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ticketstomydaydreams · 3 years

Text

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Note

Can I place an order for Yandere Geralt de Rivia with the kind and loving reader who sees the best in people?

Yes lemme cook something up for our mans Geralt⚔️

Geralt of Rivia x reader - Full Moon on the Rise

Summary: You’ve never felt actual hate for others, you can’t even bring yourself to hurt a fly, and with Geralt, he’ll make sure you never have to.

Warning: a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective Geralt

Masterlist

“So what do you think? The green cloak or the black one....ohhh or maybe the red one?” You ask excitedly as Geralt stands next to you, looking around for any potential threats more then actually paying any real attention, “I mean, the green matches more with the woods, you know trees n’ such and that’s great for blending in. But the black gives off those scary vibes you have. But the dark red one just looks so good, and comfy too.” You raise a brow as he nods, “You know.”

“Right.”

You smile at his adorably lack luster reply, it’s just how he is and that’s perfectly fine with you, “I’m going with the dark red cloak.” You grin with a curt nod of self approval for your knowledgeable decision making skills.

Turning to the cloak vendor you hold up your prize, “Good evening ma’am, how much for this mysterious beauty?”

The old woman smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she beams, quite excited to have some business with you, “Oh, my dear that’ll be five silver pieces.” You nod, tucking your new cloak under your arm as you nudge Geralt for some coin.

He quickly snaps his head over to you, his golden irises showing concern before he realizes you’re completely fine, “Y/N what is it?”

With a small giggle you make a grabby motion with your hand, “Spare me five silver pieces my good sir.” You muse with a mischievous brow wiggle, earning an amused huff from your Witcher.

He politely grins, “Whatever the lady asks.” Feeling around he pulls out the exact amount of coin you need. Your palm is spread as he tilts his hand into yours, conveniently giving you the coin.

“Thank you my love.” You whisper softy as he simply hands you the flash of a smile before turning his head to scour the market place once again.

The old woman opens up a small sack of coins for you to dump yours in, “Thank ya dear, have a save eve’nin.”

Clink. Sounds the last silver piece as you hold your new dirt-less red cloak closer in your arm, “You too.”

She suddenly leans in a bit closer, her face going serious, “Best keep that Witcher close, never know what kind of beasts be lurking in the woods. Specially with the next full moons a com’in.” Her wrinkly complexion turning back into her original beaming old lady face, “Have a nice stay in Bellepav.”

Stepping away you nervously nod, “Uh, yes....I’ll try?” You reply, not certain if you should be concerned or ignore the weirdness of the locals.

Deciding to ignore the strange behavior of the kind old woman, you flash her a last generous grin before turning on your heel and walking over to Geralt. With the familiar sound of your approaching footsteps he turns an intrigued eye over to you.

His brows furrowing as you gently lay a hand on his arm, “You alright Y/N.” He worries, noticing the slight wariness in your step.

Lightly squeezing his forearm you send him a reassuring smile, “Of course, that old woman was just acting odd. Well not that odd, I’ve definitely seen weirder....she just had a strange look when she told me to keep you close and watch out for the next full moon.”

He moves to take your cloak from you, quietly swinging the thick comfortable dark red fabric around your shoulders, clasping the lock together that keeps the material from falling off your body.

After he’s done, does his beautiful golden eyes find your alluring ones, “Y/N, we’ll be fine. I wouldn’t dare let a soul touch you, you have my word.”

Reaching up to gently cup his scruffy cheek, you smirk, “I know you do.” Releasing your warm touch from his face do you turn towards the bakers cart, the smell of fresh bread wafting into your nostrils.

“Geralt!” You exclaim with an excited twinkle in your eyes, “Fresh bread....” Your skilled eyes land upon the shiny red apples displayed about on the stall, “Apples! Ugh, I haven’t had an actual apple in almost four months, what I would do for one.”

Your eyes stare dreamily at the bakers cart, your mouth watering at the smell and sight of the desired foods. Geralt chuckles at your adorable reaction before tugging at your arm. “Come on Y/N, I’ll get you something.” Speaks your kind Witcher with a tinge of humor in his gravely voice.

Snapping your head towards him, your eyes going wide in excitement, “Aww yes!” You shout before pulling him in the direction of the cart, joy flowing through your heart as you make hasty steps across the market place.

The red apples are even more beautiful then you’d first seen as you stand ogling them from your spot in the muddy lane, “Sir I’d like three apples and a loaf of that bread please.” You ask, your voice sweet as honey.

He nods, “That’ll be two silver pieces and a copper cent.” Inquires the baker with a friendly smile, casually looking you up and down though you’re to focused on the apples to even notice his slight creepiness.

Geralt does and immediately steps forward, his broad leather armored shoulder placing itself in between you and the lonely baker. His golden irises dark and deadly as he stares down the now noticeably frightened man.

The baker takes a step back, sending him a shy half grin, “Uh...I’ll get those apples...and uh...loaf of br-bread.” He stutteres, dropped his eyes to nothing else but his new task at hand.

You watch from behind Geralt’s strong body, your mind on those big beautiful apples as Geralt fishes out the coin, dropping it atop the wooden table as the baker hands him the loaf and a small bag filled with three juicy red apples.

A smile breaks out upon your face as Geralt hands you the food, you gratefully accept as he turns and practically death glares at the stunned baker, who’s notably averted his gaze to his fluffy loaves of bread.

Geralt turns back around to watch as you hug your valuables close, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at your obliviously cute demeanor.

Resting a hand on your shoulder he finds your beaming eyes, “Lets go find Roach.”

You gasp, “I bet Roach would love one of these big beautiful bastards.” Earning a chuckle from your silver haired lover as he walks by your side on the way to the front entrance of the small village.

You both wander past some more harmless villagers going about their business until a small dirty little boy races past the two of you, tripping over his own two feet and just like that does he abruptly fall into the dirt. His hands landing with a thwack sound as his stomach and knees reach the hard ground.

He lets out a pained cry once his chin hits the earth, you don’t have time to think before you’ve crouched by his side like a concerned mother. You gently touch his shoulder as he sniffles, his dirt smudged face turning to you.

“That was quite the tumble, are you alright?” His big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears as he moves into a seated position, his hands clutched tight against his chest as he holds in the pain.

“Y-yes.....sorry miss I should have been looking were I was going.” He mutters, his eyes downcast as he avoids Geralt’s hard gaze from right next to you.

Your eyes turn soft before you take one of your red apples from out of your thin ruck sack, “I have just the thing that would cheer you up, ever taste something as colorful as this crimson beauty?” You add with a raise of your brow, the young boy sniffles again. His face lighting up as you wave the shining red apple across his line of sight.

You smile, handing him the scarlet treat, “I think you need this more then me. Maybe it’ll sharped those senses so you won’t fall again, hmm.”

He holds the valuable in his small grubby fingers, his eyes wide in surprised wonder, “Th-thank you miss, I’ll try and not fall again.”

You breath out an amused snort, “Yes, I wouldn’t want to land on these streets again, considering horses are ridden through them daily.” The brown eyed boy gives you the shyest of smiles before you stand to your full height once again.

“Safe travels.” You add with a friendly wink before continuing on your way out of the village, Geralt trailing after you like the ever loyal lover that he is.

His large form keeps comfortably at your side, “That was our apple Y/N.” States Geralt in his titular gruff Witcher voice.

Turning an amused smirk to him, you nudge his arm, “Great observation, but the little beast seemed to need it more...poor thing just about face planted in the street. Did look quite painful.”

Geralt smiles, always bemused by your kind intellect, “Y/N you are too kind.”

Walking past the front gates and down the muddy village trail you let out a small laugh, “What? Can I not give a little, if you haven’t noticed my White Wolf...this world doesn’t like to be very kind to the innocent most times.” He hums in agreement, “So you see, I’ll do whatever I can to help those who need it most. And if that’s a clumsy child with a dirty face, I’ll be glad to make their day better.”

You can’t see it, but Geralt’s heart could just about explode with how much love he has for you in this very moment, the way you speak with such care and kindness for the people of the continent. He’s never met anyone like you, through it all, with all you’ve seen, your heart still goes out for the ones who need it the most and Geralt knows this.

Your whole aurora feels light and warm, excitement courses through your vessel as you think of how happy Roach is going to be once she gets a taste of your delicious apple. And especially how much you’re looking forward to taking a bite out of your own crispy red apple too. It’s the little things.

Boots press into mud as you finally find your way to the small stream where you both left Roach to nibble on some vegetation. You quickly set your loaf of bread onto a mossy log before reaching in your thin ruck sack to pull out one beautifully shiny crimson apple.

“Hello my dear Roach!” You exclaim happily as the mare neighs, “I’ve got a lil somethin’ for ya, it’s a...da da da daaaa....apple!” Geralt chuckles to himself in the background as he fumbles around in his black traveling bag, finding something to sharpen his sword with.

“How bout’ them apples..” you burst with laughter at your admittedly cheesy jest, “Okay, okay...here ya go Roach. A prize for the best lady in all the land.” Her head bobs up and down as you bring the red apple near her face. She quickly devours the fruit in a matter of seconds, the speed and her clear delight enough to earn a giggle from you.

“Roach.” You tut with a shake of your head, “Those manners are something else. Wonder who you learned them from?”

You turn an eye to Geralt who’s stopped sharpening his sword to find your humored gaze, “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.” He mutters, doing his best to hide his growing smile.

Turning a flustered face away from him you gently pet Roach’s soft mane, “He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?” You whisper to the mare.

After tending to Roach for a bit do you walk down to the stream, washing away the dirt and grime from your hands and face as Geralt starts a fire close by. You can feel his golden irises watching you as the cool water washes away the worries of the day.

Finishing up your nightly routine, you stand once more, turning around to face the loving smile of your dear Witcher. You walk over to his glowing fire, a small smile upon your lips, “Room for one more?”

He scoots himself down the log, patting to the extra spot, “There’s always room for you.”

Sitting yourself next to him, he quickly wraps a protective arm around you, pulling your body close. The both of you do nothing but enjoy one another’s company and the crackling of the campfire for what seems like hours. You couldn’t be bothered to remove yourself from Geralt even if a whole war party was racing past you both louder then a giants scream.

Though you’re just about certain without a doubt in your mind that Geralt feels the exact same way. His breathing his steady and calm, it’s a comforting rhythm that you could listen to for hours. Even his large muscular arm is warm against your body, he’s like a furnace on the coldest night. And all yours.

You’re just about to drift off into dreamland when a sudden loud howl is heard in the near distance causing you to jump. Geralt hugs you closer, “Fear not Y/N, it’s just a damn wolf, nothing to be afraid of.” He assures you with the kindest of smiles, not a note of falseness lacing his words.

Resting your head against his broad shoulder once again, you gently squeeze his hand, “Right, of course. Just a stupid old wolf who apparently feels it the time to howl at the full moon tonight.” You affirm with a curt nod, “I mean, it’s beautiful out and whatnot, guess it just startled me is all.”

“There’s nothing in these woods to be afraid of, except for me.” Grumbles Geralt as he stares into the embers of the fire.

“Oh, my love I could never be afraid of you. Never.” He smiles at your truthfulness, his chest filling with warmth at your kind words.

In reply he places a gentle kiss atop your head, earning a content sigh to leave your lips at the feeling, he is too good to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not once has he ever made you uncomfortable or in fear for your life because of him, Geralt makes sure of himself to always put you first. He couldn’t bare to ever see you in pain.

The grip on your Witcher’s arm goes tighter at the sound of another piercing howl, this time much too close for your liking. Geralt can sense the fearful uneasiness radiating off of your smaller frame, how your heartbeat has picked up with the rush of your nerves. You’re not one to scare that easily, but this wolf is most definitely getting closer for whatever reason.

“Geralt!” You whisper yell, “That sounded close!”

With one arm wrapped around your torso and the other one clasped around the hilt of his silver sword, he looks around him as they two of you keep seated atop the log, a grand moon cloaking the land in a strangely beautiful whiteness. Revealing enough light upon the ground so that not all of the forest is covered in darkness and shadow.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will protect you.” He swears to you, giving a light squeeze to your hip in a small act of comfort, “And anyways, if this was anything to be truly concerned about, Roach would show it. We are going to be fine. This wolf is simply just passing through.”

Your eyes glance over to Roach who’s casually nibbling on some grass, “Alright. Perhaps I’m overreacting, it’s just a wolf going on a nightly stroll as you do, nothing weird about that.”

“Precisely, now how about we get ready for bed? I’ve got the bed rolls already layed out for us....so don’t worry Y/N I’ve got you.” Reassures your Witcher as he removes his arm from your side to rest his sword in the grass right next to his makeshift bed.

Feeling much better now you eagerly follow suit, the roughish cloth of your traveling bed roll is a cherished luxury of journeying across the vast lands of the continent. Though a tavern mattress would be more inviting, the arms of Geralt are always enough in your eyes, or perhaps arms in this case.

Even on the coldest of nights out here would you never really feel a shiver or the icy touch of the cool night air upon your skin. For your Witcher’s large frame seems to always be enough to block out the chill with his body heat when pressed closely against your back.

Just like he is doing now, holding you securely to his large chest, his arms wrapped around your torso. Pulling yourself firmly counter to him, a thick blanket holding in the needed heat that nicely covers over the both of you.

With Geralt so near, your wandering and worrying mind has subsided those troublesome thoughts away from you, the howling wolf from earlier now finding it’s way into the back of your head. Giving yourself time to forget and find the call to sleep once again. With the warmth of Geralt holding you close, your eyelids flutter shut in a matter of seconds, the pull into the dark void of unconsciousness taking hold of you quickly.

Soon you’re out like a light, Geralt falling asleep not long after you do, leaving only the dull glowing embers of the campfire to keep watch over the two of you. Sleep is peaceful and full of strange images presenting themselves as dreams in your head, you can hear the soft sweet calling of Geralt as he speaks sweet nothings into the bleary grey void.

Suddenly you’re standing in a large field of the greenest grasses flowing at your feet, large beautiful mountains surrounding you on all sides off in the far distance, you look to your left and find a single small tree with a branch sticking out.

Walking closer, a black raven materializes right before your very eyes, breaking the silence with a gravelly shrill caw as it nods in your direction. Like it’s trying to communicate with you in the birds own way, furrowing your brows, you trek closer to the mysterious bird. You don’t appear to feel afraid or scared, you’re not even sure if you feel anything at all. Guess that’s just how dreams are sometimes.

Taking another step closer the raven lets out a thrilling caw before the dark bird spreads its black wings, you stumble back as the bird jumps from its perch to take flight. It flaps past you before landing on the short green grass where it is immediately clouded in dark smoke of blues, purples, and deep reds until everything clears to reveal the dirt smudged face of the little boy from earlier that day.

You gasp, surprised to see the little guy standing right before you once again, he looks up to you now, the tiniest of smiles crossing over his face. You stand perplexed, ready to ask him why he’s here when suddenly he points to the blue sky.

“Hold your silver close.” He speaks softly, in that unassuming boyish voice of his.

Hugging yourself, you glance back down at him, “Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean.”

He simply points his little stubby finger back up at the sky, you follow, bewildered to find that the sky is now dark and full of stars, though you can still see around you like the sun is still out. How odd.

“Hold your Witcher close.” Warns the small child in the calmest of voices.

Furrowing your brows in confusion you meet his stoic gaze once again. “Uh....I’m kind of lost, sorry.” You mutter, “I’m not certain what you mean.”

The child smiles a beaming grin, letting out the most adorable of giggles before pointing up at the night sky for the third time, you shift your gaze to find nothing but pitch blackness. And a huge milk white glowing full moon, it’s the largest you’ve ever seen and it’s absolutely magnificent.

You don’t even notice the smile that's fallen onto your face when you suddenly hear the flapping of feathers, snapping your sight back over to the young boy, you’re perplexed to be greeted with the beaming wrinkly face of the old woman from the market.

She nods, acknowledging your presence, “Watch for what lurks in the woods dear. The full moon is here.” She whispers, the warmest of smiles gracing over her aged face as she nods to you once again.

Taking a step closer you take a nervous fistful of the red cloak that’s covering your body, how strange you didn’t notice the material before hand. “Oh, uh hello there....it is quite beautiful isn’t it.” You stammer, “There was a little boy just here moments ago. Do you know where he went?”

She tilts her head to the side, walking a couple steps forward so that she can reach out to clasp both your hands with hers, a kind twinkle in her eye, “My dear, he will always love you, through land and sea, from woods to meadow, and far beyond what makes us human.” She gently squeezes your hands in reassurance, “No matter the cost, he will always love you. For you are his moon, and he is your sun.”

Your brows scrunch together at her poetic words of wisdom? Or, well you’re not entirely so sure, “Sorry. I’m not confident on what you’re getting at ma’am, uh...thank you, I guess.” She smiles once again, showing you a nod of approval before letting go of your hands.

She takes a step back, clasping her palms together, “He is here.”

“Who is here?” You wonder.

“You will see.”

Without warning she abruptly bursts into a flurry of cawing ravens that squawk and screech as they press and flap their dark wings against your face, causing you to fall back into the grass from the jolting intrusion. Suddenly you suck in a quick breath of cold air, your eyes shooting wide open, only for you to find the snoozing face of Geralt.

His tangled dirty white hair a mess over his handsome face as he lets in slow and calming breaths, you relax, letting out an audible sigh of relief. What a strange dream that was, you’ve never had anything like it before. And your dreams are far from anything normal most times.

