#i very very loosely proof read this so sorry if it has errors

[heirloommtomatoes]

Together (Sam Drake x Reader)

This was a requested fic for “Don’t you dare ever do that again!” & “Who gave you that black eye?” from...four years ago? I posted it a while ago, deleted it, updated it coincidentally a few weeks ago, and @seizethesam​ was looking for it so here we are! Enjoy this throwback!

Word Count: 5,621

Warnings: Violence against a minor depicted. Might be disturbing to some. Strong language, depictions of PTSD. Mentions of suicide (implied).

————

“The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward.”

―Steve Maraboli

The day Sam Drake died, he broke his wrist. He suspects now that it was likely more of a hairpin fracture, and wonders why it is this he remembers with such clarity. Not the gunshot, not slipping from his brother’s hand, not the sickening lurch in his gut as he fell, nor the stench of sweat and blood and metal and the red-hot wet of the pool of blood he lay in. Instead, he remembers trying to break his fall and failing, remembers the crunch of his wrist against the cement and the darkness that followed.

Fifteen years later, and all he has to show for it are bullet scars and a brother who learned to live without him.

“Sam, it’s four in the damn morning,” Nathan whispers into the phone as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, sensing Elena shift beside him at his movement. The feel of his brother’s name on his lips is still odd after having not spoken it for so many years.

Even just hearing Sam breathing on the other end still hits him with a surreality that nearly takes his own breath away. When you lose someone you respect, they become God. Nate had never been one for the pious doggerel of the nuns at St. Mary’s Boys’ Home where they had grown up. He had never prayed, had never presumed to try and speak to God. But over the last decade, he did speak to Sam. His grave had become his temple.

Nate remembers the shouting, the gunfire, the stench of humidity and smoke and sweat. He remembers his hand in Sam’s as he held onto his brother with everything he had over that ledge. But Sam had dropped anyway, and a part of Nate’s heart had gone with him, and he wasn’t sure if it had ever come back up.

“I know,” comes Sam’s reply, but his voice sounds broken, cracked, “I…uh,” he drags a hand down his face as he stands from where he was sat on the edge of the bed, offering a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t disturb your sleep. He stands slowly, walks heel-to-hoe to the door, twisting the handle slowly.

“I need to talk but I—I don’t wanna wake Y/N,” he whispers, and it’s silence from the other end as Sam makes his way to the kitchen to take a seat on a stool next to the island.

“Ah,” Nate finally says, “So you wake me,” he tries to joke, but it falls flat and hits the silence that follows like a wall.

“I keep having these dreams, Nathan—” he takes a shaky breath and lowers his head; half in sorrow and half because he’s too tired to keep it up, “I keep remembering him.”

Sam presses his hand against his younger brother’s chest, pushing him back. A group of guards, three or four strong, train their guns on the pair of men.

“Hey, you keep your gun on me!”

Careful what you wish for. Sam doesn’t remember feeling the bullets hit, but he remembers the force of it pushing him back and his heel slipping on edge of the roof. It seems now like something that happened to someone else — and Sam supposes that if he were inclined to such thoughts of spirituality and philosophy, he would think that in a way it was. He doesn’t recognize himself in that man anymore.

His heel goes over the edge, but with a sharp pain in his arm he realizes he’s not falling. Nathan lunges for him, grabbing his wrist before gravity could complete its job. He hauls on his arm so hard Sam is afraid his shoulder will pop right out of the socket. He lets out a manic laugh at that when he remembers he was just shot, and thinks to himself that might be the wound more worth worrying about. Blood sputters from his mouth with it, splattering onto Nate’s face.

“Sam, don’t you let go!” Nathan shouts at him, face grimaced with the effort of carrying his brother’s weight. He thrusts his other arm down and reaches for Sam, “Grab my other hand!”

Sam looks up at Nathan. His face is covered in dirt and sweat and blood, his head haloed by the flat white light of a cloudy mid-afternoon sun. His breath comes hard, fast, and it takes a moment for Sam to register the tears making tracks down his brother’s face. Is he dead already? It seems fitting they would die together.

He falls.

Sam is vaguely aware of the stinging pain in his abdomen, and more aware of the cold that spreads through each and every limb like a wildfire. The dampness around his abdomen seems to weigh on him as if someone has decided to stuff a molten bowling ball into a gaping hole in his body.

“Cuidadoso! Él todavía está viva!”

When darkness swallows him, there’s are only two names that stay gasping at the surface:

Nathan.

Y/N.

He wakes, hours or days later, to a light that sears straight through him and aches in the backs of his eyes. He doesn’t remember dying. With some hazy sense of dread, he wonders if the voices that sound as though people are shouting at him from behind glass are some sort of chorus of angels, or more likely, demons. He hadn’t believed in any of what they’d taught in the Boys’ Home, but old habits persist. A breath enters his lungs, one that feels as though he’s stepping out into a winter’s day from a cabin on fire, his chest burning with the effort. All this pain and numbness fighting for dominance in his stomach, in his legs, in his head. Tingling, stinging, aching, all so persistent. Darkness swallows him, and it’s weeks before he wakes again.

Nathan.

Y/N.

Two years later, and he’s been in the same cell as some child for the better half of it. Sam thinks he must be a teenager still, and something in his chest aches at that that he can’t quite place.

Panama is nothing like he thought it was going to be. Maybe it’s just that he’s alone now. That’s probably it. He thought he’d get used to it more quickly, but falling asleep in the same bed that always pokes at his lower back no matter which way he turns and spending his days brawling and trading cigarettes has yet to become monotonous. He’s not sure if this is a blessing or a curse. He’s not sure what that says about him. He’s not sure if he wants to know.

With a gnawing guilt, Sam has come to find that prison is one of the only places he’s felt free. No responsibility weighing over him, no little brother to parent and worry over, no need to be constantly searching for work. It’s a loveless existence, but no one he cares about on the outside know where he is or what he’s doing. It’s his own kind of hell and kind of heaven, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders if he did die that day, and every day after.

The humidity and heat takes some getting used to, though. The stench it brings, both from the men and from the miles of green around them was fierce and unrelenting and ever-present. And despite the wet season that comes and goes through March to December, dust clings to the walls year round, smelling of tobacco and sweat and blood.

Not long after waking and Sam has plucked out a book from underneath his mattress. It’s some shitty millionth-edition copy of a book on Henry Avery, but he figures it’s better than nothing and probably the best he’s going to get in this shithole. The boy sits silently on his own bed, and for a fleeting moment Sam wonders what goes on in that small head of his. As if on cue the boy opens his mouth to speak.

“What’re you gonna do when you get out?” he asks, accent thick. Sam looks over.

He can barely see him sitting on his bed in the shadows, knees drawn up to his chest, arms resting lazily over the tops of them.

“How old are you?” Sam counters, ignoring the question. They weren’t going to let him out of here. It was a stupid question.

“Dieceséis,” comes the reply, “My name’s Roberto, by the way.”

Sam sits up suddenly, setting the book down by his side, “Sixteen? Fucking sixteen? Jesus, you’re a kid. I didn’t know they even let people that young in here.”

Roberto shrugs, “Ran out of space everywhere else, I guess.”

A silence settles over them and Sam lays back down, hands clasped over his stomach, thumb rubbing over one of the small dips in his skin where his scars are.

“You got a lady out there? Waiting for you?”

Sam snorts, “I don’t know so much about the waiting part, but yeah.”

He tries to not think of you. This place would spoil your memory, like a song you listened to over and over during a breakup and can’t listen to anymore without thinking of it. When — if — he sees you again, he doesn’t want that. He knows you don’t deserve it.

But as if he can help it. Memories of you are among the only things keeping him sane. He remembers waking next to you, the soft golden glow of dawn washing through the nearly-transparent curtains of a hotel room. The hum of the fan wasn’t enough to drown out the songbirds that had decided your window was most appealing that day and had rudely awoken him at such a small hour. He remembers flopping over to face you, watching your breath rise and fall, reaching out to trace the gentle curve of your spine—

“You gonna marry her when you get out?”

Sam takes a breath in. As he lets it out he tightens his jaw. He knows the kid is an ignorant shit. He doesn’t know better. “I’m not getting out,” he replies, “So stop acting like that’s ever gonna fuckin’ happen.” The response comes out as more of a snap than Sam had intended, but he pushes away the feelings of guilt, forces himself to keep his gaze away from his cellmate.

“Oh.”

Sam closes his eyes, tries to think of something else other than the way Roberto’s tone reminded him so much of Nathan when they were kids, but it’s like someone telling you not to think of the phantom pain after losing a limb. And what do you think of?

He hears shuffling from the other side of the cell. The lifting of a mattress, a grunt of effort, the crinkling of paper and the heavy thud of setting it all back down again.

“Here,” Roberto says, and Sam feels his weight at the end of the bed. The older man groans and runs his hands down his face as he sits up, shirt sticking to his back that’s wet with sweat from the midday heat.

Roberto lifts a small square piece of paper in his hands, “Mira,” he says, gesturing to the photo.

It’s a black and white photograph of a woman, heavy-set with kind eyes and a massive grin plastered to her face, the several missing teeth only adding to her obvious charm. Her hands are clasped over her stomach, an apron bound as tightly around her as the head wrap she wears to stave off the heat of the day.

“Who’s this?” Sam asks, not bothering to wonder how he managed to get it in the first place.

“Mi madre,” Roberto responds, “When I get out, I’m gonna find her. Maybe you can come visit us,” he adds with a childlike enthusiasm that’s like an arrow to Sam’s heart. God, this kid deserves so much more than this.

“Do you have any pictures of your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you scared you’ll forget what she looks like?”

Another year passes, and eventually Sam gets used to the torrential rain November brings. Or more importantly, he gets used to what it means; the cigarette trading turns into more frequent brawling in the laundry rooms or courtyard and the withdrawal symptoms make the fighting take on an animalistic turn as the men become restless. He leans against the railing that overlooks one of the courtyards, clasped hands fidgeting as he watches the men below, screaming and grunting and splashing in the mud as punch after punch lands.

He can sense Roberto’s presence beside him before the kid announces himself.

“The guards are looking for me,” he says, voice small, “I took a piece of bread from the kitchen.”

“You’re not doing a very good job of hiding yourself,” Sam responds without turning his gaze to look at him.

“They’re distracted by the brawling anyway,” Roberto says, shuffling closer as if Sam’s shadow could hide him. Hell, Sam thinks it probably could. The kid must weigh barely a hundred pounds.

“I fuckin’ hate this rain,” Sam says, picking a cigarette out from his pocket and fiddling with it in his hand, “Can’t even light a goddamn smoke.”

Roberto’s shoulder is almost touching Sam’s side. He looks down at him and frowns. The kid looks like a wet rat in his white t-shirt, black hair matted to his forehead. Sam shrugs off the navy prison jacket and drapes it over the kid’s shoulders, “You’ll catch a cold,” he says when Roberto looks up at him in surprise and grabs the lapels to tug it closer to himself as Sam sticks the cigarette in his mouth. He wasn’t about to try and light it in the downpour, but it felt good to hold there.

Sam meets the boy’s gaze, and its only then he notices the dark bruising around his eye, “Who gave you that black eye?” he demands, the intensity in his own voice surprising himself as he leans forward to tilt Roberto’s head in the light.

The teen swats him away and grumbles something under his breath, turning his gaze back to the courtyard.

“What?”

“I got in a fight,” he says, “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Sam tells him, “Those guys down there could snap you like a twig, you know that? Don’t you dare ever do that again,” he says, taking the cigarette from his mouth and irritably throwing it over the edge as he leans over.

Roberto shrugs his shoulders and hugs the jacket close, “Let’s go back to our cell. I got a deck of cards.”

Sam looks back down at him at the suggestion and slings an arm over his shoulders, steering him back down the stairs and under cover.

“It’s called crazy eights,” Sam tells him later as they sit opposite each other on Roberto’s bed, raising his voice to be heard above the rain that had worsened on their way back. Thunder cracks and Roberto jumps slightly, looking over his shoulder toward the cell bars.

The air is thick with the humidity of it, as if the rain is pushing all the heaviness that had been hanging above them back down. It brings about new smells too; smells of faeces and urine and vomit that Sam knows are a result of the practically non-existent plumbing of the place. He turns his gaze back to Sam, scrunching his nose as he sniffs. Nervous habit.

“My little brother and I used to play it,” he continues as he shuffles the deck he imagines Roberto traded for a pack of cigarettes back in March when it was still possible to smoke them outside. It feels almost natural to talk about Nathan again, but god help him if he was going to speak his name aloud.

“Our parents would fight sometimes,” he says, “He’d get scared, so he and I would hole up in his room, play cards. Talk about history, practice our latin.”

“He sounds nice,” Roberto says, and is aware of how bland his response is. He’s worried anything else will make Sam shut up, and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Too nice for his own good, I’d say,” Sam says as he nods and deals out the cards, “Last person I taught this game to was my girlfriend,” he continues, and wonders why he’s only telling him this now. God, it feels good to talk about the two of you, “She was awful at it,” he laughs, and Roberto decides then and there that if he had an older brother, he would have a laugh like that.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes,” Sam says with no hesitation, the answer coming like a reflex. Of course he loves you. Kid has a habit of asking stupid questions, “What about your family?” he asks as he finishes dealing the cards and picks up his hand.

Roberto seems to have nothing to say for the first time since Sam befriended him two years ago as he reaches for his cards and shrugs, “They’re nice. I have a younger sister. My parents have work in town, but they come home in the afternoon and make the best dinners for us,” he says, setting his hand back down in front of him and sitting cross-legged, hands gripping at his ankles. Sam thinks he looks younger than he is sitting like this.

Heavy footsteps sound down the hallway and Roberto tenses, looks over his shoulder.

“I told you the guards were after me,” he says in a quiet voice, but Sam’s brow furrows. He’d stolen from the kitchens before. Everyone had. The punishment for it was far from severe, but of course as everything in the prison it depended what kind of mood the guards were in. The worst he’d seen was someone thrown in solitary for a day or two.

Five guards approach the door, hands set to their guns as a man clad in brown opens the door. Sam looks at Roberto with wide eyes and gets to his feet, “Hey, hey, hey,” he says quickly, holding his hands out in front of him as if that might stop them, “What the hell—”

“Cállate, gringo,” a guard yells at him, shoving his shoulder against his chest hard enough to knock him against the back wall. Sam lets out a grunt as he slides down, the force nearly knocking the breath out of him as he turns his gaze to Roberto.

“¿Dónde es?” the guards yells at him, lifting his gun to line up with his head. Roberto crawls back on his bed until he hits the wall, sending cards flying to the ground in his struggle.

“No—no sé lo que estás hablando,” Roberto stutters, and Sam wonders if it’s the fear or dampness making him shiver.

Sam scrambles to his feet and grabs Roberto’s wrist, shoves him behind himself, “Hey, you keep your gun on me,” he says, the words tasting familiar to him. He holds out an arm protectively and can feel Roberto gripping his shirt and peeking out from behind him.

“¿Qué carajo crees que estás haciendo?” the guard spits out, “This doesn’t concern you.”

The guard raises his arm and slams his elbow against the side of Sam’s head, knocking him to the concrete floor.

As one of them keeps a gun on Roberto, the other four lift the mattresses and throw them to the floor, one of them trapping Sam’s arm. When he goes to reach for one of the guard’s legs to trip him, another sends his boot into his ribcage. Pain explodes across his abdomen and when he opens his mouth he finds he has no breath to gasp at the agony of it.

“What do we have here?” a guard says, holding out the small slip of paper Roberto had kept under his mattress, “Where did you get this?” one of the guards spits at Roberto, holding up the photograph, “Who gave all this shit to you?” he repeats, gesturing at the cards.

“No va a halbar,” another guard says, snatching the photo out of his hands and shoving it in front of Roberto’s face, “Keeping a photo of your dead madre around? You want to be a traitor like the rest of your family?”

Roberto stares, frozen where he sits, back still against the wall, eyes wide.

“Alright, hijo de puta,” the guard says with a sigh, “Grab him,” he gestures to Sam and two others tug him from the ground, holding each of his arms back. Sam hangs his head, legs limp as he spits out a mix of phlegm and blood onto the ground.

“Don’t—don’t fucking touch him,” he croaks, feeling as though he’d been cut in two, his breath still returning to him.

The guard who has established himself as the leader of the group throws the first punch. Then another. Sam roars. He lurches forward, and his shoulders hurt when the guards pull him back. When Roberto starts to hit back, a renewed fire in Sam’s belly causes him to throw himself back in hopes of catching the guards by surprise. It earns him a mouthful of fist, and darkness swallows him.

When he comes to, hours or days later, the rain has stopped.

He’s laying on the ground at the foot of his bed, the mattress sprawled next to him. Slowly, he pushes himself onto his hands, wincing at the aching in his abdomen. He turns his gaze to the bed at the other side of the cell to where Roberto is curled up, breath coming fast, hands clutching at his middle.

And suddenly his pain is just pain and he stands, scrambling to the other bed.

“Roberto, hey, can you hear me?” he says, grabbing the boy by his shoulders and turning him onto his back. Blood stained his shirt where it had dripped from his nose, his face a sickly pale, stomach bloated and purple.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, shit, shit shit—” Sam feels his throat tighten, the pain in his abdomen fading almost entirely in the face of this new crisis. An anger replaces it, bubbling in his belly, tingling in each of his limbs, spinning the world around him until his eyes can’t focus on a single thing anymore.

The only thing he can think of is that he can’t lose him—not again. He’d failed him before, failed him so many times back in Cartegena, back at the Boys’ Home, back when he couldn’t make their parents stop arguing, back when he didn’t just give him his other damn hand when he was shot and dangling from that roof, back when he didn’t get out of bed when he heard his mother close the door to the house at three in the damn morning he could’ve gotten up he could’ve told her not to leave he could’ve stopped her and all this never would have happened—

“Sam?”

“Roberto, hey,” Sam says, breathing a sigh of relief, “Don’t move, okay? I’ll—I’ll get you some water, alright? By the end of the week we’ll be laughing about all this, yeah? How does that sound?”

“I’m—I’m sorry I lied, Sam,” he continues, voice cracking, “About my family.”

“Just rest, Roberto, c’mon—”

“No,” he says firmly, and Sam can tell he has to strain to raise his voice, “I wanna tell you now.”

Sam opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows the boy is going to die. Sam knows what he is about to hear will give him the reason no one will be willing to help the kid the way they helped him with his bullet wounds. He knows these four walls will be the last thing Roberto sees, and he feels like throwing up; feels as though he’s on a boat lost at sea in the middle of a storm and the compass is spinning.

“My parents, they—��� he coughs; a dry sound, closer to hacking than anything and blood sprays onto his white shirt, “They were involved with the wrong sort. I—I don’t know, but the others, they visited our house in the middle of the night and they—” he coughs again, “They burned it down. I tried to escape with my sister, but the police arrived and—” he takes a gasping breath, “My father escaped. He has one of the guards working for him and he promised he was gonna get me out and I wanted you to come with me so we could still be together and I could meet your little brother and—” he takes another breath, tears swelling in his eyes that spill over the sides of his cheeks, “Some of the others, they found out about me and that’s—that’s the fight I told you about,” he finishes, daring to turn his head to look Sam in the eye. The moment they lock gazes, Sam can feel the tightening in his throat loosen like a dam.

Born into something so much bigger than himself, all choice ripped from him before he even had the chance to know what any kind of self-agency felt like. That was something Sam could relate to.

Roberto dies three days later.

The rain had left for the dry season, making way for the sun and birds and scent of earth to return to the otherwise concrete establishment. Sam had watched as they carried his body away on the stretcher, eyes wide and unseeing, stomach turned a disgusting mix of blacks and blues and purples. A fucking kid.

Roberto had had the photo of his mother in one hand and Sam’s in the other, gripping it like a vice as he died.

“I’ll make sure this gets back to your father, make sure he knows—”

“No, mantener la fotografía—keep it. It’s yours.”

Sam had learned after that to keep to himself. He kept conversation limited, never spoke of you or Nathan or Roberto. Never told anyone what happened, or why the kid was no longer attached to his hip.

There is nothing more irritating than the constant chatter of a child, and nothing more somber than the silence they leave after they are gone.

So Sam compartmentalizes. He moves on. He is a different man now, tempered with bitterness and disappointment and distain, wearing different clothes but marred with the same scars. In his youth, he had thought himself strong, had thought himself to be made of iron and wit. The truth is that he is - and he suspects most people are - a shattered, graceless mosaic of experience compacted to display something resembling an assertable face to the world. Inside he makes himself of awkward, delicate things; of memories of dead goddamn children and mothers, of a little brother left alone. When he looks in the mirror, he barely recognises the person staring back. Sam knew a man like him once, but he isn’t him.

And what makes him human was that sometimes the façade splinters. And in that moment he was closer to something tangible, something recognisable, than he might ever know.

“At the time, losing him felt like losing you,” Sam says finally, fiddling with the napkin holder on the kitchen island, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” His voice comes out in a strained whisper, squeezing itself uncomfortably around all the other words he does not say.

“I love you, little brother.”

“I know.”

Sam stays silent after that. His shoulders feel lighter but his chest feels as though someone has filled it with bricks.

“I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Nate says, a tinge of guilt and stubbornness in his voice that only Sam could pick out.

“Yeah.”

Sam takes the phone away from his ear. Then, faintly —

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Sam’s breath hitches. He shakes his head, though Nathan can’t see. Guilt, rage, sorrow, and an inescapable and indefatigable longing for something he can’t quite place skips through him, fizzy like soda pop.

He nods, small but staccatoed movement, “Yeah,” he tries to say, but the pain weighs down the word and it gets caught in his throat. He wants to say thank you, he wants to say, I love you, thank you, thank you, thank you for everything, but he’s not ready. He’s not ready, but for the first time in a long time he feels that maybe one day he will be.

“Goodnight, Sam. Talk soon,” Nate says, voice almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” Sam says again, but he’s not sure if Nathan hears it as he pulls the phone from his ear and presses the red button to end the call.

Sam flips the phone over and sets in down on the counter. He lifts his hands to run them down his face with a small fatigued groan before resting his elbows on the island, shoving both hands in his hair with his head bowed.

“Sam.”

He almost jumps at the sound of your voice behind him, piercing through the quiet like a bullet through flesh. Hesitantly, you set a hand against his shoulder, rubbing it softly.

“Did I wake you?”

You don’t respond. You’d tried to not eavesdrop, but when Sam had started going on about how he had heard his mother leave the house morning of her death, your feet had planted in the hallway and you couldn’t help the hand that flew to your mouth. Did he really blame himself for that? How many mistakes that weren’t his crowded the empty shadowed corners of his life?

He lifts a hand to cover yours on his shoulder, rubs his thumb over the ring on your finger.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he whispers, lowering his voice to hide the hoarseness in it. You nod and he laces his fingers through yours as he stands and starts back toward the bedroom.

“Sam, wait.”

Sam slows gradually before coming to a stop, his feet scuffing against the wood of the apartment floor.

“Come here.”

He turns wordlessly into your outstretched arms, wraps his arms tightly around your middle, buries his head in the crook of your neck.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” you whisper against his hair, one hand rubbing his back and the other threaded in his hair, “I’m so sorry.”

Sam’s grip loosens as you feel him shudder as he breaths out, dropping one arm entirely to have the other wrapped loosely around you. He sobs quietly into your shoulder and crumples against you, bringing you both to your knees on the floor.

The two of you stay like that for as long as it takes for Sam’s tears to slow.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” you whisper once he has this breath back, “Get some rest,” you tell him, not being able to help the tears that have formed in your own eyes at the sight of him so distraught. When he lifts his head, his face is red and his eyes are puffy and tired, hair disheveled from having his face buried in your shoulder.

He nods as the two of you stand and crawl back into bed.

Sam lays on his side. He has his back to you.

Tentatively, you shuffle yourself closer to him and press yourself against his back, draping an arm over his middle. He lets out a sigh and his shoulders fall as he lets out a tension he hadn’t known was there.

Sam doesn’t sleep that night, but his mind doesn’t wander much either which he counts as a blessing. He tries to breathe deep, focus on the warmth of you behind him, on the uncomfortable stiffness in his fingers laced in yours.

In the morning he turns to face you and can feel the awe in his expression, can feel how stupid he must look as he stares.

In all his thirteen years in prison he’d only cried once. It was during his twelfth year, when he had begun to think he wasn’t capable of it. He would dream nearly every night, and each time it would be of Nathan, of you. When the people he loved most in this world became no more than figures with no voices or faces even in his dreams, he knew he was lost. Aren’t you scared you’ll forget what she looks like?

The twitch of a smile graces your lips, but you keep your eyes closed, “You know if I didn’t know better that’d be a little creepy,” you whisper, voice scratchy.

“Sorry,” he murmurs in return, the word meaningless and flat. You open you eyes to find you’ve moved a good half foot down the bed and were staring straight at his chest.

“I don’t mind,” you say with a sigh that creeps its way into a smile, and he lets out a small laugh. When you turn your gaze to his, he can’t help but think you have the eyes of everyone who has ever cared.

And this, Sam thinks, is the way it will go. He will trace his fingers over remembered lines, recalling until he catches upon a changed border. He will not run at the sight. He will adapt. And you...his lips curve into a smile and his heart catches in his throat. You and him will grow together around the differences like vines wrapping around tree branches, healing the way bones do.

#my writing #sam drake x reader #sam x reader #elena-fishy #sam drake #uncharted #uncharted 4 #!!!! enjoy #i very very loosely proof read this so sorry if it has errors #this is #SO cheesy and lovely @ the end jskskj holy fuck lmaaaooo bye #i wrote 90% of this 4 years ago so #i #will cut myself #a liTTLE slack #as a snack #CHEESY AND LOVEY*** NOT LOVELY LMAO

[huenjin]

the study of relationships.

summary — college team's volleyball captain and your roommate-cum-best friend, hwang hyunjin argues with you over guys being better than girls in relationships to help you out of one. or in which hyunjin is in love with you for years now and he finally decides that maybe he doesn't want that best friend tag anymore.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. minho

genre — fluff, angst | volleyball!au, f2l!au, roommates!au

rating — nc-17

word count — 15k words

note — kinda excited to post this very long plotted fic on here because first long fic for skz !!! this fic is brought to you by hq, hyunjin's long blond hair and b me mv that we never got. please please do send me constructive criticism so that i can improve on my writing for this community. happy reading!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

Your best friend, Hwang Hyunjin yells at the top of his voice, pitch lower in precision as you open the door and slam it shut forcefully, the sound loud enough to bounce to him clearly. Your feet storm hard against the wooden flooring of your apartment, sound bouncing off from that again and Hyunjin pauses his video game to look at you.

