know what he’s told you, and it wasn’t everything. Will, Minos used to tell him that he was stupid and that it should have been his sister who lived while Nico died.”

Will felt his throat close up like he was going to be sick. “He told him what?”

“Every time that I think I understand how horrible it was for Nico, I realize that I have no idea. Every time that I think it’s stopped bothering Nico, I find out that Minos still haunts him. And then you, intentionally or not, told him that he wasn’t good enough or smart enough to be involved in city planning in his own duchy. Of course he lashed out. He’s spent the past decade fighting against his own thoughts telling him exactly the same thing.”

“But I never said that he wasn’t smart enough!” Will protested.

“Well, it’s what he heard,” said Reyna. “You told him that you asked for my input and not his because I am Venadi and he is not.”

“That’s not it. I’m just....” Will sighed. “I’m tired of having to report to him all the time.”

“Then you did it out of spite.”

“No, I didn’t,” Will insisted. “I always go over my plans with other Venadi before giving a report.”

“But you wouldn’t let someone who’s not Venadi help you make the report?”

“That’s not true.”

“It sounds like it is,” said Reyna. “Maybe you ought to re-examine your biases, Will. You’re angry because you feel undervalued, don’t you? You’re trying to stand up for yourself—that’s why you’re being so spiteful. He felt the same way when you argued. He’s learned to remind himself that he has every right to speak up when people talk down to him—it’s actually a sign that he’s healing after what he went through with Minos, but sometimes Nico takes it too far. He went too far with you.”

Will looked away, his stomach knotting uncomfortably. “Maybe...maybe he didn’t,” he admitted. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

“No, he was out of line,” Reyna said. “He told you that you were only his consort. That was unacceptable. Nico’s past trauma and his continuing struggle to deal with it does not excuse treating you poorly and you should not allow him to do so. But it does mean that sometimes he has a difficult time expressing himself, controlling his emotions, and connecting with people. Sometimes you have to be patient with him and sometimes you have to work a little harder than you normally would to understand how he feels. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be angry with him. It means that his anger was also justified.”

Reyna waited for a moment before she picked back up the documents on Divitia’s sanitation. “If you’re still quitting, then I’ll continue this project on my own. I’d like your help, though.”

Will chewed his lip. “Alright,” he relented. “Let’s get back to work.”

* * *

Later in the evening, Nico asked for an audience with his father to tell him he intended to make Will his adviser.

“He’s been unhappy here,” Nico admitted.

Hades watched Nico with a steady stare, his expression both impassive and strangely readable, written with something akin to shock or awe, like he wasn’t used to Nico opening up to him and wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it, but was glad that it had happened.

Nico himself didn’t know why he’d spoken up, but before he could question it, Hades spoke.

“You’ve done quite a bit for him,” he said. “I’m sure he appreciates it.”

“I made the mistake of assuming I knew what would make him happy instead of asking him myself,” Nico said. “It turns out that I was wrong.”

“Then what does he want?”

“I think he feels like he lacks the freedom to be himself. He misses the way his life was in Venadica. When we were in Phrygia, Midas offered to sponsor him. Whether or not Will accepts will be his choice, but having Midas as a sponsor would be...less than ideal.”

“I don’t know how regularly we can pay for travel or how much financial support we can give his projects, but perhaps we can make an offer of sponsorship,” Hades said. “I don’t know that it would be comparable to Midas’ offer, though.”

“I’ve offered to use Angelian funds, but he seemed reluctant,” Nico said. “More than returning to his studies, I think Will wants to be useful. I think he wants to practice medicine, but Akhlys won’t take him as an assistant. I thought he could be a palace veterinary consultant instead.”

Hades nodded pensively and rubbed his chin. “We used to have a physician and a pharmacist, but Achlys has been filling both roles for nearly ten years,” he said. “Perhaps it’s time we hire a separate pharmacist again. Do you think he’d be interested?”

“I think he would love that,” Nico said. “I’ll ask him.”

He paused. Hades didn’t say anything, either. For a moment, the study remained silent and Nico felt the strange urge to fill it, to keep the conversation going. He didn’t talk to his father like this often—without arguing or getting angry at each other. He liked moments like these.

Nico cleared his throat. “Do you think you could help me with something else?” he asked.

“Of course,” Hades answered. His voice sounded as steady as usual, but somehow Nico could tell that Hades felt the same desire to continue the conversation and continued astonishment at Nico’s willingness to speak.

Nico took a deep breath. “I was hoping you could help me draft a letter to the Matestra.”

#arranged marriage AU #solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #solangelo fanfic #Nico di Angelo #Will solace #my fic

8 notes · View notes

s-j-ace · 5 years

Text

That’s the Thing About Airplanes

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 5,644

Summary:

Detective Shuichi Saihara gets on a plane to Paris tracking the flight of a notorious phantom thief from the country. While he had hoped to get some well deserved rest on the 8 hour flight, Shuichi is unfortunately seated next to an extremely chatty stranger. He lies incessantly, is extremely rude to everyone on the plane, and, worst of all, he seems to be a fan of Shuichi's work.

Read on AO3

Shuichi Saihara shuffled into his economy class window seat and sank into it like it was the softest mattress he had ever felt. It was two am and Shuichi was fortunate in regards to the fact that there were very few people traveling to France in the middle of the night. He was used to odd hours because of his profession and had become a master of sleeping practically everywhere except his own bed. If all went well he could sleep through the whole eight hour flight and arrive just in time to stop DICE's heist on the Louvre.

See, along with being a professional insomniac, Shuichi Saihara was also kind of a famous detective. Which was, by the way, extremely annoying. How was he supposed to detect stuff when his name and face were in the newspaper for finding the stupid mammoth skeleton that was stolen from the Smithsonian? DICE probably knew who he was at this point, but Shuichi couldn't see the lone villain/possible organization caring about what he was doing. The mammoth thing had been a fluke that came out of a months long investigation into a string of extremely petty thefts. What was the first one again? Oh yeah, Kaede's shoes were stolen after a performance at Carnegie Hall that Shuichi had been invited to. They were the sneakers she was going to swap for her heels after the performance… they didn't notice the curtains were gone too until an hour later...

Shuichi was thinking about some of the case details hazily as he started to drift off.

He was jilted out of his daze by the beep of the in flight announcement system.

"Will all passengers please be seated. We'll be taking off in about ten minutes. Thanks for choosing …"

Shuichi's focus on the Captain's words faded as a few more people shuffled by his row. There was plenty of space behind and in front of him, so he wasn't too worried about anyone sitting next to him.

The last person to board was a short guy wearing a gray hoodie and weird black and white checkered jeans along with long purple hair. At first Shuichi had assumed he was with the gaggle of nine chattering people that were thankfully moving to the back of the plane, but he stopped a couple rows before Shuichi's and stood there for a bit.

Shuichi looked up at him, knowing that his own eyes were bleary with sleep deprivation and confusion. The man was giving him this weird, blank stare. It made Shuichi uncomfortable, but he couldn't process what it meant through the buzz of sleepiness that clouded his mind. Then-

Oh no.

He walked forward to Shuichi's row.

Oh god no.

The man’s blank face shifted into the most malicious grin Shuichi had ever laid eyes on, which was saying something since he used to be a homicide detective.

Anything but this.

The guy practically skipped into the seat right next to Shuichi. Not the one in front of him, or one of the ones in his completely empty row, or even the aisle seat, literally the one right next to him. He put his elbow on the armrest.

This was the worst possible outcome.

The grin suddenly became congenial in a way that made it no less menacing to Shuichi's sanity.

"Hey, aren't you Shuichi Saihara?"

Please no.

A hand extended towards his own. Shuichi stared at it blankly.

"I'm your biiiggest fan."

Shuichi shook the hand as if it were his death sentence.

A million questions surged through his brain. Why did this man decide to sit right next to him? Why would he be a fan? Was Shuichi that famous? Could he be an escaped convict he didn't recall or the family member of one who wanted revenge? … Or was he just sleep deprived and this actually wasn't that big of a deal.

The stranger kept talking.

"I read aaall about that thing with the hairy elephant and the stupid ugly criminal you've been tracking."

Shuichi's head spun. Why had he let that photographer get a shot of him? Why had he stayed for the interview?

The grinning face of his long time friend Kaito Momota came back to him.

"That's my sidekick!"

Oh yeah…

"Hey are you like deaf or something?"

Shuichi blinked at him, still befuddled by this turn of events. Shouldn't he be asleep by now? Was this a dream?

"Hey. Heyyyy. Earth to Shuichi Saihara. Geez I didn't expect you to be this boring in person…"

Shuichi shook his head, "I-I-I'm sorry, what?"

The stranger huffed, seemingly upset. "Have you been ignoring me? Not a very nice way to treat your biggest fans." He crossed his arms. "I, like, totally hate when heroes don't live up to your expectations."

What? Heroes? Shuichi was not a hero. People like his long time friends Kaito Momota, an astronaut, or Kaede Akamatsu, a famous pianist, were heroes. Shuichi was kind of a greasy nobody… as much as both of said heroes would hate to hear him say that.

The stranger didn't stop talking. "-but you can make it up to me."

Suddenly the stranger was even more in Shuichi's personal space. He seemed to be reaching over him for something and Shuichi did not like it one bit.

"H-hey! What are you-"

Shuichi's seat suddenly gave out beneath him, the back slamming down onto the seat behind him and taking him with it.

"Ow!" He exclaimed rubbing his throbbing head.

"Oh no!" Exclaimed the man responsible. "How could this happen?"

A flight attendant just happened to be walking by.

"What happens to be the problem here gentlemen?" He asked as if he couldn't obviously see it.

Gentlemen? Shuichi repeated in his head doubtfully as the stranger responded.

"What's the problem? You're asking me what the problem is?" The stranger's voice took on an angered affectation. "The problem, good sir, is that this Rusty bucket of bolts you call an airplane just tried to give my husband a concussion! I could sue for this, you know."

Husband? What? What was happening? Shuichi felt like he was a step behind everything that was happening. Could the present just pause for a second and let him process.

"I'm so, so sorry sir." The flight attendant quibbled. "Here, we'll make it up to you. It's a long flight and we don't have many guests so I can upgrade you both to first class with no additional charge."