Though Geralt feels rather nice snuggled next to you, your body feels hot and sweaty, like you can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed and cornered at the moment. Wanting to get some air and cool off, you quietly and skillfully slip from your Witcher’s sweet embrace. You slowly cover him back up with the thick blanket, tip-toeing over to Roach who’s itching her furry bottom on a tree.

You take small steps towards her, a half smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “Hey there girl, having fun?” You chuckle to yourself as she does her thing.

“Nice night huh, I hope no one’s come around to bother you.” She leans her big soft nose into your gentle touch as you pet her, “I got a little too warm, guess Geralt’s a lot hotter then I anticipated. Well, I mean...he’s always hot if you catch my meaning...but you probably already new that and uh....you’d probably rather not listen to me ramble on about how attractive your rider is, hmm? So don’t fret, I will stop.”

She snorts, nudging her nose into your opened palm, “Okay girl, I think you’re great too. I’d say you’ve helped us out quite a bit and not to mention when...”

Snap.

Your head leers to the left at the abrupt sound, nothing but milky white darkness and shadow is to be seen as your eyes trail over the wood line. That was certainly very close, what the hell even made that stick break? Was it a deer, or maybe a coyote?

Your nerves prick when Roach suddenly takes a wary step backwards, her leather reigns pulling to their limit as she takes another step away from you. Thinking quick, you rush to her side, pulling out Geralt’s other silver sword just incase some weird shit is about to go down.

Grasping the blade in your tight grip, you take cautious steps towards the heavy pines that seems to be the place where the stick snapped. You swallow nervously, your heart just about beating out of your chest as you travel closer and closer to the green bristles.

Y/N what are you doing? Have you learned nothing from what those weird dreams were telling you?

Blinking hard, you stop, turning an apprehensive glance over to your peacefully sleeping Witcher, why wake him this could be a simple deer? Letting out another shaky breath you turn towards the thick pine trees, squinting your eyes as you try and do your absolute best to locate the intruder. Walking past a small evergreen, your heart feels like it’s about to explode when suddenly you hear a gentle rustle of leaves directly in front of you.

Turn back idiot.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you blink again, attempting to focus enough that maybe you’ll be able to see what’s making that noise. But as you’re leaning in to the pines, does your eyes finally catch the sight of a large black figure standing on the other side of the tree. Without warning the shadow leaps, you don’t even have a chance to scream before the flash of pearly white fangs reveals itself to you in a raging blur.

The beast shoves you back into the clearing, emitting a blood curdling howl of agony as it steps into the moonlight, your eyes widen in fear at the chilling sight of a huge dark-grey werewolf. It’s inhuman eyes that of glowing topaz, it’s fangs bare and mouth dripping with saliva. Your chest rises and falls with heavy terrified breaths as the wolfman stands on two legs, its strong hand going to its stomach where a thick human like paw pulls out your silver blade.

Steaming red hot blood pours to the frost covered earth as the beast drops the shinning silver to the ground, its wound showing in the bright moonlight as it eyes you down like you’re nothing more then a lost sheep. You shiver at the sight, desperately scooting yourself backwards towards the fire as the werewolf growls a low but haunting note, falling onto all fours as it takes a step closer.

A frightful tear falls down the side of your cheek, you see nothing but hunger and pain in this creatures eyes, he’s slowly dying, but you know he will kill you before his last breath is had.

The wolfman growls again, readying a last charge when all of a sudden a shimmering silver sword is thrust deeply into the beasts throat, the source of its demise steps in between you and the wounded bastard.

Your eyes are wide as you watch the werewolf sink to the earth, gargling and choking on it’s own blood as it dies, twitching here and there before finally it goes still as stone. Not a sound emitting from it’s vessel but the heavy breaths of yourself and Geralt, who’s walked over to the beast now. Crouching down to observe it better, he hums, pulling the blood covered sword out of the monsters throat with a gross meaty sound.

You let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling yourself to your feet as Geralt drags his bloody silver over the beasts fur to clean the wet red from the blade. You swallow thickly, eyes watery from the whole frightening ordeal, “So not a deer as I had hoped.” You mutter, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips causing you to gasp in pain at something on your ribs.

Geralt pierces his sword into the soft dirt, his face a mask of frustrated anger as he turns to you, “Y/N what where you thinking? You could have been killed, you didn’t know what was lurking in the dark, why wouldn’t you have just stayed by the fire?” He grumbles as you avoid his troubled gaze.

Another tear slips down your cheek causing his face to immediately soften, “I don’t know?” You whisper sadly, “I...I shouldn’t have thought to walk in the dark alone like that, it was foolish of me Geralt, truly...I’ll think better of it next time I promi- agh ugh...”A sharp jolting pain rips through your body right down the side of your right ribcage, feeling like someone has just burned you with a cast iron.

More whimpers slip from your tongue at the searing violent stinging of your flesh causing you to press your hands against the area, your face contorting into one of agony while Geralt’s expression reveals deep concern. Not understanding in the slightest why you feel such misery all of a sudden, your eyes slip down to the dreaded area where you take notice of how your dark coat appears to be torn in jagged slashes where the pain is coming from.

Your brows furrow as you slowly remove your tied overcoat, Geralt’s big golden irises studying your every move for what the problem may be. Your hands make quick work of the lacing, now your arms move as you remove the jacket, you gasp in fear once it falls to the ground.

“Y/N.” Whispers Geralt in the softest of voices as a lone tear slides down your cheek.

Slowly you raise your weary head to meet is saddened gaze, “I’ve been bitten.” You rasp, lifting your bloody hand up into the silky moonlight, the burning ache of your wound making itself more present then ever.

Suddenly a surging spike of white hot torment angrily tears up into your side once more, though this time it’s too overwhelmingly excruciating that you fall to your knees, desperately grasping your wounded side when Geralt takes quick steps forward. Pulling you into his strong arms before you’re able to even hit the cold earth completely, his eyes never leaving your distressed face.

“Y/N look at me love, I’m right here...” He speaks gently while holding you close, though you can’t look at him, “don’t be afraid I’ve got you.”

More fearful tears fall freely now as you press your face into his shoulder, a numb and dark feeling finding it’s way into your soul while your arms wrap themselves around his waist, “No, not this.” You cry, shaking with fright, “This cannot be, I-I cannot be a wolf beast....I won’t ever harm anyone Geralt I swear to you on my life, I would never! I-I could never, it isn’t in me!”

“Oh Y/N, my dear Y/N..” His voice surprises you with how uncharacteristically tender it sounds, “Look at me love.” He pleads calmly, pulling you from his shoulder so that you may look into his kind-hearted gaze, “Do you think now, that I would dare lay my blade against your precious skin?” Your lip quivers as your watery eyes slip from his to the werewolf laying dead near the two of you.

“I am one of them now Geralt. How can I live as this now, I am not a monster. I can’t hurt innocent people, I can’t.” You exclaim, your voice breaking as you speak, “All the years we have been together have been the happiest of my entire life, know this Geralt. You bring me so much joy and light that I never imagined I could ever feel, you have given me your heart even when you first claimed you could not love. I will never forget that.” His heart breaks in two at your truthful words of honesty paired with how somber and dismal you appear.

Not being able to stand you looking away from him for much longer, he carefully lifts a hand up to turn your face to his, leaving his palm on your cheek in a comforting manner, “Y/N my love, you will never be a monster in my eyes, not once not ever. I may be a Witcher, but you will not meet an untimely end due to this curse that has made it’s way into your vessel.” His eyes are soft and serene, full of absolute love and adoration for you.

Y/N he will not hurt you, but you cannot hurt others.

You sniffle, your voice thick as you speak, “I will not let others suffer a violent death because of me Geralt, it’s not in my blood.”

“You will not, there is always another way..”

“There is no other way!” You interrupt, sure of yourself that this new affliction will be your inevitable demise, “A werewolf cannot be broken of their curse once it is had, there are no known antidotes!”

“Y/N..”

“This bite cannot be undone Geralt.”

Eyes softening, he pulls you in closer to rest his head against your own, “My dear Y/N, your life means more to me then you know. I will find you the cure, I have seen a vial of it myself long ago when visiting an experienced alchemist who taught me many things about potion making. He will surly know how to rid this she-wolf within you, I am sure of it.”

Lifting your face away from his, you finally show him the tiniest of relieved smiles, your heart bursting with joy at this refreshing news, “You never fail to surprise me, even now. I trust you...I love you Geralt of Rivia with my entire being, every part of me from now until death. I guess this world has yet to bring me down.”

Studying your newly determined expression, he grins with eyes full of love, “I do not doubt it my dear one.”

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #my work

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dynananarmy · 3 years

Text

REPUTATION|| Min Yoongi

Summary:

You were in the top. There was no person in the world who didn't know your name, either for your success or your reputation, believing that the only thing you should do is smile, be a good girl, don't force your opinions on people, and NOT for any reason deny the dating rumors. But then a gummy smile and a sweet accent came to change all your believe system, from a friends with benefits to falling in love, you encounter a new fear: would he love you despite your reputation

Pairings: Idol!Min Yoongi(SUGA) x singer!reader

Warnings: distorted body image and unwarranted fear of gaining weight. Unhealthy habits like starvation, underage alcohol consuption. Mild smut and age gap (Yoongi is 25 and reader is 20) but everything is consensual). If i miss something please let me know.

Gorgeous

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Alone, unless you wanna come along, oh

Anxiety was a familiar feeling, a daily occurrence even before you knew how to call it. The constant fear of making the wrong move, not filling everybody's expectations. But it never gets easier, walking a red carpet was nerve wracking at 20 like it was when you were 13, but expectations were higher, every single album need it to be different, different ��sound, different style, you need it to be more mature but not to sexy because then you were to provocative for kids who follow you, but not to demure because then you are a prim. And then, you were too fat, and then too skinny, or you would have the nice flat stomach that people expect but you didn't have the hourglass figure. So everything you stand in an outfit risky enough for you, you would shake like a leaf, praying that the apple and the water that you had eaten would not somehow make you look bloated. That you contour was blended, that the powder under your eyes would not flash in camera.

You were about to promote your second single of your album, a song who was for a ex manager and ended up seeing as a call out for war for a singer whom you were friends but ended up splitting ways when she started dating an ex boyfriend, an ex boyfriend that you don't actually love but it was still awkward going out with the new girlfriend of your ex. Your team takes it as publicity, even if there was not an actual feud, good or bad, publicity is publicity, and so the music video only seems to spark even more fire. Still you invited all of your friends, friends that you met through other friends, in fashion shows or while performing in lingerie runways, the kind of friends that you partied with in your mansion in Coney Island or the one in Malibu. But that only sends a spark of worry, appearing in a music video with models with perfect bodies only makes you even more insecure about your own, and you were scared about what people would think about it.

A tug in your arm pulled you out of the dazed of the camera's flash and your thoughts, Calum King was a producer, a handsome embodiment of masculinity, a strong build body, a short beard, barely there but enough to let you know that he was a man. He was older than you by a lot, not enough to be scandalous but enough to raise a few eyebrows.

He smile and you copied and hold his arm to the cameras, the lady assisting the red carpet gesture you to move and once you were out of the sight of the camera you let a shaky breath a pound in the head and the emptiness of your stomach make you feel dizzy and your publicist move quickly, holding a hard candy to you.

“Are you okay?” Calum asks, still holding you, you nod immediately and put the candy in your mouth.

“I´m good, the lights make me feel light headed but nothing that a little bit of sugar does´n fix” you say tasting the candy, feeling a little bit less tired, he nods but his sight was already far away from you.

“Baby, i´m going to say hello to a few friends, I¨ll see you in our seats, okay?” He doesn't wait for an answer, his manager following behind, you let a sigh of relief, relieved that you don't have to keep pretending anymore, Calum and you met a few months ago while visiting a friend of your to the studio, a paparazzi saw you having coffee and after that you kept seeing each other, he would be your date in events and to the world, you were official, but you didn't even be intimate,barely hold hands while walking in the streets, or kiss each other more than a few pecks when winning a prize, but even that, it felt forced. Your publicist looks away from her phone to look at you and gives you an indifferent look.

“A new korean band is in here, apparently they are very famous and are contending against you for one of the awards, maybe you should go and see them so people see that you support new talents”

Curiosity sparks within you “Korean band, is it BTS?” you asked, sipping your water you publicist arch an eyebrow

“Yes, did you know them?” she looks rarely interested, you nod reminiscing how a few weeks ago you had stumbled on a fan edit of you and one of the members titled “1997 golden babies” seeing the dark haired boy dancing and performing with that much passion caught your attention, looking at his name and thus his group, fascinated enough that you had expend a few hour looking at the music videos and some of their performances, a bubble of excitement grew in your stomach making you feel energized again and you started to walk knowing your publicist was going to take you to them, skipping to some people you got to the corner where a group of at least 10 men stand, you immediately felt short and tiny and intimidated but you put your confident face and wait for your publicist to talk with one of the men, who yo assume was their manager, he look surprised and his gazed fall to you where you standing sandwiched between your bodyguards, he nod and went to say something to the remaining men 7 of them wipe their heads instantly to you and you smile, you make the remaining and they scatter in formation, pushing the taller men in front, he gives you a smile and flashed with a set of dimples.

“Hii, is so nice to meet you guys” You break the ice, you scanned every single one of them, from the tall broad shoulder one to Jungkook, the one of the edit and then your eyes fall to one of them, instantly draw for the way he looks at you, like he knew something your eyes goes back to the taller guy as he start to talk.

“It's so incredible to meet, we are big fans of your music” he says, you had heard that a lot but he sound genuine and the rest of the boy nodded, your eyes went back to the guy with the feline eyes and you see something that you had seen before but rarely from another artist, admiration, but also understanding, like he understanded something and he was fascinated by it.

“Are you performing tonight?” you asked trying to shake the feeling that he was reading you like a book he understands the language.

“Ummm, no, not tonight, hopefully someday” he looked a little ashamed but that only made you feel more admiration for them, they are escalating little by little.

“Id watched some of your performance” a chorus of ¨whoas¨ breaks their silence and you smile wider “You would have made us look like kids beside you, you are truly amazing” you compliment, the words flooding with ease, all of them let a ¨thank you¨ and when you meet eyes with the feline eyed boy he gives you the most beautiful and shy gummy smile, something inside you felt warm and fuzzy and you enjoy it so much that you wish it never went away. Your publicist asked for a picture and you stand with them.

The flash was quick, you changed the pose and at the same time you felt a delicate brush of fingers in your back. Tingles run down your spine and your hair stands, how was it possible that a man could make you feel that way without talking, without knowing him? You didn't even know his name, or how he was, he could be an asshole.

The camera stop flashing and the warm fingers leave your trembling body (you didn't know if it was of starvation or the adrenaline running through your veins) You look at him, the man with the gummy smile, cat-like eyes and the rose petal lips, he bow and you did the same as a reflex, that make him smile fully and the giddy, warm feeling bubble in your stomach all the way up your chest. You broke eye contact and with warm cheeks you went to hug the taller guy hugging all of them (not without almost melting in gummy smile boy, and breathing deeply his mainly citrus smell).

Your entrance was cut out by your manager, who led you backstage and you hope you bump into them, to talk to him, to hear him and let his fingers pay with your skin, but you were immediately trap in the changing room pulling other set of clothes and when you get out your publicist was waiting with a mint and a glass of ice you chew while letting the makeup artist retouch your makeup.

You had already stood up 5 times to receive an award and Top Social Artist was the last nomination before going to change for your performance. Sitting on the front row with Calum on your side being the perfect supporting boyfriend and with Zendaya on the other side beside her a bunch of other models friends, big names in the industry who appeared in the music video that had already premiered a few awards ago. And although you should've be worried if you would win the category you were already seeing black spots, nausea and heavy eyelids accompanying, and sitting beside with the most beautiful, tallest, slimmest, women of the moment didn't make you feel better, you could barely hear anything but the sound of blood pumping through your ears but after hearing your name and the loud cheers of your fans a smile appear in your clammy face, you wonder if you could even stand to get the award if you win, a louder cheer broke in the arena and looking to the screen you saw the south korean band announced and when it disappears it took a few seconds for the screams to stop, the announcers opened the envelope, two seconds of silence in the speakers and then...“BTS!” You jump clapping finding strength out of nowhere and with a smile you saw the band walk in front of your eyes with wide eyes, open mouth and smiles, a single hand sticking out for you and knowing who it was you brush his hand with yours.

Then you turn back and with a bodyguard in front and another in your heels, you walk into the main stage of the arena.

Everything was blurry, you followed the guard into the hallway and crouched to get in the elevator, holding the mic and letting your head go over the choreography. And when the voice in your in ear says “one”you feel the lift move and stand.You felt like you were going to faint, but still make your moves as smooth as possibly, it felt like forever but when you give the final move and look at the camera you give the most convincing smile ever. Wait for the count to end and the light to ade out to let your body fall to the ground. But the light did not fade, and the camera was still on you.

The host appeared to your side to announce that your music had already broken a record and that you had won another 2 awards. You accept the award and let the host hug you and unintentionally your body stumbles, your eyes give a turn and feel almost lost conscious.“It's okay” you said to the man and pulled out with a smile, looking to the worried crowd,”It's okay” you repeat in the mic ” I very excited, to be here and to win this awards, thank you to everybody that make this possible, my fans, my family, my team, everybody that listen my music and the art i make, thank you so much, i love you” You said, making well rehearsed words leave your mouth, you leave following the lady with the awards, numb.