It's a familiar sight. Hyunjin sighs.

"Hey," he tries catching your attention but he fails. You storm into your room, hair flailing behind you in your anger, eyes blurry with the angst you feel that wraps slowly around your heart. You walk into the room and slam the door shut, so loud that a chip of wood breaks from the top of the door and falls down.

"Jesus Christ! Y/N—" Hyunjin yells to no one in particular. However, he drops his controller to the side of the couch and jumps to his feet only after pausing his game. He takes big strides to your room and in high contrast to his rash movements, his knocking on your door is very gentle.

"Can I come in?" He asks, scratching the door absentmindedly. He presses his ear and head against the door to hear a response but all he hears are your soft cries and it makes him sad.

"Y/N—"

"Go away, Hyunjin!"

"Y/N, let me in," he stresses, his leg kicking the air slightly, dangling before that. "I—"

"You're going to make fun of me."

"Will not." Hyunjin knows where this stems from and he won't deny. However, at this minute, he just wants to be there for you. Teasing could wait for an hour or so after you've calmed down. "So please?"

You hum and Hyunjin waits for a sign of protest. When he hears none, he takes it as an approval to open the door and the sight before him hurts him ever so slightly.

You are wrapped in a cocoon of your white blanket and your head is buried in the sheets outside, not ready to look up at your best friend. He frowns as he walks towards you, letting himself to sit by your side. He stretches his arm out and stops when you declare,

"I'm a world class dumpee."

"You are," he shrugs, voice tainted with a slight tease and you look up at him, glaring with your red, puffy eyes. You try shoving him but the cocoon you are wrapped in slightly falls forward too in impact. Hyunjin laughs and stretches both his arms forward to prevent you from falling forwards.

You pout, mumbling with a voice that is strained and is your proof of the urge to cry, "You promised you wouldn't."

"I'm your best friend," he shrugs and pushes your body wrapped in the thick blankets backwards, your head hitting against the pillow. A soft whine leaves your lips, followed by an oomph. "You knew I was going to tease you at the very first opportunity."

And then Hyunjin pounces on you, tickling your sides over the covers and your tickle sensitive being rushes in sensation as you laugh your heart out, chest heavy and mind focussing only on your best friend that you forget about the boy who broke up with you an hour back.

"Stop," you laugh. "Hyunjin," you whine. "Stop, you idiot," you laugh again. "I'm going to kill you—"

Hyunjin's laughter fills the air along with yours. In your perspective through your watery eyes, you see a boy with no worries and all smiles and you want to be like that. You desperately want to be like that. You push your wrapped body upwards to shove Hyunjin to the side and it works. He laughs, slowly receding with yours and he lets out a loud relieved sigh as he looks at your face with less creases and tears that now fall due to laughter.

"Hey," Hyunjin says and you turn your head to face him. His face is rigid, the childish gleam that he had just a while back long gone.

"Yeah?"

He sits up, running a hand through his hair and folding his arms soon after. "The guy was a jerk," he tells, helping you up. His hand finds the end of the blanket and unwraps it slowly from your being. "He was a mighty jerk, okay?"

"He is your teammate, Lee Minho," you stare, dead into his eyes and he shrugs.

"I know," he sighs before shrugging, giving you a nonchalant look. "What was it this time? Let me guess, he broke up with you for no reason again."

You hit the blankets that cover your thigh hard and send imaginary daggers in Hyunjin's way, "Yeah! I just don't understand why he'd break up with me."

"Uh, possibly because—"

"Is it because I'm on like close friend terms with everyone in the college volleyball team? I mean, Lee Minho always said dating—"

"Dating you would be hard, Y/N," Hyunjin continues, mocking your ex-boyfriend's voice. "You hang out with so many guys and all your best friends are dudes that it makes me jealous," Hyunjin pauses, placing his hands flat on the bed from behind as he leans back. "Ah, Lee Minho, that bastard. He always did say that to you."

You look down, fidgeting with your fingers and you roar out in anger. Hyunjin looks at you amused until you say, "Why can't guys be more like girls?"

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin's eyebrow is raised and he laughs mockingly. He lifts his arms from behind, stretches his back before sitting up straight. He kicks his legs and raises it upwards to sit cross legged, looking straight at you and laughs again. "You are totally kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not, Hyunjin," your eyebrows furrow. "The reason behind most, if not all, break-ups is the guy."

Hyunjin agrees with you deep down. Okay, maybe not completely but at least a ninety percent and that's a good one. However, he knows how competitive you are and if there's something that can get your head out of this post break up blues, it's this.

A competition. And so just to entice you a little, he sneers, "If anything, girls should be more like guys."

"Bitch, no," you laugh, head falling back at the sheer stupidity that rolls out from your best friend's mouth. "Men are so conceited that they had to make a whole word for treating women equal."

"Not all men simp. Plus, it's an AAVE and that people should not use it. In my defense, I've treated you like a guy my whole life," he shrugs. Lies. Lies. Lies he spews out endlessly because at one point, without him even knowing, things did change and he's seen you as a woman; as a woman he now has feelings for.

Hyunjin, to prove his point, hits you on his back like you've seen him do with all his teammates and your torso bends forward from your hips on impact. "See!" He stretches his arms, tattoos on display in the loose half sleeved black top he wears and you wince, stretching your hand back to rub only for Hyunjin to stop laughing quickly and rub your back, mumbling, "Sorry."

"Hyunjin," you shrug, mumbling, trying to guide your best friend. "Don't ever use the not all men tag, please."

He slaps a hand over his mouth, realising his error, again apologising and you stretch your hand forward quickly to protest, "No, no," you tell, "You don't have to apologise. I just hope you know how it sounds."

"I do," he falls back, lying down against your mattress. "I do and I hate that I accidentally said it."

You follow suit, and fall on the bed, hair splaying around, some falling on Hyunjin's face. He groans, moving the hair away and whining, "It got into my mouth, ew." You laugh.

Hyunjin speaks out, staring at the ceiling, "Whose fault is it that a relationship goes astray?"

"Still going to say the men," you look at the same spot he stares at. "They're—"

"It's a war."

"See!" You exclaim. "This is the issue with men. They cut us off all the time."

Hyunjin laughs, hand stretching out to hold your wrist to soothe you down and mumbling another apology, he continues, "This is a battle, Y/N; a battle that's aged long and has never come to a conclusion. The battle—"

"Get to the point."

"Look who cut me off now."

"Touché."

"Anyhow," he continues. "The battle between men and women."

"You definitely sounded like a prepubescent boy there," you look at Hyunjin. His skin is so clear, you notice, making a mental note to steal his skin care products later. He turns a second later to face you and he nods, "Don't care. Definitely going to win this."

"You wish," you let out a condescending laugh. "I'm going to beat your ass, Hyunjin."

"Kinky," he smiles that stupid, toothy grin of his, "I likey."

"You gross pubescent boy," you shove at his arms only for him to quickly hold your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours in the midst of the squabble. You let him, still laughing lightly, lungs light and mind free from all the sad thoughts.

"I see that I've got an upgrade."

"You did."

You're about to thank Hyunjin for this small gesture that probably seems to be nothing when his phone rings from the other room. The scary unexpected track to Tokyo Ghoul's opening – Unravel – that you can't help but accept that you've grown to like, plays.

He lets go of your hand and jolts upwards, jumping off the bed. A small whine leaves your lips unexpectedly and Hyunjin smiles at that. He pulls up the blankets over your body that he shifted, mumbling, "You should sleep early. You had a tough day."

"No," you whine yet again, "Let's talk more—" His phone rings louder, the scream part of the ringtone jolting you up and your hand falls on your chest in shock. "Hate when your phone does."

"And yet you sing along to it," he sings, humming the tune.

"Pfft," you scoff, holding onto the blanket, scrunching it in your grip. "Go. It's probably about the practise match against Yonsei University."

He hums in agreement, folding the blanket again carefully, right below your neck, his cold hands brushing against your clavicle and the temperature difference runs a shiver down your spine.

Hyunjin switches off the light as he walks out, gently closing the door shut and you watch your best friend throwing a small smile at you before leaving. Did you really deserve all this care? Perhaps not.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, dashes out to get the phone before the caller cuts the call in frustration. He's definitely not spending the money to call back whoever it is. That shit is expensive. He jumps a couple of steps and grabs his phone, accepting the call before looking at the name of the caller.

"Hyunjin…" It's Lee Minho. "Can you come over?"

"I really want to throw a punch at you, you bastard."

And Hyunjin does. Virtually, of course. Over the game they are playing. He couldn't afford to injure a fellow teammate when the preliminaries are right around the corner.

"Bro," Minho sighs. "Can you go easy on me?"

His game character hits Minho's again, the energy bar of the other drastically going down on the screen. Hyunjin can't stop. The frustration that he has pent up over the last hour after seeing you cry and crumble over being dumped by his other friend drives him to the edge and he delivers another punch. Minho's character dramatically collapses as soon as the energy bar is empty and he drops the console by his side, pressing his back against the sofa, arms wrapped against his chest, pouting.

"I—"

"Go on," Hyunjin glares at him. "You better have a good explanation."

Minho runs a hand through his hair and sitting up straight, turning his torso to face Hyunjin, he tells, "I don't."

"You're lucky that we have a match soon, else you'd be six feet underground," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his hands over his head and folding it behind. "I can't believe you did that to Y/N."

"I fell out of love with her," Minho says. He doesn't dare to look at Hyunjin because he fears if the glares would actually result in him six feet underground. "Can't that be the only reason?"

Hyunjin chuckles, moreso at himself than at his friend, mumbling under his breath so low that Minho thinks it's just him humming, "Is it possible to fall out of love with her?"

He wishes Lee Minho could tell him how.

Hyunjin stands up, patting his denim jeans and looking at Minho, he warns, eyebrows furrowing, "I'll help her out with this. Just don't be a jerk and start dating in like two days."

"I—" Hyunjin glares at him. "Fine."

"Practice at seven," he adds and grabs the key of his motorcycle from the table before him. "Don't be late and act normal around Y/N."

"Fine, sir," Minho rolls his eyes. He won't admit it ever but the man warning him could be the reason for his breakup. That and his insecurity and fear of you cheating on him. But it's mostly Hwang Hyunjin. He knows how he feels even if you didn't.

Hyunjin walks out of Minho's house, closing the door on his way out and getting on his motorcycle, he rides back home to you. Just as he had promised you.

He opens the door to your room as soon as he enters his house, removing his shoes and placing it to the side, only to find his ears listening to the soft snores that let free from your lips. Carefully he walks towards you, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin lightly and tilting your head upwards to help you breathe properly.

He pauses for a minute just to watch you. Your eyebrows that you dislike so much just because according to you, it's not thick enough. He loves it however, even though you would never listen to him. Your eyelashes cast a gentle shadow on your high cheekbones and he gasps because you're so beautiful. You're so near to him and yet so far.

He bends forward, pushes your fringes to the side and places a soft kiss against your forehead, mumbling the words he wishes he could tell you straight up. Even if he did, you'd probably laugh and scoff at him.

"Beautiful girl," his lips graze the skin by your forehead, "You are a fighter. You have always been a fighter. You are stronger than you think. You are braver than you believe. Every challenge that life has thrown at you, you've conquered every obstacle that has been placed in front of you. You've overcome every single one of them. You are unstoppable and unbreakable and right now, you are filled with more faith than you have ever been."

Hyunjin pulls away, softly caressing the hair by the side of your face, "So please believe in yourself. You're worth so much love. So much of it, Y/N."

"The jerseys came!"

Bang Chan screams, a huge grin on his face as he opens the door for you. He runs to Felix and holds onto his shoulders before jumping up and down in joy. He is so delighted. "It looks so good, dude."

Hyunjin smiles, running towards you and helping you with the cardboard box. "It's alright," you mumble. "I'm the manager. It's my job."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "And I'm your best friend. It's my job." He picks the huge box that covers your entire upper half, easily and places it down before the coach and the team.

Jisung rushes to your side, nudging you with his elbow, "We've got a pretty good manager." He bends down and rips open the box, taking his jersey in his hand, "Number 13, bitches. Nothing shows what an amazing libero I am like the number most feared." You laugh.

"Number 10 isn't that bad, I guess." You hear Minho's voice break through the cluster of voices and your movements still. You turn your head to look at the brown haired boy who towers over you, wearing a smile so pretty that your heart still skips a beat.

"Hey, Y/N," he smiles. "Thanks for bringing this over."

"Uh," you fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze everywhere else besides at Minho. "I guess. It's my job, yeah."

Hyunjin notices. He always does. The boy runs towards you with his jersey. Number 1 printed in big behind. The setter brings the jersey so close to your face that it's buried in the fresh opened shirt. "Number 1, of course," he laughs, scrunching the shirt in his hand as he raises both his arms above.

"Oh, shut up, Jinnie," you laugh.

"Yeah, shut up, Jinnie," Jisung echoes. The middle blocker, though not the tallest in stature, is excellent at his position and has the biggest love-hate relationship with your best friend. He folds his arms and mocks Hyunjin.

Hyunjin places his right hand down on Jisung's head, ruffling his hair after pressing down on it. He scolds the older boy, "Don't call me Jinnie. Y/N's the only one who gets to call me that."

"Stop gathering around people," The captain claps his hands together to gather all of your attention. You quickly rush to his side and he smiles at you warmly, before looking at his team and glaring at each of them as they gather around him. "Yonsei University was kind enough to arrange a practice match with us thanks to—"

"Y/N," Jisung shouts, pivoting his arms by their sockets before lifting them both high above his head, cheering for you.

"Don't cut me off, Han," the coach shoots daggers at him, frowning visibly at the disobedience. "One more time and you're running around the gymnasium twenty times."

Jisung groans, only after winking at you. You chuckle under your breath, covering your face with the notepad in your hand. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, nudging Jisung to 'keep it in his pants' in the scariest voice ever. You could feel the dark clouds around Hyunjin, the aura darkening for a split minute before he breaks out into a huge smile as he looks at you.

The coach instructs out commands; strategies to help the team win against Yonsei. Moves that he's studied after watching their matches. You know this because you watched Hyunjin do the same at home. He does it at odd timings though.

You would wake up at three in the morning to grab a glass of water and you'd find your best friend squatting in front of the television as he watches every single one of Yonsei's matches. He wouldn't listen to you telling him to go to sleep because, "Being the captain is hard, Y/N. The whole team's banking on me to set the ball perfectly at the right time. I can't..."

And you understand. You understand the worries that go around in his head, the anxiety of being the best because he's no genius. He got to the top, made a name for him all thanks to his hard work and if he needs to keep it — he won't have it any other way — he swears to god that he would practise and study till he drops dead. Hwang Hyunjin loves volleyball that much.

So, you do what any friend would do.

You would make two cups of coffee, one for him and one for yourself. You sit next to him and watch the match with him. Your head lays back against the soft material of the sofa, just watching Hyunjin's eyes fixed on the screen, studying each movement of every player, gasping occasionally at how the setter of Yonsei's team leans his head back to decoy the opposite team only to dump the ball.

You don't remember much from that night because you fall asleep way too quick in the silence and in the presence of a focussed Hyunjin, your cup of coffee half empty. You don't remember anything from that night besides the fact that you woke up in your bed the next morning, or more like, Hyunjin waking you up the next morning because you overslept. Either ways, you were back in your bed and for that, you were grateful.

And as soon as the coach is done with the instructions, the team members scramble before splitting themselves into two groups, first to do serves and then perfect shots and finally, have a practice match.

You sit next to the coach, watching each and every member. That's what the previous manager told you to do. To observe. That's what the manager must do. To observe so well that you know each member well enough to know how their mind works, how their personalities are and who they truly want to be.

This is exactly why you can't seem to ever hate Lee Minho. Because you've seen him on the court, at his very best.

He's the best darn middle blocker you've ever seen. He doesn't tower that much over people with his height but when he jumps, lifting off his feet, he is as good as a wall cemented and strong before the opponent. He has only got better with every practice match and you realise that he wants to be better. And that's how he truly is. The constant urge to do better than the person he was before and perhaps, to Minho, you are someone he wants to leave behind in the past.

There's no one to blame here and you realise that it's a lot better if you accept the truth before it hurts you more than it should.

But then, in a second, Hyunjin takes your attention away whole heartedly. The boy arches his body so beautifully as he sets the ball for Jisung who slams the ball over the net with such force that leaves you gaping, notebook slamming your thigh. The coach stands up, his heels slamming the ground first before his toes do and he is as stunned as you are, eyes wide.

Funnily, Jisung's surprised too.

"We did it!" He says slowly, his words gradually making sense to him and when it does, he rushes to him, holding his shoulders and jumping ecstatically, "Hwang Hyunjin, we fucking did it!"

"When did you guys practice that?" The coach cuts the commotion short with his question. Hyunjin turns to face him along with Jisung, scratching the back of his head. Jisung is so overjoyed that he rushes to the coach, "Today morning! It sounded delusional but we pulled it off, coach."

You look at Hyunjin, who turns his attention back to you as soon as the coach is scrambling off to tell more instructions to Jisung on how he should time it a little bit earlier to hit it with even more impact. You smile, giving him a thumbs up and Hyunjin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you guys finally dating now that Minho's out of the picture?" Chan nudges Hyunjin. The man stumbles a step forward on impact only to quickly look at the older with eyes so wide that he wonders if it were possible.

"What?" He splutters the words out, voice haphazard after the cough.

"Everyone in the team thinks you guys should," Chan shrugs and Hyunjin's face morphs into that of seriousness almost instantly and shoots the other male with, "Did Minho hear of this?"

"Perhaps," Chan catches the ball Felix throws at him. The coach claps his hands to bring the attention back to him, barking out orders to resume the game. Chan pats Hyunjin's shoulders, "You know what we always tell, Hyunjin, in this sport—"

"Take the shot when you see the opportunity."

"Exactly."

"Or someone's going to block again," Chan sniggers and looks at Minho, who was trying his very best to avoid your gaze, "This time round, it could be someone better than our middle blocker."

You're picking up the volleyballs lying around when the guys go to shower and change, dribbling them slightly and smiling to yourself. A figure towers over you as they drop a ball into the huge bucket. You turn around to look up at Minho.

"Can we speak?"

"Do we have more to say?"

"I guess," he shrugs.

"We can still be friends, Minho," you sigh, eyes closed. "I also won't be those annoying types to tell Hyunjin to stay away from you because you broke up with me. You should know better."

"I didn't mean that," Minho looks offended. "I wanted to apologise. I should have tried harder perhaps."

"You should have."

"I know," Minho sucks in his lower lip. "I really should have but you know—"

"Lee Minho," your voice is firm. "I've told you a gazillion times that Hyunjin and I are just friends, Minho. Somehow you made up this sort of weird thing in your head so don't drag me into this mess. This is yours."

Minho scoffs, "You're going to eat your words soon," and picks up another ball. You remember the task you had forgotten in the heat of the moment, rushing to pick up a ball to put it back. The rest of the team is slowly making their way outside.

"I doubt," you sigh, throwing the last ball into the bucket and dusting your hands together. Jisung's darting towards you, hands in the air. Minho moves to the side, gliding against the floor, making way for the shorter man to reach you, bubbling with such enthusiasm you wonder what the cause of it is.

"Felix is treating us!"

Ah, so that's the reason. You smile at Jisung, nodding your approval. You push the bucket to the side of the gymnasium with Minho's help and switch the lights off as the team exits the gymnasium.

"Lee Minho!" You hear a feminine voice through the air, your eyebrows quirking upwards automatically. Hyunjin walks to your side, sighing as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket, mumbling so softly that you barely catch it, "I warned that asshole, God damn him."

Minho's face lights up in a way you haven't seen in a while and your heart is heavy. The woman, Irene — you hear Chan shout her name and wave at her — locks her arm with Minho's and walks with him, the man doing nothing to push her away. It shouldn't affect you. Not anymore now that the two of you have broken up and yet it hurts.

Hyunjin quickly pulls you away, preventing your eyes from lingering further even a minute more. His hand holds yours and he drags you to his motorcycle. You look down, biting the insides of your cheeks, alternating between the right and left every time you taste the copper of the blood.

"Your hand is so small," Hyunjin says. "Like look at how it fits into mine," he laughs, lifting your hand upwards as he clasps it tightly. He mumbles, "So small."

You break into a smile, watching Hyunjin tease you, momentarily drifting from the thought that upsets you and it leaves you wondering how Hyunjin does it all the time. He lets go of your hand, ruffling your hair as he bends lightly, "You've got this."

He quickly turns on the heels of his feet, pulling out the keys to his bike and igniting it. You hear Jisung scream from behind, "I thought you were taking me with you!"

Hyunjin screams back, "Carpool with the rest. I'm taking Y/N."

He lifts his leg, straddling the bike as he holds onto the handles, kicking the support free. He turns towards you and tells you to hop on and you do as he says. Your fingers hold his jacket, making sure you're not hugging him from behind. Minho's words run in your head and Hyunjin notices this small gesture of yours but he pays no heed. After all, it's been a while since he realised that what he has with you is better when it's platonic. He is too afraid to lose you.

"Jinnie," you tell him as he starts the motorbike, accelerating behind Jin who leads the way. You hear your best friend scream, "Yeah," through the loud winds that hit you.

You lean forward and speak closer into his ears, your jaw hitting his helmet, "Remember how I said the guys are to be blamed in a relationship."

"Yeah," he hints at you to proceed.

"Here's my first point. Minho back there," you point out. "It was that easy for a guy to move on. That easy," you stress your word. "While I'm here repenting if there was any way to get things back to where it was. However, there's no use in me trying because there's Minho with Irene like our relationship was a thing in the past."

"That doesn't mean he didn't care about you during the relationship. That's how guys are. They give it their everything when they're in the relationship," Hyunjin reasons and you laugh sardonically.

"You're kidding me, right? The girl definitely cares more. It almost seems so easy for the guys to break up and move on. Remember the time when you broke up with Lisa," you speak, raising your tone a little more so that Hyunjin can hear you. The motorcycle moving against the wind causes your hair to touch your mouth and you're spitting hair out facing the side. Hyunjin laughs, his grip on the accelerator tightening as he speeds up just a little bit, causing you to hold onto his jacket pockets a little tighter.

"Bro," Hyunjin mutters when you bring up Lisa. "I cried enough when she broke up with me, okay?"

"You did, for a day or two," you state. "The girl cried her heart out for a whole week. You went partying that Friday with Jisung!"

"Are we now using quantitative measurements to determine how deep our care and love is?" Hyunjin gasps, sounding very offended. "This reminds me why most relationships don't work. Because girls are shallow as fuck."

Hyunjin accelerates, missing sight of the speed breaker in front of him. It hurls you onto his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist to keep you safe. A soft scream leaves your lips as the side of your face buries into his broad back.

"Sorry," Hyunjin apologises quickly. "Didn't see that!" Hyunjin prays that you don't move your arms away but you do and he sighs, face falling. He is glad that you can't see him. Your hand is back to gripping his jacket and head back in this battle of words you're currently having with your best friend.

"It's okay," you tell him. "What's not okay is how you think women are shallow."

"They are!" He takes a turn to the left. Your thigh muscles tighten as it straddles the seat, fingers digging into his side for support. "I mean, let's be real, sweetheart. You take an hour or more to get ready for college."

"Because I want to look presentable!" You hit his broad back and he chuckles.

"Lies! You're shallow!"

"Says the person who walks around shirtless at home and stares at the mirror, lightly touching your abs and saying perfect," you tease and Hyunjin turns to look at you for a minute with his eyes wide before he turns his attention back on the road.

"You saw that?"

"Of course. I see that every day."

"But you're watching the television, how?"

"Reflections," you state.

He's gasping. The motorcycle slows down as it reaches Pizza Alvolo. The pizzeria is adjacent to a pretty park and you can hear the birds chirp lowly right before the sun is ready to set. You jump off the motorcycle, dusting the denims covering your thighs and Hyunjin removes his helmet, hooking it to the handle securely.

The rest of the team are seated in the pizzeria already waiting for the two of you, waving at you as soon as you enter the place. You rush and sit next to Jisung who has been aggravatingly patting the seat next to him. Hyunjin sits opposite to you, next to Chan. He snatches the menu from him and the elder male whines at the behaviour.

You look around and notice that Minho hasn't reached the place yet. Not that it mattered to you. You will slowly learn to stop caring so much for a man and you will soon be able to look at him and think of only the fond memories and nothing more.

Or so you thought.

The minute you see Minho walk into the pizzeria, although not with Irene, you feel the ground slip underneath you. Jisung is nice enough — albeit not knowing of the whole pickle you are in — to hold your wrist and turn your attention towards the stack of pizza boxes that come your way as he gleams, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

You look away from Minho and toward the direction Jisung points before turning to look at Hyunjin who lets out a loud sigh. You know that he's clutching at his thick thighs, nails digging into it at the sight of your uncomfortability. Hyunjin knows it will take you days to get over this break up, maybe weeks and that as a good best friend, he should wait. He should understand.

But it frustrates him so much. The sight of you being in pain, in hurt because of another man — his other best friend at that — pisses him off way more than he thought it should at first.

Hyunjin quickly takes his phone out and you narrow your eyes at him, mouthing, "Rude. Put it back into your pocket." In a second, your phone dings and you take yours out. Minho sits by Jisung's side in that second, a seat away from you and your heartbeat accelerates. You unlock your phone to see a message from Hyunjin and you lift up your head, raising an eyebrow at him and he eyes at you to open the message.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

Your eyes widen and your lips part slightly. You don't respond immediately, locking the phone and shoving it back into your pocket. You smile at Hyunjin, trying to signal that you were alright so far. Jisung opens the cardboard boxes of the pizza and squeals. Chan looks at the situation, analysing if it'd be bad for the team on a bigger approach. Hyunjin might be the captain but had it not been for Chan's guidance, the volleyball team would not have lasted a day more with the differences.

Felix announces, "Eat to your heart's merry! I might never treat again." He takes the first bite for courtesy's sake before telling everyone to join in.

The team laughs and Minho smiles, the skin by his eyes wrinkling and your heart stops to remember all the reasons you were so madly in love with this man. It is at this minute you realise it'll take you maybe a little longer than you thought, a little longer than a casual fling and a little lesser than a long term relationship. You should have known this is bound to happen the minute you allowed yourself to let your petty emotions take over.