The stranger, Shuichi's "husband," harrumphed. "You better. Or my lawyer will be hearing about this."

The flight attendant started to lead the stranger to his, or Shuichi supposed their, new seating arrangement. The stranger grabbed Shuichi's arm from where it was gripping the arm rest and dragged him up off his feet. He followed the shorter man, still a little baffled as his sleep deprived brain caught up to what was happening. He shuffled into the window seat as directed. Whereas the seats in economy had rows of three on each side of the isle, the first class seats were two seats on each side.

Thus, the seats were much bigger than the ones in economy class, but felt a lot less comfortable than they had when Shuichi was alone and getting ready to sleep through the flight. All hope of that, however, had been dashed as the stranger settled into the seat next to him.

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you."

"Of course. Ah, I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, it's just the honeymoon you see and everything just has to be perfect, you know?"

"No, it's quite alright, I understand completely." The flight attendant made a placating gesture and Shuichi noticed he was wearing a wedding ring himself. "I went through the same trouble with my husband. Really let me know if I can help you at all."

"Thanks sooo much!" He turned to Shuichi as the flight attendant turned to head to the back for take off. "Wasn't he just the nicest Shuichi?"

"... If you had enough money to hire a lawyer that could sue an airline so frivolously then you would've already been in first class."

"I'm just stingy."

"... Did you sit next to me so you could convince that gay flight attendant to put you in first class?"

The man made a shocked expression. "I can't believe you figured it out!" He turned away, making a dramatic expression Shuichi just didn't have words for. "It's true…Detective Saihara I was lying about being married to you the whole time. I thought you knew..."

"Wha- of course I knew that!"

"Oh! How can you ever forgive me?" Were those tears welling in the other man's eyes? "Waah!" He suddenly started bawling and Shuichi felt like he was getting whiplash from this social interaction.

"H-hey! Stop that." The stranger just kept bawling. Shuichi fumbled for the handkerchief he kept in his front pocket. When he found it, he offered it to the other man.

He suddenly stopped crying. "Oh wow! What a gentlemanly thing to do!" He grabbed the handkerchief out of Shuichi's hand and blew his nose into it in possibly the loudest, most grotesque way possible.

Shuichi blinked at him, still utterly confused. "A-are you alright?"

"Hmm?" The man looked up at him with an innocent expression. "Perfectly fine." He flipped over the handkerchief and Shuichi noticed it was completely dry. The guy tucked the kerchief in his hoodie pocket and Shuichi sort of got the impression he had just been stolen from. "Just a liar is all."

"A-a liar?" Shuichi had met a lot of liars in his career and usually they were not so honest about it.

"No, where did you hear that?" The stranger stuck his tongue out. "Ick, I hate liars after all." He shifted suddenly to a starry eyed expression. "That's why I'm such a big fan of yours, Shuichi."

"I-is that so?" Was he lying about this too? It was practically impossible to tell. Then again he might just be being anxious for no good reason again. This stranger may be a little… odd, but he had gotten Shuichi bumped up to first class. Maybe he should be greatful? What would Kaito do?

He hesitated before saying, "Um." Wow great start Shuichi. "Y-you seem to know my name, but, uh, what's yours?"

The stranger had a shit eating grin on. "Kaito Momota."

What.

"What?"

"Kaito" waved his hands dismissively. "I know, I know, isn't that the name of your friend who was in the paper? That's why I read it, by the way," he said matter of factly. "Because we have the same name."

"... I-is that another lie?"

"Neeheehee… ya caught me." The stranger had a very distinctive laugh. "If you guess my real name by the end of the flight I'll give you a prize!"

"Like Rumplestiltskin?"

Not-actually-Kaito pouted. "Aww man. You guessed it the first try. That's no fun." He rolled his eyes. "I guess now you'll just have to guess my second, less cool, real name instead."

"... Honestly I'd much rather be sleeping through this flight."

Not-Rumplestultskin-either scoffed. "Why would anyone get on a flight to Paris at 2 AM if they weren't prepared to be up all night?" His expression became excited, "Oh! Oh! Oh! I bet you've got another case you're hot on the trail of, huh Mr. Detective?"

Shuichi hesitated, "Uh, sort of."

Honestly the lead on the Louvre was kind of a stretch. They had just gotten renovated both the security systems and the bathrooms. Shuichi suspected it was in DICE's MO to nab the new toilets. Again the mammoth thing was a bit of a fluke in more ways than one. The clever thing about DICE is that they usually broke into high profile, maximum security areas only to steal the most mundane items. Items that could be sold more easily for a profit than fine art or prized possessions. Like brand new plumbing parts…

When he had told Kaito and their mutual friend Maki Harukawa about his theory the two of them had exchanged a worried glance. Maki, who often accompanied Shuichi into even the most dangerous situations in his career, had put her hand on his shoulder and told him he should go to France. Not to track down DICE, but to take a fucking vacation.

"What kind of answer is that?" The stranger's question shook Shuichi out of his memories. "How can you only sort of be solving a mystery?" The man's chest puffed up seemingly with pride. "You know, I just so happen to also be a world class detective."

Shuichi raised his eyebrows, a little skeptical. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" The stranger exclaimed, sounding exaggeratedly offended. "And as a real life detective I just so happen to know that when you're working a case you work it with 100% of yourself!"

Shuichi laughed a little at that. "I guess you're kind of right about that… There's, uh, this case that I've been looking into for a long time now and I guess I have really been putting 100% of myself into it. My friends think I'm going a little crazy…"

The stranger looked interested. "Your friends? Like that purple haired guy who was in the paper? The one with the dumb name?"

"Um. Kaito?" Not-Kaito seemed to have dropped all pretense about the same name thing, "Yeah I guess him and one other friend think I'm making this thing about the Louvre up… and maybe I am a little crazy."

The stranger kept with the blank look. "The Louvre?" He asked. "Like, someone's gonna steal the Mona Lisa?"

"Uh, no." Shuichi looked away, knowing how stupid his theory sounded. "I think, uh, someone's going to take the plumbing from the renovated bathrooms…"

The other man squinted at him and Shuichi cringed, preparing for criticism.

"Wow. You must be really smart to have figured that out." His expression shifted to conspiratorial. "You know…" he started, leaning in and lowering his voice to a whisper. "I just so happen to be the leader of a secret organization with about 10,000 members. We rule the world from the shadows. I think we could use a detective like you."

Now it was Shuichi's turn to squint at him. "That- that has to be a lie. There is no possible way for such an organization to exist."

The stranger tutted in mock disappointment. "And here I was thinking you were particularly clever." That was probably part of the lie too… this was just a long way to go to make fun of him wasn't it? "Seeing as you've refused to join my organization… it seems I'll have to kill you."

Shuichi blanched at that. The phrase itself wasn't uncommon. If Shuichi had a dime for every time a killer had told him that when he was working as a homicide detective, he'd have at the very least two dollars. Which maybe wasn't that much but essentially what he was saying here was that he received more death threats than the average human being. What horrified him about this interaction was the casualness of everything leading up to it and also the fact that he was on an airplane. He usually asked Harukawa or Momota to accompany him when he was confronting a killer, mostly because they insisted and also he had to admit that Maki had the muscle mass of a bull and Kaito had the confidence to pretend he did. There were no exit routes on a plane and Shuichi's head span with all the possible ways he could be murdered.

"But," the stranger went on, "I'll let you leave this flight with your life if you can beat me in a game."

Shuichi instantly shut down his off the rails train of thought. Okay he was probably freaking out over nothing again. It seemed like his self designated seatmate was just lying to get a reaction out of him.

"Uh. What kind of game?"

"How about Russian Roulette with a full barrel?"

Shuichi sputtered, "This is a plane, you don't have a gun!" If there was an air marshal around this guy could get arrested for even mentioning a gun.

"Oh that's right, left it on my tchotchke shelf, silly me. Well I guess if you just want to beg like a dog and then split your guts open that would be acceptable."

"Um, no that would kill me."

"Damn, nothing gets past you… Hmm… Ok, how about…" the man reached into the pocket Shuichi's kerchief had disappeared into and pulled out a deck of cards. "A shadow game!"

A what.

"It's time to du-du-du-du-du-du-du-duel!"

Shuichi blinked. "A...duel? Shadow Game...?"

"Hmhmhm... Yes, the loser's soul will get sent to the Shadow Realm…" he shuffled the cards expertly, "We each pull one card from this deck, and whoever has the largest number wins!"

Is that how that show worked? The one with that kid with the crazy hair? Shuichi remembered that being on at the same time as some of the true crime shows he was into as a kid.

"It's my turn! I draw a card!" The man went on, "...Hehehe, the power of the Heart of the Cards is strong within me. I drew the number 7! It is neither high nor low! The possibility of you winning drops to 50%!"

Hhh okay. This was happening now.

"Huhuhu... I end my turn. Now, it's your turn! Draw your card, and unleash your attack!"

"Ah, okay…" Shuichi picked a card. Huh, fancy that. "A seven."

The stranger's face shifted to one of exaggerated shock. "Wh-What!? How can this be!? You drew the Monster Reborn card!?"

Yeah it was pretty statistically improbable. Kaito would probably know how improbable. He was surprisingly good at math.

"Nee-heeheehee…" the stranger issued out another distinct laugh. "You truly are an amazing duelist, Shuichi. You aimed for a tie instead... You intrigue me."

Shuichi shrugged. "I wouldn't say I did that intentionally…" Shuichi was vaguely familiar with how card tricks worked from one kind of nasty murder that happened in a bar. Cards had been really important for some reason. But anyway if anyone had forced the outcome here it probably would've been the dealer, in this case the stranger.

Said man went on unphased, "But, this is the end for you! I'd let you live *only* if you had beaten me! You only have three trials left in your life, so you better entertain me until then!"

Shuichi squinted, a little bit, no actually a lot but, confused. "Wait so you're going to kill me if I can't draw a card higher than yours again?"

"Nah, I'm bored of this game" the stranger shoved the apparently just loose deck of cards he had back in his pocket. He turned back, suddenly excited."Oh! I know. We should play rock paper scissors instead."

Shuichi blinked at him. What was the purpose of this? Why threaten to kill him for this? It wasn't like rock paper scissors was even a particularly fun game…

"Rock, paper scissors…" they said together as they both hit their hands against their palms.