The act seemed innocent and so quickly and random that nobody should have noted, but it set something, pieces clicking in place, for you felt illicit, scandalous, it ignited something that you have never let your body cave in, lust. A sin so impure that only thinking about it makes you flustered, but it only took a couple of glances, some brushes of skin and a hug for you to continue the seduction game he started. And you wanted him to win, to ditch all the circus and let him take you to the hotel, seeing him all in black contrasting with his soft creamy skin, a fallen angel.

Wanting to feel something, did you deserve the awards? Your music had moved so much from your original goal that you barely felt it was good. So you didn't feel proud, and you did not feel happy, or sad, or angry. You felt hungry, and tired.

How dare he be so cool? With the glinting earrings and the necklaces and the deep voice and side smile, a dream, you never thought he was just your type. Was it possible for you to have him? A quick internet research let you know his name, his position on the group and his age, he was a little over five years older than you, younger than your “exes” but so much different, he felt real, a real man, but at the same time he was surreal, to perfect, to gorgeous. And you wanted to know all about him.

You sit alone in the buffet of your hotel, with other people who also went to the awards, munching on a chicken salad with some delicious sauce and bread sticks and a glass of orange juice. Your orange juice, of course, was spiked with alcohol by your manager, a way to make you last giggly and awake for the rest of the night. Feeling already full with your second plate and with already a certain amount of alcohol in your system, you felt better, enough to keep looking at the table in front of you. Where 7 boy sit holding a camera laughing at one of them knocking the glass with the camera gummy smile boy who had, just like you, been looking at you smile with you and you hold the big stack of tissues at him, he walk to you and brushing fingers he take it from your hands “thanks” he said with a deep voice, one that you had already heard in his music videos but never compared to the real thing.

It took you 30 minutes to shower, dry your hair, put light makeup and a flowy black dress, that fall above your knees, do a quick google research of what to expect at losing your virginity and chugging the mini bottle of wine of your mini fridge, cleaning all of the clothes on the bed and quickly fix it. And when you thought that he wouldn't come a knock was heard. You look for the last time in the mirror and open the door.

And he was there, his hair now completely straight and soft looking and his face was bare, no necklace and simple cotton shirt and black cargo pants. Like he couldn't be more gorgeous. Oh wait, he could, looking at you with the damn smile. “Hi” you said, already losing the game “Hi”, deep voice and cute accent, you can't help but giggle, boozing alcohol in your veins.

“Please, please come in” You open the door all the way “ I´m y/n, by the way” you said and he looks at you, “I know, I´m Yoongi” he says laughing “I know” you respondHe lifted an eyebrow “you do?” he said with a smug smile, “of course i know, i'm not that dump to hook up with a guy i don't even know the name of” you widen your eyes and blame the alcohol by your blunt remark, but feel relieved when he laughs. He let you lead the way to the living room and when he sits on the couch he notices the object on the coffee table, an unopened copy of BTS 'latest album you had.

They said goodbye and you broke contact, gulping the last of your orange juice and immediately got replaced, you looked back at your manager and publicist, talking to their manager, using the translator that look flustered, and you knew why, after yourself had talked with your manager about your request, voice confident but cheeks flushed, your manager didn't even had to approach BTS manager before he was already on his way, at that you felt a weird feeling, a territorial frown in your eyes, but you couldn't blame him. Every celebrity you have met has done this. A simple deal, a way for celebrities to keep their affairs as private and publicly clean, both sides agreed to keep it quiet and not slip ups. When they finally look at you, turn again to him, his manager walking to him, and slipping a black plastic card. A key to the room to one of the suites. Your suite.

“I thought you could signed for me” you explained with a shy tone “I found it on the airport bookstore and since i kinda collect music album i thought it was a nice addition”

He grabbed it “can i open it?” he said with the cute accent, you nod excited and he carefully start to unwrap you sit by his side to get a better look, when he finished it, he looks at you

“it has a photocard” he explains and you giggle again at the way he pronounce the last word, feeling the warm feeling in your stomach and he send your favorite smile at you.He opens the book and stop at the page with the card stuck to it “It's random so is a surprise, go, turn it around” he gesture to the book, you grab it and turn it around,

“Oww” you let out a disappointed sound when you look at the man that clearly wasn't your Min Yoongi, he laughs and you pout “what can i do if i want one of you?” you ask with a distressed look. He dares to look flustered and he reach to his neck and the his hair, you wanted yours in its place, you licked your lips and look at lis face, “You could buy lots of album until mine come out” hmmm

“That's a good idea” his stare became intense and his eyes darken, his tongue brushed his bottom lip and someone must move forward because your lips replaced his tongue was now kissing his lips.

Your fingers grab his shirt while his palms was cupping your cheeks, thumb brushing against it, the darkest desires in your mind, the need to be touch to be taken care of,taking his hand in yours you put it on your thigh, where your dress had lift and he complied to your silent request, pushing the fabric up and caressing your skin, but not where you need it him.

You lean in the couch bringing him with you, but he pull from the kiss, leaving you gasping, “are you sure?” he ask, with his soft, dark eyes, lips swollen and flushed cheeks, you nod, but he shakes his head “are you sure?” he repeats, you think for a second looking at your giddy, boozy brain, “yes, i'm sure” you said with the most confident voice you could muster, he kiss you again and then its your turn to pull away from the kiss ”wait, wait, i, i haven't, i never have i ever before, i mean, i never had done this before” you confess and he looks at you still panting, he nods, and ask again “are you sure?” and you are.

He didn't let you lay in the couch.

He let you run your fingers through his torso and take his shirt off.

You let him pull down the strips of your dress.

He let you know how much he desires you.

You let him touch for the first time against the wall, making you see stars and blow away in a climax.

He takes to the bed, carrying like you were a leaf.

You let him stole sweet moans out of your mouth

He takes it slowly, touching skin like you were fine china.

You feel like a confident woman when you whisper “you are so gorgeous, I can say anything to your face.”

He lets a deep chuckle and gives a deep thrust making you scream of pleasure.

A mix of sloppy kisses, discreet love bites, nails against skin and pasional hip thrust between the sheets you let yourself think for a second that is not a one time thing, that euphoric feeling you were experimenting and that it was the most happy you had been in years was going to finish the moment he finish panting against your neck.

You tried to not look disappointed when he stood up and walked to the bathroom, closing your eyes, letting yourself feel the remnants of your climax.

He came back a few minutes later, cleaning between your legs and leaving a soft kiss in your thigh before slipping your underwear in its place, holding you in his arms.

You cried for the first time in front of a person.

He tells you that he knew you were hungry, he had felt it before. Not by his own choice.

You tell him about the empty feeling in your stage while on stage.

He kisses your face while rubbing circles in your back.

When the morning sun came up you watched his sleeping figure, his back up and belly down, face facing you and his arm around you.

You mindlessly start writing invisible letters, your name. Wishing he could be more than a stranger.

He lets you a note. His number. Breakfast. And a single pink flower and a book from the souvenir store “ The meaning of flowers”

Azalea

The azalea is the flower that ushers in springtime in the southern United States. That’s one reason it’s so closely associated with beauty and rebirth.

These blooms are often given as a symbolic message to, “Take care of yourself,” which is an important sentiment to extend to the bereaved.

Little-Known fact:

Azaleas are celebrated in festivals throughout the world, especially the U.S. and Asia. In Chinese culture, the azalea is known as the “thinking of home bush” and was immortalized in the poetry of a famous poet during the Tang dynasty.

HIIIIIIIIII

I FINISH THIS CHAPTER

It took years, but my mental health has been bad lately and also was hard to write the first meeting, if it look to rushed, dont worry its kinda the point, they are not in love but definetly know that they felt something. But they dont know each other, i like to think of them as soulmates.

We see how she was physically and mentaly hitting rock bottom and her team is not as innocent as it look.

If i was vague about everything, when the managers were talking, they were basically negociating the one night stand, that way the public wouldnt found out. A normal ocurrence in this AU.

Everything you feel courius about, please let me know.

Thank you so much for reading, i love you

#bts #bts smau #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smau #bts fic #bts yoongi #bts social media au #bts social au #bts idol #bts jhope #bts namjoon #BTS jin #BTS jimin #bts taehyung #BTS jungkook #reputationminyoongi

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ultyso · 3 years

Text

(Censoring words solely because I’m not sure the word itself can be used on tumblr.)

T/W Mentions of p*dos

T/W Mentions of gr**ming

Tldr: As a CSA Survivor, voicing concerns of things I have heard people talk about on these topics in online spaces that does more damage than good to victims, survivors, and minors. I am only one voice, so please listen to all csa survivors, victims, and minors about this topic.

I don’t speak for everyone who is a CSA Survivor. We all have different experiences and feelings, some things may be less triggering or concerning for some more than others. Other CSA Survivors feel free to talk about your own feelings, experiences, and things you wished others knew as well since every CSA Survivor’s voice should be heard, not just my own.

These are my thoughts and some of the grievances I’ve had, the invalidation of my trauma, the things that have triggered back the trauma I thought I was able to heal so long ago, and I’m tired of it.

P*dophilia is not a term where you can just throw it around at anyone and everything. Be mindful where and how you use it. Do not let the severity of this word go down. It is not a joke. It is not some fun trendy buzzword. It is not a topic just for fictional media. It is a serious issue that harms so many children in the world.

Do not invalidate the trauma of victims by focusing on just fictional characters. Reporting fictional content as CP is not as helpful as you think. Investigators are on the look out to help save real children. Putting thousands of fanart/fanfics of fictional characters at the top of their feed lets p*dos hide easier and thus causes real children to still be trapped in their situation. If the fanart/fanfics is of real minors though, action should be taken.

You need to be a protector for real children. Learn the warning signs. Learn the prevention. Learn how to act if a real child has been harmed so you can help them. If you just treat it as a joke and use the word willy nilly on things that it does not actually pertain to it is immensely performative, makes it harder for investigators to find true perpetrators, and thus only hurts more kids than helps.

Clothing ≠ p*dophilia

Jfashion such as lolita and fairy kei is not p*dophilic or p*do-baiting. I don’t know why this has become the trend to call it that.

When you say this it sounds like victim blaming. “Well it’s what they wore.” Which is terrible. If you think wearing “childish” clothing is inherently sexual YOU are very much the problem.

Clothing is not what grabs p*dos attention. Clothing doesn’t do anything. It is a self expression for the wearer and that is it. For p*dos, it is the child themself they’re grossly invested in, not the clothes.

If you look at the origin of jfashion styles such as lolita, one part of the meaning is the resistance of sexualizing a person’s body. It also has nothing to do with the book so, stop equating them as the same.

Watching kid tv shows or movies, playing kid friendly video games, owning plushies or other kid toys ≠ p*dophilia

If you see an adult who is into movies/shows, toys, games made for kids chances are it could possibly be a CSA Survivor and this is their coping mechanism as a way to heal. To reclaim what was taken from them. Giving back to that inner child that never got the chance to live it. Even if they are not a CSA survivor, it could be an adult finally getting that doll they’ve wanted since they were little but could never get. Giving back to their inner child in that way. For me personally, KH is part of this for me. It has been my coping mechanism/safe haven since I was little. It is something I know I can always go back to that doesn’t bring harm to me. It’s an escapism from trauma and anxiety.

Height differences ≠ p*dophilia

An adult who is shorter than their significant other who is also an adult is not p*dophilia. A short adult is not “minor-coded.” They are just a short adult. A taller adult liking a shorter adult does NOT mean they like children. Joke or not this is inappropriate. Some adults just are not able to grow taller then others, so it feels like you are infantilizing a whole group of adult short people just because of their height. Not only that, but for survivors this can make them second guess their appropriate and safe relationships they have even more, which for some CSA Survivors it is already so hard to trust to begin with, this then can make them further associate even more things and people with their trauma that never needed to be and can cause further ptsd reactions.

A minor dating a minor one month/year younger/year older than them ≠ p*dophilia

This undermines the severity of what p*dophilia is. P*dophilia is an adult person who sexually fantasizes about, exhibits inappropriate and sexual behavior towards, has urges towards, and/or arousal towards minors. They are a sex offender/m*lestor as well if they act on those urges on a child. Thus becoming CSA.

This part is ONLY talking about minor + minor relationship: As cited from DSM-5 (wiki that has excerpt) “A person must be at least 16 years and at least 5 years older than the prepubescent child, for the attraction to be diagnosed as p*dophilia.” A 15 year old dating a 16 year old is not p*dophilia. If a 15 year old did inappropriate and non-consensual things to another minor the same age as, slightly younger than themself, or older than themself, that 15 year old would be more towards being called a juvenile/adolescent sex offender. Don’t use these terms willy nilly either, they are severe words too. Do not use them lightly for fun internet jargon.

In regards to fandom spaces. Just because someone on the internet labels themselves as something specific, does not mean this person can’t be a p*dophile based off of whatever the label is. You must always be careful with whom you interact with. They very well could be under the guise of feigning innocence and pointing fingers away from themself. Some may pretend to be one or the other and self-proclaim themself as the “good” adult. And HEAVILY emphasize this all the time. Which for me often raises a warning flag. Especially if they are in heavy contact with minors on a daily basis. Be always careful with anyone you interact with online no matter what they label themself as. You do not know who is behind the screen, so exercise extreme caution with the information you give to anyone, even if an account labels themselves as the same age as you. It could be someone pretending to be the same. Having a father who is a p*dophile, I can say, these gross people want to blend in. They’re going to feign innocence. They want to be in your line of trust. They may say things like “you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not that group of people” or “don’t trust them, trust me.” Be aware of the signs of gr**ming. This is a first tell tale sign that someone could be harmful. Some examples of warnings signs an be found here.

LGBTQIA+ ≠ p*dophilia

While there may be people who happen to be LGBTQIA+ that are a p*do, that does NOT mean everyone who is LGBTQIA+ is one. The community makes it explicitly clear that MAPS/p*dophiles are NEVER welcome in the community. It is harmful to associate them with the community too.

P*dophiles can be anywhere. In my my own experience, mine was my own father. They are in the most obvious spot and invisible to other’s eyes. They will if not often, be someone who has gained yours and other’s trust and preys heavily off of it. Such as a family member, a teacher, a doctor, a family friend, etc… They hide under this guise because what is the first thing anyone says? “Oh it couldn’t possibly be them. I know them. They’re good.”

I get wanting to know all the facts before putting a label such as p*dophile on someone. I get that some people do fake saying they were abused. I get it. When there’s a huge amount of evidence of someone being nefarious with children though, you can’t keep hiding from that truth and you need to stop supporting that person. Continuing to support those perpetrators just tells other scummy P*dos that as long as they’re well-liked enough, they too can get away with it. This only harms more children then helps.

Please put “T/W”s if you mention p*dophilia. CSA Survivors have different triggers and seeing the topic brought up willy nilly in spaces without it can be very harmful and may cause ptsd. Please be respectful to us all. Do not make a joke out of all of our suffering.

I’ve made a linktree of information on warnings signs, what to do, hotlines for victims, and more. Take action to protect real kids not just the fictional ones. That is all I ask: https://linktr.ee/CSA_Prevention_and_Help

#csa survivor #csa vent #trigger warning #p*do mention #tw p*dophilia mention #tw gr**ming mention

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yoditorian · 3 years

Text

massive thank you to my followers for getting me to this milestone, and also to everyone who sent in fics!! while i can’t confess to having read all of these works (i’m getting there tho) each comment is from the person who submitted it 💛 i’ve decided to keep this up as a regular thing, hopefully to be able to traffic some more readers to lesser known writers too so keep an eye out for that link

these have been listed in the order i received them, multi chapter works have either the masterlist or first chapter linked, please pay attention to warnings on the individual works

@bee-dameron - kair’ta - din/reader - this is one of my own recs, the original holder of my din djarin loving heart, ellie knows what they’ve done to me.

@keeper0fthestars - would you let me - din/reader - again, a rec of mine, solely responsible for planting tattooed!din in my head. a concept which haunts me daily.

@thosewickedlovelies - into the woods - frankie/reader - my beloved rachael took a middle of the night shitpost of mine and turned it into something truly beautiful, i can’t wait to see where it goes.

@anxiety-riddled-mando - shereshoy - mando!oc/reader - the last of my suggested fics, lives rent free in my head and the only thing i will accept as canon. jon favreau who??

@firstofficerwiggles - caretaker - din/reader - It's my fic so this is a hard question to answer but I think the story's strengths are it's romance and the blend of other elements like humor and action.

@heatherbel - desideratum - din/reader - Gorgeous poetic romance with Din Djarin.

@jura-moon - chrysalis - din/reader - The most beautiful slow burn one shot you will ever read. Jura's writing is beyond special. Sweet, emotional, sexy gorgeousness in fic form.

@wille-zarr - in fields of white - din/reader - I wrote it lolllll jshshdhs.

@papercinders - enigma - obi wan/reader - the description of everything!! im not gonna make sense but gosh the author hooks you with the first chapter and drags you along by the neck for the next four

@waatermelon-sugaar - want to kiss? - poe/reader - So sexy 🥵.

@michaelperry - amidst the to and fro - din/reader - It’s a rebel!Din Djarin AU fic that is such a cool what-if idea and is written so beautifully. Din’s characterization is perfect and the whole thing is super sweet and soft. It’s one of my favorite fics I’ve read recently (tbh everything I’ve read of hers so far is amazing).

@maharani-radha-writes - cultural differences - javier/reader - It’s wonderful to be able to experience a little bit of someone else’s culture! And Javi doing his best to accommodate and understand is great to see!

@pumpkin-stars - waiting - frankie/reader - this fic has everything, angst, absolutely staggering symbolism, talk of death, frankie morales and the origin of his iCONIC hat (need i say more) (yes I will), heartache, taking chances, more angst, acceptance, a love confession, a happy ending. This fic is written with such care and empathy it is easily one of my fave frankie fics <3.