And maybe, just maybe, it is the fact that you have to pretend to be alright with having Minho around you that makes this heartbreak pain ten times worse.

Surprisingly, Hyunjin already seems to know because he doesn't stop glancing at you after every bite of the slice he has in his hand.

You stretch your arm out to take a slice of the pepperoni pizza on the table at the same time Minho stretches his arms out to take one. Your fingers brush against his and you jolt your hand backwards, mumbling, "Sorry."

Jisung laughs without knowing and teases, "Why would you apologise for brushing your boyfriend's hand?" He takes a bite of his pizza and as soon as he finishes chewing, he continues, "I mean, you guys do nastier stuff and suddenly, you all are prim and proper, Y/N. Love the contrast you exhibit. It's beautiful. You guys could be at it every time I catch you in the gymnasium alone. Also, you're his longest relationship. You should pride yourself—"

Jisung is speaking and you won't look up. Hyunjin has dropped the knife slightly just to try and get him to stop, though in vain and Minho's looking at you. His eyes won't leave your frame and you just want to leave. It is too early for you to be alright with this. Way too early.

"Stop, Jisung," Chan tells him, reading the situation in the room.

"Why?" Jisung's laughing. Felix understands by now, seeing your face hung down and so does the rest of the team besides the man himself. You can't even come to be angry at Jisung because he seems so innocent, unaware of it all.

You spill the beans for your own heart's safety, "Minho broke up with me."

Minho doesn't shift his eyes at anyone else and Hyunjin holds the knife again, a little too tight this time. Jisung's smile turns instantly into a frown and he turns his head to glare at your now ex-boyfriend.

He doesn't bother to filter his words. "Why the fuck did you do that, you arsehole?" Minho turns to look at Jisung for a split second before his eyes are back at yours. You lift your head to lock gaze with him and you feel your chest tighten, eyes water and it hurts.

Everything seems so much more painful.

Chan says once again, his voice firm, ready to not listen to one more word of the conversation, "Stop it, Jisung. Read the room."

You stretch your arm out to have another bite of the pizza and everyone eats in silence. The room is pregnant with the most awkward silence you had been in your whole life. You take your phone out, unlocking it and finally replying to the message.

Jisung puts another slice of pizza onto your plate and you smile at him. Felix tries breaking the uneasy tension by talking about this dude he met in his neighborhood that was kind of cute. After sitting for another two minutes, you push your chair back to Jisung's surprise and stand up. Hyunjin stands up instinctively, his calves pushing his chair back and everyone at the table looks at the two of you.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

"I just realised I have to do some grocery shopping," you laugh nervously. "There's absolutely nothing back at home. Not that Hyunjin would buy anything and keep, right?"

Hyunjin chuckles and everyone in the room knows quite obviously that you are trying to escape the scene. They are kind enough to let you. Felix asks, spilling the oregano seasonings on top of his pizza slice, "Is Hyunjin going with you?"

"Ye—"

"No," you cut your best friend before he can give his approval. "I'll go alone." You stretch your arm out, palm facing upwards, "Keys, please?"

"Don't hurt my baby," Hyunjin's sincerity is voiced and you laugh genuinely. Little did you know he meant both you and his motorbike. He drops the key to his motorbike onto your hand and you do a little cheer. Jisung mumbles, "Cute," before stuffing his face with pizzas.

"Have a good time, guys," you wish them and grab your bag, hanging on the chair. Jisung waves enthusiastically. Felix, Chan and the rest of the team waves too. You smile fondly at your team and walk towards the door only to find Hyunjin following you.

"What do you think you are doing right now, mister?"

"Can't I walk you out at the very least, woman?" Hyunjin gapes in dismay. He pulls open the glass door and you laugh.

"Sure thing," you say and walk towards his motorbike. Hyunjin leaves the door after stepping out, the glass door swinging back to shut itself. You swing your legs over his bike, straddling the automobile and dropping your chest slightly to balance the heavy vehicle.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"Don't you trust your teaching? You taught me how to ride this thing. Don't worry."

You look over Hyunjin's shoulder to see Minho still looking at you, worry smeared all over his face and you feel your throat constricting again as you do your best to tear your eyes away from him.

Hyunjin takes a step closer, making sure everything's alright with the vehicle so that it doesn't endanger you. He places his hand over your wrist and you look at him in confusion, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I will," you laugh. "What are you? My daddy?"

Hyunjin stiffens for a minute before he lets go of all the inappropriate thoughts that fill him for a minute there before teasing you, "Do you want me to be your daddy?"

"Nah," you throw your head back. "You aren't that rich enough." You place the helmet over your head and look at him. Hyunjin taps your helmet and hugs you slightly.

"I'll see you at home."

You start the bike on ignition and look over Hyunjin's shoulder one last time to look at Minho, locking gazes with him before you pull yours away from him towards Hyunjin.

You look ahead, the clear road in front of you and turn the accelerator only after telling Hyunjin, giggling slightly,

"Sure thing, Daddy."

Hyunjin, on the other hand, is too caught up in his worry, eyes lingering behind the trailing presence of yours that finally disappears from his sight into a speck that fades away. In any other circumstances, he would have found your petite figure driving the huge motorcycle and you even calling him daddy, although in a teasing tone, insanely hot.

Right now, however, he just hopes you are safe. He wishes he could be by your side at every second.

Gaho's Stay Here blasts on the bluetooth speaker. Hyunjin pulls open the door only to find you lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with the most emotionless face he has ever seen you with. His eyes dart towards the empty bottles of soju on the small table in the hall.

"Y/N?"

You sit up, looking at your best friend and your lip pucker out quickly pouting at the sight of him and you stretch your arms out wide, squealing, "Hyunjinnie. You are home."

Hyunjin walks towards you, plopping on the couch and sitting next to you. He quickly lifts his arm up, hand darting back and forth at the air to steer the smell away as he frowns at you, "You reek of liquor, dude."

You quickly hug him, wrapping your arms around his frame from the side and snuggling your face into his shoulder. Hyunjin stiffens under your grip and he looks down at your being with eyes closed and he realises that you might after all just be a small being in need of some loving. He wishes to be the person to do that. Hwang Hyunjin utterly and truly wants to be your person.

Hyunjin takes your phone to stop playing the music — Stay Here that's been currently playing on repeat for the twentieth time straight — and you whine against his skin, tickles running down Hyunjin's spine.

"Don't stop the music," you mumble and Hyunjin looks at you and your figure that hugs him securely, head snuggled by his neck, chin digging into the skin by his collarbone and all Hyunjin can focus on is his heart that is beating furiously against his chest.

"Y/N," Hyunjin's voice seems like an anchor to your woozy mind and you hug him tighter, gripping stronger on to his white shirt. You hum in response and Hyunjin continues, "Gaho's music doesn't seem very fitting for the minute."

You pull apart, your face morphing and changing into that of offense as you glare at him, mumbling, "Gaho is the only one that understands me." You play the music again, the bluetooth speakers blasting with the sad slow tune in the air and you feel the want to cry all over again.

You stretch your arm out to take a soju bottle from the table to down it all out when Hyunjin stretches out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. He locks his eyes with yours and in the softest, most caring voice you've ever heard from him, he says, "Don't, Y/N. It hurts me too."

"Can I hold you?"

In a split moment, the room is filled with just the soft beats of Gaho's Start Over playing, your raspy breaths and Hyunjin's lost stare. His grip on your wrist tightens and your mind is far too intoxicated to think if this friendship could be ruined. Your heart is heavy, chest tight and you want someone to free you. Anyone. You are clawing at the imaginary wall all by yourself and anyone could be a help. Anyone that is not Lee Minho.

"Yes," and you fall on Hyunjin at the exact same moment he pulls your hand closer towards him. The timing seems to have lapsed on to each other. Your chest on Hyunjin's, eyes looking up at him as your arms snake slowly over his torso. You snuggle forward, rubbing against his body slightly and Hyunjin sighs.

To Hyunjin, the scene is a lot dramatic just because of the soft music playing and because you are drunk off your head according to him, barely able to make decisions. He just doesn't want to do anything that will make either of your friendships but right now, in this minute with you almost on top of him, locking your eyes in his, your arms around his torso, close enough to feel every part of your being, he wants to be drunk too.

Hyunjin wants to be drunk so that he can make a mistake. Hyunjin wants to be so drunk that he can't think just because he is a coward.

"Do you feel better?" He asks and you snuggle into his chest, burying your face into it as you hold him. Your lonely heart being comforted by just his presence and in the back of your drunk head, you know you feel a little bit more that causes your heart to flutter when Hyunjin cares.

You and Hyunjin are both cowards — two small people in this big world with big emotions unwilling to risk one status for another, over the fear of losing each other.

But Hyunjin wants to risk it tonight. After years of pining, he wants to risk this golden friendship he has shared with you for years now. You are the trigger, however. You lift your face away from his chest and crawl slightly towards him, pushing yourself against him. You look at him, lips pressed together and you stretch your right arm upwards to hold his face in your hand.

"Jinnie," your voice lets out his name in such an airy tone that it seems to disappear away even before it reaches his ear. His eyes are glassy and his heart is in his throat, eager in nothing but anticipation that is risen from all his hoping.

It happens as he has imagined. You lean forward so slowly that he pictures every second vividly and in an instant, your lips are on his. Hyunjin knows it should have felt wrong but God, save him — nothing felt more right than this.

You kiss him and his whole world falls away. It lingers, like a memory that stays behind. Your lips are slow and soft against him, comforting yourself and him in ways that words would never be. Hyunjin's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss. Something so small and insignificant to seemingly anyone else yet it means the whole world to Hyunjin. It is the whole world to Hyunjin because this is all that is needed to let him astray, hinge released of the stupid restrictions he has made up in his head over you.

Your small kiss is all Hyunjin needs to hold on to because in the next minute, he is pulling you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your coral ones. You let out a small gasp and run your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you and you can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute.

Hyunjin's lips are slammed against yours, nearly knocking all wind from your lungs and you don't know if it is your feelings or Hyunjin himself. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth. Hyunjin kisses you like he thinks it is the last time he will ever be able to have his lips against yours.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. In an instant, you pull away and arch up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against your own, before you draw back into his lips. Hyunjin can feel the burn of hard soju in his mouth, thanks to you, and it rolls off your tongue into his, seeping down  his throat and he can't hate it. There is a thrill in its own that Hyunjin knows stems from you.

If it was possible, Hyunjin would slow down time.

You pull back eventually only to hug him, humming against his neck, lips pressed against the soft expanse of his skin. Hyunjin's hand is pressed against your back as he pats you in a steady rhythm, instinctively humming to a tune that could calm you.

"Jinnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," and he feels your weight fall on to his shoulder as you snuggle closer into his neck, your warm breath fanning against him, sending shivers down his spine. "For everything."

Hyunjin holds you for a while, silence and nothing but your breathing that is soft music to his ears, till he hears your soft snores buzzing against his eardrums and he knows you have fallen asleep in his arms, against his chest.

The next morning, you find yourself magically in your bed, comforter on top of you covering every inch of you, head aching thanks to your reckless drinking last night with no memory of whatsoever that happened. Lightheaded you should have known better.

Hyunjin chooses to be a coward, the morning after.

The greens that cover the campus is the only other thing that keeps you sane in this university. The first being, the volleyball team. However, you don't know anymore if it is still, in the present.

You sit on the same bench before a beautiful fountain with a tiger head right in the centre, watching the vast basketball court. A place that holds way more memories to you now than it did a year before.

You shake your legs, feet pointing forward as you listen to music with about half an hour in your hand to waste before you head down towards the gymnasium to meet with the volleyball team. Besides few people that walk down towards their classes, the campus looks pretty stranded as you watch every single person stay happy in their sphere.

"Y/N," you hear your name being called out through yet another one of Gaho's songs and you lift your head up, to look at the person by your side, standing and providing you the shade they probably didn't intend to.

It's the man himself, the one who broke your heart for an explanation that made no sense to you. Lee Minho.

He stands tall, towering over you and your neck aches from looking up at him that you decide to stand up, removing the earbuds and placing it on the wooden bench, next to your phone.

"You're here." You gulp. "Aren't you supposed to be headed to the gym for practice?"

The fountain is everything you associate Minho with — moreover, it is perhaps the relationship with him that you associated the beautiful water fountain with. To see the very same man before you right now is needless to say surprising.

"I could ask you the same thing," Minho chuckles. He takes out a small cone of butterscotch ice cream and extends his arm, offering it to you. You smile softly, thanking him, sitting down back on the bench. "Can I sit here?" He asks and you nod, unwrapping the wrapping paper around the ice cream.

"Yeah," you tap on the seat by your side. You take a bite of your ice cream and Minho visibly flinches, mumbling, "Still the same."

"You broke up with me like two days back. What did you expect? A nirvana attained me?" You scoff. You take another bite of the ice cream, the sensitivity hitting your teeth and you hiss.

"Brutal," Minho chuckles darkly. You scoff, turning your head away and taking another bite of your ice cream. Minho opens his ice cream and you raise an eyebrow at him, mumbling, "You don't eat ice cream though."

"Thought you might want another one," he smiles and the thought of a second ice cream lights you up. "There you go smiling like a dork as always at the thought of it." Minho laughs and you bend forward to take it, your left arm stretching forward. Minho tugs it backwards and your body moves a little more to grab at it until it's too far for you, bringing you to your present position.

Your hand is on Minho's chest, his eyes locked in yours and you are surprised. This is not in your to do list and yet with Minho's grip on your wrist, you drop your ice cream as soon as he edges closer. His face is so close that you can see the perfect plump lips pout slightly, his face glistening in the bright sun and you gasp softly. It has been a while since he has been this close and he still makes your heart go livid within you, beating crazy.

He drops his ice cream in a second, his hands pressing forward to cup your face and pull you into him to kiss the living hell out of you. Your eyes widen, arms falling limp on either side as you stiffen.

"Can I try something?" He hesitates, iron grip on you.

"Try?" You look worried and the next minute, Minho is kissing you, his plump lips on yours for a while before he moves them against yours, taking hold of your lower lip.

It is an instinct. You choose to blame it rather on instincts. Your hand moves to grab the linen draping his arm as you hold it and kiss Minho back. It is as bitter as coffee thanks to all the memories that go along with it and yet — you find yourself drowning. You find yourself wanting more. You find yourself hoping if Minho could stay, if Minho could just pretend to love you, if not.

And it breaks your heart.

All over again.

A lone tear leaves your eyes and then another, till you are crying as you kiss him. A wet messy affair at its finest. Minho pulls back in surprise feeling the wetness against his skin. He cups your face and holds you, looking at you to check for damage — little does he know of the emotional one. Or maybe he does and he chooses to ignore. Typical Lee Minho.

"Did I hurt you?"

Your emotions take over, sanity pushed to the back. You are pulling yourself from Minho as he tries to hold you to calm you down. Your fist plummets down onto his hard chest once and then, for the second time till you are hitting him over and over again till you completely break down in front of him. Minho quickly pulls you into a hug, holding you close till you completely soak his white shirt with your tears.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—" It's a repeated chant. Over and over again till you don't remember how many times you told Minho the same thing. Your mind goes insane with the overdrive of emotions. Did you like Minho still? You don't know. You don't know whether it's the familiarity of his hugs or his kisses or his whole presence that you crave or if it's his love.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and you accept because it's the first time an apology from Lee Minho sounded this sincere. "I'm sorry for breaking your heart." He snuggles into the crook of your neck, swallowed by guilt. Perhaps this is why one should never date their friends; because you lose something much greater.

"I hate you more now for kissing me here," you manage to say, throat rasp from the crying. "How could you stain this memory too? How dare you stain the memory of the location of our first kiss? It was supposed to be a bittersweet memory when I sit here and think." Minho is still hugging you.

"I'm sorry."

It is still bittersweet in a new way, you realise — the fact that Lee Minho kisses you for the last time, you swear to God, in the very same place he kissed you for the first time. The weather changed, the people around changed and the emotions changed. Even after all that, the fountain stays proud and mighty and bears witness to more new relationships and new heartbreaks. Nothing changes besides you. Nothing changes besides what we want.

You pull away from him. Sitting straight, facing the vast basketball court and the juniors playing the game, you make a decision, firm and determined. The soft pink petals fall down from the cherry blossom trees over the two of you and Minho looks at you, and then at the spilled ice cream. To see the boughs that were so bereft in the snow become so beautifully adorned should lift your spirits infinitely and it does slightly. Their scents diffuse in the warming breeze and you hold your head high to savour it.

"Let's stay away from each other for a while."

Minho's eyes shoot up, head lifting up to face you. He does not refute. After all, he knows he has to take a step behind after breaking your heart. What he does not understand is how the two of you could stay away from each other when your friend circles overlap to a large extent.

"How?" He finally asks. "How do I help you with that?"

"By doing just that. Give me space and time to get over you. I'll come back asking for your hand in friendship again," you smile. Your tear stained visage and the difficult smile you put forth is a funny combination but you manage to pull it off well, you'd say. "You don't have to take the first step this time. Let me do this on my own, Minho."

You stand up on your own, grabbing your earphones and your phone. Minho stands up, following suit and asks, "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," you turn only to look at him as you walk backwards. "And you have to head for practice. So get going. I won't have you mess up your performance by all means." You turn back and move ahead. From everything.

"You know I wouldn't," Minho screams back and the last syllable ends with a laugh. You lift your hand to wave and you leave, far, far away from him.

You now have an open wound to stitch back and you know you have to do it on your own.

Hyunjin's phone rings right when he decides to serve the ball. He drops the ball in surprise, the sphere rolling all the way to where his phone is placed. Chan groans, stopping his pace at the sound of the phone ringing, and yells, "Yah! Hyunjin, how many times should I tell you to switch off your phone?"

Felix walks in exactly at that minute, laughing, "Anyone from outside would totally think Chan's the captain!"

Hyunjin runs to his phone, his blond hair strands falling forward, ponytail swinging left and right. Felix laughs at the sight, walking towards the ball and picking it up before throwing it at Chan who catches it swiftly. Hyunjin sees your name on the phone, eyes lighting up instantly and a smile prominent only for Chan to announce, "It's Y/N."

"Of course, it is," Felix scoffs. "Where's the rest of the guys? I thought you said we were to come early—" Felix pauses, eyes widening and gasping, "Hold up! Y/N is late. Whoa!"

"They are probably running towards the gym right now," Hyunjin says before picking up the call. He mouths to the rest, "It'll be short, I promise," and pouts. Chan sighs, only to smile and wave his hand at him to take the call.

"Y/N," Hyunjin cheers up instantly. "Where are—" He hears a choked sob from the other hand and Hyunjin stiffens, face losing the smiling in a second. "Are you alright?"

"I am," you strain it out. You barely manage through with the chokes and that pain that ripples through in waves but you eventually find the words to tell him, "I won't make it to practice today. Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

Hyunjin is angry and he doesn't even know who it is aimed at. He is just beyond mad at the fact that you are crying and someone made you cry. The thought of the skin by your eyes aching and eyes red and burning over anyone made him so angry that he could punch a wall through.

"I'm not telling you," he hears you say and he clenches his fist.

"Stop being a brat, Y/N," he stresses and Chan gestures at him, asking if there was something wrong. Hyunjin nods. "Where are you?"

"Leave me alone, Jinnie," you tell him through the phone, "Please,"  and his eyes widen before he calms himself down, realising that you are trying to cope all alone, a pathetic self-destructive quirk of yours that he had learned to live with after all these years. He gulps and realises you truly needed time alone and he hums in approval.

"Please reach out to me when you need me," he begs. "Please, Y/N."

Felix and Chan are staring at Hyunjin in worry when the door to the gymnasium opens and Jisung rushes into the room. He is panting and he looks around, searching for someone. Hyunjin turns away, his attention back on the call in his hands and he ends the call quickly, making a note in his mind to check up on you after practise. Not that you would let him miss practise. (Not that Hyunjin would do it to himself in the first place. He'd kill for volleyball.)

He walks towards the rest when Minho walks in, black duffel bag on his shoulder. Jisung is quick on his feet as he runs towards the other man, hands on his shoulders and he shakes the living hell out of him.

"He's gone crazy, dude," Felix mumbles and Chan laughs.

Hyunjin stays at a comfortable distance still, looking at his phone in worry every now and then. The man lifts his head and brings his attention back to the present only when he hears your name leave Jisung's mouth.

"Whoa, dude. You got back together with Y/N?"

"What?" Chan is the first to respond. "You did what?"

"I didn't get back together with her," Minho says, his voice is monotone and lacks anything more than nonchalance and it pisses the hell out of Hyunjin who has his fists still clenched tightly.

"I saw you kissing her but. . ." Jisung drops the bomb all at once in such a lost way that he doesn't realise the impact it was to have in this large gymnasium.

Hyunjin is charging forwards all at once, yelling, "You bastard," as he throws a punch at Minho. The blond dyed man is quick to put two and two together and realise that you are after all, crying because of the black haired man before him.

He pushes him back, Minho hitting the floor and Hyunjin's on top of him, punching him with his clenched fist, mind void and painted in hot red anger. Minho has his arms, blocking his punches and chooses to play on the defensive side.

In fear, we are all monsters. Hyunjin believes that he would be afraid of himself had he astral projected and looked at himself in this minute, all unhinged because of one girl — one girl he would set the world on fire for.

All that rage comes out faster than magma for Hyunjin and is just as destructive. More so because he's the captain. It consumes all that he is, so delicate under that carefully ordered world and carefully put up feign that he is alright with Minho breaking the heart of the girl he loves. Minho shrivels before him but Hyunjin does not stop. He relentlessly keeps going, stopping short of physical violence but doing far more damage with the words that he throws.

Chan tries to pull Hyunjin away as Jisung drags Minho from underneath him. The black haired man is left with bruises and a busted lip. On the other hand, Hyunjin is still fuming, along with Chan, sporting a few cuts from Minho who decided to throw a few punches in the last moment.

"Can you all stop?" Felix sighs.

"Why would you bastard make her cry again?" Hyunjin raises his voice. He's yelling at this point, loud enough for everyone passing by the gymnasium to hear. "Why the fuck would you make Y/N cry again? I told you to leave her alone!"

"This wouldn't have happened if things went different—" Hyunjin tries to rush forward to hit him again upon hearing his words, but Chan and Changbin, another teammate, have a strong grip on him. His blond ponytail lashes in anger and he fights against the two, trying to let go of himself. Minho yells back, "I would have never broken up with her if you never liked her, Hyunjin."

"What?" He stops still in his tracks, limbs falling and Chan lets go.

"How am I supposed to think it's alright for you to randomly stare at my girlfriend with heart eyes? For fuck's sake, you guys hug way more than I hug her," Minho glares, chest rising up as he vents everything he has bottled up so far. "If you had always liked her, you should have told me! I shouldn't have overheard it from Chan telling you to ask her out." Chan's face pales visibly. "I would have tried making her stay. I would have made her stay. I would have," Minho's voice lowers. "I still did, but I was too late."

Hyunjin has no words to refute. His eyes widen and his heart is in his throat, barely being able to say, "You could have taken it out on me. Why would you drag her into this? She loved you. She still wavers because of you. Your faithless love was the only hoax she was forced to believe."

Jisung pouts in awe at the words Hyunjin spills and Minho mumbles, "I don't know. I couldn't think straight."

Felix drops the ball with force, suddenly. The ball squelches before raising high and hitting the wall with impact. He folds his arms and speaks up, "Stop acting like kids." He points at Minho. "You, stop putting the blame of your failed relationship on Hyunjin. Him liking Y/N did not ruin your relationship. You killed it yourself."

"But he—"

"I liked her even before you made a move on her. Nothing has changed, Minho," Hyunjin inhales sharply.

"It's because you're a coward, you arsehole."

Hyunjin closes his eyes, looking away, mumbling, "Not going to even bother denying that. I'd be dating her if I wasn't this scared of losing her."

Felix proceeds to point at Hyunjin, glaring sharply at him, "You call yourself a captain? We have a match in a few days and you decide to lose control and beat up your teammate? One of the best middle blockers out there! What in the world are you thinking, Hyunjin? Jesus Christ, when Y/N hears of this, she's going to beat you up so bad for doing this to him in the name of the team."

Hyunjin doesn't dare to look up at Felix, shuffling the balance of his body from one feet to another. He is embarrassed. He should have never let his emotions take control of his body and yet he did.

Chan walks towards Felix before announcing, "We'll start practice in five. I want the two of you to sort this out by the end of this day. If you haven't, I don't want either of you coming to practice tomorrow."

"I'm the setter!" Hyunjin protests.

"Jeongin can do a darn good job too, so shut up and listen to me well."

"Now," Felix claps his hand, smiling once again brightly before running to pick up the ball. "Let's practice like the perfect team we are!"

"And like I couldn't stop myself. It's like something dragged me to move forward and the next thing I knew, I was on top of Minho—"

"Fuck, that'd be hot."

"Y/N, focus. And like I was beating the crap out of him."

You dab an alcoholic swab over the small wounds on his face as he seethes in pain and you sneer, "Deserved it."

"Ouch," Hyunjin fakes offense. "Side with me at least now. You aren't dating him anymore." You stop, your hand midair and you dab constantly over his wounds till Hyunjins screaming, "Ow, ow, ow. I'm sorry," and holds your wrist and pulls it away.

"But you messed up your team dynamics just because of your anger," you frown. "You and Minho better sort it out quickly, Jinnie. Else, I swear to God." You glare at him.

"What will you do?" Hyunjin laughs, scrunching his nose and teasing you. You place the bandaids over the wounds and raise an eyebrow. Hyunjin prompts, "Bite me?"

"I will," you warn and Hyunjin scoffs, "As if."

You bite him. His shoulder, to be exact. Your teeth hold onto his socket for a good one minute tightly till he is yelping, hitting your back to let go of him as he hisses in pain. You let go of him and narrow your eyes at him. Hyunjin is shocked. So shocked that he blankly stares at you with his mouth wide open.

"Are you a dog?"

"I could be one if you taunt me too much."

"Wow," he blinks and you poke the insides of your cheek with your tongue. "Wow, you're truly one of a kind." And Hyunjin breaks down laughing, holding his shoulder with his hand and bending forward overcome by intense laughter.

"Buy me mint choco," he prompts. "Because now you injured me and I want compensation."

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin pushes himself forward, edging closer to you, looking you in your eyes before saying, "You know you have to," in a low guttural tone that your heart does a whole somersault, triple axle and then lands with an ovation. "You hurt me."