"Shoot!"

… It was a tie.

"Hmmm. Let's try again." Said the stranger.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

...Another tie.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Tie.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Tie.

They kept going and Shuichi lost track of time as a statistical marvel unfolded before them. They tied every single time. They just… kept going.

It began to occur to Shuichi how strange this situation was. This guy had read his name in a newspaper, introduced himself, got them both bumped up to first class and now they were playing rock paper scissors… or was it just odd because Shuichi himself would never have the self confidence to pull that off? If Shuichi saw someone in the paper he found impressive on the plane, maybe like detective Kirigiri from his local precinct, how would he react? Or maybe he shouldn't compare seeing himself on an airplane to seeing her. She had a lot more cases under her belt after all…

"Rock paper scissors shoot."

Tie.

"Rock paper scissors shoot."

Tie.

… okay if he was comparing himself unfavorably to her even without seeing her on a plane in this hypothetical situation it only further served to prove the point that maybe he only thought this was weird because he was a socially awkward piece of gum stuck to a chair who would really rather be sleeping right now.

"Rock paper scissors shoot."

Tie.

"Rock paper scissors shoot."

Tie.

"Rock paper sci-"

"Oh my God shut up already." The man sitting in front of Shuichi hit the back of his seat. Shuichi flinched out of the repetitive motion.

"Uh. S-s-sorry." He mumbled suddenly longing for his hat. He used to have a hat he would pull over his eyes when he was embarrassed. Kaede convinced him to get rid of it a little after they first met and Shuichi still found himself missing it during particularly embarrassing chapters in his life. Such as right now…

The man beside him shook his head. "Gosh Shuichi you really were being just too loud. You're like the loudest person I've ever met."

More often than not Shuichi was accused of mumbling and asked to speak up, so purple hair's criticism seemed inaccurate. That wasn't going to keep Shuichi from being self conscious about it though. Haha, thanks brain.

"Ugh that game was getting boring though, and no one won so it's probably time for something else." He leaned over looking into the aisle "Hey when's drink service?"

"Coming right up~" came the voice of a flight attendant far too chipper for… whatever time of night it was by now.

A brown haired woman with her hair in twin tails was pushing a drink cart from the back of the plane to the first row of seats. Shuichi and his strange seat neighbor were in the last row of the first class seats, so they wouldn't get their drinks right away.

Said strange guy turned to Shuichi, apparent excitement written on his features. "Hey, Shuichi! We should have a tea party!"

Shuichi squinted at him. "A tea party? I don't think they have hot-"

The other man scoffed and leaned back in his seat. "Well oooobviously you wouldn't know anything about it. I'm the leader of a super secret organization after all, so of course I know about the super secret drink menu available on all air planes."

Shuichi frowned. "But they couldn't bring anything to make the hot water with on an airplane…"

The guy shook his head dismissively. "Just watch."

The drink cart eventually made its way over. Shuichi noticed the flight attendant was wearing a lot of makeup.

"And what would you fine sirs like to drink?" She asked in the same chipper tone.

"A cup of hot green tea." The stranger requested.

To Shuichi's complete and utter surprise the flight attendant said "Sure thing!" Before pulling a steaming pot of tea out of one of the drink service card compartments. She grabbed a hot drink cup that looked like the kind of paper cups you get at Starbucks. She poured out the tea for him and then turned to Shuichi. "And what about you?" She asked

Before Shuichi could process even the faint hope that they might have espresso on this planet the stranger ordered for him. "Shuichi here will have the same thing."

She smiled at him. "Of course. Anything added in like sugar or cream?"

Shuichi was cut off from answering again. "No, we're both taking it plain today."

"Oh, really?" She asked, reaching for another cup. "Alright then." She poured one out for Shuichi the same as she had for him.

She smiled congenially. "I hear you two are on a honeymoon? That's so lovely. Can I see the rings?"

Shuichi was about to flubber something out but his neighbor beat him to it yet again.

"You know what I hear? That lonely flight attendants should realize they're sad and nosey losers who should keep their noses out of happy people's business."

Shuichi was shocked at his sudden rudeness, but the flight attendant seemed unphased.

"Teehee~" she giggled, her smile gaining a mischievous quality Shuichi didn't have the mental capacity to decipher right now. "Yes sir! Enjoy the flight." She pushed the drink cars on past the first class divider.

Shuichi's befuddlement must have shown on his face because the stranger was quick to explain, "That was all code you know. Super secret organization stuff. You probably wouldn't understand."

Shuichi cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah." He said, "I probably wouldn't." Did people just? Talk like this?

"Neeheehee… drink the tea Shuichi, I've got to pull you into a false sense of security before your final trial."

Shuichi frowned. "I feel like by pointing out that you're trying to lull me into a false sense of security you have essentially not done so."

"See, but because you feel that way it means I have succeeded in lulling you."

Shuichi frowned, supposing that was fair. How much longer was the flight.

The answer was long. It was a very long flight.

Shuichi wanted to be asleep for most of it but his seat neighbor was still incessantly chatty, even after drinking hot tea. The only calming effect of the tea came a couple of hours and discussions about Shuichi's old murder cases later, when Shuichi had to get up to use the bathroom and got a few minutes to himself. He considered just sitting back down in economy class after he was done but he made eye contact with the flight attendant from earlier and his brain didn't have a program for trying to show mlm solidarity and also that he had been complicit in fake gay marriage so he went back to first class. When he got back the stranger he was accomplice to was doing a Sudoku on an in-flight magazine in purple pen. He folded it up and stuck it back in the seat pouch before standing up and bowing ceremoniously as Shuichi shuffled awkwardly back into his seat.

"Welcome, combatants." The stranger said real dignified, "Take your seat and prepare for the final trial."

"What is it this time?" Shuichi asked, a little unamused at this point.

The stranger tsked at him, "You could stand to be a little more concerned mister detective, it’s your life on the line after all."

What were they going to do, play go fish?

The guy reached into his hoodie and Shuichi saw the flash of metal as he pulled his hand out of his pocket.

Shuichi flinched away from the blade instinctively. "Is that a knife? How did you get a knife on the plane?"

"Oh, a villain's got his ways." He winked at Shuichi as he pulled down his tray table.

Was there an air marshal on board?

Shuichi looked around frantically, but there wasn't even a flight attendant in sight. To make matters worse, all of the people sitting around them were clearly fast asleep.

"Now this game's pretty easy to understand, but you gotta be skilled. I'll go first to show you how it's done."

Shuichi watched helplessly as the guy began to furiously jab the table between his fingers, going in a row from left to right then reversing and picking up the pace.

"H-hey!" Shuichi exclaimed, hoping that someone, anyone, would overhear. "You're gonna hurt yourself doing that!

"Pff, as if I would. Here it's really easy." The man kept going faster and faster. It was pretty impressive until-

*Schlick*

He suddenly stopped. Shuichi watched in horror as red bloomed from the man's pale index finger, dripping dark onto the beige airplane tray table.

"Agh!" Shuichi exclaimed, "You're bleeding!"

The other man didn't respond, looking at his finger blankly as his blood dribbled out of the knick in it.

Shuichi, however, was quick to act. He grabbed the other man's hand in his own without thinking and put it in his lap as he shuffled around in his coat pockets for the Band-Aids he always kept on hand. He finally found them, and unwrapped one. He gently held the stupid guy's hand up while he carefully wrapped his index finger with the bandage. "You really ought to be more careful." He muttered as he finished wrapping it up.

The other man was still giving him that blank look.

Shuichi looked up at him. "What is it? Are you alright?"

The man seemed to regain his composure, whipping his hand away and putting his arms behind his head nonchalantly. "Geez," he said in a petulant tone of voice, "I can't believe you actually beat me."

Shuichi blinked at him in confusion. "Beat you? But I didn't even play…"

"Doesn't matter." He moved to lean his arm on the rest in between them and propped his head up. "The rules were if I cut myself I lose, and I lost."

His expression turned from disappointed to mischievous. "Although, it doesn't matter if you join my organization or not anymore, Shuichi."

"Uh, it doesn't?" Shuichi had been under the impression that this was some sort of prank and it hadn't mattered the whole time."

"Nope." He leaned in closer. "Because I've already done something much more important than winning."

His face was suddenly very close to Shuichi's. Had his eyes always been this dark? "W-what's that?"

"I've stolen your heart." He said smugly and Shuichi felt his face go red. The man whose name he didn't even know leaned in even closer to say. "Because I'm a thief you know?"

Before Shuichi could process that at all, he heard the distinctive sound of a seat belt unbuckling. The man he had just spent the last 8 hours sitting next to practically flipped out of his seat. He landed light footedly on the tray table of the sleeping man who had been sitting across from them. A half drunken Sprite spilled into the aisle. Drugged. The word flashed through Shuichi's mind as he noticed everyone who was a sleep had half drunken beverages laid out on their tables. Shuichi tried to unbuckle and stand up, beginning to catch on, but he looked down to realize his seatbelt had been tied into knots while he wasn't looking.

"Hmmm, I really should kill you, now that you've seen my face," the thief said, hopping lightly down from the tray table to grab his carry-on from beneath the seat. He pulled out of it a distinctive smirking clown mask.

DICE. Shuichi's brain screamed with the realization.

"... But I think that'd be a waste, don't you?" He slipped on some white gloves and tossed a piece of paper towards Shuichi. It fluttered to the ground at his feet. The distinctive logo of the DICE calling card glared up at him. The thief began to casually walk back down the aisle.

"Somebody! Stop him!" Shuichi yelled, straining to lean over the seat and peer into the aisle.

He saw the twin tails of the brunette flight attendant that had served the drinks at the end of the aisle. The woman turned around and to Shuichi's horror she turned around to reveal a white mask with painted eyebrows and a big red nose. Lying next to her on the ground sat the tied up body of the male flight attendant who had switched their seats earlier. Eight more people stood up, all with similar masks. Shuichi realized they had congregated around his old seat, which just so happened to be…

The emergency exits???

A large man with a big red clown wig wrenched open the windows and Shuichi felt the change in air pressure instantly and fear filled his gut with doomsday possibilities. His flight companion, on the other hand, practically fucking waltzed down the aisle.