@katlikeme - it’s all the same down in the capital - reader + clones - Kat knows my whole heart belongs to her because this fic and i get all weepy just thinking about it.

@fromthedeskoftheraven - visions of sugarplums - jack/reader - being snowed in with Jack Daniels and his endless list of sweet pet names for you. And the pining!

@mourningbirds1 - the crossroads i’m standing at - javier/steve - Javier peña and steve murphy and all the yearning and pining possible <3.

@miceenscene - star-crossed - din/ofc - din djarin soulmate au that takes your breath away.

@filthybookworm - nothing more and nothing different - frankie/reader - the most beautiful character study of frankie morales and his love languages

@ladylothlorien - oberyn is our greatest post-punk novelist - oberyn/reader - beautifully written modern!oberyn.

@itssmashedavo - mary magdalene - javier/ofc - Incredible OC, excellent pacing and very good writing. 10/10 would recommend.

@corellianhounds - geroya - din + covert - The cutest slice of life Mando fic that I can’t stop thinking about. A lovely unique look at Din from the POV of the covert foundlings.

@millllenniawrites - warmth - poe/reader - love how Poe is portrayed in all their fics, but this one especially as it's such a slow build, and I can really feel everything when I read it! Also sex pollen is one of my favourite tropes ngl.

@brandyllyn - doppelgänger - nathan/reader - Wow - everything. This fic is just- so perfect! I love how Nathan makes an AI of himself (and believes that everyone would fuck themselves, given the chance) - that is one os the most in-character things I've ever seen Nathan do in fic - it's just perfect! Also love how bad Nathan is in bed at first, and the ending is so hot. Love love love this fic, I reread it regularly.

@youvebeenlivingfictional - don’t treat my love like a habit - santiago/reader - I love reading this series because I love how the characters develop, and how their relationships change over time too. I love the imagery in this fic and its such a comfort read. (Also there needs to be an honourary mention of Magnetic too, by the same author as it has excellent slow-burn pacing).

@woakiees - mistakes and sour grapes - poe/reader - I love how, although its modern-day Poe, it also does a really good job of showing Poe's struggles as he tries to adapt to civilian life. I also really enjoy the slow build between the two of them and Finn's friendship with the reader (also it's made me desperate to try a chocolate cake shot lol).

@woakiees - and you keep me holding on - santiago/reader - it made me cry so much!!! the emotion, the days counting, the pain of poor Santi, just everything its so good

@brandyllyn - to sell your love for peace - javier/reader - omg ok. the writing in this was so good, and the foreshadowing was excellent - the whole time, I had a sneaking suspicion of what was going to happen, but the clues were so expertly scattered in that I had just convinced myself I was wrong when... (AAAAHHHH I screamed you have no idea it was so good).

@writingletterstothefire - she loves me - santiago/reader - the suspense! I love knowing things that the characters dont and I cant wait to find out how they react! I really enjoy this authors writing too.

@witchyavenger - coffee - richard/reader - how sweet it is!! I just wanna give Richard some love too, he deserves the world, (and the moodpboard for this fic is so good also).

#big forehead kisses for anyone who sent their own work in!!! we love to see it!!!!#liz's follower celebration!!#fic recs #good words #also if u don't see ur rec here lmk and i'll be happy to let u know why #the mandalorian #star wars #narcos #triple frontier

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

countless skies upon me ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : fantasy; action; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 16,5k.

❖ warnings : explicit language, mentions of blood + violence

❖ summary : when you stumble upon the notoriously skilled swordsman of Kalmburg, your heart finds itself wanting to get closer to his.

❖ a/n : this is the full extension of this blurb that I wrote impulsively after rewatching an old anime, please give swordsman minho a whole lot of love 🖤

prologue.

Minho’s wooden sword gets knocked out of his grasp, landing onto the floor with a loud series of clattering noises. The little boy widens his eyes when the tip of another wooden sword hovers over his stomach and he looks up to be met with the stoic gaze of his mentor.

“What did I tell you yesterday, Minho?”

“That I need to make more progress on improving my reaction time,” he answers grimly and rubs his forearm, head hanging low in shame. “I need to know the timing of the enemy like the back of my hand and use my own timing in which they don’t expect.”

His mentor retreats his sword swiftly, humming, “You got distracted, you weren’t observing my stance before I lunged at you. By narrating the enemy’s preparation, you can partially map out their movements, when and where they’re aiming for. That’s why you were taken aback and this allowed me to disarm you with little effort.”

“But master!” Minho pries stubbornly. “It’s not very fair if an opponent can’t fight with their sword, is it? A sword is supposed to be the coil of a swordsman’s strength. It’s all we’ll ever have.”

A fatherly smile dances on his mentor’s lips this time. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things,” he places a warm hand on Minho’s shoulder, speaking softly.

“And it doesn’t matter if you still have your sword or not, fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

one.

Market stalls crowd the route, selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, grilled meat hanging on lines after lines of roasting skewers. Powdered spices lay in rust red and dusty yellow and bright green piles spill from sacks as large as feed bags. Mixed and familiar scents cut through thin air, people bumping into each other, toes trodden on. Lovers stroll hand in hand, casually browsing whilst housewives hustle and bustle, hollering over background noises for the best price.

Minho ends up walking through the entire market before getting to work that day with an apple in his stomach, silently like a phantom, blending into the sea of people effortlessly.

To him, work is just like another day in the market for stallholders, another pile of weapons needed to be honed and repaired for blacksmiths and another batch of bread to bake early in the morning for bakers.

Except his job is somewhat… questionable and considerably dangerous for a guy who looks nothing like a warrior. At least that’s what he’s been told. Rather pretty-looking eyes being hidden under his long fringe, a high and slim nose bridge, sharp philtrum. He’s not that tall either and doesn’t necessarily have as many muscles as he initially wanted. But the swordsman doesn’t listen to his muscles to fight, he listens to his mind and becomes one with his blade.

There’s no need for a shield or armor, for he thinks they’re doing nothing but getting in his way and slowing him down during combats. Minho draws his sword with no more qualms than a middle-aged lady gossiping about her irritating neighbors and slashes his enemies while thinking about what he’ll be making himself for dinner that day. There’s no joy for him in violence, but he takes extreme pride in a good clean kill. He has a reputation to maintain and that reputation keeps him safe in this world.

A man approaches Minho from behind, leaning himself flat against the wooden bench that the swordsman has situated himself on for the past hour. The guy never makes the first move, that’s what he’s been told.

“Twenty thousand units,” the masked client speaks up, his voice mellow and slightly muffled. “If you can bring back the head of a shadow wolf that’s been lurking around the Dunst forest these days, I’ll double the price. Silver-white fur, brown eyes. Make it quick too, and you can have sixty in total. He’s been eating up one too many of our sheeps already.”

His lips twitch subtly and he crosses his legs, keeping his tone low but clear, “Shadow wolves can’t handle the cold that well, why would one roam around a place with such tremendous decrease in temperature at night?” The sound of coins crashing against each other in the leather pouch suddenly irritates him.

“C’mon, Black Swordsman, how would I know these things? I’m just merely a guy who’s trying to get by in life,” the man chuckles lightheartedly but Minho isn’t finding anything funny. No one ever gets the upper hands in a deal with him. “Look, I heard you’re good at your job and you sure look like you know what you’re doing so why don’t you just take the mon—“

Minho stuffs his hands into his pocket and sighs, “Don’t think so lowly of me, I don’t accept deposits. I’ll only get my money once I’m done with the job. Meet me here tomorrow at noon, sharp. And if I don’t show up, consider locking your sheeps inside.” And with a grin through his flat lips under the mask, the cryptic client leaves Minho alone by the bench, fully satisfied with his attitude and reactions.

The brunet gazes at the space ahead for a good ten seconds, thinking rather deeply about this before waving his hand absentmindedly, calling out to the errand boy who’s been hiding behind the ugly tree. “You can come out now, Jeongin. Did you catch any of that?” he asks without turning around.

“Every single word,” Jeongin cancels the spell that’s been his cover during their entire conversation before stepping out, pursing his lips together. “A guy who’s trying to get by in life but still has twenty thousand to pay you beforehand? Sounds absurd to me.”

“Enough with the brainless chatters, you know what to do,” Minho pushes himself off the bench when his muscles start growing sore on the hardened surface. “If you do a good job, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Now run along, Chaeryeong is probably looking for you, don’t be late to class.”

Jeongin holds him back by the sheath of his sword, “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.”

“If anything, I might bring his head back instead of the wolf’s,” Minho replies monotonously, and Jeongin lets his hand fall to his side. The swordsman turns on his heels to see concern laced in the younger boy’s eyes, this prompts his voice to soften. “Don’t worry, a single wolf can’t hurt me,” he ruffles his hair before slipping into the crowd again, making his way towards the mountains to enter the Dunst forest.

He wouldn’t mind dying alone, actually. It’s not like he has any regrets.

two.

The city of Kalmburg has it that no one has ever surpassed Lee Minho when it comes to the art of swordsmanship.

“If you’re going to take on a guy who can parry a crossbow bolt with his sword as he’s contending against five other men, it’s time to re-evaluate the direction of your life—preferably while running away as fast as you can.”

The man walks up to the center of the town square every single day at the crack of dawn, his figure fully covered in a big black cloak, the hood thrown lazily over his head. All you can see is the strides he takes with his black combat boots. He almost belongs, but not quite. Kalmburg is known for its dashingly ornamental architecture — a white granite surface with serene spires can be seen from the castle at the top of the hill, soothing atmosphere and generically nice residents. Some say no beauty can be compared to its sunrise due to the dashing sight of a lake situated before the town square’s gate.

Whereas, Lee Minho gives people a stark contrast with his dark aura and the black sword hung firmly on his back. He easily takes in everyone’s attention with a single sweep, his midnight orbs setting on nothing before he leaves as expressionless as he’s entered. His purposes and motives always remain hidden; hence the allure. Though it’s not hard to see how he’s making a good living on a daily basis.

For one, he slays monsters; and for another, he deals with people. Outsiders might be surprised at how many units the Nobles are more than willing to pay him as long as he comes back alive, with the beast’s head limp in his hands. There were times when he’d come back covered in a sea monster’s gastric juice, other times he could barely walk back to the town because his spleens got severely damaged. But most of the time, he’d return as though he just got back from a stroll, outstretching his palm to collect the payment.

Dealing with people is far more troublesome than those deadly creatures, Minho constantly tells himself so. It’s true, after all. Because when careless juveniles aren’t able to snatch their parents’ spare change on the dining table, they decide it’s a brilliant idea to challenge him for a duel. If they win, he’ll have to follow their request without receiving a single penny. But if things go the other way around, they will most likely come home crying for their mother. Such a nuisance.

Today is no different.

Moving into the morning dew is a shadow wolf. His paws kiss the earth not gracefully, but rather with evident difficulties and there’s a ray of exhaustion in that pair of bronzed eyes. The wolf has seen better days. His silver-white fur is thin and it clings to his frame like an old cloak in a gale. Even from several yards away, Minho can count each rib as they’re sticking out, he sees dejection in his movements as if he’s gonna let himself tumble to the ground any moment.

Minho carefully inhales, pulling out a silver dart from the back of his belt. He raises his hand and aims precisely for the pine tree, just a strand of hair away from the wolf’s ear. When he exhales, the weapon comes flying past the creature before embedding itself to the wooden surface.

The wolf whips his head towards the swordsman, locking eyes as he lets out a mere cry of pain, crimson dripping down on the side of his head. As Minho pulls his hood off of his face, slightly dubious that the creature of darkness will turn into a wisp of black smoke to take flight deeper into the forest, the wolf shakes his head before lying down on the soil, unable to coordinate his limbs. Then with his great grey head on his bloodied paws, he closes his eyes. He’s giving up on his life.

“Something’s wrong. Shadow wolves’ blood isn’t supposed to be red,” Minho holds his breath in utter disbelief, taking a step backward. He’s got the wrong target. No, that client scammed him.

A branch snaps.

Minho reaches for his sword when the sound of thin air being ripped apart rings inside his eardrums, two blades coming in contact with each other and he has to squint slightly when tiny sparks of flame come to life between the weapons. Instead of looking at the raider, he quickly deflects their slash again. Hypothetically speaking, there are two possibilities: the first is that both swords are too weak to withstand the pressure of the blow, so they’ll simply break - in the exact same fashion. The second is in which case both blades are durable enough to field the contact, they will bounce right back. But his unwanted guest seems to detest him so much to the point they keep their sword grinding against his until their weapons slip against each other, creating a wave of grating shriek resonating through the woods, dust being thrown in the air.

He stumbles backward, the sole of his shoes tearing the leaves below into bits. His vision shakes a little from the sudden attack before trying to focus on the figure before him. The first thing that he sees is the white wolf on the button of your silver-accent cloak. That’s the royal guards’ emblem.

“You,” the female voice catches him by surprise. “Lay another finger on that wolf now, I dare you.” You know all too well who this man is, and like hell you’re going to let him do what he wants just because of some cheap units.

Minho’s fully aware that his beating heart is thundering inside his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline flowing in his veins or those round eyes glaring at him from under the sunlight. He sees the grip on the hilt of your rapier being tightened and that’s when he regains his composure, taking in a deep breath. If he gave up now because of a pretty face with a deadly blade, he’d damn his reputation as a swordsman.

“Oh that wolf is all yours,” he smiles at you fakely, wiping the beads of sweat on his cheekbones away. “But you’re going to have to do better than snooping around on people.”

Minho steadies his grip on his sword, trying to keep himself together in the deafening silence, “So, who’s making the first move now?” The tonal mockery in his voice irks you and he seems to notice that too by the slight smirk tugging at his lips when the muscles on your face twitch.

One. Breathe in.

You’re getting into your stance sideways, your blade eye level. This man doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.

Two. Breathe out.

Minho isn’t letting his guard down this time despite being slightly impressed with your skills. Usually, there aren’t many girls who take up sword fighting, at least not in his hometown so he thought you’d be sort of a novice. But your dexterity is beyond incredible, he can hardly see the tip of your sword.

Three. “I am.”

You charge first by swinging your rapier at him from above, Minho receiving the clash with the flat of his blade. He circles away from you, keeping his sword in motion while constantly changing his stances and attacks. Rapiers aren’t very suitable for slashing or slicing since the blade is so long and thin, it can only allow its owner more speed, more precise stabs and thrusts but greatly lowers their defense. So if he can just catch you off guard…

When the tip of your sword grazes just above his clothed ribs, Minho’s reflexes kick in and his blade knocks yours away almost immediately. With the bewildered look on your face as a signal, he dodges as you attempt another stab at his left ear. This causes you to trip on your heels, your balance quivering the moment his sword slashes at the button of your cloak rather than your neck. To prevent yourself from falling, you jump and do a backflip safely, breath’s fraying as the piece of clothing is completely ditched by a tree.

“You are strong, just like the rumors,” you breathe out a stoic comment, chest heaving up and down rapidly.

“You aren’t too bad yourself either,” Minho grins; he hasn’t felt this much eagerness to fight someone other than monsters before. In other words, he’s never faced someone who knows what they’re doing with a sword as skilled as you are.

You cock a brow at him, confused, “Why are you smiling?”

“I don’t know, actually,” he shakes his head and hearty waves of laughter bubble up inside his stomach. The brunet sheaths his sword with a loud ‘clunk’, walking towards you to place a warm hand on your shoulder. “But good fight, you really know how to hold a sword.”

“Wait… aren’t we going to finish this?”

Minho picks up your cloak from the ground, outstretching his palm, “You seem like a person who knows what it takes so I don’t think that’d be necessary anymore. But I’d be glad to take you on again?”

This man is baffling you, and not in a good way either. Nonetheless, you still slide your sword back into its sheath and accept his handshake. “So you’re gonna leave that wolf alone right?”

“Only if you tell me what happened to it,” Minho replies firmly, receiving a nod of approval from you. He actually seems like a solid person. Perhaps you can trust him.

“That’s my brother, Chan.”

three.

The forest hums with life all around you. You lift your head ever so slightly when the sunlight slips through the green leaves and branches, lighting up the dirt path ahead decorated with outgrown roots and wildflowers. You gaze up at the fluffs of clouds, searching for the birds that are singing sweetly. Minho trudges on before you a couple of steps, finding the natural fragrance of the current surroundings rather soothing. It’s making his eyes droopy.

“What happened to him again?”

He stretches his limbs tiredly and yawns like there’s no tomorrow, making you scrunch your nose in disapproval. He’s not even paying attention to you. It’s been at least an hour since you’ve mounted an unconscious Chan on your horse — Noir and accepted this cryptic stranger as your guide for now. You’ve never been to this forest more than once so it’s best if you follow him—an experienced individual in order to get your brother back safely.

You frown at him, giving the back of his neck a firm slap while your other hand is holding onto the rein. “Ow, what was that for?!” he yelps.

“You weren’t listening, were you?”

“Remotely,” he hums out a reply, “I didn’t sleep that well last night.” And that’s when you notice the dark spots under his eyes, the occasional tears whenever he squints his eyes under the sunlight. The job’s more draining and demanding than you thought.