You push him away and you leap onto your feet, your eyes wide and your hand over your chest. Hyunjin looks at you with a raised eyebrow. To change the mood of the situation, you quickly announce, "Fine. You'll get mint chocolate only if you get ready and come out in five minutes. Else you pay for it on your own."

Hyunjin stands up and holding your wrist, he pulls you with him to the door. You look at him in utter confusion and ask, "What are you doing?"

Hyunjin stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, blond strands leaving his ponytail to cover his eyes slightly and pink lips so plump that you wonder how they feel. The realisation that you have started viewing your best friend as someone more than just that hits you and you look down instantly. When did this happen?

"I'll just wear a coat and so should you," Hyunjin laughs. "Ice cream can't wait."

People think of laughing as a noise that comes from the mouth more often than not, but when Hyunjin laughed it was nothing like that. The laugh is in his eyes, in the way his face changes into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth. And yet, in all honesty, it is not in his face either. His laugh comes from within, it is just the way he is wired with the instant ability to comfort someone. Just the sound of his gales, his snickers, his giggles, was enough to transport you far away from all your worries and the tension your life has in the minute.

Enough to make you forget that you have to tell him today about the decision you have taken.

Hyunjin and you walk down the stairs and off onto the road in five minutes as planned. The cool air of the night hits you and you hold yourself closer, the long coat held tightly to your body surface. Hyunjin laughs before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close by just a little bit and yet enough to share his body warmth.

"Mint choco, here we come!" And he runs with you.

The thing with your stupid heart is that you don't understand why it is beating so rapidly in this moment, your heart beat easily jumping to more than 95bpm and all because Hyunjin holds you. You look at the man by your side, his blond hair moving with the air, exposing his face and you wonder — had Hwang Hyunjin always been this beautiful?

You have known Hyunjin for a long time now. Too long for you to realise that your heart had a change in its plans for emotions recently. You have known Hyunjin way too long to know that you want him for a lifetime by your side, as a best friend at the very least and the thought that if you did act upon your new emotions that you have just discovered in this cold, breezy night, you are screwed.

Hyunjin turns to look back at you after hearing absolutely no sound from you. His face pales when he realises you are looking far ahead and he wonders if you do remember now. If you remember the drunk night.

So he asks to put himself at ease, "Y/N?"

"Huh?" You jolt up to consciousness, looking properly at Hyunjin. "Yeah?"

"Do you remember the night a few days back?"

"Night? Few days back?" You ponder. "When I was drunk?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin mumbles and you raise your body in anticipation, finally wanting to ask about the magical teleportation.

"Now that we are on this topic," you fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at your best friend. Hyunjin shuffles his balance from his left to his right. "Did you carry me to bed that night?"

Hyunjin chokes on air, sputtering out incoherent words before finally forming one proper sentence, "You knew?"

"You're the only other person I live with and I don't have any recollection of going to bed so like I presumed," you look down, heat rising to your cheek and you fidget with your fingers. "That you carried me to bed."

"That's all that you remember?"

You lift your head up, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, "Is there more?"

"Uh," Hyunjin turns back to face forward, his broad back in your vision again as he walks forward to the ice cream parlour by the junction.

"Hyunjin?" He walks quicker. "Yah! Hwang Hyunjin!" You follow him with quick, short strides, almost jogging up to him. "What did I do, Jinnie?" He opens the glass door to the ice cream parlour. "Yah, Hwang Hyunjin, tell me no matter how embarrassing it is." You follow him into the white aesthetically pretty place.

You finally catch hold of his coat and tug at it. Hyunjin turns, his cheeks flushed and you wonder what in the world happened that night. Yes, you have vague memories of hugging Hyunjin and passing out, but for him to act like this — wait, you didn't empty your stomach out on him, did you?

"Did I—" Hyunjin's eyes widens. He turns back, his attention on the man behind the counter and he points towards you.

"She's paying."

"Okay," the man nods and turns to look at you, waiting for your order. You sigh, glaring at your best friend before ordering one quantity of mint chocolate ice cream. Your eyes waver to the green ice cream and you frown in displeasure, something Hyunjin catches sight of your expression.

"How dare you?" He folds his arms, dramatically. "The only people that matter in this world are the one that like mint chocolate." The man at the counter smiles at the two of you.

You open your mouth, clicking your tongue, "I'm not paying money to eat toothpaste."

The man behind the counter laughs out loud and Hyunjin glares at him, scoffing. He takes the ice cream from his hand and waits for you to pay. The tall man looks at the two of you, again, before finally telling, "Good luck on your relationship. It's always fun to see couples have an argument over mint chocolate and still be so in love with each other." He turns to look at Hyunjin only, "For your information, I like mint chocolate."

Both Hyunjin and you look at each other, either of you waiting for the other person to disagree with the man but there is just silence. You can feel Hyunjin looking at you through the corners, waiting for you to refute like you always do. You don't and you do not even know why. The heat builds up beneath the apples of your cheek and the thought of being in a relationship with your best friend strangely brings about a wave of calmness within you, doing its best to shove the uncertainty of so many things away.

"Thank you for the ice cream," you say and walk to an empty table. Hyunjin thanks the man too, and follows you, sitting on the seat opposite to you and places the mint chocolate in between.

He watches you, unsure of the situation and you bite your lower lip nervously before shoving the cup closer to him and mumbling, "Eat. We came all the way here for you."

"You should have gotten another ice cream," Hyunjin frowns.

"It's past nine," you laugh, your hair falling over the chair as you lean back. "I can't let fat into my body after nine. You know that."

"Why do I know you?" Hyunjin puts his hand on his forehead looking at you and then he pushes the cup of ice cream towards your side. "Disappointment." You look at your best friend, disgusted and he won't take the disrespect though.

"It's a refreshing taste," he digs in and takes a big bite. "Plus, it's the right balance." He lifts the spoon with a small amount of the mint ice cream and shoves it right in front of your face. "The perfect amount of mint, chocolate and milk to make the world's most perfect ice cream."

You push his hand away and glare, "Why would you ruin two beautiful sweets," you raise an eyebrow, "Chocolate and ice cream by including," you fake a gag, "Mint?"

"Because mint balances the sweetness of the chocolate," he scoffs. "All you mediocre people won't understand. Mint chocolate was created for the elite class."

"Did you just call me mediocre?" your jaw drops and Hyunjin laughs. It's soft, airy and so carefree that you don't mind the fact that he is laughing at you and not with you. You don't mind one bit when you break down and laugh with him, unable to keep your face straight as you lean forward on the table, your head resting on your hands and you watch Hyunjin.

You decide to tell him of your decision in this minute.

"I'm going to make Seungmin manage the team," you tell Hyunjin and he stares at you, the spoon dropping from his hand and clattering against the glass rim of the ice cream cup. You continue, "He's always wanted to manage the volleyball team and I thought I should let him—"

"Why?" He sounds hurt. Disappointed, in fact and your heart plummets down.

"I thought it's time to move on."

"From the team or Minho?"

"Minho," you say, nibbling on your lower teeth. "I want to go back to him—"

"What?" Hyunjin feels his heart sink.

"Don't cut me off, hoe," you click your tongue. "I want to go back to him and be his friend. I'm not ready to ruin a friendship over this. I just won't."

Hyunjin looks down at his cup of ice cream. His spoon digs into the cold dessert over and over again till he realises that he'll do what he has always done for you — be right by your side as your pillar.

"Feed me," Hyunjin prompts and you stare at him with a void expression, mouth still open, wondering if he suggested this only and only to change the topic. Hyunjin stretches his arm out to shut your mouth. "People are going to think I'm starving you here."

"Whoa." You lift your head up. "And if I do that, people are going to think we're possibly the cutest couple out there still in our glorious honeymoon phase of it."

"Okay," Hyunjin shrugs and leans back against the chair, folding his arms against each other.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with that."

You sit up straight and look down before finally saying, "Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Those words that make my heart flutter. I don't know what to feel, Hyunjin." Hyunjin is too stunned to react and whine over the fact that you called him properly by his name in your conversation. The fact that he too can cause your heart to race a little bit just like you have with his all these years. "Don't say them to me if you won't ever be ready to take responsibility over them."

You place your thumb and forefinger on your forehead, squeezing the skin slightly to calm the slight ache you can feel, the vein throbbing slightly and you know it is your anxiety that kicks in because you almost spilled everything out. You quickly stand up and holding your coat tightly, you look at Hyunjin who is still seated and looking at you intently.

"I need to go to the pharmacy next door. I'll wait for you there. Finish your ice cream and come."

You don't turn to look at Hyunjin as you walk out, slightly embarrassed by your own behaviour. Between you and Hyunjin, you are the one who had to keep your cool, making sure you didn't slip up or make a mess so that you could at least have time to clean his spilt milk.

You push the door of the ice cream parlour and walk out, the doorbell ringing at your push and you hold yourself in the cold breeze. If Hyunjin did not respond to it, it is only safe to presume that he feels nothing more towards you. You could at least put two and two together. Or so you thought till Hyunjin is chasing after you, big strides and dark blond hair in the wind as his rubber band comes loose and slides off a bit.

"Y/N!" He shouts and quickly holds your wrist, pulling you so quickly that you stumble forward into him. Hyunjin grips your arms to steady you and he looks at you, his brown eyes trying to peep into your soul. He smiles, hand running through his hair only to bring more strands forward, covering his vision.

Falling in love with Hwang Hyunjin, you realise, is the easy part. He makes it so easy to fall for him — when he smiles at the sun, covering his eyes or when he is covered by the dogs in dog parks all eager to hug him because that's how he just is. You don't even realise when you fall for Hyunjin but when you do, you know you are already sinking and you are far too gone for saving.

It is, however, admitting to yourself that you fell for your best friend that is hard. The Hwang Hyunjin that you have seen since the five year old boy moved next door to you. The Hwang Hyunjin that would cross dress in your clothes. The Hwang Hyunjin that would steal your dumplings. It is the same Hwang Hyunjin that you fall for. You had all these doors with specifications that opened to only men like Lee Minho and yet like the rude asshole that you oh so adorably love he seemed to tear them down. Or perhaps those doors were meant for others and Hyunjin always had a door of his own for your heart.

You should have asked yourself why but would it have really mattered? You're here with Hyunjin by your side, whether he knows your feelings or not and you couldn't be any less glad, even if you are sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing Hyunjin right there.

"I'll come back, Jinnie," you tell him, looking up at him and coughing slightly, trying to move back slightly to put some space between the two of you. "I'm not running away. I just need to buy some strips of paraceta—"

"I want to be responsible for them," His gaze doesn't leave yours. "I want to be responsible for you, your emotions and everything you are, if you let me."

You wouldn't dare to shift your eyes away, or focus on anything else. Just Hyunjin. Just your Hyunjin. Your heart beats so fast against your chest that you wonder if it ever had this much for any man or woman. And when Hyunjin pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your frame, hand flat against your head that buries your face into his chest, you learn that Hwang Hyunjin's heartbeat is always your metronome — the beat your entire life seemed to have moved smoothly to.

You giggle against his chest, breaking into a smile, "Are you asking me out, Jinnie?"

"I guess," he chuckles into your hair, snuggling himself into you. He pulls you back to explain. "My original plan was to ask you out after the practice match that I'll make sure we win, but you could possibly not be there as our manager and what if I miss the chance?"

"You lovesick boy," you laugh, smiling stupidly at him. Hyunjin cups your face and presses his forehead against yours.

"I've liked you for so long, Y/N," and you blush, lips pursed and you smile back, heart fluttering.

"Thank you," you press a kiss against his cheek.

"For what?"

"For being you and for always loving me."

Hwang Hyunjin holds your face and kisses like he is capable of getting rid of all your worries, slowly bleeding into your marrows and cells and soaking you of the very essence he is. He holds you like you are a precious being — and to him, you are because he finally has you after all these years; he finally gets to call you his.

His lips are warm and tasted of mint; obviously from the mint chocolate ice cream earlier. His hands are wrapped around your waist and yours are locked around his neck pulling him down slightly. His strands of blond locks brush against your face, ticking you slightly and you giggle into the kiss. He laughs against your lips before kissing you slowly, drawing the kiss for as long as he could. When you break apart for air, you lean forward and rest your forehead against his, gathering some much needed oxygen. His smile tells you everything you need confirmation over and you smile back, sinking into his hold.

Hyunjin hugs with gentle arms that still gives the space to breathe; yet it is the hug of a strong pair of arms that tells everything that you are - every fibre of your being - that he is with you, and you wonder how he is capable of that. How he is capable of holding like you are his whole world — like he rather hold you than anything else.

Hyunjin does exactly that. He holds you tight and close to him in this cold night, ignorant of everything else around the two of you, like you and him only mattered in the place, like you and him are fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night.

#hyunjin fluff #minho fluff #hyunjin angst #minho angst #hyunjin x reader #minho x reader #hyunjin #lee know #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids smut #skz angst #stray kids angst #hyunjin college au #minho college au #college au #hyunjin imagines #minho imagines #hyunjin scenarios #minho scenarios

[soft-boi-eli]

Ok ok! Good uhm.

Ok since body dysmorphia has been kicking my butt lately i wanted to request something with Schlatt where basically the reader Starts getting really insecure because of their body. Pushing and pulling on their stomach etc. They also start binding unsafely with like really tight bras because they can't afford a binder and they end up fucking up their ribs really bad. They end up in the hospital and a very worried Schlatt visit's them and lectures them about how they shouldn't have done that and about how worried he was. So when they get back home there is a gift on the bed, turns out Schlatt bought them a binder.

The reader would be Non-binary and afab.

Also a little message for pretty much anyone who is insecure about their body/has body dysmorphia because of their chest, don't bind unsafely. That can really fuck up your chest and make you actually being happy with your body even harder.

Hell yes. I love this idea thank you icarus! Writing has been rude to me lately and I needed inspiration. This has hit it exactly.

Pronouns:nonbinary (dont think any were actually used in this so yeah.)

Tw: AFAB reader, swearing, insecurity, mention of surgry, mention of blood, mention of hating self, pain. Again angst to fluff. It is reflecting on how I have felt about my body before because I needed to make it seem kinda real.

PSA: please dont bind safely. It's dangerous and can lead to serious health consequences. I know hating your body sucks but I dont want anyone to get hurt because they dont listen to their lungs, they dont take off their binder, or if their bras are way too fucking tight. It can and will hurt you. So please bind safely!!

Happy birth-what the fuck?!

Lately your brain was giving you more dysphoria then ever. Telling you your body was too big, your boobs were too noticable, and you hips are too feminine.

What brought this on? Someone simply said your dead name. It made your dysphoria hit you like a truck.

After that day everything went down hill. Your stopped streaming, telling your followers that you were going on a mental break, you didn't really talk to friends, your brain could put words together. And you most importantly barely texted your loving supporting boyfriend schaltt, not wanting to break down in front of him.

You never had the time or thoughts of getting a chest binder. It was your biggest mistake honestly.

Deciding against chest binders and wearing alot of tight bras to flatten you. But it didnt work. So you got tighter bras. And they did work. But you didnt read up on how to bind safely.

This lead to the predicament now. In front of your mirror you were pinching and pulling at your skin. There was too much. All you wanted to do was cut it off with scissors. But decided against it due to the fact of all the blood that you would loose.

Your chest, smaller then it was yas, was still visible after your 3rd bra. You decided to add a 4th and tighter one hoping it would completely hide your boobs.

Your body made you want to puke. It made you feel disgusting. But you never told schaltt that. Afraid that he would say that you looked as gross as you thought you did.

Only 5 minutes after the 4th bra you felt excoriating pain in your ribs. And worse of all a harsh pop. That immediately brought red flags. It hurt to breath. Your head fuzzy and light headed.

Your only reaction, to call for an ambulance. Dialing the three numbers as you whimpered in pain you held onto your lungs. "911 what's your emergency?" "I cant breathe. It hurts so bad. Please help." "Are you by yourself?" "Yes. I need help please." "Ambulance, firemen, and police are on their way. Ambulance is 2 minutes out."

You didnt know if you had 2 minutes. "They can break the door down if I dont answer." That's all you said after collapsing.

Next thing you knew your door was busted off its hinges and you saw two paramedics. They were quick to transfer you to the ambulance, cutting through the four bras that held your chest.

It help get air to your lungs but it barely helped.

"We have a collapsed lung. ETA 2 minutes." The paramedic back there with you spoke to the walkie talkie.

Collapsed lung? Was that the harsh pop? God, was the bras that bad of an idea? All that was going through your mind was how you possibly could get worse. The instant you got into the trauma bay was way worse. With no time to numb you and your O2 stats dropping they had to cut between your ribs and shove a tube right next to your left lung. Draining air and excess blood blocking your lung from inflating. And before you knew it you were off to emergency surgery for getting a shard of bone out of your chest cavity.

The last thing you remember was counting down and falling asleep.

When you woke up your boyfriend was next to your bed, hands engulfing one of yours.

It looked like he had been crying before falling asleep on one of your legs. Taking your free hand through his hair you smiled lightly. "I'm sorry for all of this ram boy." He grunted lightly and moved his head back into your hand. His messy hair was thick and nearly matted. It made you wonder how long he's been sitting there. You loved him and felt so selfish for doing this to him.

"I cant believe I did all this and for what? To cause you and everyone pain? All because i couldnt afford a chest binder and deciding that I might as well try another way. I should have been safer huh?" You didnt expect an answer back. Just his quite snores.

"Yeah. Not really fuckin selfish more like kinda dumb. Your body doesnt show who the fuck you are (y/n). Your heart does. And your heart isnt say boy or girl. Its saying you are you. A person who uses pronouns they them. A person that love everyone and cares for their friends. A person who love me and jambo so deeply."

He took a breath.

"You normally are quite smart. Saving up for one would of been a better idea instead of doing such a stupid thing. Asking for my help. Because if I knew I would of helped. I would of found one just right for you. I would help you remember to take it off after 8 hours. Even would of found a way to make you feel more like you."

You could hear his heart break.

"But now you're here, four broken ribs, a healing lung, and stuck in the hospital for another week at least."

You felt so guilty. He was right. You should of told him. He would never have seen you like you saw yourself. He never cared about how you looked. He only cared for your heart.

Tears falling down your face you continued to massage his scalp. "I could of lost you. You are my rock. When I cant keep up my normal antics and feel like I'm at an all time low. You are there to pick me up." You had to stop the sob from coming up. "I'm just so happy youre alive." He looked up.

His red eyes were making your heart ache. "I wont do it again I promise. But I cant just ignore the feeling of dread whe. I look down and realize I present so much like a girl. I dont wa t to be one." Schaltt nodded and kissed the hand he was holding. "Then let me help you. I wont let this happen again. Just please. Come to me. Talk to me. I'm here like you are for me."

You gave a small nod.

This man knew his way to your heart. He was so sincere about this. "I will. But promise me you wont look down on me if I end up feeling like that." You just needed to make sure you knew he would never but you needed his words. "Mever sugarbabe. Never in my life have I looked down on you and never will."

God the week was long, him and the doctor explaining safe binding that you cant fully bind for at least 6-8 weeks. Schlatt telling you his reaction to finding your apartment swarmed with police and firemen and you no where to be seen.

He was practicing on saying happy birthday to you. But was cut off. "Happy birth-what the fuck?!" He was so concerned and even more so when you were in hospital.

When you did go home he helped you through the door, and watched you as you saw the small package on your couch.

Opening it you saw a chest binder. Specifically the one you were looking at. Looking over to schaltt with tears in your eyes you walked up and hugged him lightly minding the pain in your left side. This was the best gift.

The only gift you had been wanting for the past week or two. "Now you can be safe. But no binding till your doctor says so or I swear to god I will personally smite you down." You had to try so hard no to laugh or the pain would of been hell. Kissing his cheek you smiled.

"Of course schaltt. I will make sure to not wear it till I'm healed dont want to get blood on it ya know. Also it would hurt like a fucking bitch."

He chuckled and ruffled your hair. "Alright now go sit down. I'll get you some soup ya dork."

This was going to be a great time. That was until the pain fully came back. And then this is going to be a mediocre time.

Please pardon spelling errors. I havent proof read. And I am on mobile for almost all stories. But thank you so much for requesting this became something that I could write and it helped me alot. Now I might take a while for other things too and i apologize that's cause i am starting school soon. Also family issues. So yeah might take a bit. Dont know how long though. I'll try to keep them coming but if not you know I'm studying or helping my mom and grandma.

Eli out.

#jschlatt x reader #mcyt fluff #schlatt x reader #mcyt #mcyt schlatt #dsmp schlatt #schlatt fluff #schlatt #please bind safely #non binary #tw: body harm #tw: body dysphoria #tw: body dysmorphia

[mojwisungie]

imgn | run towards love

req (from: anon)  ➥ :  101 dalmatians typa au where jeno's pet drags him outside bc he saw the reader who he knew would be a great match for jeno walking by with her pet who his pet thought would be a great match for him and things happen and jeno and the reader meet and they and their pets live happily ever after pls and thank you ❤

☄︎ summary: jeno almost looses his dog when it went to get him the person he never knew he needed ☄︎ pairing: lee jeno x reader ft. jeno’s dog jiho and reader’s dog eunji ☄︎ lou.note: uhhhhh kind of messy but i believe life is messy when youre a dog owner bc i myself have gotten into messy situations because of my dog lol enjoy reading! 

jiho loves his owner jeno

he has lots of reasons and on the top of the list is that jeno loves him as much as he does

they often go on walks and spend some time on cafes

honestly, jiho is living his best life™

but sometimes, he cant help but feel ??? sad ??? for jeno

he knows jeno is happy with him, but he also knows he could be happier

so jiho thinks of a brilliant plan !

find the perfect person for jeno and make them fall in love

absolutely great idea right? fool-proof !

and for the past few weeks, he and jiho are going on cafe dates again 

yeah cafe date. you read that right- they go on cute dog cafe dates where they both just chill and enjoy the toys jeno havent bought for jiho yet

ANYWAY during these dates

jiho has found the one for jeno- 

and its y/n (っ˘ω˘ς )

ask jiho, why...?

WELL ITS BECAUSE YOU’RE PERFECT

jiho has never seen someone so pretty

who owns a cute dog too!! that jiho may like as well

and who’s very very very nice she pets all of the dogs in the cafe (>_< ♡)

how did jiho find you??? huh you see:

youve been in the cafe every single day they went there too

being so, you bet jiho has tried getting jeno to come to you

keyword: tried

jeno is always distracted by something and its so frustrating for jiho to get his attention

he has tried looking at you then looking back at jeno but that didnt work bc jeno just said “are you this excited be here again?”

he has also attempted by going to where you were- which just resulted you petting jiho along with your dog eunji until you had to leave ALL THE WHILE jeno was chatting with an old man who decided to try the cafe for the first time

at this point jiho is running out of ideas

especially when he knows next week will be jeno’s last days of resting before his schedules

he might never see you and eunji again (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

AND WHAT DOES HE SEE ??? ARE YOU LEAVING EARLIER TODAY?????????

jiho is panicking . he knows its you for jeno but youre leaving and what will happen to his self-proclaimed parents if you dont !! talk !! today !!

so he comes up with a mission for himself: run towards you the moment you step out of the door so his owner has no choice but to follow

the second you exit the cafe with eunji’s leash in your hand, he bolted. literally just went for you

leaving jeno in a state of shock then sprints in his attempt to catch his dog

on another note, you stop on your tracks when you see the familiar dog from the cafe who is owned by a really cute guy wiggle its tail in front of you

seeing him prompted you to crouch down and look at his tag

when you called him by his name, oh boy he looked so happy

you picked jiho up to go back to the cafe and return him

but the moment you turned around you bumped into a chest

its that cute boy !! UHHHH you mean its the dog’s owner !!

jeno was a rambling mess when he came up to you saying sorry for bumping into you and how he didnt expect his dog to run after you because he’s disciplined and he definitely isn’t an irresponsible owner too

tbh you thought he wouldnt stop on his shaky speech so you softly laugh and tell him its okay

jeno . felt himself have an error

your laugh sounded so angelic and the way you look is so beautiful ???

you’re so mesmerizing

AND HE SAID THAT OUT LOUD AKSFJAKFJ

you’re like “oh 😳”

he’s so embarrassed he’s practically a human tomato with all the blushing

he stutters on what to say ??? so you were both standing by the sidewalk for a few until he gains most of his composure back and asks

“Can I ask you out for lunch sometime? As a form of thanks for picking up Jiho?”

to which you replied with, “Well as long as I get to see your mesmerizing face and your cute dog too, then sure :)”

bonus:

the two of you decided to go on a picnic date for that

...which led to many more dates

that included jiho and eunji often!

seeing jeno happier than never before also brought happiness to jiho

a few years into the future, it’s not a surprise for him and eunji be included in jeno’s proposal for you

and when that day came, he knew it was never a mistake for him to run after you

because even if he kinda got an earful when they came home

the smile on his owner’s face on the day you said yes made him forget all the scolding

#nct #nct dream #nct dream jeno #lee jeno #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #jeno imagines #nct reactions #nct dream reactions #jeno reactions #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #jeno scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jeno fluff #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader

[sweetcurlyhaz]

Percy Jackson is an Hufflepuff- Part 1

Yes. Percy is an Hufflepuff, and now I’ll explain why. First, some brief introductions: English isn’t my first language, so sorry for my grammar errors. Pls be kind. Second, this is MY opinion, but I’ll argue with solid proofs, taking scenes from the books, comparing characters and more. Let’s go step by step.

-Why Percy is not a Ravenclaw? I really have to explain this? I think we all agree that Percy could never be a Ravenclaw.

-Why Percy is not a Slytherin? Oh, here we go. A lot of ppl think Percy is a Slytherin and I’m always like “WHAT”. And now I’ll show you why Percy could never be a Slytherin.

1- I think the best proof is in the Sea of Monsters, where at the end Percy give the Golden Fleece to Clarisse. We all know that Percy save the situation, that HE take the Golden Fleece, that HE saved Clarisse’s ass. Despite that, he gave the G.F. to Clarisse, who took all the credit. A Slytherin would never do that, a true Slytherin, already wouldn’t help Clarisse (not because Slytherin can’t be kind, but surely they’re not with ppl they don’t like), and above all wouldn’t give his/her own glory to Clarisse. Percy’s altruism, kindness and true sense of justice overcome his pride, glory and power. Is it just me that think about of our lovely Cedric Diggory? I mean, is almost the exact thing that Cedric does with Harry: he says to him to take the goblet fire instead of him. Percy does the same.