"So long, Mr. Detective!" He yelled, coming to the aisle. "Better luck next time."

He jumped back first out of the plane and the rest of DICE followed. Shuichi realized bleakly that they were probably dropping over the Louvre right now, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Someone finally woke up with a yell, jumping up and closing the hatch. Too late to stop any of them. People started to wake up all over the plane as mutterings of confusion broke out.

The pilot, who was apparently none the wiser of what just occured, piped up over the com.

"Alright folks, it's been a long flight, but we're just about ready to land. Keep those cellphones in airplane mode and buckle up."

Shuichi groaned, giving up the struggle with the knot in his seatbelt. By the time they had landed and he could use his phone to call the cops, the Louvre would be toiletless. He sat back in his seat, utterly stunned by this turn of events. He suddenly felt like he had lost everything.

Although… if that were the case…

Why was his heart beating so loud?

He leaned over to pick up the card that had been dropped at his feet.

While a similar calling card had been found at every scene of a DICE crime, most of the messages found on then we're vague and hidden with layers of meaning. This one, however, was incredibly simply worded, even if no more trustworthy than any other.

It was written in that purple pen the thief had been doing a Sudoku with earlier, or perhaps so Shuichi had thought.

It read the following:

You know, you're not quite as smart or dashing as I thought you'd be Mr. Detective, but you aren't so boring either, so I'm going to give you a hint.

Love,

-K.O.

P.S. Hope the honeymoon is just as nice for you <3

---

Read from Kokichi’s perspective HERE

#saiouma #oumasai #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #fanfiction #phantom thief au #im a little bit silly sorry #I have a lot more anxiety posting fics on tumblr than on ao3 #i know i only have one follower right now but like still its scary #my writing confidence took a real hit last year #and ive kind of been writing fanfic to recover from that #so idk we'll see how it goes #writing

34 notes · View notes

myfangirllists · 5 years

Text

Fanfiction List (USUK)

A compilation of my favorite USUK works!

Completed and uncompleted

Dead Ringer by Fire_Bear

Arthur is having lunch with a co-worker when a couple pass by and tell him he looks exactly like the man an entire art exhibition is based on. Dragged to the gallery, he finds not only some amazing art but also someone he has not seen in years...

Type: One shot

Keep Quiet by AkaiShinda (orphan_account)

Starting from a prompt. After being saved by a stranger, Arthur is waken by his savior; a young man with an unusual mission in the evenings and who protects him even from himself in a surprisingly natural, tender way. They don't know each other, but Alfred is determined to help him in recovery. After getting to know him slightly better Arthur is dazed to realize, Alfred's personality is the unification of enigmas and on the other side, pure and clear intentions. He can't help but stick around and carefully mend the pieces together... only to find entirely new purposes to live for.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Incomplete

The Languages of Love by merakily (fengbi)

Arthur and Alfred first meet as university students in a coffee shop. This is how they came to spend their lives together.

Type: One shot

From Me To You by a_forgotten_note

After going through three several years of schooling, Alfred comes to the startling realization that he had no plans after college. Without much else to go for, he enrolls in the military for four years of initial deployment. But Afghanistan becomes very lonely very quick... In hopes of rekindling an old friendship, Alfred writes to his old college roommate. The only question is: will their letters relieve his homesickness, or will it only become worse?

Type: One shot

A Week in a Hotel by bluekujira

This is a fanfiction I wrote for my friend (zombiepurplefox on tumblr) based off a prompt she sent me!

I apologize for any errors I did go back an edit this but I still might have missed stuff!

Also I changed the prompt slightly. Instead of living together they stay in a hotel together.

The Prompt: 'You live in the apartment above me and your water pipes burst and is flooding into my apartment and you can hear me yelling so you come down to my apartment to see what's going on and witness me standing in my kitchen/bathroom/whatever, holding an umbrella, screaming at the water pouring out of my ceiling and crying because I have no idea what to do and we both just kinda stand there in shock as my stuff gets ruined and you let me crash at your place til my place gets fixed cause you feel bad' (CREDIT TO shittemore on tumblr for this prompt)

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Complete

Forever Mine by anon posted at hetalia_kink

Dating a serial killer!AU. Arthur was attacked by a serial killer on the bus on his way home.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Complicated Shadow by Ellarose C

The US government's witness protection program has never had a witness die while under its protection. After innocent civilian Arthur Kirkland witnesses a murder ordered by the Vargas mob, will a hero's protection be enough to keep the record clean?

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

♡ Cuckoo in the Nest by PennyLane

Human AU. Arthur is a famous novelist in hiding from the paparazzi after he is publicly humiliated when he is left standing at the altar. Alfred is the very competent personal assistant hired by Arthur’s agent to keep him hidden and safe while he completes his newest novel, the novel that just might change all their lives. [Previous Spain/England relationship.]

Type: One Shot

American in America by Ferrero13

America, being America, says something he should've known better than to say in his own airport, whereupon he is taken in for questioning and finds it very difficult to explain why this particular nineteen-year-old seems to be as politically active as the President himself.

Type: One Shot

Work Your Magic by PixieDust291

Arthur is a wizard who's being forced into an arranged marriage despite his protests. Though, it seems he is saved by a magical Scottish fold named Iggy. With Iggy as his familiar Arthur finds himself not only falling in love with a human but also surrounded by a sea of lies and deception. When nothing else makes sense, what can one believe to be the truth?

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Divination's Greatest Flaw by rae1112

Arthur Kirkland, master of Divination, fancied himself a prophetic matchmaker. His best friends would agree...if only he could make a prophetic match for himself.

Pottertalia.

Type: Two Shot

Day One by mandathegreat

“Day One: My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I am currently in Atlanta, Georgia. I am recording myself, and my experiences, because—well, I don’t know. I think it’s the end of the world—“

Arthur and Alfred meet at the end of the world. They are going to have to learn to survive.

USUK Walking Dead AU

Type: One Shot

A Proof of Diplomacy by orphan_account

“If you leave me, I’ll kill you. I could kill you here and now.”

After the war, in his most vulnerable years, Arthur, or Great Britain, is at his most dishonest. He lies to himself more than anyone. Apart from Alfred, the United States, perhaps. He lies when he says that he doesn't believe Alfred's lies and hopes, his beautiful, beautiful lies.

Type: One Shot

Standing In Your Heart by amine

"Arthur had gone from spending the afternoons with his friend to having his magical training increased tenfold. Warlocks would be needed to ensure that Spades maintained the upper hand in the war, and the Kirkland family had a long tradition of powerful magic. Arthur hadn’t complained and had instead thrown himself into his studies so as to be an asset to the new king. His love for the kingdom of his birth demanded it.

More than that, his love for Alfred demanded it."

Type: One Shot

Communication is Key by inkwells_writing

Arthur had good friends he supposed.

But right now, Arthur hated them. They were just trying to be nice, but really. They thought he was single, and that he had been single for a very long time. And yes, he had been single for two years before he started dating Alfred, but he was now in a three month-long relationship. A three-month long happy relationship. A three-month long happy, and sadly, secret relationship.

They just had to go and set him up on a bloody blind date. Arthur just had no idea how he was going to tell his boyfriend.

Type: One Shot

Hospital Flowers by hoshiko2kokoro

A firefighter has done more than just save Arthur's life. He's giving him a whole new perspective on life.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Where The Most Beautiful Roses Grow by fakiagirl

Arthur moves into a quiet American suburb with the intention of starting a new, calmer chapter of his life. It doesn't take long for him to meet Alfred, one of his new neighbors. Little does he know that this is a place where romance can bloom.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

A Distance of 3000 Miles by fakiagirl

5000 kilometers; the distance between their two closest shores. A safe distance, close enough that they can see each other occasionally, but far enough away that neither of them will ever get hurt again. Then, one summer, Alfred visits.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

♡ Starships by PixieDust291

Blind and held prisoner, Arthur finds himself at the mercy of Alfred, a space pirate with a truly curious crew. Alfred is determined to seduce Arthur, and Arthur fears his resolve won't last. His duty is clear, but so is his desire. As the days tick by Arthur begins to question what loyalty means. He begins to realize that being a prisoner may actually set him free.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Look to the Future Now, It's Only Just Begun by Teenage Mouse

Pottertalia. Arthur and Alfred are paired up to read each other's love fortunes in Divination class. Naturally, they're both too obvlious to realise that the signs are pointing to each other.

Type: One Shot

♡ We'll Meet Again by George deValier

WW2 AU. London pub owner Arthur Kirkland is driven to distraction by loud, brash American fighter pilot Alfred Jones. Unable to stop it, Arthur finds himself falling for Alfred's charms... just as the pilot is preparing to leave for war.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Keep Smiling Through by George deValier

'We'll Meet Again' mini-sequel. Keep smiling through, just like you always do; 'til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away! USUK

Type: One Shot

♡ Pointblank by worldaccordingtofangirls

WWII AU: Arthur is a gifted volunteer doctor. Alfred is a bomber pilot. Love strikes us pointblank, right between the eyes, in the most inconvenient of places. The battlefield is no exception.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

Man's Best Friends by Inkblooded Witch

Monty doesn't consider himself a needy sort of cat. He and his human have an understanding of how things work, and Monty was under the impression that part of this understanding included a 'No Dogs' rule. So he's not best pleased when his human finds a mate that has one of the beasts.

Mostly pet POV, USUK on the side. Experimental slice-of-life style, be nice! :)

Type: One Shot

Smart Pranks by SillyKwado

Alfred and Arthur were famous throughout the school for not getting along. Even though the two history teachers and had to set an example for the students, they still ended up resorting to petty pranks and arguments. For some reason, the two always found something to argue about or a new way to rile the other up. But perhaps there's a deeper meaning to the pranks and insults…

Type: One Shot

#fanfiction recommendation #Fanfic list #usuk #hetalia #yaoi #hetalia: america #hetalia: united kingdom

32 notes · View notes

hawthornewhisperer · 6 years

Text

the obvious answer

Post 505 spec ficlet, and we’re just gonna pretend for plot reasons that the fireside conversation and the things with the worms happened on two separate nights.

And because this is in canon, Bellamy is with E.cho and that will be acknowledged. By reading this fic, you’re agreeing to keep any negative E.cho/Be.cho thoughts to yourself, up to and including “I normally hate be.cho, but [x]”, okay? Okay, cool.