To be fair, slaying monsters and getting your hands bloodied might not be the best thing to do to a degree of morality but you really can’t judge him when you’ve only known him for a few hours. Minho’s far younger than you’d expected too. You’ve had your strolls downtown from time to time with your fellow royal guards and it’s not hard for rumors to fly. People were gasping and bouncing on the balls of their feet talking about this mysterious swordsman who’s dressed completely in black, a single one-handed sword, no shield, and no armor. They really had you thinking he was an old man in his forties who has no regrets, just trying to get by in life no matter what it takes.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him charming the moment you saw that handsome face under the big cloak.

“He was recovering from a business trip so our mage decided to treat him with a special potion,” you nibble on your bottom lip, looking over at your worn out brother sideway in concern. You’ve wrapped his injuries up with some of the cloth that you’d packed before leaving this morning, he should be fine. “I guess something went wrong; hence, he’s magically turned into a wolf, panicked and bolted out of the castle. And you know how cruel people can be sometimes…”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Minho feels a big lump in his throat when you secretly toss a glare at his direction. “I should have known something was off the moment he started bleeding red.” He shakes his head, highly disappointed in himself for mistaking Chan as a shadow wolf. His professional etiquette forbids him ever repeat the same mistake.

You stop dead in your track, cocking your head at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Wait, no, something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong. It can’t be that simple. “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.” His steps come to a halt, only a few feet away from you and before you can even tap him out of it, Minho snaps his head back, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Tell me, when you first entered the forest, did you encounter any wolves? Even just one?”

“N-No, I don’t think so,” you stutter, slightly flustered at the sudden decrease in proximity. But you soon shake the heat on your cheekbones away when he lets go of you, pacing back and forth to think hard about something. “Uhh- what are you-”

“Shh shh..”

“Did you just shush me-” The wind whistles in your ears and you stumble backward when Minho draws his sword, the blade coming in contact with something hard and deflecting it successfully. Your jaw is locked at the sight of an arrow sticking to a tree not very far off. That could have been your head instead...He just saved your life.

“Someone’s coming, take cover.”

Minho carefully tugs your horse over to a nearby slope when you hop off the main pathway, waving him over to a big tree. You both get down on one knee as the sound of armors crashing against each other grows louder, dreadful footsteps becoming more detectable. Swiftly, Minho notices the color of your bright blue cloak can easily be detected right through the bush and clicks his tongue in annoyance. He unbuttons his black coat, silently draping it over your smaller figure. For a second there, you widen your eyes at him but soon ensconcing yourself obediently under the leather fabric.

Stepping into your vision are two familiar faces, Minho’s breath almost hitches in his throat when he realizes they’re clothed in the same blue and white uniform as yours. Both equally emitting the same hostility and mettle—as expected from the astute royal guards.

“Hyun-”

You stagger backward when Minho clasps a firm hand over your mouth, shaking his head while you’re giving him a ‘what are you doing?’ look. The moment you manage to peel yourself away from his grip, your fellow colleagues are nowhere to be seen. They must be looking for you since you left the castle this morning without a proper announcement. “What was that about?! They’re my friends, now if you’d excuse me-”

“They aren’t the most trust-worthy people right now,” he lets out a sigh. “Think about it. They’re parts of the few people who could possibly see Chan the day before he turned into a wolf. And I’m sure the royal mage wouldn’t have such a reason to spike the commander of the guards. I don’t see how it’d benefit her if Chan was to take a break from his position. On the other hand…”

Is he accusing one of your friends of harming your brother? And for what too? A higher rank in the team? Preposterous! “Why would I trust you then, Black Swordsman?”

Minho cringes inwardly at the nickname because good gracious, it’s so unoriginal. He’s heard about plenty of Black Swordsmen before during his wandering all over the Continent. They’re basically cryptic-looking swordsmen dressed in black...people really need to come up with more colorful monikers.

“Because I just saved your life from those people whom you called ‘friends’,” he blinks at you bluntly and the hand resting on the hilt of your sword tenses up.

You take in a deep breath, slowly considering his deductions. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point but you don’t understand as to why Hyunjin or Changbin would want to overtake your brother, they’ve only become a part of the royal guards four years ago. You might not grow up together but after going on plenty of adventures and living in the palace, you’re practically family.

Still, humans are made of greed after all.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you exhale. “You’re going to help me figure this out for throwing a dart at Chan’s ear. But if you even think about hurting him or make a single move that prompts me to think you’re doing something behind our back, I’m going to tear out your spine with my bare hands.”

Minho chuckles at your threatening tone, slightly scared for his life, “There’s no need to worry, miss…” You raise a brow at him when he trails off rather flusteredly. “Ma’am? No- uh, vice commander? What about lady…”

“The name’s Y/N,” you can’t help but break into a fit of giggles, amused at his sudden discomposure. Seems like this man has been chit-chatting with monsters more than having civil conversations with other human beings for his whole life. “And would you get your hands off me now? We don’t have to hide anymore.”

His chest swells a bit at that if he’s being honest.

four.

“Aren’t we supposed to be at the castle?” Minho looks at the log house before his eyes questioningly. Not that he’s complaining, he doesn’t think it’s the best idea for him to show up in front of royalties either.

You pull off your hood and say, “No, the royal mage doesn’t live there.” After a few knocks with your knuckles on the wooden door, hurried footsteps are audible from inside the house—whoever’s in there must be dying to see you, Minho thinks.

“Yeji, how are y—“ The door flies open and a figure thrashes against you faster than a lightning bolt, their arms wrapped around your torso, rubbing your back tenderly. You’re slightly taken aback but smile nonetheless knowing that your friend was worried sick like she’s always been. “Hello to you too, stupid.”

This prompts Minho to avert his gaze away awkwardly, the grip on Noir’s reign tightening evidently and your horse lets out a small neigh, nudging her nose against his side like she’s attempting to appease him. He murmurs a small ‘thank you’, hand reaching upward to brush through her shiny black coat. Shaking his head, he snickers at himself for talking to a horse.

Yeji mumbles against your neck in relief, like someone’s just lifted a weight off her shoulders, “Good gracious, Y/N! Are you okay? You just left without saying anything. Changbin and Hyunjin said they couldn’t find you in the woods and Chan’s gone missing for a few days now and I got so worried I-”

“Slow down, Yeji,” you give her a firm squeeze in reassurance, chuckling. “It’s barely been a day. I did manage to find Chan, surprisingly, thanks to Minho, well, partly.”

“Who’s Minho?” she pulls away to get a good look at the man standing next to your horse, eyes widening in surprise. Dressed in black, one-handed sword, no shield, and armor. “Is that the Black Swordsman? Like the Lee Minho? He’s the real thing?”

You grit through a stiff smile, “As real as it can get.”

“Huh, and I thought he’d be some old, balding man in his forties,” Yeji comments while eyeing the swordsman up and down, making him somewhat uncomfortable. “He knows how to use a sword, is young and quite the looker too. Ohh I see what’s going on here..”

You warn her with a clap on her forearm, “You’re embarrassing me in front of that jerk.”

However, she ignores you and pushes the door open, motioning for Minho to carry Chan inside. “Move quickly now, Black Swordsman, I suppose Chan’s condition must be critical, his heartbeat and the blood flow in his veins is increasing at an alarming speed.”

Minho looks around in awe when he steps into the log house—there’s not much for him to say about the house. Furniture is self-explanatory enough: a single bed, a comfortable chair made with what seems to be one of the finest materials, a wooden shelf above the fireplace with an array of potions with different shades and colors, windows completely covered with curtains. It’s not much, but it does feel homey. He would be able to find a place like this with ease if he hadn’t wasted all of his money into information dealing and weapons trading.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? The house, I mean.”

Yeji’s question snaps him out of it. And he looks over at the table where Chan’s lying, immobile and his bronzed eyes droopy and his breaths mingling. There’s a strange, bright light pulsing from the mage’s fingertips when she hovers her palm over Chan’s bloodied ear. Minho watches as the light flickers from a shade of white to blue, enveloping the open wound and heals it completely. He meets Yeji’s eyes before she pulls her hand back, her eyes glowing gold before turning back into a deep brown. The art of magic is truly fascinating.

Minho manages to blurt, slightly flustered, “What?”

“You said the house’s nice, I simply agreed with that statement for it is true,” she briskly reaches for a flask, inside holds a soft green-colored liquid with golden specks floating around.

“I didn’t say anything,” he frowns at her when she brings the rim of the flask to Chan’s mouth, pouring the odd-looking liquid down his throat.

You speak up from behind her, arms crossed in front of your chest, “Yeji, stop reading people’s mind that’s creepy.”

“Okay I’ve got everything I need for the potion that’ll manage to turn Chan back into his human form,” Yeji tells you while rummaging through her wooden cabinets filled with bottles after bottles, grabbing some along the way as she comes back to the table. “But I’m missing some crystals. And I’m not talking about those fake ones that you see at the stores, the ones I need are way towards the north, in Drachens Hohle, on the Restless Cliffs.”

Minho hums, brows knitted together, thinking rather thoroughly about this. “Drachens Hohle is pretty far off, it might take us an entire day to get there, and then another day climbing those cliffs...we might need to pass by a store of a friend of mine to pack some stuff since I suppose you won’t be returning to the castle anytime soon. We’ll get moving as soon as possible,” he mumbles and nods to himself, satisfied with the plan.

“Let me just make one thing clear here, Black Swordsman…”

He screws his eyes shut when air suddenly gets ripped apart, only opening them slowly after and almost flinches at the tip of a dagger pointed directly at his nose; one wrong move and his eye will be gone. Minho doesn’t know what should startle him more—the blade gleaming with a bright shade of yellow or the dark look in Yeji’s eyes when he meets them. He’s seen Chaeryeong do it many times before—incorporating magic with weapons, to better the damage output while maintaining the defensive factors.

“If you lay just one single finger on my friend, I'm going to turn you into a mere, pathetic, little sparrow and lock you in a cage along with other pieces in my collection.”

Minho panics, feeling nauseous at the thought, “What collection?”

The mage withdraws her knife and laughs it off, “I was messing around with you, there’s no collection. Look after her for me, she can be quite clumsy sometimes.”

“The clumsy one here is you,” you mumble bitterly in the corner, extremely embarrassed for the sake of your friend. You might as well dig a hole and bury yourself in it.

Unexpectedly, the wooden door is once again pushed open, two men barging into the log house abruptly. You and Yeji remain still in your current positions while Minho touches the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it. “Don’t bother, they’re friends,” you wave at him absentmindedly before pushing yourself off the chair, walking over to the front door.

“Y/N, where have you been?!”

“Hello to you too, Bin.”

Changbin pushes past Hyunjin and jabs his index finger at you, eyes filled with both rage and concern. “What were you thinking? If you’re going to find Chan, we’re going with you. We’re a team and he’s our brother too! Don’t you remember? That was an irresponsible and childish action to do, you’d better have a good explanation for this. If you’re going to do something, at least act your role in the team more properly.”

Hyunjin pulls him back by the arm, shaking his head, “Changbin, stop. There’s no point in arguing. What’s most important is she’s gotten back safely.”

You eye both of your teammates back and forth, skepticism and uncertainty rising from the pit of your stomach. If what Minho said was true, then the culprit must be one of them. Or was he lying to you, trying to mess with your mind in order to achieve a personal goal of some sort? After all, you’ve only met him today yet you’ve known Changbin and Hyunjin for years now, why would you even hesitate to choose your friends over a total stranger?

“I wasn’t alone.” Changbin pauses at your words. “He was with me, this is-”

“Lee Minho.” You gape at your friend in disbelief.

Minho’s hand pulls away from his sword, a strange glint flashes in his eyes for a moment there. “It’s good to see you’re doing well, Changbin,” he says with difficulties, clearly not knowing how to act.

“Why were you with her?” Hostility washes over the atmosphere when Changbin croaks out, fists clenching in anger. “Y/N, what were you doing with a scumbag like him? Haven’t you heard enough rumors about this guy? People like him only care about themselves, they’ll just end up hurting you in the end. There’s no good in letting him stick around.”

When you squint your eyes at him, Changbin takes long strides towards you, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull you away. “Yeji, please take care of Chan for the time meaning and we’ll be heading back to the castle. Y/N can’t just leave when we need her the most.“

Minho tugs you back towards him and voices firmly, “I’m sorry, but your vice commander belongs to me now. I’ll be responsible completely for her security and escort her with all my respects. You’ll simply have to make do without her for some days.”

Changbin lunges for Minho’s collar, anguish seething inside his chest. “Insolent bastard! On what basis do you think you have the right to protect her? You might not be a threat, but you’d better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you?” He shouldn’t have said that.

Hyunjin looks rather concerned, rubbing his friend’s shoulders, “Changbin, we should go.”

“Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin,” you step in between them in disquiet, shoving Changbin away. “As vice commander of the royal guards, I will be coming with Lee Minho in the next few days on an important trip and I stand by my own decision. If my absence causes the team any trouble, I’ll be more than happy to receive the punishment from our superiors. You two are to return to the castle until further notice, continuing on with your service for the king and queen.”

“As we should,” Hyunjin smiles at you sweetly before walking over to Chan, giving the wolf a small pat on the head. In return, Chan lets out a displeased growl but it’s too small to notice. Minho watches the guard from afar, suspecting the strange glint in his eyes. He decides to say nothing about it.

“I’ve already warned you about him, don’t come crying for me when things go wrong.” With that, both of the royal guards excuse themselves out of the log house—Changbin shutting the door angrily after Hyunjin bidding you goodbye with a hug. This makes your heart heavy for not being able to trust them. You still don’t understand as to why, but you have a sudden faith in Minho, your intuitions are telling you that you should trust him.

Softly, you ask, “You know Changbin?”

“He’s an old friend, we haven’t talked in a while,” Minho shifts uncomfortably in his chair, finding the topic rather awkward to talk about. “We didn’t get along that well back then either. Glad to see nothing has changed.”

You shouldn’t have asked him in the first place.

five.

A wide variety of shops lined the streets of downtown Kalmburg: antique and art stalls, jewelry, and accessory shops, luxury boutiques, souvenir kiosks and stores selling leather goods, all showcasing an array of the finest wares in the area. Tourists flock to them like fireflies to a lamp, enthusiasm accentuating their features. The silvery melody of the drawl of sightseers and the strong, distinct accents of the locals drift through your ears as they amble by.

You follow Minho to the very end of the streets with your cloak draped over Chan’s limp body. No one needs to know why there’s an unconscious wolf on the back of your horse. Alas, you both arrive in front of an old wooden door, the mahogany color fading as a result of time. He told you that he needed to pass by a friend’s place but doesn’t this place look a bit fishy-

“Five hundred units for ten bags of Philenor powder, and you’re good to go!”

A blond-haired boy peeks out from a client behind the counter. “Well if it isn’t my least favorite customer,” he voices cheerfully.

“That’s because I’m smart enough to not buy any of your shit, Jisung,” Minho walks in with a grin, pitifully eyeing the dreadful-looking man who’s taking heavy strides out of the shop. He’ll learn someday. “Still running your greedy business as usual I see.”

The dealer named Jisung returns the sarcastic remark with a gummy smile, bumping his fist against Minho’s in a brotherly way. “Don’t speak so ill of me, will you? This greedy business is housing you,” he retorts, “I suppose you’re going to hog my place tonight as you always do, Black Swordsman?” So turns out he spends his night slumbers in this old crusty shop, no wonder people think he sleeps in the woods since they’ve never run into him outside of the town square before.

“Actually, I won’t be in town for tonight,” Minho’s answer catches Jisung off guard. “I’m heading north, to the Restless Cliffs.”

“Another life-risking business trip huh. You’re going to need warm clothes, some supplement, and probably some medicine too,” Jisung hums to himself. “Hey, Felix! Get your butt over here and sharpen a sword!”

You detach your rapier from your belt and take a few steps forward before placing it onto the counter. “Uhh, can you perhaps do the same thing for my sword? I’m coming with him,” you try to appear as friendly, not wanting to startle him.

But to your dismay, “Y-You’re one of the th-the royal guards!”

The younger boy looks over at you, utterly bewildered when he sees the emblem on your uniform. His eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their socket any second now. As if to fuel the fire, Minho jerks his head towards the direction of Noir, speaking casually, “Also, ask Chaeryeong to take care of the wolf and the horse for me. Tell her to be gentle too, the wolf is hurt and confused. Don’t let him drink potions that aren’t tested beforehand.”

“You brought injured animals to my shop?!”

“One more thing, I need to see Jeong-”

Jisung has to manually shut him up by swinging an arm over his neck, forcing his friend to tumble over the wooden counter, their cheeks pressed against each other. He’s practically spitting into Minho’s face at this point. “What in the world is an outcast, stubborn-headed of a loner like you doing out here with a royal guard?! Didn’t you say that having other people coming along would only get in the way? I thought you worked alone! What’s the deal man?”

“Ahaha, it’s a long story. You see-”

“Excuse my discourtesy for I haven’t introduced myself properly yet,” Jisung stops and averts his gaze over to you, soon letting go of Minho when you flash him a crooked smile. “My name is Y/N, second in command of the royal guards and I’ll be stuck with this dimwit for a while, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jisung reciprocates your bow, the look in his eyes softening a bit, “And I’m Han Jisung, freelance dealer, single, I’m looking for a—“ Minho finds it irksome how his friend is already out and about, starting a proper conversation without almost getting killed by you so his fist moves on its own, jabbing against the blond’s stomach, forcing air out of his mouth with a low grunt.

“Don’t mind him,” he turns sideways to reassure you, holding back the twitching muscles on his face. “He’s a decent person, despite how creepy he can be sometimes.” Jisung then elbows him harshly as a payback, making a scene when they start wrestling with each other like a bunch of toddlers. This makes you snort involuntarily, the Black Swordsman isn’t as fully-fledged as what’s been told around the public.