2- When he refuses to be a god. THIS. I mean, how Hufflepuff is this? What kind of Slytherin refuses a thing like that? I’ll tell you, NONE. Percy thinks about how wonderful should be being almighty, powerful, and immortal. BUT, he can’t abandon his friends and family. He could never do that, and this is so Hufflepuff, right? For Percy, family and friends always come first. In reverse, a Slytherin would take this chance because they are AMBITIOUS and they want to be POWERFUL (hear me out, this is not a bad thing at all). PERCY IS NOT AMBITIOUS, or he would have accepted to be a god! Also, what Percy ask to the gods, instead of being one? “all demigods have to be recognized, and all the minor gods should have a cabin at CHB.” His request is SO humble and SO unselfish that only an Hufflepuff could ask that.

3- His fatal flaw: loyalty. We all know that a main characteristic of being an Hufflepuff is loyalty, and that’s said all. But I’m a good person so I’ll explain this even if there’s no need, and also I’m sure someone could say “EvEN SLyThERin cAN be LoYAl”. Yeah, you’re right. BUT Slytherin’s loyalty is a lot different. Their loyalty is limited only to a small group of friends, and also if their friends affect their goals, a Slytherin is no more loyal to them. Example: Regulus Black. At first he’s loyal to Voldemort, because he truly thinks he’s right. But when he realize the means Voldy uses, Regulus goes against him (we love you Reg). His no more loyal because Voldemort’s behavior go against Regulus’ beliefs. Now, Percy (thanks to the gods) is a good person and has a straight moral on what’s wrong and what’s right. But have you ever think how dangerous he could be if he was evil? I mean, if someone dare to touch an hair of Annabeth he could loose his freaking mind. Evil Percy could be really a problem because his loyalty goes first of his other beliefs. He would do anything to protect his friends, anything.

Another example: let’s analyze the relationship of Percy and Nico. We all agree that Nico is an ambiguous character. He tries to kill Percy, than helps him, the lies to him, and more. I mean, he is the last character to be loyal to, right? But Percy still have faith on him, he’s still loyal to him. Percy asks Nico to bring the seven at the other side, and never doubts on him. A Slytherin would never place  such responsibility on a character like Nico (I love Nico, but that’s the true). This loyalty, deep and irrational, can only be of an Hufflepuff.

4-Another proof (there are A LOT) why Percy isn’t a Slytherin: he doesn’t want to be powerful. I write this before in the second point, but I have another proof from The House of Hades. Do you remember when he controls poison against the goddess of discord? Okay, at first he likes what that power makes him feel, he doesn’t want to stop. But when he sees Annabeth’s face he calms down. So, this thing with poison is a new power for him: but he never uses it. Remember when, under the sea with Jason, he says something like “I could have controlled the poison, but I didn’t. It was the goddess’ revenge and I deserve it.” A Slytherin wouldn’t have such problem, they would use this new power on their favor. But Percy’s sense of justice overcome the feeling of power, even if he likes it somehow.

5-I saw that a lot of ppl think Percy is a Slytherin because of the cunning thing. English is not my first language and I have never heard this word before. So I did some researches: cunning is another way to say “smart” “clever” “sly”. Is like being smart but in a malicious way (please correct me if I’m wrong!!). And they take as an example that part in the Mark of Athena, where’s Percy trick the enemy’s crew by inventing the story of the Diet Coke and Mister D. Or another one is Percy gets Luke to admit to all CHB that he poisoned Thalia’s tree. And others. All of this are valid proof but remember why Percy does it. We have to go deeper, not just looking on what he does but WHY he does it. And all the evidences I said to you above are connected to one point: his fatal flaw. He is cunning to protect his friends, he would do anything for them. Also, how long being cunning is a Slytherin thing? I think there’s a lot of misunderstandings about this. Being a Slytherin doesn’t mean you have to be cunning or whatever, and be an Hufflepuff doesn’t mean you have to be always kind. I’m really sad that we don’t have a GOOD Slytherin (Ik there’s Regulus, but we don't have so much informations about him) to compare with Percy, that would be awesome and constructive (J.K. take notes).

6- “He’s not patient, he can’t be an Hufflepuff.” Alright, so I assume who said this is because Percy has ADHD and dyslexia. Ehm...what? What’s this supposed to mean? Only because Percy is a trouble kid doesn’t mean he can’t be an Hufflepuff. I really hate this way of thinking. Now, patient is not just like “See the plant growing and never get boring or impatient because is too slow.” Being patient is more. Percy is patient? No, he isn’t. Due to his character, and his ADHD, Percy can’t be patient. But this is when it comes to manual and practical things, like fight, or when he plays on capture the flag or when he’s angry. Let’s analyse how is Percy in the relationships. Percy and Annabeth (I love them); at first it might seem that Percy isn’t patient with her: they argue a lot, they yell at each other and so on. But, in reality Percy is patient with her feelings (apart the Luke thing, Percy is so jealous), he never push her, he never ask to her anything on what she feels. Even when they’re engaged he says (in MoA) their relationship is like a little statue of glass and he was terrified of having scared her with his big (and lovely) plans. I think that being with Annabeth involves a LOT of patient.

His relationship with Nico: I mean, we all love Nico, but who doesn’t want to give him a slap after he lied to him in the SoN? I think Percy would love to do it (I’M KIDDING. NO DI ANGELO WILL BE HURT IN THIS BLOG). Percy is really patient with him, from the very start: remember all the questions Nico asks Percy? And he was so annoying, but Percy was patient with him. Another example: Percy and Tyson. We love Tyson, he’s like a big bear, but how annoying was with Percy and Grover? But Percy always stand by his side, never yell at him the way he really want, and he is really patient with him. I’m not saying that Percy is the perfect patient boy, but in some way Percy is patient too when he wants (Annabeth is less patient than him in my opinion).

Ok, I think I said all about this. I have a lot more to say but this is becoming a poem so i have to stop XD. I wish i could do just one post but it’d be extremely long so i will split in Part 1 and Part 2 this argument. In the next post I will say why Percy can’t be a Gryffindor :). There’s one more thing I want to say, and I think is really important. The house thing is sadly really restrictive. Rick Riordan’s characters have a complex psychology and are really well built. I think that see a character psychology only in relation to his house is wrong. For example, Percy is such more than what we said. But if we have to put him in a house we can’t look to all his peculiarities. It’s like a brainstorming: when I said Percy, I always think about his sarcasm, his loyalty, his bravery ecc. To put someone in a house of Hogwarts is necessary to go streight to the point, and analyze WHY he does something, not only what.

Thank you for reading this, I will appreciate it if you comment your opinion or if you reblog this. And remember: We’re not just a house. We’re more.

#percy jackson #hufflepuff #slytherin #hogwarts house #percy is an hufflepuff #percy hufflepuff #analysis #fatal flaw #argument

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Four.

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

I´ll be posting this one over here because Tumblr, for some reason, thinks my secondary blog is a bot...

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

Now, about the PAIRING... I will be using choices style, kinda, because I want to give you choice at some point. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i’m sorry fo the grammar errors

CHAPTERS

The beginning

Chapter one 

Chapter two

Chapter three

ONE-SHOTS

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

—————————————————————— 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Zoey Wade. The nerve of this girl of interrupt her meal. Poppy took the time to leave her fork down before bury her gaze into the other girl.

“I should be asking you the same thing. Who do you think you are to talk to me?” She asked exasperated.

So far she was doing good, the last details of her plan were tuned, the day to destroy Chloe and take back her very deserved number one place had come. The excitement she get every time she made a perfect move in order to obtain what she wants was in her veins, but of course, something had to happen. Or someone.

“Don’t play the fool, Poppy. It doesn't suit you. I'll ask once again: What are you doing with Beck?”

“Oh, what do we have here…?” She thought, intrigued.

“I’m sorry, did you crashed your head against the pavement or why do you think I owe you an explanation?” Poppy pushed her salad aside, her appetite completely gone because of the insolence. This Nobody thought she could come and disrespect her in her own spot of the cafeteria like they were in the same level. Zoey was seriously stupid. “Whatever me and Beck are doing is not you fucking business, Wade. Why don’t you just get a life a little less pathetic and go on with it.”

The spark in Zoey’s eyes changed, a little mix between anger and a cold serious look that, Poppy had to admit, scare her for a split second and then… jealousy? The other girl leaned on the table towards her, threatening, trying to intimidate her, but Poppy stood still, not giving her the pleasure to give in to her ridiculous games. Especially feeling all those eyes over them, people murmuring and whispering. She couldn’t let her have her way.

“Listen very closely, Min-Sinclair: I care about Beck and we all here agree you’re a selfish bitch. I know you’re not up to something good, so I will do everything on my power to make sure Beck’s far away from you claws.” That was so ridiculous that Poppy cracked a smile, making fun of Wade. She couldn't even be mad with a clown like her. “I’m telling you now, back off…”

The two of them kept that position a few second, a fight between wills neither of them wanted to loose. Finally, was Zoey the first to walk away, falsely believing her message was received.

Oh, Zoey… as if you could do something to stop her from her aims.

“Hey, Zoey?” Poppy called, the daggers in her mouth ready to hurt her really bad. “Why would anyone be interested in you while they have me?” Zoey stopped immediately, the strike hitting the spot. Poppy smirked, understanding everything right in the moment. Zoey likes Beck, it was so clear it actually felt cliché

“Ha! This must be entertaining.” Poppy thought, enjoying the effect of her words in Zoey.

“You’re just a three-digit fool who hasn't learn her place. Why don't you save yourself from humiliation and forget about Beck completely?” The strawberry blonde smiled at Zoey with a friendly smirk. “You know? My day with them yesterday was really good, so I'm feeling generous.” Poppy took her things and walked to be face to face with Zoey, who was getting red from frowning. “I’m forgetting about everything you just said and giving you a second chance. You see? I’m making you a favor! Your welcome, sweetie.” She added with an obviously pretentious voice before going out the cafeteria.

Even though she looked calm and perfect as always, inside Poppy was furious.

How she dares!

What the hell was wrong with that loser? Does she really was that horny for Beck?

“Well… if she was, I couldn't really blame her…” Poppy thought.

She wasn’t lying back at the shelter; she really thought they were cute. The way they looked at the animals, that stupid, goofy smile and congratulations Beck gave the puppies and kittens everytime Piper told them they did a great job. Poppy had a lot of fun doing the commercial, so much so she couldn’t help but be so honestly involved in the making, enjoying every part of it, in fact, Beck was different from how they’re act in Belvoire everytime they both meet.

They weren’t infuriating, insulting, a ranking climber, selfish dude who played the game even better than she expected. Actually, while having lunch, Beck was… fine. A big asshole from time to time but in a funny way. Pretending to be so nice and shit was actually easier than she thought around Beck, she was even glad to have them now at ten spot. Definitely she did a good choice.

But now, Zoey had to come and ruin her everything. And it actually pissed off Poppy badly. Beck didn’t need a personal protector, and Poppy didn’t need competition. She believed it would be easier to have Beck, at first she thought it was because they were trans, she read about it online: most people wouldn't date a trans person because… reasons.

But Belvoire proved to be different: it turns out Beck had a lot of friends, and a lot of girls daydreaming about them as usually they do around Alphas, admiring them secretly while doing exercises in the gym, trying to dance with them in parties… but Beck refused all of them. They were shy, they looked uncomfortable with anyone.

Anyone except Zoey Wade.

The both were really close, always together like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Before all this, the very same Poppy had seen them hugging, flirting and practicing music together. Still, the strawberry blonde never thought of her as a threatening opponent. But now, Zoey Wade just make herself a target to eliminate, maybe not this time, after all, she did give her a second chance. She was a woman behind her own word.

But… She still had to do something. So she quickly took off her phone, typing a message to the matter at hand.

Poppy:

So here’s the plan

I'll need you to meet me at this address at 10pm sharp

Don't disappoint me, tushi-face 😏

She waited a few seconds, almost a minute. What took them so long?

Tushi-face🤡:

What? Why?

Poppy:

You'll have to trust me 😉

She looked at her screen, waiting for Beck’s answer. What were they doing? Texting Zoey? Her patience was running low when a little buzz alerted her.

Tushi-face🤡:

This can't be good. I'm not going

Were they serious?! Beck was playing with her kindness more than they should. No good at all.

Poppy:

Coward 🙄

Tushi-face🤡:

I'm not a coward

Quick answer. Poppy smirked mischievously. Beck always gave her a lot of information to work with, so transparent it was almost a sin to take advantage of it. Almost.

Poppy:

Prove it 💅🏻

Typing… typing… nothing… typing… typing…

Tushi-face🤡:

I’m going to regret this, am I?

Poppy:

Sending the location now

With a smug smile, Poppy send to Beck the location where the Club Malibu was. It was a exclusive place where only the elite could go. Yes, she said Zoey was temporarily off limits… but she didn't say she wouldn't be taking her chances up.

Tushi-face🤡:

Clubbing? Not my kind of place really

Poppy:

Ew, when you put it like that you sound so boring

Tushi-face 🤡:

Why do you want me there anyways?

Poppy:

All in due time, Farmsville

All in due time 😘

~~X~~

Poppy check the hour in her phone once again, it was almost 10 pm and she was already expecting Beck to show up because of the paranoia. Her foot tapping repeatedly against the floor it was the proof everyone around her needed to know she was nervous. What the hell took them so long? Did Beck decided to ditch her last minute?

Was it Zoey Wade´s fault?

She swore to god she´ll kill the girl after a humiliating and memorable reve…

“Could you calm down already? They already here” She heard Bradley say and immediately look right at the door, where Beck was being escorted to the V.I.P. area just like she asked for.

Damn, the dude knew their ways.

Beck was looking fucking hot, the black scheme really suits them and the way the shirt showed his muscles caused a lot of eyes stick to them as thirsty bastards. To top it all, the song playing in the back and Beck´s expressions were on point to make them look sexy as hell. Feeling a pang of jealousy, Poppy frowned. At what point will this bitches stop looking Beck like a piece of meat? Disgusted, Poppy stood up from her seat, very willing to show all these whores who they were competing against. With a sexy and confident smirk, the strawberry blonde walked towards Beck, sashaying her hips seductively, quickly catching Beck´s gaze.

And she loved it.

She could see the gasp, how the air escaped their lungs and redness taking over their face. Oh how she adored to cause that effects in Beck, all those girls didn’t have a chance. Embracing their strong arm, Poppy smile at them leaning her body against them, drawing a property line.

“Hey there, Tushi-face. I´m glad to see you´re not totally incapable of following directions.” She greeted them, leading the way to the exclusive section.

“Nice to see you too, Poppy.”

“Really? That was all?”

“I have to say… You´re looking fine tonight”

“Yeah, that´s what I thought”

“Is that your attempt at flattery, Farmsville?” She was not going easy on them.

“I´m not stupid enough to try and flatter you. I was just stating facts.” Oh god, that was so cliché she even scoffed. How many times have her hear that before? But something about Beck being the one to say it, turned her perfect pout into a haughty smile. As she was saying, pretending with Beck was easy, it came to her naturally, effortless.

“Maybe you´re more observant than I gave you credit for. I like it. And I have to say, I´m shocked. For once you don’t look completely unfortunate. And here I thought you were a total lost cause.” She joked, smiling just like before while having lunch.

“Wow, back to squared one already with sucking compliments?” Beck smirked, a total funny jerk.

“Try not to push your luck, Farmsville. You don´t want to be on my bad side, again.”

“Really? I don’t see the difference.” They pointed out, testing her. Poppy came closer to them, completely pressing her body against Beck´s arm, letting them feel her heat, her breast, her perfume. The distance between the two was so close that Poppy could feel their fresh breath, her own heart beating fast, excited as she whispered in their ear.

“Stay with me through the night and I promise I´ll give you a taste of the differences…”

Their dilated pupils, the small, imperceptible shiver in their body and that cute yet sexy gesture in their face that appeared after Poppy move away was all she needed to see. She actually liked them…

And she was gonna have them.

-----

Next

#zoey wade #queen b zoey #queen b choices #choices #trans #ftm #poppy x mc #malemc #poppy min sinclair #bea hughes #Beck Hughes #choices stories you play #choices poppy #choices queen b mc #mc x poppy

[acciofandomlove]

Indian Education System Sucks

I guess I've basically conveyed the emotions of thousands of students in India. The education system is so idiotic it makes Donald Trump look smart. Why have I started this rant out of nowhere?? Well, let me tell you a story....

So I'm good at maths, I even enjoy maths (surprising for some, I know). I'm not always amazing at it, I do make calculation errors but I still love the subject. So we had this proof in triangles that I successfully proved using concepts from the book (eventhough I knew much more effective methods) and I still got some marks deducted for the question. Naturally I asked the teacher why?? I thought that maybe I used a concept wrong or the calculation had errors. She reads my proof and then looks me straight in the eye and says, "This proof is correct but it's not the one in the book." 

Yup! I got less marks because I used creativity to give answers rather than mug them up. Hilarious right!!

I can't really blame the teacher though. She explained to me, "If it were up to me I would have given you the marks but when the paper goes for checking in another school for the boards (Boards are basically the main exams like SATs in India. Takes place in 10th and 12th, I'm in 10th, compulsory for all. Checked by another school's teacher) the teacher who checks your paper may not be very smart and if you don't write the proof as it is described in the book you'll get your marks deducted."

So basically I'm being punished because of another teacher's incompetence. How just. This will surely be beneficial to develop our minds.

I always thought that maths helped increase your intelligence, not your memory power. 

It's not just about maths. Science, social science, english, etc. Everything is based on mugging up. I can get that you must stick to what the course contains and not go beyond that, but it's not that, it's writing the exact words of the books, the exact terminology. Doesn't matter if your answer held the same meaning, you must stick to what the book has written.

There are other problems too.

In english, you write an answer within the word limit they say you must explain more and when you explain then they say that you've exceeded the word limit. When you keep both in mind, they say you've cramped too much information into the answer, it wasn't needed. Create the prefect balance they say. Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know that I had to be Shakespeare and reach your impossible standards to get good grades. 

In social science, use specific terms. You would think that they are taking about important terms like revolution, patriarchy, civil war or something. Nope, it's terms like vis-a-vis, dominant, value (and these are words from my test that have marks deduced for them) which had been replaced with words or phrases with similar or even the same meaning. Some of the information is also outdated, like the climate chapter which states that summer in Delhi ends in May when everyone knows that the full effect of summer is experienced in June. Even our teacher says that the text is outdated.

The worst part, this won't happen to everyone just the smart kids. It wouldn't even happen in the actual boards. But it will happen all throughout 10th in every test, emphasis on preboard 2. And if you are a student who scores above 90% in most exams. Well good luck cause the teacher's will come after you like rabid animals. Unless you're incredibly good at mugging up cause then you're totally fine. The excuse for this? "You're a smart kid and we are just pointing out your flaws so you can do better in the finals." I guess this is kinda smart in some ways but it has four major negative side effects too.

One, setting seemingly impossible standards. For a student like me who has problem mugging up information, this system of exact terminology is stressful. Even besides that, there are some expectations (like the English one I mentioned) that are so ridiculous. How can you expect a 15-16 year old to cope up with this?

Two, disheartened students. I'm not usually one to fret over less marks. But God, this continuous feeling of not living up to even your own expectations is disheartening. Sure, soon enough this slump gets you even more determined to do better but the original feeling is absolutely horrible. And I've seen people not even take care of their health or become depressed due to this. Thankfully, I have no intentions of going down that path. 

Third, acceptance. This is not the good kind of acceptance where the student accepts their marks and moves on, studying hard for the next exam. In this acceptance, the student gets a slump in their marks, starts contemplating if they're not actually as smart as they thought, lowers their own expectations and then still studies somewhat but doesn't care what grade they get. This basically sucks out all the ambitiousness from inside a person.

Fourth and maybe the most important, parents. Fortunately, my parents have been very supportive and have encouraged me to do better. But they do have expectations, not unrealistic ones, but still present. And I feel so horrible when I let then down. I can only imagine what the child of a not so supportive parent feels like. 

I'm just talking about 10th, but all throughout your school experience, slowly-slowly students loose their inquisitiveness and become parrots who can repeat the words but not understand its meaning. Why is it that the despite having such a huge working population and being a tech hub, the number of innovative inventions and ideas that come up are limited in India? Students suicides, on the other hand, are enjoying a steady incline. Most of them are done due to stress of studies. Not encouraging suicide, there is always a better way, but this must indicate towards something. 

I see some of the smartest students I know getting their marks deducted cause they know too much or cause they don't answer in the exact manner that the teacher wishes the answer to be in. This is complete stupidity!

I could easily rant more if I wanted to but I'll just stop by quoting a line from the movie 3 Idiots (the best movie for any Indian student or even any student in the world). "Even the lion learns how to sit on the stool because of the fear of a whip. But we call that lion well-trained not well-educated."

Unfortunately, it'll take a long time for our country to understand this. 

#school #education #learning #inquisitiveness #creativity #mugging up #English #maths #social science #science #idioticy #stupidity #sucks #student #India #Indian #Indian education system #stress #time to change #well educated not well trained #evolution

[kiarasflowr]

Kiara Carrera Imagine. True love has a habit of coming back. Authors note: I haven’t gone back and proof read so I apologize if there are any errors. Honestly I’m just hyped about getting this posted.

At the age of sixteen, love had taken hold of your heart for the very first time. It was different than the way you loved family, or a friend, it was so much more. And you didn’t find it in the boy with shaggy brown hair, or the one with baby blue eyes. You found it in the girl, with chocolate brown eyes and a pretty smile.

You met her a year prior, walking on the sand which belonged to the beach. She had strayed away from her friends, and upon running into you, had insisted on accompanying you for the rest of the day. The two of you used the time to soak in the sun, breathing in the ocean air as you unraveled each other. And when the night crept up on you, the sunset turning into a dark shade of blue, she walked you home, where she scribbled her number onto your wrist and kissed your cheek goodnight.

From that moment forward, you spent nearly every day together, a friendship blossoming between the two of you. Friendship soon turned into more, though, when feelings came into the picture. The one thing you wanted, Kiara wanted just as much, and so a new label took shape for both of you – lovers.

For two years, she was your person. The one who made you laugh when you wanted to cry, the one who knew all of your secrets, the one who held your hand when you were scared, the one who held your hair back when you were sick on the bathroom floor. Kiara was there to love you on every good day and every bad day.

She was never afraid to show you off or spill out all of her love for you. And for every minute you spent together, you adored one another, memorizing features, touches, words, moments that would forever be embedded in your mind and heart.

It was young love, and it burned so brightly, the flames of it wrapping you up in its warm arms. But just as any other thing caught up in flames, like any other fire that burned, it died out, becoming only a pocket of smoke that took the breath from your lungs and left you dry, scarred by its once so high heat.

You’d grown older, college and higher responsibilities coming into view. And while you loved the ocean and the people you’d known and loved, you knew what was best for you wouldn’t be found in the Outer Banks.

Just as your parents did, you wanted more for yourself. You didn’t want to be stuck in the cut, working until you fell to your knees, living in a place that never really felt like home. So, when the opportunity arised for you to leave and start fresh hundreds of miles away from the place you grew up, you jumped for it — even if it terrified you. Even if it meant leaving the girl you loved behind.

After your senior year, you spent that last summer with Kiara and the pogues, indulging in adventure and moments that made your heart swell. You lived each day of those three months like it was your last, letting yourself drown in every moment and every feeling. You loved deeper than you ever had before, cried harder, held on tighter, because you knew you’d be leaving all of this in the rear view mirror.

Nothing could prepare you, though, for the day you were meant to say goodbye. Nothing could prepare you for the ache in your chest, your heart heavy with the realization of what you’d be losing. But you pushed yourself through, packing your car with what little you owned, plastering on a smile for those who surrounded you in your last hour.

Your parents were the first to bid their goodbyes, not wanting to linger too long. Then came your friends, who each gave you their best wishes and left you with warm hugs and a good luck goodie basket. Kiara was last.

To see her, standing before you with water clouded eyes and red stained cheeks, it tore you apart. She was mere inches apart from you, scared to touch you because she knew it would be the last time. Her lips were in a pout, wavering as she struggled to keep her tears from spilling out.

“Kie...” You took a small step closer, concern and sadness lacing your voice. Her eyes closed, her chest rising as she inhaled a deep breath of air. When she opened them, your reflection glistening in her chocolate brown eyes, she closed off the distance between your bodies, wrapping her arms around your waist.

Her head was buried into the fabric of your shirt, but she spoke anyways, “I wish you would stay here, with me.”

“I know, baby, I know. Believe me, the last thing I want is to leave you, but you know me better than anyone, so, you know just how much I need this.”

Despite you thinking it wasn’t even possible, her arms tightened around you. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to say goodbye.”

“Neither do I. But Kie, we’ve always known that this time would come. And for what it’s worth, I promise to keep in touch. We can call, or text, hell, I’ll even write you letters.”

Kiara sighed and lifted her head from its previous placement on your chest, “Promise?”

“Yes, of course. I promise.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, the atmosphere filling with silence. You couldn’t help but smile yourself, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheeks with your hands. She leaned into your warmth, her eyes fluttering in content.

“I love you, so much. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you too, Y/n. Always.”

Your gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, “Can I kiss you? One last time?”

She didn’t respond, simply nodding her head before pressing her lips to yours in a gentle but passionate, lingering kiss. When it felt as if the air from your lungs had emptied, you leaned away, pressing your forehead against hers. As a tear slid down her cheek, you brushed it away with your thumb.

“Don’t forget me, okay?”

“Never.” Pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, you felt the warmth of her hold disappear and she stepped back. “Goodbye, Kie.”

Kiara only gave you a soft smile, waving you off as you settled into the drivers seat of your car. With her standing still in your rear view mirror, you started the ignition and gave her one last glance, before stepping on the pedal and driving off into what would be your future.

The next four years passed by quickly, though for the first few months it wasn’t easy. Missing Kiara and everything you left behind came in waves, and the nights were lonely. But as time passed you by, the pain slowly drifted away. You were twenty two now, living in a one bedroom apartment near the city, graduating college with a bachelor’s degree.

You had your fair share of flings through out the years, but nobody ever compared to Kiara, though you never gave anyone a chance. You’d become accustomed to being alone, rather content actually.