Clarke let the tent flap close behind her, her hands shaking slightly. She balled them into fists and ignored it, because there was no reason to feel like this. Bellamy had asked a simple question— how did you survive alone— and she had given him a simple answer-- Madi— but it felt like a lie.

The real answer had been on the tip of her tongue, but suddenly she couldn’t do it. For six years, she’d told him everything: her hopes, her fears, her dreams for a better future for all of them. And now he was here and she was tongue tied, frozen by doubts and uncertainty, because the Bellamy who walked into that halo of light back in the village wasn’t quite the Bellamy she remembered.

He was softer now; gentler and quieter. She had always known the firebrand who taunted her outside the dropship was just an act, but now she realized how much of an act it must have been. Because this Bellamy was so deliberate, so thoughtful in everything he did, that it was hard to remember just how harsh and brazen he used to be. And even though knew this was inside him all along, it was still hard to realize that the boy she’d known was completely gone.

So she held back, even though she didn’t really have a reason to, and hoped that he would have as hard of a time reading her as she did him.

But now she had another problem. Wonkru was nothing if not efficient, and that meant solitary tents were a waste of resources. Bellamy had accepted that pronouncement with a shrug and a sometimes the heating went out on the Ark; I’m used to sharing, and for the first six hours of the hike, Clarke had assumed he meant when he was growing up. There only would have been two beds in their compartment on Mecha Station and three people, so it made sense, but then Bellamy mentioned something about algae while they waited for their rations and she realized: he was talking about the last six years instead.

Something oddly painful coursed through her at that, the knowledge that Bellamy had a whole life she had only begun to comprehend. It made her feel lonely in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, abandoned and forgotten.

She put that out of her head and arranged the bedrolls next to each other, and had almost managed to drift off when Bellamy ducked inside. He moved silently, toeing off his boots and placing his jacket on the ground. “How’d you learn to be so quiet?” she asked, and he startled.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, and the wind whipped at the walls of the tent ferociously.

“You didn’t.” She rolled over to face him and noticed a strange look on his face as he looked at the bedrolls. “But you were never much of a hunter, you know.”

Bellamy shrugged and a thick, awkward silence set in. “It was, uh, Echo. She taught us all.”

“Oh,” Clarke replied, and Bellamy kept frowning at the bedrolls as though a river monster was waiting underneath. “It gets cold out here,” she explained. “Colder than you’d think. It’s best if we’re close.” When she’d laid them out it had seemed like the most practical option, especially given Bellamy’s nonchalance about sharing a tent with her, but now it felt presumptuous and she wasn’t sure why.

Bellamy nodded carefully and slipped under the covers. The zippers faced each other, open just enough for his heat to slowly seep towards her, and Clarke watched him in the dim light. “Night,” she said after a moment, and he flashed her a half-smile.

“Night,” he replied.

Sleep came easily after that, and at some point during the night Clarke burrowed closer to his warmth, her brain foggy with sleep and her body aching for closeness. It wasn’t a conscious thought so much as instinct; something deep inside of her craving a connection she thought she’d lost. Bellamy made a quiet noise and tucked his arm around her, his slow, steady breathing never hitching into waking and she drifted off again, enveloped by his weight and heat.

When she blinked herself back to waking, her first thought was that in six years, she’d never felt so peaceful. Bellamy’s arm was lower now, resting heavily across her waist, and his breath was ruffling the hair at the back of her neck. She wanted nothing more than to turn over and curl into him, bury her nose in his collarbone and let her hands explore the broad expanse of his back, but she was petrified of breaking the spell.

Something pressed against her backside and she bit back a smile, knowing it was nothing more than a biological response. A deep, needy part of her wanted to rock back against it, feel his thick cock drag against her clit, but she stayed frozen in place, not wanting to cross that line for either of them until she was sure.

Bellamy coughed and shifted suddenly, his hips drawing back from her while his arm followed. She pretended to have just woken and rolled over slowly. “Did you sleep well?” she asked, eyes still heavy lidded.

But Bellamy had that look on his face again, stricken and uncomfortable. “Yeah, uh— sorry for— sorry about—”

She sat up, deciding it was best to act as if nothing was wrong, and stretched. “Like I said, it gets cold out here,” she said breezily. “Sharing body heat makes sense.”

Bellamy rolled to his back and put his arm across his face, nodding. Something uncomfortable coiled low in her belly, a feeling like she had ruined something without intending to, but she wasn’t sure when or how. But it made her feel lonely again, like she could never quite bridge the six year gap between them.

So she set about packing up and he did too, carefully avoiding eye contact. He spent most of the hike with Miller, and by the time she worked up the courage to ask him what was wrong everything had gone to hell. Between the worms and the sandstorms and the missiles it felt petty and childish to ask if he was avoiding her, and when the day finally broke bright and clear, she was still struggling to find the words.

But then the rover pulled into camp and she didn’t need to ask him anymore, because it was painfully, glaringly clear.

He was in love with someone else.

A/N 2.0: Please remember: I like Be.cho and E.cho and have zero control over canon so if you’re upset that it’s happening, can you please keep that out of the comments and tags here? I will love you forever if you do, and will hold a mild grudge against you if you don’t.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #t100 rebel spy #very vaguely mentioned but tagging it that way just in case

167 notes · View notes

crystalsnowmins · 6 years

Text

Yoonmin Scenario #25

7k of how to mess up a good prompt. Be the judge of it. MOODBOARD ON FAN ACCOUNT TWITTER. *******

From Tumblr Prompt: Flower Shop!AU, In which Yoongi works in a flower shop for his aunt and he avoids sociality as much as possible until Park Jimin entered his flower shop with a crying, blotched face giving the order of a bouquet of flowers for a dead one. He ends up with a free arrangement, a hug and a phone number.

Yoongi has avoided interacting with people as much as he could, especially the popular snobby ones. He didn’t have any grudge against them, he is just anti-social and have a mid-life crisis. He has friends, don’t get him wrong, he does have friends and they need to be replaced whenever he can find time.

He works in a flower shop because he finds calmness in simple things. For a 22 years old man, his plate is filled with sadness and depression. His parents thought working might help him distract so they asked his aunt to offer him the job. She did, hesitant because she was worried his poor mood would affect the flowers growth. Somehow working for two months, Yoongi has found solace in that flower shop.

He talks to his flowers, tell about his days, complains about his professors, tell about his friends. He is not sure if plants can truly sympathize with him but it feels nice to let out.

He is usually a quiet person and somehow entitled as one of the ‘bad boy’ of university. Apparently, the categories to be in ‘bad boys of university’ are having a stoic expression, looking dead and not interacting with anyone. He has nothing on him to be known as a classic bad boy. He’s just a soft kitten who loves his flower shop and always wants to finish with university so he can go back to work.

His friends laugh whenever a junior would bump into Yoongi and apologise stutteringly as if Yoongi with pull out his tongue. It frustrates him. He is not bad, he is a good person, just antisocial. His reputation is totally ruined and it makes people stay away from him, especially Park Jimin.

Where can he start about Park Jimin.

Well, Park Jimin came into his life like a typical Regina George entry with university doors opening on it’s own and an angelic being entering the hallways with nervousness but determination. He had heads turned towards him, even Yoongi’s. Even the straightest people had their mouth widen at him because he is just so beautiful.

Yoongi’s friends think that he exaggerates a lot about Jimin but what do they know. He has a theory, it involves that Jimin definitely is an angel descended down by the orders of God to bless everyone with his presence. One smile and your whole week will go well.

Sigh, unfortunately, that smile is never directed to him so he always has a shitty week.

As soon as Jimin entered the university, he became the most popular one, being taken under the ‘best looking’ students of the university. They probably filled him on Yoongi being a ‘bad boy’, lying how he gets into fight and sells drugs.

Pfft, Yoongi is a kitten who cannot fight for his life. He looks like he has come out from The Great Depression 1929 and is ready to start a blood bath, but really, he needs petting on his head and a comforting hug to go by. Jin hyung fills that category for him.

Jimin stays away from trouble and that means he doesn’t associate with Yoongi because he’s a ‘bad boy’. It’s a sad life since he entered university.

Park Jimin though, even if he stays with the popular group, he seems like a down to earth guy. He smiles at everyone, a kind and comforting smile. He is touchy, always has a comforting hand on people’s shoulder. He helps students who are weak in studies, he helps professors.

Who does that in this world? Except an angel would. Which is Park Jimin.

Yoongi wishes to talk to him, but he believes he will piss his pants before that happens. So he admires from far, everyone does, so Jimin doesn’t mind if he catches someone looking at him. He would smile and blink his eyes at them.

On top of Jimin being an angel, he comes from a comparatively rich family that means he ranks high in angel community. Yoongi looks like he has been starving himself since the Korean War. He is so ugly in compare to Park Jimin, he is a displeasure to look at, truly. Jin reprimands him for that, says that if he isn’t confident, how will he ever face Jimin?

Ha! Jokes on him, because he will never face Park Jimin.

But life’s a bitch and it likes to fuck up, especially Yoongi who is already a fuck up. The day he has always been dreading for comes in the form of a crying Park Jimin. He has never seen Park Jimin cry.

Yoongi was working in the flower shop, making small corsages for a wedding coming up. He was talking to his flowers, floundering about Park Jimin…he wore a flannel, that probably wasn’t his size because I couldn’t find his hands sticking out. Anyway, he looked good today as well. He still doesn’t know me, because well, I’m invisible to him.

He doesn’t mind being invisible to Park Jimin, that’s better for so many reasons.

But at that time, life laughed at him and sent Park Jimin in his lonely path.

While Yoongi was busy making corsages, the door to the flower shops open with a chime. He looks up with a fake smile only to let it drop when he sees who came in.

Park Jimin.

Park Jimin wearing the same flannel from earlier.

Park Jimin crying.

Park Jimin sniffs loudly as if announcing his presence and he looks around, blinking hard to let his tears fall so he can look properly. He notices a boy, wearing a navy blue apron and holding a white flower in his hand.

“Pl-please help me,” He requests, hiccuping after it.

What is it, angel? You want my kidney? Take it. I have two anyway.

At that moment, Yoongi was ready to bring all the stars from the universe for Jimin if he asked of him.