“Kids, that’s enough,” you tell them after making a grab for one of your pouches on Noir’s back. “Minho, why don’t you go meet up with the blacksmith? And Jisung, do you perhaps have a kitchen that I can borrow?”

While Minho’s mumbling something under his breath, hugging both of his and your sword to his chest to make his way behind the counter, Jisung nods at you, lifting a curtain next to a shelf full of weapons, gems, crystals, and potions that leads you down a dark, narrow hallway. “It’s not much,” he says and lights a candle so none of you would trip over each other. “But I hope it helps.”

“Don’t even, doing all of this for a stranger like me is incredibly generous of you,” you say humbly, not wanting to take anything for granted. “I’ll definitely return the favor when I come back.”

Jisung stops walking all of a sudden, causing you to almost bump into his back. “Is that so? Then, uhh…” he scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly. “How do I say this..? I know Minho can be irrational sometimes, loves pretending like he doesn’t care, and always runs into fire. So please..” His throat starts growing dry as he lowers his head a bit, attempting to bow at you.

“Take care of him for me, will you?”

You smile at the blond-haired boy, warmth flaring through your rib cage like butterflies, “I assure you he’s in good hands.”

six.

That night, you and Minho spend the whole night, the next morning, and the afternoon walking barefooted from Kalmburg to a small village at the base of the Restless Cliffs called Drachens Hohle. And it’s anything but Kalmburg. Rustic cabins dot the grassy hills as trees stand up like spikes, zigzagging the border of brick roads and unpolished homes. Rivers stream through deep valleys. The town is as complex as the heart, the streets are the veins, paved with red stones and the people are the heart. They look like they don’t own much, but are willing to share everything and anything. It’s the smiles on their faces, the way they greet each other, the sound of weapons and breastplates being pounded into shape that shows you just how alive this small community can be.

The motel Minho chooses looks like one of those places where men with beer guts would be snooping around with their neighbor’s wife, paying by the hour; a place where random hookers and drug-dealers would thrive. There are external wooden stairs that lead to a second floor, the second row of doors, that looks like the building inspector was either bribed to pass it or drunk on the job. You insist on finding a better place than this rat-hole but Minho said you don’t have to waste a couple of extra pennies just so the beds can be softer.

After dinner, you both receive your own keys before going upstairs to your respective rooms. A dingy place like this isn’t able to provide much when it comes to furniture anyway so there’s only a plain bed with pillows and a blanket, a nightstand with a pitch of water, and a small candle beside it. You sigh while casting your eyes around the room one last time. It’s just for one night.

“Y/N,” Minho gives your door a few knocks. “Are you asleep yet? I have something to tell you.”

You’re still halfway done with unpacking your stuff so you try to yell back without turning on your heels, “Not yet, just come in. I didn’t lock the door.”

He hums as a response before pushing against the wooden surface, closing it with a small ‘click’ after. “I just ran into the mayor downstairs,” Minho starts speaking and that’s when you finish putting your sword away, turning to look at him. And your cheeks inevitably grow hot since the first thing you have to lay your poor eyes on is his collarbones. This bastard really has the audacity to keep his buttons anywhere but a degree of appropriation.

“Hey, focus,” he snaps his fingers as an attempt to knock you out of your trance, not noticing how he’s obviously the distraction. “It took an hour for him after rambling about his childhood and his love for the village to finally spill something about the kind of crystal that we need. At least pretend like you’re paying attention, will you?”

“I was paying attention,” you mumble loud enough for yourself to hear it. What a white lie.

Minho quirks a brow and leans himself against the wall, looking amused, “Hmm, sure you did. Now, where were we? Ah! The mayor said those things aren't very hard to find, the only problem is that the field where they grow is right in front of a dragon’s den. No one has ever made it back in one piece. Chances are there might be other random monsters on the way…”

Suddenly he stops talking, confusing you. “What’s wrong-“

The stiff look on his face seals your lips almost immediately. Faster than a lightning bolt, Minho turns the doorknob and rushes outside. “Who’s there?!” he snaps at the hooded figure running towards the end of the dark hallway, reaching for the sword on his back only to realize it’s not there. “Shit, this isn’t good.”

“Someone was eavesdropping. We’ve got ourselves a spy.” You close the door again after Minho walks inside, facepalming himself onto your bed dreadfully.

He supports himself upward on his forearms and runs a hand through his hair, “Look, I’m not saying this because I’m doubting your abilities, I just want to guarantee your safety as much as I can. Their motives and patterns are getting pretty much unpredictable.” When he looks straight into your eyes with his warm, brown ones, your heart dips ever so gently. “Would you mind if I were to spend the night in your room?”

Your lips grow agape, your jaw almost drops to the floor. No one has ever asked to spend the night in the same room as you, not even Ryujin—your closest friend out of all the royal guards. Heck, you’ve barely known this man for a good three days yet why is it that your heart didn’t even hesitate? Are you scared? Most definitely not. Then what is it? What’s this weird, fuzzy feeling that’s been stirring inside your stomach for who knows how long?

“.....fine, but don’t try anything.”

Your heart is being weak again.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You place your hands on either side of your hip when Minho comes back from his room with his pillows and blanket scattered all over the floor, organizing them neatly with his sword leaning against your nightstand. He flickers his eyes upward to look at your judgmental ones, slightly shaking from the cold and nervousness. “I’m getting comfortable?” he tells you, blinking innocently.

Shaking your head at Minho, you snatch the pillow from his hands and situate it on your bed, right beside your own. “Hurry up now before I change my mind,” you decide after some time of consideration. The floor doesn’t look necessarily clean, and it’s not like Jisung would pack any extra clothes for him to change into. You’re just being nice like any normal, civil human being would. You’re sharing a bed with a stranger, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho scratches his head with a sheepish smile. “The floor is fine for me.” Although the cheap material of the mattress does look more convincing than the hard, cement surface.

You squint your eyes at him skeptically, “Are you sure?” He then puts his hands up in defeat as though you’re pointing a knife at his throat and motions for you to scoot over with a wave of his hand. You both shuffle around after he slips into the blanket with you, shifting until you’re facing the wall while Minho’s staring awkwardly at the front door. Well, this is kinda nice, he thinks to himself when your back brushes over his every now and then.

“Uhh, sleep tight, I guess?” Minho says before leaning over the nightstand to blow out the candle.

“Goodnight to you too,” you spew out your last words of the day, deciding to keep your lips close before you embarrass yourself any further. Okay...maybe one last thing before you completely pass out. “Uhm, Minho?”

He replies softly, “Yeah?” Seems like he can’t fall asleep either.

Minho tosses himself over the moment you move your body and this causes your faces to be inches apart, his warm breath fanning your cheeks. Although you can’t see him clearly due to the limited source of light, those round eyes are definitely piercing right through you, leaving your heart pounding faster than usual.

“Can you tell me…” you nibble on your bottom lip hesitantly. “What happened between you and Changbin? You guys weren’t being very civil for old friends.”

When he shifts slightly again to face the ceiling, his arm brushes against yours but he does nothing about it. He likes the lingering warmth from the tips of your fingers.

You watch in awe as Minho stares up at nothing, broken bits of sadness floating softly inside his irises like an unwanted scar from his past; it’s tragically beautiful. “It was years ago when this whole monster hunting thing started,” he starts calmly, finding it hard to not look at you. “I wasn’t alone, Changbin was there with me too.”

Then, he continues, not knowing that you’re widening your eyes at him, “We were in an assault team, traveling all over the Continent and making a living out of slaying those creatures. We didn’t have much back then, but we had each other. Unfortunately, everyone has their own secrets despite our promise of not hiding anything from each other. Changbin was planning on leaving the group to go on a different path, and I...I would secretly sneak out alone every night, throwing myself into danger, thinking that I wasn’t good enough…Truth is, I was just being selfish.” His voice trails off, trembling as if each word pains him, like a thousand arrow wounds straight into his heart.

Bitter. Unforgiving. Pain.

“I knew that I was lying to them, that I should just leave without saying anything,” Minho swallows hard like someone’s stepping on him, forcing air out of his lungs mercilessly.

“But I never belonged anywhere, they were all that I had—my only family. I longed for that warmth, that feeling of being at ease so I just, I couldn’t leave. One day, we were hired to clear out a dungeon through an anonymous letter. It raised some skepticisms in my head since I’ve gone there before, there was nothing, no monsters, no nothing. Even so, I was held back by my own cowardice, I was afraid they might question me. I didn’t stop them when they accepted the job, it was good money.”

Your voice fails you when you open your mouth to say something, so you wordlessly slips your hand into his, hoping that you’ll be able to convey some of your heat to his cold fingers. As if feeling encouraged by your action, he doesn’t push you away and regains his composure.

“Turns out, my intuitions were right, we got scammed,” Minho says. “A group full of criminals attacked, wanting to keep all of our money for their own. We cooperated and gave them everything, yet that wasn’t enough. They needed to seal our lips for good….Only Changbin and I made it out alive, three mobsters from the gang died under my blade that day. I confessed to Changbin later on, he didn’t forgive me. I couldn’t forgive myself either, the only family I’d ever have was gone, my arrogance and pride killed them.”

Silently, you pull him towards you, caressing the back of his head like he’s gonna fall apart the moment you let him go. Minho’s breath hitches in his throat as he sees you wear a smile on your face, your starry eyes twinkling when moonlight slips through the crack of the wood-lined window, pieces of glass chipping off on the edges. You’re breathtaking, unearthly.

“I’m not going to die, I know that you’ll protect me just fine.” There’s a wide-eyed expression on his face, his lips falling open but his words die in his throat. A tear unknowingly rolls down on his cheek, consequently blurring his vision with waves of sadness that only the broken would encounter. You let him nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, his fists grabbing at your shirt until his knuckles turn white.

Minho cries into your chest unceasingly, “I don’t have any real strength. Without my sword, without the anonymity that has been casting terror and curiosity on people, I’m just Lee Minho, the coward who only ever knows how to run away and hide behind the shadow of the Black Swordsman. Changbin was right, I don’t have any right to even think about protecting you.”

“My father used to tell me,” you stroke his hair gently as choked sobs punch through him, pulling him back from the opening arms of his grief. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things.”

He stops for a moment, nostalgia hurling him back to the memories of two decades ago when he was still just a boy, training hard with his wooden sword while someone watched him from afar, a pleased look lingering on their lips. Tears pool in his eyes again when that person’s face flashes inside his mind but the hollow space inside his heart isn’t the same, there’s a ray of joy that’s managed to make its way through a crack of his walls.

“And I don’t care if you’re the Black Swordsman or not, I only know the cryptic-looking guy who crossed swords with me and wasn’t willing to back down that day. I knew, I just knew that even without a sword, you could have beaten me. Because fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

His tears can’t extinguish what has happened, yet only carry him forward until a time comes when that searing pain is distant enough to forget rather than remembering. And maybe one day, it might erase itself from his conscience for good. So perhaps it’s not much of an oddity to thank the salty liquid streaming down on his cheekbones. They’re a living proof for his morality, a barrier to save him from becoming a monster—indifferent to suffering and sorrow.

Minho sees the fatherly smile on his mentor’s face, just like the old days. And then he sees you through his blurred vision, momentarily breathless at how close you are.

“After all, I have a promise to keep,” you tell him but it comes out more like a reminder for yourself. “I won’t let you die even when I’m no longer capable of picking up my sword and I mean it. As vice commander of the royal guards, you have my words, Lee Minho.”

An ignited desire wells up at the bottom of his heart, and it baffles him. Lee Minho, a coward who’s willing to turn his back on everyone just so he alone can exist. A bastard who betrayed his only friends, who didn’t even try to plead for forgiveness, who coldly walked away from those painful memories. Such a self-absorbed being like him doesn’t deserve a simple ally, let alone something much more intimate than that.

Then he starts to remember why he’s here, with you. Your smile. Your voice. Memories are flooding back into his head about this girl who made her way into his life abruptly yet so easily. And before he knows it, she’s all that’s on his mind.

So instead of giving in to his nightmares like he would every other night, Minho stops reminiscing his bloodied past, surrendering under the sense of familiarity radiating off your touch.

seven.

You both stand in awe as the great mountains loom before your eyes, cold grey crevices holding the blood of the fallen. While the lower passes wear a cloak of greenery, the peaks are crowned with a headdress of ice. As though the earth has a pulse, it rises through the mountains, creating their bold silhouette. From carved rocky outcrops, waterfalls drifting like skeins of white lawn, and in the fields, you can see the amber glint of the rivers and the occasional mirror-like flash of the lake.

The mountains soar upward like they wish to plant a soft kiss on heaven, wanting to have a taste of the horizon all around. The path ahead winds as effortlessly as a blanket laid on a bed, yet each step feels heavier than the previous one, draining your energy. It only gets steeper and narrower as you make your way closer to the top, but giving up is not an option. You’re willing to go to the other side of the world barefooted, searching for every corner, every edge of this planet if it means bringing your brother back.

A gust of wind howls in the distance, piling up snow in drifts, blinding your eyesight with ice-white dust. You try walking, bending over against the cold, protecting your eyes with your clothed forearms. Everything looms into your vision before vanishing completely, swallowed in white. “Minho?” you call out to him after a few minutes of not looking forward, waving one of your hands around until it can feel something.

Another hand reaches for yours, and you snap out of your daze when the coldness on the tips of his fingers is clasped against your palm. “You’re as slow as a baby turtle,” he comments lamely while staring ahead, not letting you see the coral shade scattered across his cheeks. “Let’s just hurry up and get back, I’m hungry.”

Breath pale against the numbing air, you blink thoughtfully while gazing down at the sight of his fingers being intertwined with yours as the frost patiently kisses your face. He’s still wearing the same old pair of fingerless gloves, no wonder his hands are freezing. But you suppose it’s because he doesn’t want the grip on his sword to slip.

“Oh, I actually have something for us to eat,” you retract your hand to fish it inside your bag, already missing his warmth. “I guess we should have lunch, either way, we’ve been walking before the sun even rose.”

Minho makes a noise of confusion before bringing his steps to a halt, turning his head to see you pull out something being wrapped neatly in paper, giving it a slight jerk towards his direction when he continues to stare at you blankly. Wordlessly, he takes it and sighs, eyes widening when the smell of grilled meat invaded his nostrils. Inside the wrapper is a sandwich made from thinly sliced bread, generously stuffed with meat and vegetables. The peppery aroma inevitably makes his stomach rumble and without another word, Minho chomps on his lunch portion like a hungry child; the sandwich is long gone before he realizes it.

“It’s...good,” he licks his lips to clean up the remaining sauce in the corners of his mouth. It doesn’t look any different from the ones he’s seen inside restaurants but the taste is what reminds him of something he ate as a kid, he almost teared up while inhaling it. “Where did you buy this? I’ll make sure to pass by the place when we get back.”

“I didn’t buy it,” you stride ahead of him to hide the giddiness in your stomach. “I made it yesterday at Jisung’s place. That’s why the bread got a little soggy if you couldn’t tell already.”

Minho fixes his collar and his hearty laughs echoes through your eardrums, stirring up feelings inside your stomach unabating. “You would make a fortune out of these,” he tells you while trying to catch up, following your steps in a hassle. “But now that I‘m thinking about it again, you shouldn’t do that, I’d hate to see people getting to enjoy the same food as me with some cheap units.”

You blush (out of anger) at his statement and attempt to cover it up by stepping onto his toes. This causes him to yelp while stumbling backward, almost falling onto his bottom. “Why did you feel the need to do that?!”

“I can just make you more if you like it that much, you jerk,” you murmur mostly to yourself but he hears it nonetheless.

A smile makes its way to his lips, and a fuzzy feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s not complaining, really. It’d be nice if he could have the same delicious meals when he’d retired, dozing off while watching the sunset with his significant other and his own kids in his arms. It’d be nice if he could have a place to come back to when he needs a break, a shoulder to lean on and someone to tuck him into bed. It’d be nice if… He looks at you again after those shameless thoughts and immediately, embarrassment dusts his cheeks pink. His face feels hot despite the puffs of cold air escaping his lips.

“Hey,” Minho pulls you to a stop by the hand, suddenly giving it a squeeze. “I just wanted to say thank you…” A glint of anticipation gleams in your gaze when you both lock eyes, prompting him to look away. “Thank you, for...the meal, it was nice. I might as well bother you a little longer to eat more good food.” Lee Minho you coward.

“Do you only think about your stomach?“ you almost gawk at him, raising your hand to give him a slap in the face but Minho grabs your hand before you can do so. The next thing you know, his other hand is on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in a playful manner.

He tells you and trudges on, grinning to himself, “Let’s get moving, we’re wasting time.”

“....Minho?”

“Hmm?” he turns around with a lovesick smile on his face but that’s not what you’re paying attention to.

“You might want to look out for that…”

“For what-“

Minho swallows heavily when he sees an enormous figure overhanging his shadow on the white snow. Slowly, his gaze follows the sound of faint yet sturdy footsteps and he holds his breath, eyes twice as white as before.

“Just to be clear…” he asks breathlessly. “Dragons are nocturnal, right?”

“Correct,” you subconsciously take a step back. “And we might have woken it up.”

Minho takes notice in the thick stripe of black streaking down on one of its claws, and his face morphs into a frown when his surroundings reek off the smell of fresh blood. “No, someone else did.”