On occasion though, you couldn’t help but indulge in memories, especially the ones you made with Kiara. For the first few months after you left, you managed to keep in touch, calling every other night and sending texts in between. But as you grew busier and Kiara filled her time with other people, it came to a stop. Neither of you had heard from each other at all for the past three years. It was the classic tale of friends turned lovers, lovers turned strangers. Strangers with memories of what once was.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you spoke to any of your friends. You often wondered where life took them, where life took Kiara. But your curiosity never made you pick up the phone, so you simply imagined a life for each of them — a life with happiness, success, and love. At least you hoped they each had that. You even wondered if they thought about you, if they wondered about you. Or maybe, if they forgot about you.

After your graduation, your parents, who were still located in the same old house in the Outer Banks, reached out to you. And not too long after, you booked a ticket to visit them. While you had only planned to reunite with family, there was a part of you that hoped you’d be reuniting with your old friends. The possibility of seeing Kiara again, though, after all this time, absolutely terrified you.

But when you got off the ferry, a suitcase in tow, the fresh ocean air filling the atmosphere around you, you felt at peace. You were more than ready to have your break from the big city, to relax and familiarize yourself with all that you left behind.

The minute you arrived on the doorstep to your childhood home, your mother dragged you inside, wrapping you up in her arms. Your father wasn’t far behind you, carrying in your suitcase and giving you a pat on the back.

“We missed you so much.” Your mom smiled up at you, the smile on her face bright but her eyes filled to the brink with tears.

“Mom, please don’t cry.” You chuckled and rubbed her back in comfort. She sighed and separated herself from you, giving you a full once over.

“Gosh, my baby looks so grown up.”

“That’s what happens when you get older, mom.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get sassy with me.” The two of you laughed together, before suddenly your smile faltered in rememberance of Kiara.

In notice of your expression, your mother and father exchanged knowing looks. “Honey... you should go to her.”

Suddenly, despite the lingering dread, your chest bubbled with hope. “She’s still here?”

“She never left. Go. Dinner’ll be ready when you get back.”

“Thank you.” With a nod of appreciation, you rushed out the door, not hesitating to run to the one place you knew best — the chateau. Even if years had passed, you hoped that everyone held together without you. You hoped that you’d show up at John B’s door, and Kiara would be there, just like old times.

Your feet ached by the time you arrived at his doorstep, but you straightened your posture and flattened out your wrinkled clothing, knocking on the wood before you. Within seconds, the door swung open to reveal John B himself.

“Oh my god. Y/n?” A smile immediately tugged at his lips, and before you could even get a word in, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you off of your feet as he spun you. Once you were back on your feet in front of him, you looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“As much as I’ve missed the whole gang... um, is Kiara around?”

“I figured you’d ask that. She’s not here at the moment, if that’s what you’re asking. But I do believe she’s down by the water, with Jj.”

“Thank you. I’ll uh, come back, okay? I just really need to see her.”

John B nodded knowingly and pushed you playfully out the door. You gave him a smile over your shoulder before heading off in the direction to the beach. You didn’t run this time, choosing to take it slow. Every second it took you to get down to the water felt so much longer, your mind in chaos.

But when you stepped into the sand, two blurry figures in your view, you felt as if you might explode with excitement. You quickened your pace as you heard her laugh in the distance, Jj splashing her with the cold ocean water. As you got closer, your presence becoming known, Jj’s head turned in your direction. Just as with John B, a smile spread across his face at his realization. Kiara had yet to turn around, though, as you came to a stop in the damp sand.

“Uh, Kie, turn around.” Jj made a circle motion with his finger, gesturing toward where you stood still. Kiara’s features furrowed in confusion as she spun around, her eyes landing on your sunlit frame. There was a faint, hesitant smile on your lips, fear of her reaction settling in.

“Y/n?” There was a hoarseness to her voice, your name brushing past her lips in a mutter. But when your presence fully settled, she laughed, a warm smile adorning her features. Suddenly her legs were carrying her over to you, her arms wrapping around you without hesitancy. “You came back.”

You couldn’t help the tears of joy that flooded your eyes as you held her, breathing in her familiar coconut scented shampoo. “Of course I came back.”

Just like the day you left, she looked up at you with her big brown eyes. But this time, there was something else gleaming in them — she was happy.

“I missed you, every day. I- I thought you forgot about me, you know? I thought I’d never see you again.” There was a crack in her words as she spoke. You shook your head and cupped her cheek.

“I could never forget about you, Kiara Carrera. I don’t think I ever even stopped loving you.”

“Me too.” Kiara examined your face, memorizing the features that had slowly slipped from your mind over the years. You were so much more beautiful than she remembered.

“Can I kiss you?”

Her words caught you by surprise, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about kissing her again since the day you left.

“Yes. Please kiss me.”

Within milliseconds, her lips were on yours. It was different than your last kiss, filled with a sense of longing and need. She still tasted like berries, though. Her hands were tangled in your hair and the warmth of her mostly bare skin had enveloped you. When she pulled away, you tugged your bottom lip in with your teeth, the taste of her chapstick on your tongue.

“How long will you be staying?”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe I come back here, permanently. Settle down and all that.”

Kiara squeezes your hand in hers, her smile spreading. Even Jj was smiling big behind her. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Definitely.”

Taglist @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @harrysbbby @pogue-writings @shawnssongs @maybe-maybanks @maybankdreams @thelocalpogue @maybankiara @bluebirdsbluebells @outrbanks @milaonthemoon @calumbroutledge @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @blueeyedbesson @heywards @jjmaybankx @kitluvs1 @ssjiara @downbytheouterbanks @thorsangel @drewstarkey @poguemacking @pixelated-pogues

#obx #outerbanks #lgbt #kiaracarrera #imagine #fic #kiaraxreader #romance #kiaracarreraxreader #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #teen #loveislove #love #johnbroutledge #jjmaybank #popeheyward #sarahcameron

[fyrapartnersearch]

Slashy Twilight, anyone? (M/M Edward/male!Bella)

Hey all! My name is Liz! I’m 31, and I’m located in CST. I’ve got an idea I’ve been kicking around for a while, and I’d love to find someone I can really get into this with!

Loosely put, I’m looking for some Twilight slash. But, like…Edward/male!Bella kind of slash. XD I’m talking, in-depth, kinda gritty detail, romantic sort of writing. I wanna have some real good fun with this plot!

(NOTE: All pairings will be M/M!)

I’m looking for a partner who is: * Literate (decent grasp of the English language, few typos) * Descriptive (at least 2-3 paragraphs per reply) * Active/Enthusiastic (at least once every week; ideally once a day or more!) * Friendly/Loves to chat OOC! (PLEASE? I love plotting with my partners and just chilling! Let’s be friends!)

I do have a few rules (linked below), and I’m sorry if they’re a tad repetitive, but I’m just trying to make sure we’re all on the same page!

If you’re interested, please check out my plots/pairings, rules and reach out!

*Legend** Bold Italics = role I’d prefer to play Italics = undecided/either one/flexible Stars = an area of particular interest/craving

FANDOM Twilight***** Edward Cullen/male!Bella Swann******

As stated above, I’d really like to dig into the details with these two. I’m not looking for sappy, one-dimensional self-insert cardboard cut-out characters. I want to explore how these two click, their likes, dislikes - all that good stuff. I’m absolutely itching to tweak things around. For example, what if the rash of murders that are happening in Forks are actually more than a mention? I’d love to do, like…sort of an investigative journalist type of thing for male!Bella. He comes to Forks to find A Big Story, and finds “serial killers”. Who turn out to actually be vampires.

As well, I would love for Edward to be more at odds with himself? I’m totally cool with the Cullens living on animals for their blood, but I want to see more depth to them. Give me angsty Edward, give me Edward who actually kind of doesn’t give a shit about humans and would be fine feeding from them if Carlisle didn’t forbid it. I want things to start off interesting.

I would also really love to explore the other Cullens as well, and work this into a long, winding story! Give me opposing viewpoints, characters with depth to them, give me tense situations and slow-burn romance and maturity! Let’s really sink our teeth into this!