Yoongi nods, not daring to move towards the boy, although wanting to comfort him.

“What can I help you with?” Yoongi asks with the most soft voice he has ever used. He didn’t even know he could have a soft voice.

“I want an arran-arrangement of flowers,” He tries to speak through his tears. Yoongi nods again, making a move to come closer but not enough.

Who hurt you?

“Is there anything specific?” He asks carefully, not wanting to trigger him further.

Unfortunately, Jimin cries harder than he was and Yoongi can almost picture his life laughing at him, eating popcorn while he watches the scene in 3D.

Yoongi panics, especially gay panic. Because how can this human like angel cry so prettily? Why does Yoongi look like blobfish when he cries? But then he guesses it’s because he is a human and Jimin is an angel.

“Tissue,” Jimin mumbles, crying in his sleeves and wiping his face.

Tissue? What kind of plant is that? Does he mean in texture?

“Can I have a tissue?” Jimin looks up with his bloodshot eyes indicating that he’s been crying for long.

Honestly who hurt him? Is it from his angel community? Because square the fuck up bitch, even though y’all are angels probably, Jimin is the angelest of the angel and with that right, the other angels have no right to make him cry.

Yoongi immediately goes behind his counter to get the tissue box he usually keep. He offers him but Jimin takes the whole box and abuses the usage of tissues. He takes several and blows his nose. In any other circumstance, where Park Jimin wasn’t a literal angel, Yoongi would have been disgusted.

Yoongi goes behind his counter again and pull out the stool he sits on. He offers it to Jimin who immediately takes a seat and keep wiping his face in the tissue.

Honestly, Jin hyung is good at it and he doesn’t know where Jin hyung might be. Yoongi has never dared to talk to Jimin and suddenly life throws him Jimin and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He just wanted to crush on Jimin from far away!

He clears his throat to get attention, which he gets but a small one in which he manages to awkwardly smile. He is on duty and he needs to make 73 corsages and he has done only 33 so far and 40 are still needs to be done before the shop closes. And Jimin being here, crying his eyes out and not giving any order, isn’t helping Yoongi further.

He wants to ask the stool back and start working again but he is weak hearted man and cannot see the love of his life bawling.

“Jimin-ssi,” Yoongi carefully calls out. The said boy looks up with the saddest expression.

Yoongi swears inwardly because anyone who makes Jimin cries should be given a life time imprisonment.

“You know me?” He meekly asks, sniffling.

Yoongi awkwardly smiles, a little hurt that Jimin doesn’t recognize him. What’s new in the neighborhood anyway? He didn’t think Jimin would, the guy never spared him with a single glance. It might be Yoongi’s fault as well, hiding away so he doesn’t get triggered by Jimin’s smile.

“We study in the same university,” He shrugs, trying not to be petty in front of the guy.

Jimin forms a ‘O’ with his mouth and mumbles an apology for not remembering him. Remembering? Yoongi huffs inwardly. More like not knowing he exists on the grounds of university.

For a moment, everything was silent, Jimin wasn’t crying, just playing with the edge of the box in his hand and scratching it. It was quiet until Yoongi opened his mouth and asked, “Anyway, could you tell me what kind of arrangements do you want?” And the damn dam was open again.

Yoongi panic and it’s not even gay panic. He can hear the siren of a police car coming, probably going to arrest him for a lifetime imprisonment because this time he made Jimin cry. Honestly, he shouldn’t have even made that rule.

“Okay, okay,” Yoongi calms him down, at least tries to do that, “I’ll get you a glass of water,” He says and disappears in the backroom, door closing as he leans against it. Anymore wailing, and Yoongi will kill himself.

He hears Jimin cry and feels bad and sad at the same time. Something happened and he doesn’t know anything about it. Earlier in the university, Jimin was a happy puppy, skipping the hallways and laughing loudly with his obnoxious friends. He was all good and made everyone’s day better. Even though no smile was directed in his way, Yoongi’s life was a little bit better because he could hear Jimin’s laugh.

It’s a pleasant laugh, completely opposite to how he is wailing out there. It’s squeaky as if you have stepped on those rubber toys. He remembers the sound because he used to have those shoes that made the same sound when he walked. It was irritating when he had to witness small kids doing it now but Jimin’s laugh…it’s pleasant. It’s breathy and filled with genuine happiness. His face contracts into a complete bliss and if Yoongi had power, he probably could see the halo on Jimin’s head glowing when he is happy. But he’s a normal human being and he only sees his beautiful laugh, mouth wide open but hidden behind his hands and eyes completely disappearing.

Yoongi often think about Jimin’s laugh when he feels sad and depressed, when it’s a gloomy day for him. Suddenly everything seems better with Jimin’s smile and laugh and his whole being. But now, his crying face will be a nightmare.

Yoongi remembers his purpose and quickly fills a paper cup with water. He opens the door again and walks out to the scene of tissues circling Jimin in a heap as the younger abuses the box more. He walks carefully and sit on his feet to look at Jimin carefully. He doesn’t think he has ever been this close to Jimin. He was always maintained a 1m distance.

Up close, and without being biased, Jimin is more beautiful, even crying. What kind of sorcery is this?

Yoongi smiles comfortingly when Jimin sadly looks at him, eyes swollen and filled with tears, cheeks red with constant wiping, lips slicked with…stuffs he doesn’t want to know and nose all snotty. Sigh, still pretty. He offers him the glass which Jimin takes gladly and Yoongi quickly takes away the tissue box which seems lighter than before.

Jimin gulps down the offered water and hand the empty cup back to Yoongi, while he’s still sad and pouting. Yoongi looks at the corsages and sigh, think I have to pull an overnight for this.

“Are you grieving?” Yoongi ask, so he can get started with an arrangement and send Jimin out because this human being’s presence is overwhelming. And Yoongi can’t breathe and he’s so close to hugging the life out of Jimin and pouring out his heart.

Jimin nods while still not looking up.

Grieving, huh.

Yoongi skims around the shelves until he finds what he is looking for. White chrysanthemums, he hums when he collects a bunch of flowers and move around the shop to reach Jimin who is crying, but he has slowed down with the tears.

Yoongi sits on his feet again and shows the flowers to Jimin, who wipes his face and nose but doesn’t look up to ask anything.

“White chrysanthemums, it symbolizes grief,” He explains. He doesn’t have to because he normally doesn’t do it and nor Jimin has asked but he feels like talking to Jimin even with any topic could help him open up a little bit and maybe, not like Yoongi is wishing, because no, but maybe Jimin will acknowledge Yoongi’s effort and notice his undying love for him.

Okay, maybe that’s too much asking.

Jimin reaches his hand to touch the soft petals and he nods in encouragement.

“Can I suggest something?” Yoongi carefully treads.

Jimin nods.

“I know you’re grieving, but what about adding some colors huh?” Yoongi says and that makes Jimin looks up in confusion, red rimmed eyes curiously staring at him. “It will be different, the one you’re grieving for, and I’m sure they are above watching you, they’ll be happy. Nobody wants to die knowing they’ll cause pain to others, yeah?” Jimin is tempted to look up and feel if she is actually watching him, if she actually wants a colorful arrangement.

“You don’t have to, I can just pack-,”

“-okay,” Jimin affirms quietly, fiddling with his fingers, he looks up at Yoongi and nods.

The older boy smiles in appreciation.

“Then how about you tell me something that remind you of…,” He trails off as he doesn’t know the gender of that person.

“Her,” Jimin supplies, sorrowfully.

“Her,” Yoongi confirms.

He gets up and places the white chrysanthemums on the counter and waits for Jimin to speak. When the younger feels a little better and a less sad, he thinks about her.

“She was old, really old,” He starts and look at Yoongi as if waiting for a flower to appear. Yoongi doesn’t know what could symbolize old age.

“That means she lived long?” He smiles at him, to show some comfort. Jimin nods, smiling sadly.

“I could have suggested horehound but we don’t grow those,” He smiles apologetically and sees Jimin face falls at that, “But maybe you can tell me her favorite color?” He asks hopefully, wanting to see that smile on Jimin’s face again.

“She liked flashy color,” He mumbles. “She would get excited around those flashy colors, red, orange, yellow etcetera,” He informs.

Yoongi wonder who died in his family for him to feel so sad. If she was an old person, then was it his grandmother? Was he attached to his grandmother a lot? Anyway, even if he wasn’t, a person death’s is heartbreaking.

While Yoongi skims through his shelves to collect the exact flower he had in mind, he hears Jimin voice fills the silent shop, he smiles because at least Jimin is opening up, speaking up without him insisting.

“She was always cheerful, always wanting to go out despite being old. She liked sunlight a lot,” Jimin smiles at the memory of her.

Yoongi picks up red poinsettia and hums in affirmation. He shows it to Jimin who tilt his head in confusion, “Red poinsettia, symbolizes cheerfulness,” After getting his approval, Yoongi keeps it next to white chrysanthemums.

He urges Jimin to speak more so he can make an arrangement. He doesn’t mind that Jimin takes his time, even though in the starting he wanted Jimin to leave as soon as possible, but he is going to take his time with him because it’s not everyday he can spend time with Jimin.

“She was my best friend,” Jimin almost whispers, suddenly feeling like crying again. Yoongi sympathizes with him, his grandmother was also very close to him, she was the epitome of how every grandmother should be.

Yoongi picks another pot of flower and shows it to Jimin who simply tilts his head for further explanation, “Alstroemeria, symbolizes friendship,” He says, while looking at the pink flower blended with white. Jimin nods, approving of the flower.

“Will it cost a lot?” Jimin asks, looking at the flowers on table. It’s not like he cannot afford it so Yoongi wonders why he is worried about money. “She didn’t like expensive things, she could just smell and tell it’s expensive. I don’t want to disappoint her,” He explains himself, fiddling with himself and Yoongi notices he does that a lot. “I also want more flowers,” He mumbles to himself.

And really if this was Yoongi’s store, he would have sold this store to Jimin without asking money. He is not even playing around.

“Don’t worry, we have discount. It wouldn’t cost much,” He assures him. There’s not fucking discount at this time of year since there’s no festival around the corner. But if Jimin has dilemma, then Yoongi will open his wallet and pay the money for the discount he just simply gave.