The dragon’s scales gleam dashingly in the sunlight, they are its pride and delight, violet streaks blending into a deep blue at the end. Its teeth so cold and sharp like icicles, they can easily rip any armors into mere ribbons of skin and bones. In its chest holds a hearth of ever flickering flame although the remorseless heart remains rime. Eyes with a shade of crimson as deep as the liquid that’s coursing through your veins, nourishing you; those eyes are seemingly endless pools of wisdom and intelligence.

But once those red pupils dilate and focus on the two mundane mortals before themselves, a glint of gold is suddenly evident, almost alarmed. The dragon takes off into the air with its wings stretched leathery like a bat, sending a small snowstorm flying towards the both of you. Minho squints his eyes hard while you’re shielding your vision with your forearms, coats fluttering as wind whistles into your ears.

Minho calmly takes a step forward, flashing you a smile sideways. What is he doing?

Then, he spares you one last glance before drawing his sword. As though triggered by the sound of metal scraping against the leather sheath, the dragon flaps its majestic wings and inhales, heaps of glowing embers come swirling in midair, twirling towards Minho with a fiery dance. He’s just simply there, feet planted firmly on the ground as though challenging the creature’s deadly breath.

“Minho, what are you doing?!” you yell at him, trying to keep your balance as the ground begins to tremble. “Get out of there!!”

Pretending not to listen to your warnings, Minho gets into his stance, blade angling low with his knees. What happens next downright baffles you. The blade of his sword glimmers with a shade of purple, his feet taking off towards the plume of fire that soon engulfs his figure completely in your vision.

You squeeze your eyes shut not just because of the heat but also because you can’t bring yourself to see it. Once the air around you cools off, your eyes flutter open again to see Minho angling his head over his shoulder, throwing you a wink in the process. Did he just counter a dragon’s breath with his sword?

“Chaeryeong taught me that. Neat trick, isn’t it?” he says with a grin while you’re blinking at him in utter shock; he looks almost proud of successfully deflecting that breath attack. “I use magic more often than you’d think. Nothing major, only the basic things. Enough to keep me alive.”

“I still think we need to run first.”

Minho looks at you dejectedly, “Don’t you have a better plan?”

With a howl as loud as any sky-born thunder, the dragon flaps its wings more vigorously this time, flinging the layer of snow under your feet into a blizzard—a swirling storm of screaming silver, a primal force than conquers until its core explodes. Everything around you is almost white-out as you bat your hands around helplessly in the middle of this snowstorm. After a while, you can no longer feel your legs, it’s like the storm just sweeps you off your feet. You’re not sure if it’s because of the cold or-

What the…?

You widen your eyes in a panic; you’re falling. Your perception of time distorts, your surroundings slow down until there’s nothing, only you, the sky above, and a hole that’s only a few hundred feet away from where you were standing previously. Your hand reaches out to the canvas above, grasping the endless crevasse of blue.

Everything’s a blur, a blur that swirls out of existence. Suspended in the air for a few seconds, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting your tense muscles relax. You won’t die from the fall since there’s a likelihood that snow’s already covered the pit. But you can’t just let yourself fall freely, that would cause minor, unnecessary injuries. So you reach for your sword, planning to jab it against the rocky surface as an attempt to go against gravity.

Once the metal comes in contact with the side of the pit, tiny flares of fire flutter in the air as if the sword is being sharpened by a blacksmith, an ear-piercing sound hisses against your eardrums. The stab is strong enough to slow gravity down from pulling you downward any faster but it’s not enough to make you stop completely.

Chan, you think while screwing your eyes shut, every cell inside your body is shaking, every muscle is aching. You can’t give up now, not when you’re still in one piece, and Chan’s hanging on the edge of not getting his old life back. You can’t give up not knowing who’s the culprit, not just yet.

And you’d rather be cursed than making out of this place alive and leaving Minho behind. Your conscience won’t ever forgive you.

When that thought crosses your mind, you grit your teeth and suddenly the sword stops sliding down, leaving you dangling midair on one arm. The rapier is too slender, it won’t hold on for long, and it’s not like you can climb all the way up to the top.

A mighty, fearsome roar blares through your brain like wildfire so you flutter your eyes upward to see the dragon with its wings folded on both sides, diving at an immaculate speed into the hole, in your direction.

There’s my ride.

eight.

Once the blizzard settles down, the setting sun comes with a sky of fire, the orange of every wintry hearth. The color stretches far and wide along the horizon like a reflection of the dawn that comes after the velvety night.

That’s when Minho sees them.

The crystals have grown as something alive may do, thriving over the ages, through many generations. As such they become a rainbow sea made of perfect rocks, the shoreline ever-present and still with colors that shine in the brilliant light of a richness that only nature can bring. Minho might feel bad when he snaps off a piece, it’s like cutting a single, healthy rose in the middle of the thorny garden. But if it’s for Chan, he’s certain that you’d do anything at any cost.

Minho sheaths his sword and sighs, turning around, “Y/N are you okay?” All that he’s met with is a muffled silence, the cold wind whistling into his ears, the hollow space before his eyes white-out and empty.

“Y/N?” Nothing.

“Y/N!!” No one answers. “Y/N!!!”

No, he lets out a choked whimper. No, no, no.

His legs tremble inside his boots, his lips quivering, his fists clenched, his fingers turning cold. And the thing that terrifies him most? His heart feels like someone is grasping on it so tightly as though they’re going to crush it with their bare hands.

A seed of fear suddenly grows inside his rib cage, thriving at an abrupt pace, branching out, gripping onto every cell, every muscle inside his body. He can’t breathe. This can’t be it, he tells himself, tumbling backward a bit. He promised not to let this happen. He swore. Yet his biggest nightmare is only one step away from becoming a reality.

Minho wants to cry your name aloud over and over again until his vocal cords are torn apart, he wants to be vulnerable for once and let himself fall. How is he going to face Chan? And Changbin? And his own conscience? He might as well run his own sword through his heart because what would be the point in living if you’re no longer here?

All of this was a grave mistake. If only he didn’t throw the dart. If only you didn’t come with him. None of this would have happened. None of this would have happened if he didn’t accept that damned offer. He could have easily flipped you off the second that duel was finished and gone on this trip by himself. And face the scythe of Death alone, by himself, like he always does. He should have died alone, he deserves to die alone.

But this time, he didn’t make the right decision and the consequences are horrendous. He gave in because of your stubbornness, your determination, your bossy nature. He let you in and his walls came down tumbling one by one, his stern and trained facade shredded into pieces. His head is a mess whenever he sees your smile, his heart can permit you to tread on his boring life. And because of those merely unguarded moments, he’s killed another person that he truly cares about other than himself.

Wait, something clicks inside his head. He almost forgets the most important thing of all. The culprit.

Minho regains his composure and snaps his head back towards the crystals. The sun might be going down but its limited source of light is more than adequate to cast a shadow onto the snowy white surface. The shadow of a person, a person that’s not you. The shadow that sets a silent inferno inside his chest, the flame spreading by the ticking second.

“I have been waiting for you,” he turns on his heels, reaching for the hilt of his sword. “Hwang Hyunjin.”

The shadow visibly flinches before stepping out, a hand outstretching from the black cloak to pull down the hood. When Hyunjin’s face comes into view, Minho’s muscles tense up, anguish making his head a little dizzy. But he maintains his cold front, not letting his opponent see how much this is affecting him.

“I’ve got a feeling that you’d already figured it out the moment I visited the cabin,” Hyunjin says slyly, his facial expression rather relaxed. “And I was so close to silencing you little errand boy for good too, but I’ll admit, the little brat is well trained, he ran off before I could catch him. So tell me, Black Swordsman, where did I slip?”

“Your eyes,” Minho grits. “They weren’t staring at Chan with what’s supposed to be concern or relief. You were looking at him like a predator watching its prey from afar. If I weren’t keeping an eye on you, who knows what you would have done to him. He didn’t sound pleased when you touched him either.”

Hyunjin drops his cloak to the ground, laughing under his breath, “You are sharper than I’d expected.” He takes a few steps closer forward, craning his neck tiredly before drawing his sword, causing Minho to do the same. “Now, now, vice commander, an innocent man is about to be killed because of you.”

Minho can only snicker at the statement, “I’m not planning on going down easily.”

“So am I,” Hyunjin gets ready in his stance, glaring at his opponent. “I wasn’t really planning on dealing with you. I would rather end her and let you take the blame. Actually, that sounds like a better plan! Don’t you agree? No one would put their trust in you—a low, damned being who lives off the upper classes’ bloodied pennies.”

With his blood boiling hot, Minho inhales and exhales deeply to keep his voice calm. “End her?” he repeats after the guard. End her. Hyunjin hasn’t made a single move yet he feels like someone just stabbed him in the gut. How could he?! You trusted Hyunjin, you went through so much with him, you trained him. And now he’s just going to turn around and bite the hand that fed him? Traitor. “Over my dead body.”

Hyunjin lunges forward, his feet sprinting quickly and he brings his blade up from a lower angle while Minho attempts to clash him from the head down. Both of their swords get knocked away on different sides from the harsh contact. Before Hyunjin can raise his weapon again, Minho sword slices at him sideways but he luckily deflects it in time—the reflexes and muscle memories from his training are kicking in.

“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you her friend?”

Minho’s sword aims for his head once again; however, Hyunjin steps to the side and makes a grab for his hand, holding his weapon down. This makes Minho lose his balance for a few seconds while Hyunjin tries to cleave his neck. He stumbles on his heels at the last second, only getting away with a small cut on his cheekbone. The pain isn’t even there, he’s been beaten up ten times worse before, this is nothing. He’s practically numb by now.

“Friend?” Hyunjin drags his sword against the ground before bringing it up to stop a slash at his chest, throwing snow into Minho’s eyes. He groans agonizingly when the white matters’ coldness burns his skin, blurring his vision. “She and Chan only care about themselves! They are the ones who get all the praises and recognition after a mission. Little rumps like me and Changbin?”

He angrily tightens the grip on his weapon, dragging a long slice downward, “We didn’t have any title, we’re merely just two faces amongst a hundred of the other guards. We get treated like we don’t even exist!”

“Did Y/N ever treat you that way? And Chan too?” Minho heaves after dodging the blow by rolling on the ground. He’s circling around the guard, trying to keep his mind clear. “From what I’ve seen, she seems to care about you and Changbin as much as she does about her brother.

Hyunjin swings his sword at him, and Minho receives the hit with the edge of his blade. The sound of metal scraping against each other is pricking at his eardrums but he can care less, he won’t be dying today. “So you can break my soul,” Minho pants before both of them stagger backward, switching their initial position. “Take everything away from me.”

“Beat me up.” Another blocked blow.

“Tear me into pieces.” Anger almost tears through his mind again. Anger towards Hyunjin for betraying Chan, you, and his entire team. Anger for falling into his trap. Anger for not being able to keep you safe. He wishes he could just unleash all of his hatred and rage on the guard. But what can he do? He’s one to blame too, after all.

“Or kill me, even.”

Hyunjin catches up to Minho when he starts sprinting away to regain his vision, the two of them running side by side, in between the lined up crystals. Thrusting his sword at Minho in various directions, Hyunjin’s stabs are getting messy because of the limited amount of space.

“But I will tell you something, you’d better listen to me and listen to me for good.” Minho’s sword strikes at him but he blocks it in time, their faces inches apart and their weapons threatening to snap each other into half.

“Touch Y/N.” A low grunt escapes Hyunjin’s lips when Minho jabs his fist against his stomach, forcing air out from his lungs. “And I am going to give you a taste of hell. I have been there before, and you know what? You would be begging me for a painless death by then.”

When the guard falls onto his knees, his weapon dropping by his side with a loud clangor, Minho directs the tip of his sword on top of Hyunjin’s head. “Think about it again, do you think that all of this is really worth it?”

A sinister laugh echoed through his ears and Minho’s eyes grow alarmed when the blood trickled down on his cheek starts to harden a little. No, something’s wrong. “You spoke too soon,” Hyunjin tells him with a devilish tone, the corners of his lips being tugged up into a smirk.

What is this? On the tip of his fingers reveals a dark shade of blue, it almost reminds him of the royal guards’ uniform. Suddenly his body collapses, he can’t feel his muscles, he can do nothing. His sword is so far away from his grip, he can’t even move his fingers. Paralytic poison. “You bastard!”

Hyunjin pushes himself off the ground, holding his sword by the hilt when the tip is faced downward. “I suppose this is the end. Our encounter is rather short but it was a pleasure to cross swords with the infamous Black Swordsman,” he raises it, chuckling. “Goodbye, Lee Minho.”

Minho locks his jaw, his muscles tense but he can’t move, his eyes are shut while he braces himself for the contact. But it never comes. A growl as loud and frightening as a clap of thunder rumbles through the sky and that’s when Minho opens his eyes to see the shadow of a dragon flying not too high above. Next thing he knows, a figure jumps off, falling rapidly like a lightning bolt.

Your foot slams onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, causing him to fall back while you land on the ground safely. Before he can register the situation, your rapier is drawn to yank his long sword away. “Hyunjin?” you grit with tears brimming in your eyes. “Why?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond, instead, he takes a few strides towards you wordlessly. You don’t raise your weapon nor retreat it, simply keeping it limp by your side. But he lifts the blade of your sword with his hands and swiftly runs it through his stomach, blood splattering everywhere. His arms are weak, yet he still tries to put one of them around your back, pulling you closer and leaning his head on your shoulder. “Congratulations, vice commander,” he taunts into your ear.

“You’re a murderer.”

nine.

Chan finds himself waking up on a plain bed, a white blanket draped over him, and a cold towel on his head. All the mayhem from the past week comes crashing down on him like a tsunami, banging against his temple. He tries to push himself up but his limbs are too wobbly—it feels foreign, it’s like he’s inside someone else’s body and not his own. With every move, his head pulses in agony, and his muscles ache.

The pain stops when he sees you sleeping soundly against his bed, your head rested on your forearms. Another figure is present too, on the couch staring blankly at the flickering fireplace. Opening his mouth to speak, Chan scrunches his nose in pain as he accidentally strains his vocal cords but no words come out, only incoherent sounds.

“...Chan?” you rub the sleep away from your eyes, yawning tiredly.

“Ah..ah..ah,” Chan can only lift his arms, calling out to you in desperation. His eyes grow stingy at the sound of your voice and before he knows it, tears are already rolling down in his cheeks relentlessly.

“Chan, it’s alright,” you hush him softly, slipping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Everything’s fine now, you’re safe. You’ve done enough.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, that way he won’t be able to see your glassy eyes. This isn’t the time to cry in front of him.

The door closes with a sharp thud.

Chan only convinces himself that he’s still alive, and back to his human form, not being buried six feet under the ground somewhere when your fingers graze the dull lines that his tears leave behind. A sense of relief washes over him the moment he sees your smile, though insomnia has been carved into your features over time. You’re safe, he closes his eyes. You’re not hurt.

That’s all that matters.

“Wait for me here, I’ll call Yeji in,” you give his hands one last squeeze. Chan pulls you back for a second there, a faint frown adorns his face. “Just leave the rest to me, we’re going to be alright.”

With Chan’s weak smile as an approval, you dash outside, finding Minho standing like a soulless being at the front door of the cabin. He can’t bring himself to face you after what he did. His body is tired, his mind is a mess, and his heart is filled with sorrow. Even his sword seems too heavy for his existence, it’s weighing him down, making him not be able to move.

“This was all my fault, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer him and instead outstretch your hand, letting your fingers tug at the sheath of his sword. “Minho, it’s no one’s fault,” you mumble with your head hung low. “I dragged you into this. If anything, I’m the one to blame.”

“No!” His sudden outburst makes you flinch; hence you pull your hand back with a wide-eyed expression on your face. “If I hadn’t thrown that dart, we wouldn’t have met. If you hadn’t followed me on the trip, nothing would have happened! None of this would have happened! You almost died back there, Y/N. Do you know how much it scared me?”

“So you’re just going to leave me like this?” you raise your voice, trying not to snap at him. “After everything, you’re still going to turn away from me? Just like how you did to everyone else?”

“I-“

“Lee Minho, if you claimed to care about me so much-”

“I should stay away from you, I will only cause you more trouble. Even worse, I will get you in danger. I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you.” His heart clenches at his own words as his shoulders shake, arms tense on his sides.

You reach for his hand, and huff in determination, “Stick to your words and protect me then.”

ten.

It’s been a week since the incident happened. Hyunjin has managed to live after the fight, yet he wants to keep his lips sealed for a while as to why he intended to harm the commander of his team in the first place. For now, he’s being kept in the dungeon while the king and queen permit you to do whatever. After all, he didn’t cause the kingdom any trouble. And if you were being honest, you would forgive Hyunjin without a second thought just so things can be normal again. It’s not as easy as you’d hoped.

Minho, on the other hand, has been praised tremendously by everyone in court for what he did. His name has been cleansed and every flighty rumor or gossip about him has been cleared out. He doesn’t like this at all, journalists are starting to snoop around Jisung’s place, leaving him no choice but to stay at Yeji’s log house for some time. His reputation was what used to keep him safe, now everything’s being flipped upside down.

He stares at his own reflection in the mirror from across the room. Minho can’t tell if it’s because he’s only worn the color black for the longest time or he’s being irrational, but he thinks the white loose shirt and matching pants that the mage brought back last night from the castle just don’t look right. Is his own moniker messing with his head? Probably.

Glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of his sword on his bed, he exhales dejectedly. I look like a joke, Minho thinks to himself.

“I never knew the Black Swordsman would look this dashing in white,” Chan enters his room with a dimpled smile on his face, Changbin following him suit. He’s recovering from the past week of living his life as a wolf, it’s still quite hard for Chan to walk so Yeji forced him to use a wheelchair for the time being.