(Again I would like to state that, although we’d be heavily retooling the characters, I’m NOT looking for original characters for this line, per se. I just really want to take things and flip them on their head!)

~~~ Rules! (PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTACTING ME! I know it’s a lot, but it’s all I ask.)

Being 31, I am perfectly willing to write smut. As such, I will only write with you if you’re 20+. I’m sorry, it has nothing to do with talent or ability; it’s simply a matter of comfort on my end. I’m also not into PWP/smut for smut’s sake. I like my sexy times to come up naturally in the narrative and help to move a story along. However! I am just as happy getting an R+ scene going and letting it fade naturally, if it’s something we’re both rather more comfortable with. I find that smut is not always necessary to make a good story.

Style: I am looking for a partner that’s mostly-literate (few spelling errors outside of typos, decent comprehension of the English language, some fair amount of detail in replies; something to work with). I myself have been writing and role-playing for 15+ years. My style is third-person paragraph-format (with a preference for past-tense, as I feel it personally flows better, imo), and fairly detailed at that - especially when my inspiration is up. I like to explore my characters and their thoughts just as much as the scene around them and the actions that they are responding to.

I can write multiple paragraphs per post, but will happily match you, as well, depending on how the flow goes. However, I would ask that, at minimum, you write 2-3 paragraphs per post. (More is always welcome!) Though, I know that dialogue-heavy scenes can be sporadic and choppy, and that muses don’t always cooperate. That’s perfectly fine! I just need something to reply to, and in return will give you the same!

Availability: I try to reply at least once a day (if not more!), but this can shift to several times a week, and my availability can fluctuate depending on how busy I am and how fickle my muse is. I freely admit this, and let you know that there is absolutely NO pressure to stick to a “schedule”. I am a very chill person! If we can only get several posts per week on both ends and end up chatting/plotting OOC for the rest of that week, that’s completely cool! We all have lives. More often than not, it will be at least once a day, even if it’s just checking in and chatting through OOC just to work on plot.

I am looking for someone who enjoys plotting and chatting and who’s not afraid to toss ideas back and forth - but, as well, who understands if one of us won’t be around for a day or so. I’m looking for someone who, likewise, doesn’t mind tossing ideas out at odd hours of the day/night and chattering just to chat because the rush of ideas is too much. Flexibility is great! Most of all, I just want to have fun! (I’m also looking for something that’ll turn into long-term! I really hate getting into plotting, and excited, only to have things just fizzle out…I know things happen, but it’s always a little frustrating…)

Anyway, I’m very open and friendly, and will listen to everything you say. If there is something that bothers you, or you have a limit that we haven’t gone over, please let me know! I’d like things to work out for both of us! As well, if you’ve reached out to me in the past and would like to try again, I happily welcome you to send me a message! I don’t bite!

Limits: Vore, toiletplay/bathroom, underage, mpreg, bestiality.

**Also please note that I WILL NOT reply to a message that’s simply “hey wanna rp?”. I don’t mean to sound uptight but, sorry, no. I would appreciate a bit more effort than that. As well, being pushy or equally unenthusiastic will get you nowhere. I love being excited and having fun as much as the next person, but this is a collaborative thing! I don’t want to be driving things by my lonesome! As proof that you have read this, please tell me the title of your favorite book.

If you’ve made it through that huge thing, then thank you so very much for reading! Before you go, I have one more request to ask of you. When you contact me, please, please, PLEASE include: any ideas/plots you might want to work out, which character(s) you would like to play, your age and timezone, and any limits you may have. And, most importantly, tell me a little bit about yourself! I’d like to get to know you!

Contact: [email protected]

(I have a Discord, as well, and would be more than happy to give it out, if you decide you’d like to use it as a chat platform! But only after initial contact! I would like to state that I’m primarily looking for partners who use email, simply because I’m more fond of the organization there. But, if you can make a case for Discord, fire away! I’m always willing to make a consideration!)

If any of this interests you, I’d love to hear from you!

#multiple paragraph #para #long term #literate #au #drama angst #fandom #modern #romance #long post #twilight rp #submission

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer III: Amaterasu Blessed

When Anjou came into the lounge a few minutes later, Johann had already set up a small recuperation corner by putting together some chairs, taking sofa cushions for my back and putting the water dispenser closer to me. The old man chuckled.

“That reminds me, I haven’t approved your marriage application yet, Johann.”

“The school board has some concerns.” Johann said quietly. 

“Understandable ones. But I’ve already made up my mind.” He walked over and handed him what looked like a lipstick case. “This is my private seal. Once you two get back to the college, you’ll find the application in my left upper desk drawer.”

I frowned. “You’re not planning on dying, are you principal?”

“No my dear, I’m not.  But one should always be prepared, regardless. Now... that that’s out of the way, I can speak freely about your next assignment.”

He was looking at me, laughter in his eyes. “I need you to shadow Chisei Gen.” “Eh? But...”

“Do you really think he’s going to leave Japan with his siblings?”

I recalled his preparations earlier. “He’s not.” I said flatly.

“We have learned so much from your team reports in the last few days and yet we have only scratched the surface! Even if we have the ultimate weapon, we are still taking a shot in the dark. Chisei Gen is now the best source of intel we have.”

Johann and Nono had explained the Sword of Damocles to me. It wasn’t a sword at all, but a massive metal rod shot from space. The impact force and heat of the rod would be very similar to a meteor strike and would obliterate everything for miles, including a dragon.

But it would only be over its target every 90 minutes. And it would only be fired once.

“Then... why cut him loose?” I asked.

Anjou just smiled. “It is for the best that he tastes the freedom of his individual justice. He is a man without a mentor for the first time in a long time!”

“Uh.... then he might not appreciate me following him around then?” 

“He is also a Lonesome George by his own admission. Forgive me for saying so Johann.” He glanced briefly at him and turned to me again. “He is without equal in the world. And you are his kind. I don’t think he would turn you away. Quite the opposite.” He looked at Johann again. “No offense.”

Johann crossed his arms. Nono couldn’t hold back her snicker.

I blushed and changed the subject. “By the way... has anyone heard from Mingfei?”

Johann shook his head. “He’s probably hiding somewhere safe. You’re not worrying about him?”

I tilted my head in thought. “No... I think he’s okay. I wonder if he’s walking here. Poor guy didn’t have a helicopter like I did.”

Anjou was unconcerned. “Oh... I’m sure he’ll turn up when he’s needed. He always does. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be herding those crazy Gear Department Cats.”

“ 辛苦你了”(Thanks... sorry.) I said as he departed.

I wanted so much to sleep. I was exhausted from everything. But just as I was drifting off, my phone vibrated next to me. I picked it up. Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Carli?”

“Eh? Chisei?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“I... just wanted to say, I’m sorry.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to bring it up again. I meant it.” I said. Johann was watching me. I was nervous now, talking to another guy right in front of him. It was a for a mission. I knew he wouldn’t say anything or take it personal. That didn’t make it right in my eyes. “What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going back to the shrine. To get Erii and Chime on the next flight out of here.”

“I imagine things are pretty booked...”

“It won’t be an issue for me. I’ll also be  putting in my final instructions for Hydra.”

“So you’ve decided not to leave.”

“I can’t Carli. I was just looking at all these people leaving Tokyo. They’re probably going to die before they get out. They’re here, each car has a family. Each family is trying to stay calm, holding onto each other. After everything I’ve done, it’s not right for me to leave with my family.”

I sighed. “I’ve told you what I wanted but... if this is your justice then, that’s something I can respect.” 

“Thanks.”

I smiled, recalling Anjou’s words. “Sorry... if this sounds weird... but I can I come see you at the shrine please?”

“W...why?”

“Because... I’ve been thinking about what we talked about earlier. I’m more curious now about what your justice looks like. Your future plans for Hydra.”

“Won’t Anjou have something to say about you suddenly leaving?”

“Mmm...” I glanced at Johann. “Anjou is a smart man. If he cared, he would have said something by now. It’s obvious he knows I care about your welfare a lot. I still remember the way there. It’s a unique place.”

“Then... it’s fine.” He hung up.

Johann looked at me. “Anjou was right. At this point, he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

I slid my legs over the side of the couch. Johann helped me get up. 

When I arrived at the shrine, stepping out of the void, it was raining, but I had an umbrella. I still wore the traditional Miko clothing he’d given me earlier. Chisei was already in the shrine, surrounded by priests, flowers and candlelight. I left my umbrella outside the dark space and knelt quietly on the tatami. 

He didn’t look at me or greet me. Instead he looked at someone near him with a traditional inkwell and parchment scroll.. “Write down what I’m saying.’

“I am Patriarch Gen Chisei, 74th generation patriarch of the Hydra. I am ashamed of the ancestors of the family. Our unforgivable errors have caused a disaster in Japan. Starting tomorrow, I will transfer all the powers of the patriarch to Sakurai Nanami, the head of the Sakurai family. She is the 75th Patriarch.”

“After me, family members should follow the instructions of their ancestors and must not pursue the dragon corpse for strength and power. Those who violate that prohibition will be executed by the family.”

“To avoid harming the innocent, the devils in the asylums should be well cared for. In every devil is our family blood. If we treat them kindly, they will be with us. If we abandon them in the wilderness, they will retaliate against us...”

He handed over all control, including contacts, access to buildings, property ownership and passwords to sensitive files. The rain had stopped and things were starting to clear up.

When he was finally done, he looked at the secretary. “Is it all written down?”

The secretary handed him the parchment which he read. He took a small knife, pricked his finger and smeared the blood on his ring. He pressed the ring to the parchment, leaving his signature on it.

He handed it back to him. “Make a copy, seal the original and give both to Nanami Sakurai.”

“Tomorrow, I will be an ordinary person. But today, please come to the battle with me.”

I felt the warmth on my back and looked over my shoulder. The sun had broken over the horizon and spilled its light into the shrine, on the priests and onto Chisei.

He looked so peaceful. Perhaps, I thought, I could believe he really was Amaterasu-no-Mikoto. 

He met me at the entrance. “At such a time like this, you can smile like that.”

I stood up, still mindful of my healing wound. “I just felt really happy for you.”

“I’ll be sending Erii and Chime away now... Is... Mingfei alright?”

“Oh he’s fine.” I waved dismissively. 

“I wanted to thank him in person. But... if you could....” He beckoned me to follow him.

He took me to a back chamber of the shrine complex. Erii was sitting in the corner, looking like me in Miko clothes, while Chime, dressed in priest clothing, still couldn’t seem to look his brother in the eye. 

“The helicopter leaves in 5 minutes.” Chisei hugged him gently.

“Are you... going to come back?” Chime again had that weak, weak voice.

“I can’t promise you that but I’ll do my best.”

“If only I could...”

Chisei cut him off. “You can’t... and you know why. If you went out there, I’d lose you... forever.”

Chime looked profoundly stunned. “I don’t... understand. The King should have pursued me. But he didn’t. I don’t understand why...”

Erii held up a notepad that read. “Brother, what’s going on out there?”

“It’s very bad, Erii.” Chisei opened Erii’s suitcase full of clothes that Mingfei and Johann had mailed to them. “Here, put these on. I’ll teach you your new identities.”

While he was doing that, I approached Chime. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He hung his head in shame. 

I waved my hand at him. “I’m like your brother. I can’t be killed so easy.” I had a sudden thought. “Chisei, after this is over, I’ll send you a bit of my blood for Chime. With the injection it will help prevent his ghost persona from returning.”

I turned back to Chime, “Your Soul Skill, you shouldn’t use it. If you do, there’s a risk you might be lost.”

He nodded. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I do!” I gave him a victory sign. “Invite me to your first Kabuki performance! That is... whereever you’re going!”

Chime looked away from me, in a daze. “This... doesn’t feel real.”

“Want me to pinch you?” I asked playfully. 

“Uh...”

“Here.” 

“Don’t!” He flinched away.

I laughed.

“She has too much energy.” Chisei moved to shield him from me. “Change into the clothes I’ve left for you, also, here’s your ID, a bank card and a phone. Don’t tell anyone your original names. Only use the name on your passports.”

He leaned over and kissed Erii on the cheek. “I haven’t done much for you in these years. Not even as much as Mingfei did in this last week...”

Chisei’s voice grew hoarse and he abruptly stopped talking. He just hugged her again.

My smile faded and I looked away.

Once Chime had changed into casual clothes, Chisei led us out to where a bullet proof Benz was already waiting. He put Erii in the backseat and stroked her hair before giving Chime another hug.

I kept my distance. Chisei said something to Chime I couldn’t hear, but the younger brother burst into sobbing. “Don’t go, Chisei, please. Please come with us!”

Chisei held him close, not answering, instead, guiding him to the car. Chime dug his heels in, going into a full-blown panic. “The King is going to kill you. He will! I know he will!”

“Hey!” I shouted. “I won’t let that happen!”

Chisei sighed. 

“I mean it! This whole situation is kind of my doing you know? If I don’t follow through to the end it would wrong!” I blinked away my tears. “If Chisei doesn’t come back alive then... well, neither will I. Understand?”

Chime looked at me like I was his only hope and I really felt like I was. It was only then that he got into the car.

The vehicle drove away and I watched it. Chisei glanced over at me and I just looked back at him. “There was no way he was going to get on that plane without something, Chisei.”

“Did Anjou send you?”

“You...” I laughed. “Called me.”

#Chisei Gen #Chime Gen #Erii Uesugi #Dragon raja #FanFiction #Writing

[tarithenurse]

All is fair in Love & War - 18

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Here be pining, fluff, angsting, relief, worry, the feeling of finally understanding something really obvious, and more relief. A/N: This is getting close to the end, depending on edits of the next part, then there will only be one or two chapters more. I’m very grateful for the support and love this story has gotten. Thank you! Oh, speaking of edits...proof reading while hungover might have been a bad move on my behalf, so pardon any errors still left.

18. Among wolves

The dull headache is one thing, but Loki’s limbs area heavy and unwilling to respond as he attempts to turn around in his bed. Or maybe the covers have gotten twisted, effectively restraining him? Some…thought…or maybe a memory is starting to squirm at the back of his mind, but it will have to wait. Groaning, he blinks to clear his eyes and investigate the situation.

“Brother?” There is a distance to Thor’s voice which throws the Jotun for a spin. “Loki, remain calm…alright brother?”

Calm? I am calm. The cerebral brain remains the same, but the vision clears which seems to fuel the insistent thought that urges him to move, to hurry. Why should I not be calm? He lost something, did he not? Getting his bearings, it occurs to Loki that this is not his own bed. There are no furs or silken sheets nestled within a wooden structure, but crisp white linen and a golden frame. Over the covers stretches thick, leather bands emblazoned with runes to imbue them with magic…magic meant to hold him in place if the physical bindings should fail.

There is no reason to struggle as it would only be in vain. “Thor…what is the meaning of this?”

“I am sorry,” the brother apologizes sheepishly from the other side of a magical barrier, “we did not know what else to do.”

Seconds pass silently while the brothers study each other. Why? Wreaking his memories, Loki can only recall walking from the stables with a plan in mind. What was I plotting? When the memory hits in the shape of the elusive thought, it takes away his breath along with any coherent thoughts…and still he cannot move. I have to get to Sjöblik in time to stop [Y/N].

“You have to release me,” he forces himself to talk evenly, “I need to get to her.”

“I cannot release you.”

Snarling, Loki is close to screaming at his brother. “Then get me someone who CAN!”

The broad bindings glow angrily until the captive relents with a sigh and relaxes into the soft mattress. Gaze fixed on the ceiling, he can hear the heavy footsteps of Thor recede followed by the distant clank of a door.

…

By the time Loki hears the door again, he has counted everything there is to count, read the runes about a dozen times, and designed his vengeance down to the smallest detail. They will regret holding me back like this. It is true that he had allowed himself to be talked into staying in Utgard from fear that any rash action would cause more damage. But preventing him from executing a carefully laid plan? Unforgivable. How did Thor even know?

Several people move in his periphery, safely on the other side of the magical wall, tempting him to turn his head. Thor, the lumbering oaf, has brought their parents. In a way it makes sense because Odin would have implemented strict rules to keep the embarrassing situation from the public, but seeing Frigga standing there with worry on her face and her hands clasped so tight before her chest that the knuckles are white…I am sorry, mother.

“Loki, I am sorry you had to regain consciousness to this…we did not know what else to do.”

The strain in Odin’s voice surprises his adoptive son, but he maintains a cool detachment. “May I suggest you begin with explaining why I was unconscious in the first place?”

“Your servants and I found you like that,” Thor’s begins, “we heard a…well I truly have no words to describe it! It was like a mixture of an explosion and a thousand people screaming. It came from the courtyard and when we arrived…I admit I was not the first, but…oh, brother! Everything was covered in ice. Dark, frozen spikes and-and shockwaves centered upon you as if…as if some force had hit you with the cold of a million winters, freezing anything in a circle around you!” The breath inhaled into the Thunder god’s lungs shakes with emotion. “No one could tell me what to do, so I called upon Heimdal…to take us here.”

My idiot brother is incapable of lying. Eliminating the most convoluted options, Loki is left with the assumption that the story is true. “So why subdue me like this?”

Frigga places a soft hand on the wall, causing the barrier to disintegrate and allowing her to step through to the weak protests of the men beside her. “My dear. We first feared you had been the victim of some form of attack, but as we searched for injuries you might have sustained, we found none.” Finally by the bed, she takes a seat on the edge, running the back of a few warm finger over Loki’s cheek. “You began to stir in your unconsciousness, showed distress…the infirmary became covered in ice too…”

“I caused it to happen…”

Turning his attention inwards, the god focuses on the part of his soul that is connected to the old powers of the Jötun, finding the Living Cold to be nearly depleted – something that only can happen by rapidly unleashing magic of enormous proportions. Already, it is replenishing, but there is no doubt it will take weeks before the powers will be restored.

“But why?” Soft grey eyes meet his blood-red with all the comfort and wisdom of a mother. “I…did something…? I felt…” Oh. “It felt as though my heart was torn from my body. Then I fell into darkness…”

“Loki, my dear.” Frigga sighs, looking to her husband and Thor for something. “Your bond with the mortal may be stronger than you think.”

…   READER’s PoV   …

If this is death…then why am I in pain? What first coherent thoughts go, it is not the worst, actually. It feels as though your shoulder is burning and moving your arm is like having white-hot pokers boring through. Deciding to stay as still as possible, you look around in the grey light of dawn, surprised to find yourself nowhere near the castle in Sjöblik…or for that matter near the city itself, it seems.

Dense firs and pines are standing so close that the needle-covered ground is almost completely dry beneath you, and it would not be a lie to say that at least one side of your body is being warmed considerably. Turning your head carefully to avoid upsetting the shoulder, the change of perspective brings a wall of mottled-grey fur into focus. Fur that moves as if it is still in use by its original owner. Breathing in sharply in fear fills your nose with the scent of dirt, dried and fresh needles…and a dog-like smell. Sweeping the gaze against the hairs, it passes the shoulders of a canine before coming to rest on the face of a wolf. Dark, amber eyes are watching every move you make.

You can feel your mind blank out, loosing touch with logic and abandoning any predetermined reactions that normal people might have in such a situation (though it probably is very few who haven woken up next to a wolf). Wolf. So far, not a wrong conclusion by your brain. Big. Also correct. Very, very big. Again, correct…but not helpful as such. Is Röskva and the other Vanir alright? See, that is where your brain fails to grasp the concept of prioritizing.

A quiet huff from the side that should not have a wolf assigned, makes you suspect that there is, in fact, another huge predator as if one would not have been bad enough. I survive falling several stories into a moat in the dead of winter…only to be rescued by the biggest wolves in creation?

“By the gods…this is just great.”

Talking out loud in this situation is another piece of evidence that your head must be damage somehow. Still, neither creature appears startled or upset about your comment, and you decide to risk a bit movement. Inch by inch, the good arm and hand begins a journey across the body until the fingertips can prod the injured shoulder, soliciting a hiss of discomfort. It also results in a soft whine from the wolf lying by your side, and an exploratory sniff by the newcomer (a wolf so dark brown it might have been black) which has taken a seat by your head. If I get to survive sitting up, then I need a way to fixate that arm or pop the joint back in place. Neither option is going to be easy, but at least you have a belt.

Repositioning the good arm, you brace yourself. Can’t lie here forever. With a grunt and a half-choked curse, it is possible to sit up although black dots are dancing before your eyes and it feels as though your arm has been torn off. The swaying motion steadies, making it possible to breathe a bit deeper. Then a gently yet very firm form presses against your back, nudging you to keep going. To stand. Afraid to piss off a wolf by refusing to do as it wants, you tug a leg under you the best you can, pulling the knee on the other to your chest. All the movement is making your entire body ache, but it is nothing compared to the agony of the dislocated shoulder.

A new nudge.

“Yes, yes…just give me a moment, huh? This isn’t as easy as it looks.” Hot breath fans your cheek, starting a shiver that run the length of your spine before it is stopped by a wet lick ending with a lot of wolf-drool in your ear. “Ah great, that’s really gonna help.”

As if understanding your words, the grey wolf wiggles itself underneath the good arm and then looks at you. Carefully you dig your shaking fingers through the course layer of the fur until you reach the soft undercoat. I’m being helped by wolves…yes…completely normal. But you nod to the creature, feeling it enhance your efforts to stand by pulling you forward before staying stock still as a means of maintaining balance.

“Well, uhm…thank you.”

…

Your first priority after strapping the arm to your chest had been to find water to clench an aching thirst but the wolves had other plans. Deciding it was better not to object to the wishes of creatures as big as ponies, you let them lead you away. North,  judging by the mosses and lichen growing on any available surface.

A swarm of thoughts is milling in your mind, each concern fighting for attention with no regard for progress on the previous’ behalf. By now, the murder of king Gorm and the queen must have been discovered which means that when the guards or court realizes that you are missing, they will blame it on you and subsequently the Vanir – people you have come to consider as friends and who now may be arrested and convicted for your actions. That was a risk all along. Knowing that does not make it easier. If only you had had time to warn them, to send them away.

Stumbling over a root, you reflexively reach for the nearest support. Fingers dig into rough fur, causing both you and the dark wolf to freeze. Don’t eat me. The air starts to hurt in your chest as you wait for something to happen while amber eyes roam your shape with an intelligence unmatched by most beasts. There is even something familiar about it…but what? The new ruminations are interrupted as the greyer of the giant creatures lays down before you, presenting its exposed back. Huh? As you try to sidestep, a deep rumbling erupts, causing every hair on your body to stand and silencing the few birds in the area.

“What do you want?”

It was not meant to sound as whiney as it came out, but you are still tired and hurting, and things generally stink which makes it hard to deal with the whims of abducting predators. Probably for that very reason, it takes several nudges and renewed growls before the trip can continue…with you on the back of one of them.

…   LOKI’s PoV   …

Left in solitude for a while, the king of Jotunheim is no further from desperation than before although everything has been explained to him. She fell. The nauseating sensation he felt while crossing Utgard’s courtyard must have been related to this, but Frigga cannot give any satisfying explanation why it is happening. To find out, [Y/N] must be present too.

That leads Loki’s thought to the next issue. Having had to retreat as a child to save his own hide, the trickster knows that speed is vital unless the blame can be shifted to someone else. The Vanir are making haste on horseback heading southward to prevent getting caught, which is a sensible solution all things considered, whereas the mortal guilty of the crime committed is on food, has no rations, carries no weapons, and only has support from Odin’s two wolves.

Geri and Freki. Perhaps it should be a consolation that they are with her as the beasts are more than capable of defending their charge from any dangers…but it is not enough. The animals had pulled her from the river that has been split to create the moat surrounding the castle in Sjöblik. Once safe on land, each wolf is most likely taken turn to warm and dry [Y/N] with their own body heat until she is able to leave the forest at its northern borders. But when? The old forests cover vast areas and are too dense for Heimdal to land the Bifrost safely. That is why they must wait for the odd trio to emerge from the woods.

No, the arrangements that have been made are the best possible under these circumstances, and Loki’s frustrations stem from the uselessness he feels. Waiting will be a challenge although it is something he always has excelled at.

…   READER’s PoV   …

“Crrrrrooooooaaaarrrr.”

The unexpected familiarity of the sound is enough to pull you from the edges of sleep and back to the moment at hand. Jerking upright sends a new flare of pain through your shoulder but also grants you the view of the dark wolf and an even darker creature now perched on its back. To make matters worse (or odder) the raven is holding on to something shiny with its claws. The tri-hook. Only a foot of the rope is still attached, torn and frayed at the end.

“Still not dead, sorry,” you manage to whisper through dried lips.

That doesn’t rule out that I’m going crazy. A bird has flown miles to bring a tool you had hated leaving behind, and you are riding on a wolf as big as the one in Odin’s cou–

Blinking at the mottled-grey creature, you finally recognize it and its brother for what they are. Loki had told you their names and how they, together with two ravens are the eyes and ears of the All-Father as he sends them out into the realms…or apparently to watch over stupid mortals as they take on risky missions. Your cheeks are hot with guilt as they stretch in a tired smile.

What are their names again? “Thank you. All of you.”

Relief is coursing through your tired and beaten body, making your head swim so you discover belatedly that the odd company has stopped. Looking around, you notice the forest itself is behind you. Before the wolves’ paws begins the open the plains of rolling hills and the occasional village of farmer-families. You even have time to admire the view of the first blue patches of sky in weeks before a torrent of light engulfs you.

…   LOKI’s PoV   …

They have let him out and Loki knows just from the smiles on Thor’s and Frigga’s faces what it means which is why he is wasting no time as he hurries along familiar halls with them in sharp pursuit.

Each minute feels like a year. Each step has been reduced to a thumb’s length.

But finally, he skids through the circular opening of Heimdal’s observatory in time to see an odd group of figures materialize before the Keeper and Odin.

The mortal woman is dirty and battered with an arm strapped awkwardly across the chest, each injury echoing through Loki’s limbs, but in this moment, she is an enchanting being taken directly from the sweetest dreams he has ever had. How perfectly she fits in his arm as he lifts her off her tired feet and cradles her in his lap without a care in the world that he has somehow sunk to the floor before the eyes of his family, Heimdal, and a few other guards. None of it matters. None of it matters because [Y/N] is near him again.

Loki refuses to let go of the frail human, insisting instead to carry her to the Healers’ Ward where Idunn tends to the injuries with skill. Only when the Asgardian goddess of longevity and health orders him to leave, to grant the mortal rest, does he do so…though with the promise of returning soon.

Outside the door, Frigga is waiting on a carved stone bench with a book in one hand. “I assume you have been told to give your love some peace to sleep?” she asks with a gentle smile.

“Yes.”

“My son…you always consider each action carefully…” Gone is the smile, replaced by the tender worry of a mother. “You know you will outlive her. Does she?”

“There is one way…but how can I ask her to abandon everything? She has a chance to return to Midgard and build a normal life. A safe life.”

The soft hand that takes Loki’s says more than any words can, and he enjoys the silent that lowers itself over them. This hallway is favoured with soft, warm colours enhancing the healing qualities of the sun streaming through the windows. A multitude of plants adds to the impression that it is indeed the Healing Ward which is housed here. Blindly staring at the rose and creamy yellows of the marble, Loki wishes it was this life he could grant [Y/N] rather than that of a cold keep and Jötun clans still opposing his rule.

“If you truly want her to chose, then you cannot hide anything from her, dear Loki.”

Reclaiming her hand, Frigga places a wooden box in her son’s lap. It is carefully decorated with various coloured stones, creating the liking of a fruit tree. Even the gold filigree clasp carries the same theme of leaves and apple blossoms.

The queen cups his cheek to make sure Loki listens carefully. “Whatever she chooses…respect it.”

...

#all is fair in love and war #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki from enemies to lovers #Loki Laufeyson x reader #Loki odinson x reader #loki series #loki semi au #loki medieval/fairytale au #loki angst #loki pining #loki soulmates #King Loki #Jotun Loki #jotunheim #Utgard #Midgard #Asgard #Valhalla #Vanaheim #thor #Thor Odinson #frigga #queen frigga #odin #freki and geri

[maatikikhushboo]

Kasautii Flashbacks Aur Promises Kay

Disclaimer: A lengthy frustrated post (2500+ words) on your way. Has lots of grammatical errors and is not proof read. So please read on your own discretion.

After watching 69 episodes of Kasautii Zindagii Kay, I decided that I will quit watching it regularly, but I continued watching it intermittently. I very well knew the implications of signing up for EK’s shows. But still, I wanted to give it a try, and honestly, for the pretty faces of the leads because they screamed chemistry. Look at these pictures launched initially - especially the down section of the picture --

Backstory :

KZK1 was one of those disastrous stuffs ever made for ITV. Pathetic aesthetics, horrible make-ups (that didn’t change for this season as well), lackadaisical writing, multiple assassinations/butchering of characters, having sudden 180 and 270 degree turns and the offscreen dynamics kinda influencing the plot and what not? I used to watch KZK1 because 2001 was when I was residing in Kolkata. My love for Bangla had signed me up for that stupid show which I stopped watching after certain point of time (Waise, there is nothing Bangali except the names in both the seasons, it was just used to make it attractive and avant garde. Bangali people in general don’t wear these Devdas-inspo clothes and jewellery. Every time I see Mohini and Nivi of KZK2, I feel sorry for them because jewellery must be really heavy and wearing them on daily basis is bit uncomfortable even when you are getting paid for it.). The only saving grace of the show were the actors and their performances (which cannot be matched by the new season), otherwise no one was going to watch the show for its stupid story. Except the much popular title song, Shwetha Tiwari’s performance, Moloy-Rajesh’s bromance, there was nothing worthy in KZK1. Anurag and Prerna got united only when they died. Some felt that they were true OTP, and I beg to differ here.  

It is 2019 and everything is so out-of-place with KZK2 since its inception. Ekta’s much ambitious project is a flop show. It was much evident and we all knew that EK is EK and she will take the same S1 way. KZK2 proved itself to be a mere aesthetic-improvised photocopy of KZK1. There are many scenes in the show which are filmed same-to-same. The editing is pathetic and the noticeable bloopers are increasing day by day. These promos and claims of going the different way were just marketing gimmicks. In KZK1, AnuPre getting to know each other, falling in love and getting physically intimate, all happened in just 20-25 episodes. This time they wanted to avoid that and hence went the Naveen way, only to get back to the quintessential track of Anu marrying Komo and Prerna becoming pregnant. Naveen babu and his creepy tactics were much dragged and the writers deliberately elevated Anurag’s character and turned him the great saviour. Even the SitaaraPlus Instagram was full of Anurag’s gun-gaan. I bet that the channels’ PR team are a bunch of fangirls. We see that the so-called smart Anurag Basu is perhaps the dumbest ML of 2018/19 whose all plans were epic fails. I mean come on, Moloy was lot better than him in finding proofs against Komolika. I miss Moloy man, he was such a comic relief (although I must agree that the character has some serious issues like him being okay whenever Nivedita or Mohini badmouths Sharma’s, at least he can knock some sense into them about etiquette if not there, then in private). I keep forgetting that it’s a Hindi TV show and that too a Balaji show. Tellyworld mein itna dimaag kahan kisi ke paas hota hai?  😂

Anurag was given heavy dialogues which were full of promises. Sentence ke aage ek promise and sentence ke peeche ek promise (if possible I would like to go into the TV and smack his head if he daresay that word again 😤) Prerna was shown as that abla majboor naari of 2019 who is so gareeb that she had to resort to marriage to ensure that unke sar par chhat rahe. She was never given the character growth she deserved (why does Hindi TV revolve around shaadi? matlab har problem ka solution either function or shaadi?). It is natural that audiences started feeling that Anurag was the only one who contributed more to this story because we never were shown Prerna’s side of story. During the track, Anurag kept giving Prerna mixed signals (dosti ke liye aaj kal, in 2019 koi bhi itna sab nahi karta like jaan jokhim mein daalna especially when Prerna herself told you initially to back off). Getting engaged to Mishka whom he clearly didn’t love while being so confused about Prerna was the first downfall. Anurag didn’t bother to tell Mishka that he doesn’t want to marry her. On top of it, he promised Prerna of marriage and got physically intimate with her and then asked Veena, her hand for marriage. He publicly insulted Prerna and married Komolika. How ugly is this!!! How do the writers expect people to connect to him, how much ever good or noble his intentions may be? There is no doubt he is selfless and has the best interests of everyone in his heart especially Prerna, but is that enough? He can’t be redeemed after what he did to Prerna, because actions speak louder than words. What makes this sequence worse is the damn FLASHBACKS! AnuPre consummation was shown to a viewer as a FB when a pregnant Prerna recollects this at the hospital. This makes it more weird and gross! Like, how on earth people get busy getting intimate when some gunde are after your lives? I know, that you have confessed your love to each other, but itni urgency kis baat ki? Writers have destroyed that innocence and purity which was there at the time of confession. The editing and song sequence was so terrible. The only thing that is bearable is the actors who are making the characters believable, otherwise the storyline is just chutiyaapa.

Writers, have degraded everything just because you wanted to highlight the much-hyped character Komolika? Hina is a pretty woman who has achieved a lot in her career and deserves the love she gets from her fans. I kinda really liked her makeup (it was inspired by Bipasha Basu) as a Bong Bride but the costume was again meh. But the character portrayed by her was an iconic one and she has been a huge let down. I don’t get any vamp feels from her. She appears more of a comic character who only knows to make faces. And a special mention to her style statement which is just like her role. Costume designers, please, rich people like KoMoNi never dress like that. Those costumes are everything but sophisticated and classy.

Also, I think it’s high time that these fangirls stop idolising Anurag Basu 2.0. A person who cannot clarify things and take a stand for his love and keeps listening to all the accusations and taunts thrown at her by the ladies of his family and later justifies it by saying that it’s all because they were concerned is plain bullshit. He may be a gentleman and loves his family, and Prerna, but he is not worth stanning!!! Is this the same Anurag Basu who warned Naveen Babu that “Agar Prerna pe mera dil aa gaya na, toh aap, aapki sagaai, aapki daleelein koi nahi rok paayega mujhe Prerna ko apna banana se.”? If he is, then why did he fall prey to Komolika’s blackmailing? Naveen was also equally creepy, dangerous and comical (Saajan ji ghar aaye dance was EPIC). See what the writers have done!

Even during Naveen’s track, they desperately wanted to introduce Komolika but couldn’t do it due to Hina’s prior commitments. To venture Komolika they again brought Mishka (who was actually that London wali shaadi-shuda ladki whose name is Sarika 🤣 ). To link Prerna and Komolika, they planned Ronit-Shivani’s angle which is long forgotten (Shivani doesn’t remember that she is pregnant 🤣 ). So many loose ends are conveniently forgotten. Also, what kind of a mother is Mohini?😳  She is so ignorant. Can’t she understand what her son wants and I am bewildered by how she accepted Komolika without any problem when technically Anu was engaged to Mishka? Terrible!

At least after Naveen track, they could have explored AnuPre. I remember that one small snippet in Prerna’s sangeet with Naveen where we get to know that Anurag stopped talking to Prerna because she cheated him in a game in their childhood. We could have been shown many such things instead of that stupid Naveen track. Although the journey of AnuPre in KZK1 was only 20-25 episodes, it was satisfying because there were no other parallel tracks going on and they concentrated on AnuPre bonding.

When the channel dropped the shaadi wala promo (only to get transformed into No-Shaadi-Only-Tika later), it became a rage and people were like happy that it is not going the S1 way only to get disheartened. The confession was subtle and beautifully shot. Yet, I couldn’t feel the depth. Dialogues were always out of place and meaningless in this show. Just fire the dialogue writers man, it’s making everything more confusing because there is no sync between dialogues, story and character progression! Also, I knew that you were gonna bring that pandit to legalise the tika marriage, I mean by-the-virtue-of-air-maang-got-filled-by-sindoor-marriage on an auspicious muhurat after 15 odd years. That was a nice move to legalise the existence of Prem.🤣