Jimin tries to smile and nod at Yoongi’s direction in appreciation.

Yoongi hears Jimin talk about his grandmother a more, a little more relaxed. He would deviate from his true work and tell stories, sometimes smiling or sometimes being sad at the memories. Yoongi would bring him back while showing different flowers and asking his consent.

“She was really affectionate and always looked for receiving it. She kept the family together in some ways,” Jimin shrugs and Yoongi knows it’s personal so he doesn’t make Jimin elaborate himself, “She rubbed the affectionate part on me,” He pouts, more like purses his lips in thought.

In that moment, Yoongi simply looks at his lips and wonders how it would feel to touch it, simply caress the softness and plushiness of his lips. It is always slick with lip balm and moisturizer. Jimin has always taken care of himself, it’s no surprise he’s so pretty day and night. While Yoongi wakes up and just wash his face with water, if he’s feeling good, he’d use a soap for the most. And no wonder he’s ugly in compare to Jimin.

“How about saxifrage, hmm?” Yoongi asks, moving to get the plant.

“S-sexyfrage?” He squeaks from his place on the stool.

Yoongi shakes his head and chuckle as he shows him the plant, a pink colored. “Saxifrage,” He repeats himself properly as Jimin mumbles it to himself, “It represents friendship, many flowers does but it’s different at the same, right?” Jimin just cluelessly nods as Yoongi chats about the flowers. He has no idea of flowers and how many there are and what each symbolizes. It must be so difficult remembering each flowers and it’s symbols, Jimin thinks.

“What flower do you want next?” Yoongi asks, clapping his hands to get Jimin’s attention.

“Uh…She was encouraging. Whenever I’d feel down or not confident, she’d come to me and sit next to me until I feel better, she had her own way to show it I guess,” He shrugs and waits for Yoongi to get a flower.

Yoongi disappears behind the shelves again while he hums and searches for a particular flower. Jimin looks at him between the shelves and thinks he’s really pretty, he wonder how he didn’t know Yoongi studies with him. He makes sure he knows everyone, not really engaging with everyone but he still makes sure he knows everyone studying in the campus. But the name rings in his head and he knows he has heard it somewhere.

“…black eyed Susan,” Yoongi says the last word in his daegu accent, slipping whenever he has to speak in English.

“Hmm?” Jimin asks, distracted by the thoughts of Yoongi.

“Black eyed Susan symbolizes motivation,” He explains and Yoongi looks at the sunflower looking plant. It’s bright and yellow and he’s sure she would love it. So he nods in affirmation.

“Anything for childishness? She used to get her way with everyone around,” Jimin hopefully asks. Yoongi laughs at that and remembers her own grandmother. She used to get her things done by pouting and crying most of the time, emotional blackmailing and telling how she will die tomorrow.

“Don’t all grandmothers?” Yoongi mumbles to himself and Jimin hums, ask if he said something and the older boy shakes his head no.

“It’s really impressive how you know every single flower,” Jimin compliments and smile at Yoongi who looks at him from between the shelves. “You just don’t look like someone who would work here,” Jimin gestures to his outfit and mumbles, “No offense.”

Yoongi looks down at his outfit, faded jeans with more holes than clothe and a white t-shirt, probably way too old and a black leather jacket that he bought from Korean market. To top the marvelous look, he’s wearing a navy blue apron.

“Why because I’m resident’s bad boy?” Yoongi muses, it makes him snort at the label.

“Wha…,” Jimin trails off, not understanding the meaning behind Yoongi’s word. Meanwhile, Yoongi shows his Buttercup flower that would symbolize the childishness that Jimin asked for. The younger boy approves absentmindedly as he follows Yoongi with his tear stained eyes. He wants to know the meaning for resident’s bad boy. When he feels eyes on him, Yoongi turns to Jimin with a sigh and raise his brow.

“Min Yoongi, apparently resident’s bad boy because he doesn’t socialize with people,” Yoongi sarcastically introduces himself although he believes it’s kinda late for introduction since Jimin has been here for half an hour already.

Jimin tilts his head in confusion as he purse his lips in thought, remembering where he heard the name. Yoongi sees three different emotions through Jimin’s face, First was confusion as he thinks about Yoongi’s name, second was realization as he makes his mouth shaped of ‘O’ and third was acceptance but he didn’t seem feared by Yoongi.

“It kinda hurts my ‘bad boy’ heart, ya know?” Yoongi smiles childishly at Jimin, “I’m quite popular, I’m sure your friends must have filled you in on me,” He pouts unconsciously, looking around to his flowers and the ones he kept it on table, it could use some blue in it, Yoongi thinks.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin sheepishly apologise, “I don’t believe in mindless rumors,” He says and shrugs, wiping his snot filled nose. It should disgust Yoongi but he finds the action cute. Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with me?

Yoongi wants to argue that even so he didn’t come to talk to him, he wasn’t obliged, it’s understandable but he didn’t like the fact that his smile were completely thrown away on the way and his stare was not received. As far as Yoongi knows, Jimin interacted with everyone, even if he didn’t know their names. So Yoongi is a bit salty at the fact that it’s going to be a year now and this is the first time Jimin talked to him. He doesn’t even remember him and Yoongi and Jimin have crossed paths or hallways on multiple occasion.

“It’s whatever,” Yoongi waves it off, not wanting to be a victim or anything or seem petty and affection seeker in front of his crush. “Do you want anything more?” He changes the subject.

Jimin sits straight and nods, “Something to let her know I will always miss her?” He meekly day as if he is bothering Yoongi. The older would agree but he doesn’t mind the few moments with Jimin. The younger might as well forget him tomorrow.

“Salvia,” Yoongi answers immediately and he thinks it’s a perfect match to many vibrant colors in the bouquet as of this moment. The violet color of salvia would compliment all the flowers in the arrangement.

“Why do you work here, Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin asks, his voice traveling through the vast area of the flower shop.

“Because it relaxes me,” Yoongi answers and cut the stems of salvia flowers, “I used to smoke, I still do…sometimes but talking with flowers help, helps with filtering bad thoughts,” When Yoongi comes in front of Jimin, he sees his with mouth agape with astonishment, Yoongi almost blush at the attention, “I’m sorry, you are already having a lot in your plate and I’m filling more with my sad life,” He apologises and keeps the salvia flowers on the table.

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, somewhere lost in thought and Yoongi takes the time to stare at him like he always do. Sad Jimin looks beautiful, nonetheless, but it’s not an expression that suits him well. Jimin has a face that suits a happy expression and he may have his bad days but if Yoongi could help, he wouldn’t let Jimin cry or be sad. It just doesn’t suit him.

“Danbi uses to help me with sad days,” Jimin mumbles, suddenly emotional at the thought of it. His eyes fills with tears again as one drops, two drops and three drops then it’s an open dam. He silently cry, sniffling while Yoongi is panicking. His hands itches to touch Jimin and console him but he stays on his spot.

“Danbi is a nice name,” He tries.

“It is!” Jimin wails now, looking up and oh,faintly Yoongi hears his heart shattering at the sight of crying Jimin.

Before consoling Jimin, Yoongi again skims to the darker part of the shop where plants grow in shade. He plucks a few forget-me-nots and smiles to himself. This might help.

When he goes back, Jimin is still wailing to himself as he misses his grandmother. Yoongi thinks-Danbi-it’s a pretty modern name, nothing what he expected from a old aged woman. It’s whimsical to think that such a pretty name is used for a old woman who was born probably before the Korean War.

“Jimin,” He slips away the formality and calls him out who looks up and hiccups in a cute way. Yoongi shows him the delicate looking cloud of color flower. “Danbi means sweet rain, did you know?” Jimin nods at that, wails turning into little sobs, “These flowers grow in plenty of rainfall and it symbolizes a lot of things, you know? It’s called forget me not, no pun intended,” Yoongi immediately follows and he sits on his feet again since Jimin refuses to look up and cry. It makes the younger laugh but then he’s back to crying again.

“I’m really sorry for you loss,” Yoongi whispers, contemplates to keep a hand on his thigh for comfort but he’s kinda afraid of placing a hand on his muscular thighs and not squeeze the fat. But he places it, because he’s thinking with his heart right now.

“Dan..bi,” Jimin hiccups, “She could have li-lived longer,” Yoongi nods at that, he cannot sympathies well but he tries. “One day I’m-I’m coming home and-and-and she’s gone, I did not even get to say a good-bye,” And all of a sudden, Jimin is back to wailing again. It’s an endless cycle, really. Sometimes he’s crying, then talking and then wailing and then sobbing and then talking.

He cries in his hand at the thought of her and Yoongi feels his own eyes watering at the sight. He’s so fucking weak for this guy, it’s not even funny anymore. He wonders how it would feel like to be remembered like this or how Jimin must have been close to his grandmother.

Yoongi is close to his family, no doubt. He has always been. But when he started growing, he started distancing himself because he had this self doubt about himself. He knew his family loved him nonetheless but he never gave himself credit for his existence in their life. And when he came to Seoul, it just so happened that he talked less to his parents, once a week maybe. His grandparents died when he was still young so he doesn’t miss them much. He just doesn’t have anything to cry for, except his sad life.

Jimin wails bring him back to the present, as the younger slouches on the stool. Against the better judgement, Yoongi keeps the flower on ground and he kneels, very slowly he moves in and wrap his arms around Jimin’s shoulder in a awkward hug. When Jimin doesn’t push him away and still cries in his hand, Yoongi moves further in and tighten his holds while he uses one hand to rub his back.

In the next movement, Jimin has his arms wrapped around Yoongi’s shoulders as he cries in his neck about Danbi. And so, on a spring day, a breezy evening, he’s kneeling in front of his crush and hugging him, consoling him while his crush cry about his grandmother.

He let Jimin cry and look outside the glass panes to see the streets bustling with lives. Few notice the inside of the shop and furrow their brows, but pays no heed. In the same moment, a man tries to come inside, the bell chiming above him but then he sees Yoongi being trapped in a sad hug and a boy, sitting in stool, crying like someone has died. Well…

He smiles awkwardly and leaves them to be. All of it doesn’t affect Jimin who’s content with crying in Yoongi’s neck, rubbing his tear stained cheeks in his jacket and his snot on his skin. It should disgust him but he has made it clear how fucking smitten he is.

He hopes Jimin feels better with a hug, he wants to kiss his face until he’s smiling but tough shit. So he takes what he’s getting, a hug. Sometimes, during Yoongi’s hardships, all he wanted was a hug as such and he knew it could have solved so many problems. But he never received one, not heartfelt at least. He’s not salty about it, he’s past that stage. So now he’s hoping Jimin feels his emotions through the hug, the words of comfort that he cannot say but can only show.

Yoongi calms him, pets his hair, rubs his back and whispers, “Shh,” constantly in his ear. He thinks Jimin was really close to his grandmother to be wailing this sadly, as if his whole world has turned upside down in a moment.

The Jimin he saw this morning was the Jimin he saw every morning. Skipping steps and greeting everyone on the way, his laugh resonating through the crowded hall. It would take everyone’s attention, certainly Yoongi’s. He seemed happy today as well, if his grandmother was on deathbed, he didn’t show.

He hears Jimin’s voice telling him something and he focuses back to the bundle of warmth in his arms, body slightly shaking with the intensity of crying. Yoongi can feel all the types of liquid on his neck but he doesn’t push Jimin away.

“…and then we found Danbi under a huge tree, injured and scared. I remember it was raining that time as well, so we kept her name as Danbi,” He feels Jimin tense up in his hold but Yoongi doesn’t do anything about it because hold up, what now? Jimin found his grandmother under a pole, crying and injured?

He feels like he’s missing something here. Damn it! He should have listened to the whole story.

“Yoongi-ssi…?” Jimin calls out for him, pulling back to see what had stopped him to pet his hair. When Yoongi’s eyes zeroes back on Jimin, he can see how close Jimin is, looking sadly into his eyes, yet with confusion. His face his red from crying and lips slicked with spit, tears, perhaps even snot.

“Danbi is an animal, Jimin?” Yoongi calmly ask, because that can’t be it, Danbi cannot be an animal.

“Hmm, a cat,” Jimin confirms, “Why, who did you think Danbi was?” He asks tilting his head. The earring he is wearing, dangles. Yoongi hadn’t noticed it before.

He thinks hard about Jimin’s question, who did you think Danbi was?

Oh, I don’t know…perhaps a human? Perhaps a grandmother? Perhaps anyone but a cat!

“So Danbi is a cat?” Yoongi confirms for the last time. He’s holding onto his patience by fisting Jimin’s t-shirt from behind. He hopes Jimin doesn’t feel it.

Jimin nods, pouting.

“And you’re crying because your cat died?” He asks again, elaborated so that he can understand why Jimin has been wailing. It can’t be because of a cat. When Jimin nods, unsure, Yoongi deadpans, “You’re crying because your cat died,” He states.

“You can’t say like that!” Jimin protests, pushing him away a little so he can sit straight, “Danbi has been with me for twelve years!” And then he’s back to crying because of Yoongi now.

Yoongi stops himself from hitting Jimin because one; he is Yoongi’s crush, two; he’s such a beautiful person and three; he cannot see Jimin cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Yoongi apologises although he still doesn’t understand how someone can wail like a madman when an animal dies. Yoongi never had an animal to look after, to come to home to. It was always his plants and he knew the plants wilt and had to be bought so he prepared himself. But an animal? Never. It was too much hassle to look after an animal. He couldn’t even properly take care of himself, he doesn’t even think to take care of an animal.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, he just, mind Yoongi say, forcefully, pulls the older to hug him, to comfort him. If somebody would have told Yoongi that today, he’d be hugging Jimin, getting to comfort the younger, his crush, then Yoongi would have given the most unimpressed look he can conjure up and turned to leave the bullshit.

But here he is, comforting Jimin, rubbing his back as the younger cries about Danbi, not a grandmother but a cat. He somehow senses he can understand, 12 years of relationship, even if with a cat. He must have made a lot of memories with the animal nonetheless. Somewhere he’s happy Jimin had someone, even an animal, when he was sad, happy, angry and every other emotions.

“I’m sorry, Jiminie,” He let the name slip, mindlessly, “It must be tough for you,” He doesn’t understand but he tries his damn best to comfort the younger. “She’s in a better place, I’m sure she’s glad you took her in and cared for her. You’re such a good person, always caring for others,” He can feel Jimin tighten his arms around him in appreciation.

“You-you think Danbi can forgive fuh-for not being there during her last hours?” Jimin asks, pulling away and wiping his snort. It should really disgust him but fuck, he might be in love.

“Yeah, angel,” Yoongi says, letting the endearment spill, “Sorry…Jimin,” He apologises, “I’m sure she forgives you for that,” He says and wills himself to separate from Jimin, his warmth. This might be the first and last chance for him for all he knows. He picks up the forget-me-nots and stand up, letting Jimin clean himself. Yoongi offers tissue and grims when Jimin abuses it again.

“I’ll arrange these for you, do you want anything else?” He asks, walking over to the counter and going behind it. Jimin shakes his head no and affirms Yoongi to prepare the arrangement of flowers.

He starts arranging, first arranging the white chrysanthemums into a small bouquet and the arranging all the other symbolic flowers around it, mixing with the white chrysanthemums. He wants to let the chrysanthemums be regarded more in the symbolism of grief. After being happy with how it came out, Yoongi chances a glance at Jimin who was already looking at him and blushes away. Yoongi bites his lips to stop smiling.

He trims the ends of the stems and sprays the flowers with the water. He hears Jimin walking towards him, after being clean of body fluids from his face. Yoongi smiles at him as he secures the flower with a rubber band. Then he wraps a brown paper around the arrangement, securing the paper with a ribbon skillfully.

He shows it to Jimin who nods and takes out his wallet. They do their work quietly. Jimin takes the bouquet in hand and astonishingly looks at it. He can’t really remember the names of flowers or what color each of them were, but he remembers the symbolisms added in a bouquet and he is satisfied. He hopes his cat loves it from above.

Yoongi cleans the desk as Jimin looks at the flowers and takes a whiff of it, smiling to himself. Then he just looks at Jimin, who’s rolling the flowers in hand, happy about it.

Jimin looks at him and smiles shyly, then eyes open wide in thought.

“Oh, how much does it cost?” Jimin asks, placing the flowers carefully before he picks up his wallet and open it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi shrugs, not trying to be cool.

“Oh, no, I can’t,” Jimin says, “Let me pay for it, I was an inconvenience to you,” He pouts and Yoongi gulps, gay panic rising again.

“You we-weren’t,” He stutters, looking away.

“Still, I should pay,” Jimin determinedly say, eyebrows furrowed.

“I told you, don’t worry about it. Just take it. I’m sorry about you cat, I hope you feel better,” He genuinely say.

Jimin smiles and nods, “Thank you.”

It costs like a motherfucker and Jimin would have been able to pay, sure, but Yoongi is hopelessly in love with Jimin and he can give the money for the bouquet from his paycheck, even though Jimin will never return his love. But like…whatever.

“I should go,” He directs his thumb to the door and Yoongi nods, feeling gloomy that Jimin has to leave. It might have been first and last time they would have talked.

“Thank you again, for the flowers…the hug,” He says, almost whispers as he bows down in thankfulness.

“And tissue?” Yoongi teases.

Jimin blushes as he looks on the floorboard to see dirty tissues lying around. He feel bad that he made such a mess and looks at Yoongi with a pout.

“Don’t worry about it, I clean up before I close the store,” He shrug and Jimin nods apologetically. He bows again and turns to leave until he reaches the door and Yoongi’s voice stops him.

“Yeah?” He asks.

Yoongi comes out from behind the counter, he picks up a card looking like thing and walk over to Jimin doubtfully. He does present a card, a pastel card. Jimin takes it confusingly.

“My number is on the back…if-if you wanna talk sometimes,” He shrugs, mouth pinned together as he dances on the ball of his feet.

“Th-thank you,” Jimin nods, clutch his fingers around the card as he looks bashfully at Yoongi.

“Wait a second?” He asks if Jimin who nods assuringly.

Yoongi goes behind the shelves to look for a flower, once he finds it, he cuts the stem of the flower and rush to his desk where Jimin notice him carefully. He cleans the stem of thorns and wraps a foil paper around it to secure the stem. Then he sprinkles water on it and hums to himself.

Yoongi looks up to see Jimin looking at him, head titled. When the younger notice and it’s too late, he just smiles and bite his lips. Yoongi approaches him a shows him a pink rose.

“For you,” Yoongi whispers.

Jimin takes it and rolls the stem around his fingers. He takes a whiff of the flower and notice the natural smell of it. He opens his eyes and notice Yoongi smiling.

“What does it mean?” He asks.

Yoongi blushes then because he didn’t Jimin would ask.

“Uh…um, it, uh,” He stutters and Jimin comes closer as if promoting Yoongi, “It means happiness,” He breathlessly answers.

“Really?” Jimin doubtfully ask, taking a whiff again.

“Ye-yeah, I hope you can overcome this sadness and become happy again,” Yoongi wishes, looking away to the far wall as he can feel his blush working up his neck. Fuck.

“I’m happy now,” Jimin answers, it make Yoongi’s breath hitch as he looks at Jimin who’s sharing the contact.

“O-okay,” He nods.

“I’ll go,” Jimin says and he means it.

Don’t.

“Yeah,” Yoongi moves back to create a distance. Even with surrounded by flowers and Jimin holding a bouquet, Yoongi can only smell the scent of the younger. Sweetness.

“Thank you, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin thanks him again.

“Hyung is fine,” Yoongi shyly mutters.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin tests on his lips and nods in appreciation. He waves a goodbye at Jimin and leaves the shop, with bells chiming.

Yoongi falls back on stool with his heart going ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

And if his friends wonder how Jimin willingly comes to Yoongi and shyly talks to him and calls him hyung, then yes, Yoongi exaggerates his story of how he met Jimin on a spring day.

With every version exaggerated.

#and so I did it #I had plans for it but I think I messed it up #I don’t know what kind of genre this is even #but the moodboard is pretty so take a look #yoonmin #yoonmin au #yoonmin scenario #suji #jimin #yoongi #hoseok #seokjin #taehyung #jungkook #namjoon #bts #bangtan boys #flower shop au #YMSN3

49 notes · View notes