The AltBalaji’s synopsis of the show was screaming since eons – “An epic saga of Anurag and Prerna’s soul-stirring romance. The story begins with one unintentional betrayal that spoils Anurag’s relationship with his soul-mate Prerna and is followed by the wicked twists added by Komolika. Their lives go through a whirlwind of emotions, trials, sufferings, twists, and terrible confusions, which destiny plays out for them. Only time will reveal how they are destined to live for each other, but not with each other.”. Coming to this unintentional betrayal, let me clarify that there is NO UNINTENTIONAL BETRAYAL here because Anurag intentionally chose this to save his family and business. When two people are in a relationship, one person has no right to take decisions for both. Prerna asked him, begged him literally but he just slammed his decision on her. I don’t give a damn to this stupid sacrifice “Thorn Bird” kinda love. People feel sad for Anurag being the Thorn Bird here, but he is the one who had landed himself into this worthless sacrifice as Anupam notes.

People are excited to see strong Prerna. I could have been happier if they went ahead with S1 way here instead. She was always initially taunted for being stupid, having small brains and of lower class. Proving her mettle and becoming successful on her own would have been a befitting reply. It is so against your self-respect to land yourselves again amidst of those Basu’s. I am not surprised that you like Shivani have forgotten about your pregnancy and how harmful it could be for your child to survive especially when people like Komolika are living in the same house. And there is nothing new in this track. EK's saalon purana same formula hai - Mix and Match. Apne serials mein hi naye serials ke stories revolve hote rehte hai. In her show, Kya Hua Tera Vaada, the same thing happened. When Vihaan married Anika, Bulbul entered along with Anika and did all the grihpravesh rasams and started living with them. Of course, this new Prerna is a treat to watch (she has shown everyone their place with sass) and it is worth watching for all entertainment. Erica nails such scenes and through this track she is gonna get her due. (I loved her stint in KRPKAB post leap). Also, what is with this Anurag planning to get rid of Komolika by getting closer to her? Like really man!? You appear like a milksop. The lollipops of AnuPre flashbacks or eyelocks which they are inserting in the middle of the 21 minutes of bakwaas is not gonna get them TRPs. For me, they have ruined it. Everything is beyond redemption now.

We all know what happens when a thing is excessively marketed/promoted. It unnecessarily increases the hype and expectations of people, which when not met will lead to utter disappointment. EK has hired SRK to do the honours, which must have costed her a bomb. Heavy social media promotion through various videos & BTS scenes has ignited curiosity and they wanted to play with this and all fell for it. Some wanted to explore it as a new show and some were there to draw comparisions because of nostalgia with a hope that things would be different this time coz it’s 2018/2019.  😂 😂 😂 Be it 2001 or 2019 things have not changed in TV. Film Industries are gradually transforming themselves and are producing films with unconventional concepts. They are churning out good amount of content driven/art films every year. We know that TV actors don’t have many choices. Both Parth & Erica are good actors. Actors get paid irrespective of whatever they portray. Still, I sometimes do feel bad seeing all the potential being wasted. But yeah, the casting is on point. The chemistry is so good. But, what we get in the name of the great KZK 2 is just the same recycled shit. Balaji didn’t need to inaugurate, the statues of love everywhere (like really?). If it were other producers, (well, they won’t be spending mammoth, but let us hypothetically assume) and they are not able to meet the expectations, to continue their stint, they would succumb to ratings based instant-noodle-tracks-twists-turns kinda plots. But EK is EK, whose team loves to cook noodles from Day 1, toh itna fizool karcha kyun karna bhai? She could have been a little prudent and invested some money in hiring better script writers and agar kismat acchi hoti hamari aur actors ki toh, acche story mil jaati. Also, many dynamics could have been explored. Khair, chhodo, main bhi kiske baare mein bol rahi hoon 😂 😂 😂 What else can we expect from a Balaji show? It’s just villains, multiple MUs, separations and sacrifices all over the place. I just wish TRPs teach her a lesson.

P.S: Okay, some people say that Prerna should have understood that Anurag has some majboori like she had while almost marrying Naveen babu. No one in their right state of mind would think about majboori and stuff after getting humiliated publicly and getting mocked for her love. And, agar tellyworld mein itna brains leads ke pass hote toh yeh shaadi mandap tak nahi pahunchti.

P.P.S: I just don’t understand what is the problem with SitaaraPlus. Come on man, why on earth do you love showing all the wrong messages to the society under the tagline “Baat Nayi”? Everyone is aware of your partiality towards Gul and Ekta’s shows. However regressive they might be, you just keep extending them and you simply pulled the plug off for the Dopahar shows which were good content wise and concept wise. Everyone here is to do business and so you are, so stop bluffing people under your stupid tagline. Also, don’t mislead people like you did here. Thank God I didn’t subscribe to Star Value Pack of yours. Bye-Bye.

#i vent when i am on my pms so sorry bhailog #i quit this show #thanks for ruining anurag and prerna for us #Kasautii Zindagii Kay #Kasautii Zindagii Kay 2 #kzk #kzk2 #kzk 2 #woes of tellywood audience #type: opinion

[queakenstein]

Can you write a fic where mute Link wants to surprise Zelda (for her birthday) that he's learned how to finally speak by reading to her a poem that he wrote? But here's the catch; some nobleman surpasses Link in giving gifts to Zelda (y'know, like flowers, dresses and jewelry) and Link feels discouraged/ashamed of his gift, so he tears up the poem and tries to throw it away until a certain someone *coughzeldacough* finds the torn parchment pieces and asks Link about it. ;)

WELP, I hope ya’ll like the poem because I haven’t written one in forever and I didn’t proof this one bit so sorry if there’s like tons of errors. I just wanna get some requests done! I missed you guys!! Lemme know if I need to put a read more in... probably do....

Zelda likes puzzles, sonnets, the smell of lavender and early mornings with tea. She likes perusing through the schedule brought forth earlier in the week so she can get the gears in her head turning about this and that. What she does not like is the “meetings” ever present since she was over marriageable age. She has learned how to slip out of such a duty but at the rip age of twenty-two, she finds that her father manages to always wrangle her back into sitting stiffly in chairs across from some would-be bachelor come for her hand.

She fights the urge to click her tongue in distaste and reminisces about how her old nursemaid used to scold her for unladylike behaviors as she curls her legs up into her chair while nibbling, mouse-like on a small sweet wafer. It’s a habit she refuses to give up in her lonesome and she giggles despite the ill mood creeping up on her at the thought she’d have to make small-talk for a near hour later in the day.

A knock is heard from where she sits on her private balcony and she calls loud enough for the person to hear. “Enter!” It takes a moment before a familiar face pops into view from within her bedroom. She spies him through her window and raises her cup. “I had the ladies bring a spare cup for you!”

Link smiles, gently, and joins her at the small table but not before checking the soil in the plants spread about in pots around them. He pours himself a drink and tops Zelda’s off with a hum.

“Has your morning gone well for you?” Her voice sounds odd bouncing back at her while she drinks. Link slumps and rubs a spot on his jaw. Zelda’s eyes spy a bruise forming. “One of the other’s landed a hit on you?” She laughs, suddenly, not trying to hide the amusement in her voice even as Link scowls at her. “What’s his name? I think he may need a promotion!”

Link drops his elbow on the table and stabs a finger at her with a look that very clearly reads, ‘Now,see here!’ He grins and rolls his eyes after a moment. Using his hands, he signs something about the soldier being a good hit but his balance is never on point. His excitement is apparent with the flurrying way his fingers move.

“So, training is going well then?” 

He nods, sees the parchment resting in front of her, and taps it. “What’s this?”

Zelda groans. “Lord Eury’s son wants to meet with me.”

‘Again?’ Link frowns and cross his arms. ‘That’s the fourth time in just this month’ His signing becomes slow, precious and Zelda notices it’s not as fluid as it normally comes… almost as if– Link stands. ‘Speaking of meetings, the Commander asked that I meet with him.’

“Link!” Zelda stands but her hands miss his arm. “It can wait, can’t it? I’d like us to catch up some more. You– You didn’t even finish your tea.” She doesn’t mean to sound like a child pouting but she has missed him. He’s been odd ever since Tobias has become one of her “regulars.”

Link makes a fist, thumb resting to the side rather in front, and makes a quick clock-wise circle in front of his chest. It means ‘sorry’ and he leaves. He carries with him the rest of Zelda’s good mood.

She makes it all the way to her meeting with the young Lord Tobias Eury before anyone dares comment on the fact she’s been a little snippy and a little distracted. To be honest, she’s a little surprised that it’s actually him that mentions it.

“Is all well with you, Princess?” He sits up perfectly proper with his clothes all arranged just-so. Zelda couldn’t deny that he was handsome but there was hardly any attraction felt for the man except that his ideas to help the economy were rather impressive.

Zelda blinks and attempts to drag herself out of the bratty aura she is trapped in. “I have had a frustrating morning.” She fidgets with pulling her glove off her fingers. “I am sorry, I have not been very good at paying attention today. Would you mind repeating yourself?”

Tobias chuckles. “I merely said that it was a shame you weren’t wearing the necklace I gifted you yesterday. It would have matched rather stunningly to the dress you wear.” 

“Ah.” There’s a pause, Zelda does it intentionally to let the atmosphere grow stale and then she smiles. “Forgive me. I do not dare flash a gift from a suitor until I feel it would be appropriate to do so.”

“And when would it be appropriate?” He asks and, boldly, reaches to take her fingers in his. 

Zelda looks at their hands and doesn’t register that someone has opened the door. She waits to hear a voice tell her that it is time for dinner but nothing comes… She glances up to inquire what the messenger may want but, instead, finds her gaze locked with an ever familiar face.

Link turns on his heel and marches straight out the door with a face of stone.

Zelda feels her feet move of their own accord but something tugs her back. Tobias’ fingers are now interlocked with hers. Something cold slithers down her spine then settles into her gut. She doesn’t intend for the force from with she wrenches her fingers away to be so violent and there’s a shake to her voice that she’s not familiar with when she says, “Gifts from my intended shall be the only ones that I wear, sir Lord. None other.” 

It’s only when she gets into the hallway that she realizes her glove came off in the Lord’s fingers. Zelda’s mind is whirring too fast for her to really wonder about how scandalous it will be when a suitor shows up with a missing article of clothing. She’s too busy trying to figure out why it felt so wrong to be seen holding hands with a man. Not that she cares being seen holding hands with a man. Suitors have taken her hand before and she’s brushed them off with a gentle smile or pat… But, to be seen… by Link…

She stops when a loud crinkle is heard and frowns. It’s spring. She’s made it to the garden, her mind supplies. The gears turn some more and her brow furrows in confusion as to way there would be crunchy leaves in the garden during spring time. Lifting her dress, she finds that it isn’t leaves.

It’s parchment torn in what looks like a moment of passion. It’s Link handwriting. She picks up the largest piece and reads what she can in the light of the dying day.

You are the morning,

your smile

Zelda swallows. “Did he write… a poem?” Her breath comes out slow and uneven as the implication sets in. She snatches up what remains on the ground, kicks off her shoes and gathers up her skirts. A servant leans out a window to shout something about dinner but it’s lost in the wind that rushes by her ears. Her bare heels pound into the ground. She ignores the sting of loose gravel digging into her feet and manages to slow down before rounding the corner into the soldiers’ barracks. Link’s a commanding officer and has been given a small room for his own private use though he has been looking for a proper residence for some time. Zelda stops before his door and knocks.

No answer.

A passing guard clears his throat. “He’s in the stable.” He bows and offers to escort her there. She agrees and ignores the odd look the man gives her bare feet. He stops at the door. “Would you like me to wait outside?”

“That won’t be necessary.” She thanks him and slips in, quietly. It’s not hard to find Link. He’s got his back turned but his head is pressed against his horse’s. Zelda finds she doesn’t know what to say. That she’s confused about his reaction… her own reaction. All she can figure out is that something hurts. Something doesn’t feel right and she wants it fixed. So, she just starts talking. “How old is she now?”

Link is good at hiding his surprise if he didn’t hear her come in. He doesn’t make a move to answer.

“She’d have to be… fifteen, by now?” She swallows, stepping closer despite her brain suddenly telling her to flee. “I remember, your father teaching us to ride on her when we were children.” Zelda stops several feet away. Close enough that she could embrace him in just a few strides. She takes a breath. “You… Link, I…” She remembers all the torn pieces of parchment in her hand and holds them out. “Did you write this? I found it in the garden… is it a poem? I haven’t put the pieces together yet but, y-you know, how I like poems. Still, I hope this isn’t the only copy.” Zelda stops. She knows she’s rambling and that feeling of flight turns to frustration. “Look at me!” Her shout sets the animals on edge and she winces at the volume

Link turns and signs, ‘Don’t scare the horses.’

Zelda’s face flushes in anger and she signs, violently, back. ‘Then talk to me, you jerk.’ She hates the terrible sad look in his eyes but manages to hold his gaze while continuing, ‘Why did you run away like that?”

‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’ His expression betrays the lazy way he signs. 

“Interrupt?” She blurts and rolls her eyes. “Tobias was being a flirt. There wasn’t anything going on.”

Link frowns. “You were holding hands.”

“He was holding my hand.” Zelda punctuates the statement by signing as she speaks. “A–And what’s this about?” She tosses the torn poem at him. “Why did you rip it up…?” She crosses her arms. “I like poetry… I…” The emotional whirlwind finally catches up with her and tears threaten to escape her attempts to blink them away. “I’m very confused.”

Link’s warm hand startles her as it reaches up to thumb away an escaped tear. He smiles gently and lets his palm rest against her cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have overreacted.” He sighs. “I wrote that poem.” A pause. “For you.”

Zelda blinks at him. “Me?” She glances at the largest piece on the ground. “You are the Morning… seems awfully romantic, Link.” She’s blushing and, slowly, the world starts to feel right again.

“I know.” He signs with a smirk. “That was the point.” Link frowns then and steps away from her. His shoulders slump and he shakes his head. “I don’t even know if you feel…”

“You know.” Zelda breathes, moving back into his space. “I have never had a suitor recite something he made… from his heart.” She smiles and, carefully, places her hand on his chest. “Especially from a heart so dear to me.” Link takes both her hands in his own. “Could you remember it? Could you tell me what it said?”Link nods. She moves to let go of his hands and gives him a confused look when he tightens his hold. “You need your hands, sil–” He places her hands on his chest and keeps his above them.

“You are the morning,” His voice is soft, deep and she can feel it rumble in his chest when he speaks. Zelda feels her legs go weak but he manages to hold her there despite looking like he might collapse himself. Link takes a deep, shaky breath and continues.

“You are the Morning,

your smiles reaches the darkest places

that I thought the light could no longer reach.

Your laughter chases away those traces

of night hidden and, now, I beseech–

You.

To listen, for once, let me save your breath

and tell you all these things hidden

beneath my silent depths…

I have few things to offer

the daughter of a King

no titles, no land,

no pauper’s ring.

Yet, here I stand

A man

bathing in the Morning’s rays

without gifts of jewels or gold…

Just an offer.

And my hands…

My heart and my soul.”

He takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

#queaky writes #zelink #legend of zelda #fanfiction #zelink fanfiction #zelda fanfic #tloz #legend of zelda fanfiction #zeldaxlink #zelda

[justsomebucky]

The Truth Is (Part 1)

Summary: Canon(ish). Captain America calls on reader to help his best friend uncover a major scandal. If reader succeeds, the former Winter Soldier might finally be vindicated. Failure is not an option when the truth is at stake.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,620

Warnings: language, inspired by current events, I ramble, I bend the timeline, canon is hard, future violence and gun usage, future death, bad writing

A/N: This is part one for @imhereforbvcky‘s canon writing challenge. Mee, please feel free to disregard until it is complete! My prompt was “Was this my best idea? No. Did it work? Yes, so stop complaining.” Part one of who knows how many.

You cringed at the sound of your secondary mobile ringing in the quiet café, answering it almost immediately without glancing at the screen.

“Yes?”

“Is that any way to greet me, Y/N?”

The sound of his voice was just as warm as you remembered.

He was the one who gave you the secondary phone, and he was only supposed to call if it was dire, if all hell had broken loose or maybe if the end of days was near. That was the promise Steve Rogers made when you last saw him.

You took a quick headcount; there were two baristas and six customers, including one potential government employee at a table by the front window. Nothing you couldn’t handle, though in D.C. it was safer to never use names. They couldn’t overhear what you didn’t say, after all.

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your coffee as you stood to go outside. Out of habit, you checked your periphery in case anyone was following.

“I’m sorry, it’s just really early. Is everything okay?”

“Heard you’re working for Ross now.”

“I can’t discuss that here, you know that.”

He chuckled. “It’s stable work. I’m glad to hear you aren’t as reckless anymore.”

You pretended to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m still just the right amount of reckless.”

“Then I’ll just assume you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

“That’s fair. I know you didn’t call to chat, though. What do you need?”

“Right to the point as always.”

“I’m efficient, what can I say?”

Steve paused for a beat before sighing in your ear. “They’re after him again, Y/N.”

“I know.” You took a sip from your coffee.

Weariness seeped into Steve’s voice, just a little. “Then you know why I need your help…why we need it.”

Under normal circumstances, you preferred working alone. There was something about the vulnerability of having a partner, of caring if someone got left behind that made it harder to accomplish what you needed to in the field, so you just didn’t deal with it.

To be fair, it’s not like you and Steve were best friends or anything. You only knew him through Tony Stark, your former employer. It’d been long enough now that you saw Steve as almost a distant older brother type, always looking out for you even when he couldn’t directly help, with just enough mystery to make things interesting.

You never cared much for the whole superheroes thing, either. Sure, you’d helped the Avengers on occasion and you greatly appreciated what they did for the planet, but you mostly tried to steer clear because of how high-profile they were.

Instead, you were obsessed with seeking the truth through information, and you were damn good at it, too.

After graduating, you went to Stark Industries looking for an entry-level job. Instead, Tony hired you on as an independent contractor, and you made big bucks to find the details locked away in private clubs or executive offices that F.R.I.D.A.Y. couldn’t access. You helped him stay one step ahead of the politicians who were trying to do more harm than good.

Tony sort of went radio silent after the introduction of the Sokovia Accords, though. He stopped communicating with you, stopped asking for anything out of the ordinary. He did what he thought was best for everyone and took Secretary Ross’ side.

So, you’d refocused your efforts to help Steve. You didn’t believe in the Accords as they were, and though you still respected Tony, it effectively ended your professional relationship.

Steve had more pressing concerns, anyway, what with the reappearance of some figures from the past. On more than one occasion, you helped his friend Sharon Carter secure some files and intel, and from then on you were welcomed as part of his unofficial team.

For the last few months, though, you’d been undercover for your own interests, stationed as a member of Secretary Ross’ private security detail. Instead of being the muscle with the gun, you were the eyes and ears. All Ross knew about you was that you used to work for Stark Industries, and you guessed that he saw you as a potentially valuable informant.

That meant that you couldn’t take every piece of intel seriously without doing a little of your own research first. If you leaked false information, they would know it was you and that was a dangerous game to play.

Eventually, the Avengers tried to take matters into their own hands and ended up fighting each other. You lost touch with Steve after that, except for one message letting you know he was okay.

Besides trying to wrangle the Avengers, Secretary Ross had a huge chip on his shoulder, and that chip’s name was James ‘Bucky’ Buchanan Barnes. Despite all the evidence that would reassure any sane person with a conscience that Bucky was innocent of his wrongdoings (though a few disgruntled German special ops might disagree), Ross still kept an eye out for him.

Rather, Ross was targeting Bucky.

It was subtle at first. He would find reasons to bring up the Winter Soldier during televised interviews or conferences, weaving the mentions between statistics on violence or crime. Ross would bring him up in the context of national security, casually mentioning that the United States still didn’t have its own defense against a super assassin.

He still wanted Bucky locked up as part of a personal vendetta that had little to nothing to do with Bucky himself. Ross wanted a sacrificial lamb, a big win for the homeland that would make the public trust him more.

His endgame was still unclear, though.

That was the first of two reasons why you took the job as Ross’ security detail.

The other reason was Bucky himself. Steve had introduced you to him before they went on the run, and within the first few minutes of speaking with him it was easy to see he was a victim, not a villain.

And Secretary Ross?

You were willing to risk it all to make sure that lying sonofabitch didn’t succeed.

That’s why you immersed yourself in the Winter Soldier case, reading file after file in an attempt to not only become more familiar with what Bucky went through, but to try to figure out what Ross might do next. You decided early on that the best way to stop him was to join him, to pretend to buy the bullshit he was selling. Men like him loved that.

Those who knew you best knew it was all an act.

The truth mattered to you even if it didn’t matter to Ross, and that was the approach you took in order to pass every single interview and test to be on his security detail. They agreed with nearly every statement you made, though their version of the truth was very different. It didn’t matter if they blurred or omitted the details as long as it benefited them.

To you, it was a closed case that needed a little extra push to ensure Bucky’s vindication. He deserved that much, while Secretary Ross deserved the inside of a maximum security prison cell.

“Y/N?”

Steve’s voice brought you out of your reverie.

“I know,” you repeated, tossing your empty coffee cup in the nearest bin. “I’ve kept up with the latest. What do you suggest?”

The line was quiet for a beat, then you heard some muffled voices on the other end as he apparently discussed it with someone else.

“Listen, if I send you coordinates, can you meet with someone to secure some evidence? We need Ross out of power, and we need his ties with Russia and the Super Soldier serum exposed.”

Your brows furrowed. “You think the big guys in charge don’t know of his involvement? Ask Bruce Banner sometime. They applaud it. In fact, they’d love nothing more than to start it up again on a larger scale.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m referring to the money Ross and his buddies in Congress funneled to HYDRA from United States taxpayers in order to create more super soldiers here. We know he’s knee deep in it, and we want to expose him. That should get him off Bucky’s back and away from any power to do more damage.”

Steve’s words made you stop in your tracks.

“That’s…that is a huge accusation. I’ve been tracking these guys for years and they’re too good to let details like that slip by. If your source has this evidence, they are already in danger. You’d need more than paper trails on this one, you’d need special counsel, sworn testimonies, twenty-four hour witness protection, an-“

“And that’s why I want you to work with the only person alive who knows the situation better than you.”

Your stomach turned at the thought. “You don’t mean…?”

“Come on, you could use a little teamwork. You two got along just fine.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. Hasn’t he been through enough? And isn’t he a little…obvious?”

Steve chuckled on the other line. “How soon can you be in Vilnius? There’s a promising lead I want you to follow, an eyewitness who claims to have proof and she’s willing to go on record.”

You checked the time on your phone. “I’ll have to figure out my cover, maybe airport hop, you know. That takes time.”

“Just be there by Tuesday. I’ll get you more details tonight, but we have to hurry. You know what happens when they find witnesses before we do.”

“I’m well aware. I’m just hoping my luck doesn’t run out this time.”

“I’m trusting you, Y/N. I know you can do this.”

Steve ended the call, and you moved into action.

---

Part 2

Masterlist

no tags

i apologize for formatting errors that might appear. something is going on with the app.

#meescanonchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #jsb the truth is #sorry #god this was difficult #i'm sorry if it's awful #i kept editing and im not even sure it makes sense now lol #i queued this and went to bed #queued post

[sweetcurlyhaz]

Annabeth Chase: Ravenclaw or Slytherin?

This is so hard. So, before we start: English isn’t my first language, so sorry for my grammar errors. Then, this is MY opinion, if you have another one, you can comment and talk about it. Let’s start step by step. 

-Why Annabeth isn’t an Hufflepuff? I think everyone agree that Annabeth can’t be an Hufflepuff. So move on. 

- Could Annabeth be a Gryffindor? This question is nice, and I’ll show you why Annabeth can’t be a Gryffindor. 

1- Let’s compare Hermione and Annabeth. They’re very similar. They’re smart, clever, and are respectively the best friends of our protagonist. They’re also  stubborn and proud. But there are some differences, example: on the way they use their intelligence. Hermione is more practical: she don’t know something, she goes to the library. The golden trio must solve something they don’t know? Hermione goes to library. She’s smart, but also recognize that she can’t know everything. She always learn something new in every book. While the Annabeth’s intelligence is different. She never asks for help, she never searches in books the answer. She uses her brain, and thinks a lot, like in MoA. Annabeth, being daughter of Athena, prefer to think and to invent a strategy. She’s more schedule. Of course she’s read a lot, otherwise she wouldn’t know all these things, but when it comes a problem she prefers to cling only on her intelligence. I think they’re both have these differences due to their personality: Hermione is more insecure, and she knows deeply she can’t know everything, and we can say her intelligence is more practical. Annabeth is proud and confidence of her intelligence, and we can say that her intelligence is more strategic and “abstract” (take this adjective with a grain of salt. Abstract stands for “I don’t search in book, I use my mind”). 

2- Being a leader. Annabeth, we know very well, in HOO is the leader of the seven. But she’s not a leader because she want to, but because otherwise Percy and Jason could actually kill each other (I’m kidding). I mean she is the leader because everyone know she’s more strategic and keeps everyone concentrate. She have to take matters into her own hands, before something tragical happens. I think these are not qualities of a Gryffindor leader. A Gryffindor is a leader because of his/her glory and sense of justice. Annabeth is not a leader because of this things.

3- Another proof of why she isn’t a Gryffindor is the way she refuse to follow Luke. Luke was her friend, she was loyal to him. But after he change she doesn’t follow him anymore. Then, Luke goes to her and asks her for help. She doesn’t trust him. She loose her faith in him. So she doesn’t listen to him. Now, Gryffindors are very stubborn and they don’t forgive easily, but they also have a nobile heart. A Gryffindor would never abandon someone who needs help, they’re too knightly and they have a nobile heart. 

-Is Annabeth a Ravenclaw? Oh, gods. This is hard. Annabeth has all the reason to be a Ravenclaw, really. She’s intelligence, wise, creative (She want to be and architect). But there’s something missing. Annabeth has not an abstract mind. Let’s compare her with Luna. Luna has a very abstract mind, she’s creative, she’s dreamy, and she thinks a lot before doing something. Annabeth is not like that:

1- Annabeth is too impulsive. Okay, she is intelligence, clever, and knows always what to do in a fight and she always has a strategy (remember in the first book when they’re playing capture the flag: “Athena always has a plan” GODS I LOVE HER). But this is only when it comes to practical things: in feelings she isn’t so rational. She’s impulsive, almost aggressive sometimes, and she scares people (like Jason in The Lost Hero, lol). Ravenclaw are more pragmatic in every part of their life, even sentimental life. They rarely get controlled by their feelings, they rather be rational than being impulsive. Or at least, this is the way I understand Ravenclaw.

2- Annabeth hasn’t an open mind. Don’t get me wrong, now I'll explain myself with an example: Tyson and Annabeth. Annabeth at first doesn’t like Tyson, she treats him bad and without respect. This is because Tyson is a cyclops, and Annabeth is scared of them. First, this way of behavior isn’t rational, she only follows her instinct. Second, Annabeth has the same problem Hermione has with Luna. She has prejudice. That’s because Annabeth can’t be a Ravenclaw, her mind is too schedule, too much organized, and she never try too see Tyson’s point o view. Ravenclaw are open minded, they’re mind are always in process of new things and they don’t have problem to have a discussion. Annabeth mind doesn’t process like that. It’s not a bad thing, she just needs more time to assimilate this kind of things that touch her personally. Another example: when she’s angry or scared she tends to run away, she avoid the discussion. Example: in the battle of labyrinth where Annabeth avoid to discuss with Percy about Luke, about Rachel and about the last line of the prophecy. 

3-Annabeth gets angry with the Sphinx. In the Battle of Labyrinth Annabeth gets really really angry with the Sphinx because her questions were silly and, like, offended her intelligence. This is because these questions were just something that you know, you don’t have to think about it: or you know the answer or not. Annabeth want from the Sphinx a guessing game, something that challenges her mind. If in one hand this behavior can be of a Ravenclaw, at other hand it’s almost of a Slytherin. She gets offended, and she gets angry: the Sphinx touch her pride and her wisdom, which is the only “power” she has. It’s not also the silly game, but the fact that this game offend her pride. And we know that Annabeth is really proud. 

So...what’s Annabeth? I think now you know what I think about her. Yes, she’s a Slytherin. And now I’ll tell you why. At first I thought “Annabeth is a Ravenclaw”, but she has some Slytherin behavior that we can’t avoid.

1-She’s proud. Slytherin are well known to be proud, they prefer kill themseves rather than accept they’re wrong. Same as Annabeth. She’s a daughter of Athena and is normal to her thinking she’s always right. She’s stubborn, she doesn’t change idea easily, until she actually smash her face to a close door. Example: her relationship with Luke. Annabeth always think that Luke can be save, that he’s not evil, that he’s good. But when she see what he did to Selena she cries and she figures it out what he really becomes. Deeply she knows Percy was right about Luke, but admit she was wrong (to Percy, by the way) is like stabbing her pride. Being proud is not only a Slytherin thing, even Gryffindors can be proud. But Annabeth is proud is more similar to the Slytherin. If someone touch Annabeth’s pride she gets angry, she doesn’t want to discuss and she run away. I think this is a Slytherin attitude.

2- Again, I’m sad there’s no good Slytherin to compare her with. We only have Regulus, and I'll make him enough. They’re a lot similar, especially in loyalty. So, Regulus is on the side of Voldemort, he thinks Voldy has great purposes. But when Regulus finds out how much wiling Voldemort was to go, he turns his back to him. He agrees with his thoughts, but not with his measures. His loyalty ends in the moment Voldemort goes against Regulus’ principles. They’re not compatible in that way. So he goes against him, and he died trying to. Annabeth does the same with Luke. They’re friends at first, Annabeth even thought she was in love with him, but when she realizes what Luke does to achieve his goals she goes against him. Yeah, she never thought he was evil, but this doesn’t change anything. She stands for what she thinks is right, even if the purpose of Luke was interesting and attractive to her. Her loyalty to Luke ends in the same way of Regulus and Voldemort. Slytherin loyalty is selective and ends in the moment one goes against the goals and principles of the other.

About loyalty, we said that Slytherin loyalty is restrictive only to a small group. And that’s valid for Annabeth too. It might seem she’s loyal to everyone, but are we sure? She never says what she feels to anyone except Percy. She hides things that worries her from the seven, except Percy. She doesn’t trust Romans, but she’s trying. Her loyalty is very restrictive and hard to achieve. We know really well she has trust issues.

3- Annabeth fatal law: hubris. And that’s said all. She thinks she can do better than gods, that she can do a restart of the world with no wars, no poverty. She feels the same of Luke, that she can change the world in better because she’s better than everyone else. I don’t want to sound, well, too drastic, but these thoughts remember me Voldemort. Slytherin are ambitious, they think they’re better than everyone and they’re quite arrogant sometimes. Annabeth fits perfectly this category. 

4-She’s ambitious. Annabeth want to be an architect and she’s sure she will be one. She want to be recognize by everyone, leave an imprint to the world, be remember. This is so Slytherin, right? Having a purpose, being ambitious and be faithful only to this. We know she want to built something permanent also for personal reason, but we have to notice this part of her. 

5- She want to impress people. She really care of the opinion of people she cares about. And doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, because she feels it like a personal failure. Example: In MoA when Athena is angry with her, the goddess says she is disappointed by Annabeth. This opinion (fuck you Athena, you make sad our Annabeth) almost corrode her in the inside. She said she always try to make Athena proud of her. This kind of behavior makes me remember Draco. Even Draco cares a lot on what their parents think of him, he change for them, he do what they wanted him to do. Annabeth is quite the same, but she’s not a coward like Draco, so she’ll never change for Athena.

So, to recap, Annabeth has both Ravenclaw and Slytherin qualities. But her character has more qualities and defects of the Slytherin house. She has all of them: ambitious, intelligence, she want to be respected and she want fame. I think people don’t want her in Slytherin because Annabeth is a good person...I mean, you could be good and be in Slytherin, too. Unfortunately Slytherins are saw in this way for the picture and the stereotype Rowling create around them. Well, adding Annabeth in the Slytherin house can break down these stereotypes :)

So, this is what I think, tell me your opinion in the comments and reblog if you like this! Kiss x

#annabeth #annabeth pjo #Annabeth Slytherin #percy jackson #pjo series #hoo #slytherin #ravenclaw

[hopeless-namjin]

Actually funny enough I wrote you a submission before about IBFY, on April 20th, but Tumblr likes to eat everything I send anyone so it probably didn’t go through to you. Thankfully I showed my friend so I had it saved and was able to re-copy it. Hopefully this one gets through to you, here’s what I originally said! (Also, here’s my Jungkook mug!)

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Hello! I just wanted to say, my friend Rose introduced me to I Bloomed For You about two weeks ago and I haven’t stopped reading since. I finished the last current chapter of Seasons about ten minutes ago, and I’m sorry you’re receiving so much hate for silly things such as spelling mistakes when you explained at the very beginning that to edit erases all the proof of the hours and hours you’ve spent on this fic. I actually really love the way you have developed each character’s individual personality and I think it’s refreshing to see them turned into your own characters in a sense, instead of just portraying everyone as ‘perfect’ because they’re idols in real life. Even as idols they’re not perfect, and a fanfiction or any story wouldn’t be good if you made every character perfect and innocent because then you wouldn’t find such depth and be able to create an interesting storyline. Your worldbuilding is actually really neat and just the concept of Hanahaki had actually never been introduced to me before this fic. I love the heart-wrenching moments, the laughs, and I adore slow burns, and I think you and your sister have done a marvelous job so far. I would absolutely love to see that this story gets completed and to read it to the very end. I have laughed and cried countless times over this fic, and though I’m not personally ace, I want to add that I really appreciate you representing your community in such a wonderful light. Overall this fic has to be one of my favorites that I’ve read and I hope you can get out of your funk for writing it soon. I know people are harsh and their baseless accusatory comments and plain old bullying can really get you down, but just know your story is not in any way a 'fuck up’ and that not all of us hate you for spelling errors or because Taehyung isn’t the perfect little angel in this story. If you really hated him you wouldn’t have focused the past 20 chapters on him and Jungkook because why would you even want to think about someone you don’t like? I know I’m rambling but I hope you understand everything I’m trying to say. I think you’re wonderful writers who have created an amazing universe to play off of and really get the creativity flowing, I love your details, your depiction of characters, and that not everything is perfect all the time and that you have to work to find your happiness, because that’s how life is. Keep it up, I hope to see another beautiful update from you soon. -Kyler

I think you message must have been eaten, but truth be told I’ve been rotten at getting back to people Lately. Also are you talking about my Rose?

im so glad that you like both seasons and IBFY, and that you seem to have gotten the point that most people miss, the fact that no one is perfect. It’s kind of fun because the whole Hanahaki thing is all because I got mad about another fic didn’t have enough angst and I thought it was such a waste to have someone die over unrequited love and then not get the angst. Like the bets part of IBFY is going through all of the other characters grief at the prospect of loosing Jungkook.

As an author delving that deep into their reasoning and feelings was fascinating and for you readers you got to see s much more of their feelings. And yeah, seasons will have more of the same. I really wanna unfold the characters and show how odd and difficult feelings are. Because lets be honest, Fics like to gloss over alot and still call themselves realistic.

I wish there was more I could say, but today has been a long day and Im a bit scattered. I might come back and add a little more later, but i didn’t want to make you wait any longer for a reply. I really hoped not to make this half aresd and here we are. But thank you, thank so so much for your kind words. It’s because I know I have reader like you and all the other that I even tried to come back and why I’ll continue to write fanfics (tho pissing off people who find me overrated is a nice bonus).

Seriously, I love to hear people rant and I love hearing what you think. Also the mug is amazing. I kinda need, ha ha

I hope I make sense because im feeling completely battered and I have work the next four days (ugh), just know I read and treasured every word.

-Hel