“Don’t you guys have any clothes that aren’t so flashy?” Minho cracks a crooked smile, feeling unfamiliar being dressed in such a bright color. “I look ridiculous.”

Chan chuckles wholeheartedly and shakes his head, “Actually, that’s one of our less flashy ones. Don’t worry, you look great.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Minho’s question isn’t necessarily directed towards Chan, but rather the person standing behind him. “If you want to curse me for the things I’ve done, then fine, I accept it. I will leave Kalmburg and move to the other side of the Continent. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Changbin steps forward, and with a deep breath, he says, “Thank you, Minho.”

Minho can’t believe his ears, did he just—

“Thank you,” Changbin says again; this time more firmly, and the look in his eyes softening. In those brown orbs, Minho can once again see the look he used to be met with five years ago, no hatred or anger, just warmth. He missed this. A ‘thank you’ has never sounded so nerve-calming before. It’s genuine, it’s real. Heartwarming, almost.

“When you told me that you would protect her,” Changbin continues, gaze cast downward. “I almost believed you, I knew you weren’t lying. It felt like that day after we both got out of the dungeon all over again. My anger always got the best of me and I just burst. I never gave you the chance to explain yourself, I never got to know your reasons. I am sorry because I didn’t care about you enough, as a friend.”

“I am sorry too,” Minho rises from his seat on the bed, suppressing the happiness inside his ribcage. “I’m sorry I bailed on you that day, I think about it all the time.”

He pauses for a moment and sees Changbin outstretching his hand, the familiar broad smile dancing on his lips. Minho accepts his friend’s warm handshake and reciprocates his grin. “You’d better stay alive first before apologizing.”

Minho widens his eyes, “Of course I am alive!”

“No, I mean,” Changbin waves his hand dismissively. “I was going to ask you to join us since there’s a good chance that His Majesty won’t turn you down, but then I’d figure, you’re too reckless for us to handle either way. So if you’re planning on going out here and throwing yourself at monsters, you’d better stay safe or I wouldn’t forgive you again. And Y/N would never forgive herself.”

Chan eyes the small box sitting neatly on Minho’s nightstand, and teases, “Speaking of Y/N, when will you tell her?”

Minho scratches the nape of his neck with glowing cheeks, he can physically feel the pink tint darkening by the second. “I don’t know, but soon. I still need to have his permission first,” he leans over to take the box in his palm, opening it carefully.

The sight of the silver band resting nicely inside makes his chest swell, his beating heart doing its best to not implode from joy. It might be too early, but he’s scared that if he doesn’t do this now, fate is going to be one step ahead and take you away from him forever.

“Minho!” Yeji calls out to him from behind the door. “Y/N’s here!”

“I wish the best of luck for you then,” Chan tosses a wink in his direction.

eleven.

“No one asked you to come, Han.” Is the first thing Minho spats out when he closes the front door with his bag slung over his shoulder. Jisung’s welcoming grin falls flat on his face at his friend’s cold remark. He really should have got used to these things by now.

“I did,” you tell him with crossed arms, releasing your grip on Noir’s reign. “Yeji said she’s running low on some herbs so I introduced her to Jisung’s place.”

Minho rolls his eyes to the moon. “Aren’t there more trust-worthy stores for the royal mage? Why would you refer her to that dingy dumpster?” And this statement prompts Jisung to give his knee a harsh kick followed by a mere glare from the younger boy.

“I actually like his place, it’s cute,” you scoff. He’s just acting out since Jisung always shows up unannounced.

“Why? It’s a rip-off.”

“Minho, you were living there for free!”

“I’m going to leave you two love birds alone now,” Jisung pushes past you to shoot Minho a mischievous smirk, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything weird to her or Chan is going to cut your arms off.” Actually, you’re fully capable of cutting his arms off yourself if he dared think about doing something damned. The swordsmanship runs in the family after all.

Your face morphs into a frown when Jisung finally enters the cabin, your head tilted to the side in confusion. “What is he talking about?” you ask but brush it off nonetheless; it’s Jisung, you can’t expect anything less from him. “Forget it, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Minho answers while petting Noir, your horse nudges her nose against his face in return—she’s always been keen on seeing him since day one. “How is your father these days? Last time I’d asked, you told me that he’d retired.”

You nod, resting your palm on the hilt of your sword, “He’s good. He said he’s already too old to train soldiers and he’d rather stay at home. Though he’s getting bored these days since there’s not much to do anymore. He’ll find a new hobby soon enough, he will need to take a break from everything eventually. Father has never let himself rest after our mother passed away, constant work distracts him.”

Minho hears you let out a small sigh and takes another step, his hands finding their way towards yours, collecting your fingers between his, giving them a firm squeeze.

You give in after a few moments to face him completely, concern is flashing in his eyes while a small smile blooms on his lips. He looks a little tired, probably didn’t get any sleep for the past few days while you’re resolving all the problems in court. Minho never fails to stun you nonetheless, from the curve of his lips to the fullness of his eyelashes and the adoration in his warm eyes for you and only you; they make you feel at ease.

“Like father, like daughter,” he brushes a strand of hair away from your face and jokes. “You’d better be eating well and getting enough sleep, vice commander.”

You snicker, “Speak for yourself, Black Swordsman, you look terrible.” That’s a lie, he looks absolutely wondrous it’s unfair.

“I like this color on you,” you giggle after noticing his appearance today. They really don’t have any dark-colored pieces of clothing in the castle. “Look, we’re matching. You’re just not matching with your sword anymore.”

“Y/N.” The merry tone in his voice suddenly drops and Minho looks away, his muscles loosening. “Can I ask you something? But I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

You’re suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”

“On the day that the incident happened….,” he trails off nervously. “Why didn’t you run away? You could have just left me there and got home safely. There will always be another way to help Chan. The chances of surviving that fight were too slim, there’s no telling what would happen. Why would you—”

“Lee Minho, are you even hearing yourself right now?” you cup his cheeks so that he’ll look at you. “Are you assuming I’m some sort of lowly being who will run away while their partner is in danger? I’d rather die with someone than let that person die in front of my eyes. Especially when it’s you! I would never forgive myself if I ever did that to you. So why are you saying such things?”

Minho reaches for your hand and melts into your touch, exhaling heavily.

“I don’t know...I’m sorry I think I’m losing my mind. After everything, I’m scared that I might lose you. All I want to do is run away with you, from all of this, from everything. We can live together in someplace far away, where no one can find us,” he clenches his eyes shut.

“I just- I don’t want you to be in love with someone who always has hell hanging by his doorstep, who gets his hands bloodied for a living, who—“

You place your index finger on his lips and shake your head. “Do you even know who I am in love with? Hm?” you question.

“I’m in love with the most caring, kindhearted man that the world could ever ask for. Whose heart is so warm and fragile, he’s afraid to let anyone in because of his tough past. Whose will is so unwavering he didn’t even think twice about fighting off a dragon alone. But what makes me fall so stupidly for him, is the fact that despite his wounds and scars, he’d always prioritize other people’s needs before his own. Because he’d rather believe and regret than doubt and regret.”

“Y-You’re in love with me?” he studies your delicate feature in the daylight, his heart going on a rampage.

You chuckle to yourself, “Yes, more than I should be because you’re a pain in the-“

Minho presses his lips against yours and inhales every word, sealing the nagging in until you respond to the kiss. Your hands find their way up to his soft hair, weaving themselves into the dark locks and dropping to caress his face after. He latches his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his so he can have more control of your movements. You’re drowning in his existence as he tugs and nibs at your bottom lip, trailing small kisses down your jawline before pulling away completely.

“I guess this means you’re in love with me too?” you ask to distract yourself from the heat that’s flaring through your nostrils, setting your heart on fire.

Your question has him stop for less than a moment, realizing that maybe he is in love with you as much as you are with him. And maybe you want him just as much as he wants you too.

He nods curtly, breath shaking, “Yes, yes I am.”

For the longest time, Minho used to forbid himself to cry, smile, and laugh like any sane human being would, as he thinks expressing his emotions is being strong, is protecting himself. But in reality, he’s just running away from his own problems instead of finding ways to solve them.

Now, he will let himself fall, he will let himself cripple, he will let his tears run freely for strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things. He will fight for what he believes in, protect what he cares about and run on his bare feet through the entire galaxy if it means he gets to see you at the end of it, if it means you can dive into his arms, safe and sound.

Then, Minho thinks of what’s inside the little box, making the thing thundering inside his chest skip a beat. “Will you stay by my side forever?” he blinks.

“Is that even a question?” you convey between labored pants. “Even if fate pulls you to the other side of the universe, I will find you, do you hear me? I will find you and fall in love with you all over again.”

“Very well then,” he holds you by the shoulders; the eagerness in his eyes lights up a curiosity inside you. “Y/N, let’s..” But it’s gone before you can even register. “Let’s get going, we’re going to be late.” It’s not quite the right time yet. He still needs to meet someone before tying you up with him for eternity.

Because Minho too, will always find you and fall in love with you all over again. If fate has a problem with that, then he won’t be giving a damn.

#stayshub #skzwritersclub #inkidz #stray kids fluff #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids fantasy au #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #lino fic #lee minho #minho fantasy au #lee know fantasy au

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part four

This one is a little shorter than usual, so I wanted to go ahead and post it. It’s mostly a set-up for what’s about to happen (eek). We’re officially in the Civil War timeline now!

two years later

You meet Steve and Sam at Heathrow airport. The first thing you do is wrap your arms around Steve’s neck.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. You have no idea how badly he must be hurting. To be taken away from his soulmate, thrust 70 years into the future to find her still alive, only to have her taken away from him again all too soon. You don’t know how he hasn’t collapsed from the pain.

Steve hugs you back tightly, sighing into your shoulder. “Thanks.”

The funeral is quiet, not like you were expecting it to be anything but.

The biggest shock of all comes when Sharon Carter reveals her relation to Peggy. Steve had mentioned Sharon in passing to you, something about her being a cute nurse that lived across the hall from him. You later found out that she was an SHIELD agent, but now she works for the CIA.

Afterwards, when you’re standing with Steve, keeping him company in the church now that everyone has gone, he starts talking about Peggy.

Anything and everything he can think of. Some of it inaudible from his tears, but he gets it all out and off of his chest, which is what he needed. He’s a mess, holding onto the church pews for stability that he knows he’ll never feel again, not with Peggy gone.

You gather him in your arms again, fingers splayed at the back of his head, holding him close. Moments like this make you miss Bucky even more. Not only is he your soulmate, but he’s Steve’s best friend. The person who, alongside Peggy, is who Steve needs most right now.

The good news is that Bucky’s feelings have been relatively normal lately. He hasn’t been the Soldier since he left D.C. that day. You would’ve felt it, and what you’re feeling, is nothing like before.

Exiting the church, you see Sam standing under a tree, his phone pressed to his ear. You know he’s talking to your best friend, that’s for sure. She wasn’t able to come because of work. You also see Sharon glancing over at Steve, so you quietly slip away to join Sam, giving Steve the chance to talk to Sharon like you know he’s been dying to do.

Sam continues talking to your best friend and you try not to eavesdrop, but mostly, you’re just feeling.

You think it’s because Bucky hasn’t been himself — without the Soldier’s mindset — in a very long time, but for the past year or so, you’ve had moments like these where all you can do is feel. Take it all in.

You haven’t felt any overwhelmingly happy emotions from him by any means, but you’ve felt...peace. He’s anxious almost constantly, which you understand, and you desperately wish he was here for you to help him. Right now, he seems to be at peace. You’re not sure what caused it or how, but you hope, if anything, that he’s sleeping.

In your most recent dream of him, that’s exactly what he was doing. Sleeping peacefully next to you. And when you shifted, he woke, only for a moment, to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer. Nuzzling your neck with his nose, he fell back asleep, but not before placing a kiss there.

You woke that morning with sweaty palms and a stupid smile on your lips.

“Are you signing it?” You vaguely hear your best friend ask through Sam’s phone.

You blink, tuning back into their conversation.

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t like it. Steve doesn’t like it either.”

“What? What’s going on?” You ask, patting his arm to get his attention.

“The Sokovia Accords,” Sam explains lowly. “We wrecked shit—”

“I heard,” you grimace. “Not a good look for you guys.”

“Yeah, the Secretary of State didn’t think so either,” Sam scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. “Anyway, they slammed us with the Accords and it’s— They want us to sign our rights away, basically.”

“What?” You nearly yell. “You’re serious?”

“Deathly,” he nods. “Rhodes thinks we’re being dramatic, Tony too.”

“Great,” you groan. “Who else is signing?”

“Natasha. Vision. I think that’s it.” Sam shakes his head. “Steve and I seem to be the only bastards with our heads on straight, but obviously they don’t see it that way.”

“That’s...I’m sorry,” you groan. “What’s this about, anyway? You took the bad guys down in Sokovia, wasn’t that the point? I know there was a lot of collateral damage, but...that happens no matter what. Avengers being there or not.”

“It’s not just Sokovia,” Sam sighs. “New York, too. And others. The guy had a whole damn presentation.” He shakes his head again, clearly torn up about it all. “They want to oversee us. Control us, basically. Tell us where we can and can’t go. And I just— I can’t do that. If I feel like someplace needs our help, we have to go. But if we sign that, then the government can tell us not to — or arrest us if we do. It’s not right.”

“I hear you,” you assure him. “I wish there was a way to amend it. They didn’t let you talk about it?”

“Nope,” he says. “Just slapped the book down on the table and said we had until today to figure out what we’re going to do. But basically said if we don’t sign, we’d be going to prison.”

Your eyes widen. “Prison?”

“If we go somewhere, which is inevitable. They’d be able to get us with anything. Probably bring up old charges just to get a headstart.”

“Fuck, Sam,” you say. “This is shit.”

“You’re telling me,” he mutters. He says goodbye to your best friend, her break from work ending way too soon for his liking -- you can tell by the frown he wears after he hangs up. “Anyway. Want a drink?”

You shake your head at his sudden subject change, and the fact that it’s still the early afternoon, but you agree nonetheless.

+++

The drink doesn’t happen. Well, you make it to the bar, but when you do, you’re met with the onslaught of news stations reporting a freak bombing in Vienna.

“Shit,” Sam cusses. “Where’s Steve?”

“He was with Sharon,” you explain, trailing behind him.

You share a worried look before starting to jog, back to the hotel they’re all staying at. He finds Steve by the elevator with Sharon -- interrupting a moment, by the looks of it, which you feel bad about, but you shove it away, reminding yourself of what’s just happened.

Sharon paces in her hotel room, on the phone, trying to get some answers. The TV screen shows a scene fit for nightmares. The UN Complex was bombed. The same complex that the signing of the Sokovia Accords was supposed to occur in today.

“Officials have released a video of a suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, The Winter Soldier.”

Your heart stops.

You stumble backwards, nearly falling on your ass if it weren’t for Sam reaching out to steady you.

“That’s impossible-- It-- I would’ve felt him turn,” you swallow around the lump in your throat, the bile threatening to rise. “I-- That’s not him. I don’t know who that is, but it’s not him.”

“It’s his face,” Sharon says quietly, not intending to be rude at all, you hope, but that’s how you take it.

“I know my soulmate,” you argue, shaking your head. “That’s not him.”

The room is quiet. Steve glances your way, but you don’t meet his eyes. He doesn’t believe you. You know he doesn’t. Why would he? The proof is clear as day, right there on the TV screen. It’s obviously Bucky’s face.

But it’s not him. You don’t know how, but it isn’t. You’re sure of it.

You knew it was him two years ago in D.C. You have to trust yourself again.

“I have to go to work,” Sharon breaks the silence, looking at Steve. “I imagine you’re coming too?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, then looks at you.

You glare right back at him. “I’m coming. Don’t argue with me.”

He doesn’t.

+++

An hour passes and lands the four of you in Austria. Sharon takes off to work while Steve, Sam, and you figure out your plan.

Steve talked with Sharon and made a deal. She’s going to give you the best head start she can, but she said she can’t promise anything.

You and Sam find a random cafe to fall into, ordering something to eat to blend in while Steve talks to Natasha.

He comes back ten minutes later, looking less than pleased.

“She tell you to stay out of it?” Sam asks.

Steve is quiet. That’s a yes.

“Might have a point,” Sam shrugs. You almost hit him.

“He’d do it for me,” Steve replies firmly.

“1945, maybe.”

“Sam,” you warn, giving him a fierce look.

“I just wanna make sure we consider all our options,” Sam defends. “The people that shoot at you, usually wind up shooting at me. And since we’ve got a tagalong--”

“Shut it, Wingman,” you do hit him this time on the back of the head. “I’m coming. You act like I don’t have any gear on me right now.”

Both men turn to look at you.

You give them an incredulous look back. “Come on. After what happened in D.C. you really expect me not to walk around with a bullet proof vest on?”

“You got a gun?” Sam asks, taunting.

“Snuck right past airport security,” you mutter, tapping your hip with his leg so he’ll feel it. “Shut up about it.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Because I’m tired of you acting like I’m some fourteen year old. I’ve been taking daily self-defense and combat courses for the past two years. I had to take care of myself somehow. I’ll be fine. And I’m coming with you. End of story.”

Both men share a look before shrugging, admitting defeat. Finally.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Sharon walking into the café.

She steps in next to Steve at the bar, talking straight ahead to not draw any attention. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks The Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s noise. Except for this.” She gently slides him a pack of papers. “My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now, so that’s all the headstart you’re gonna get.”

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly.

“You’re gonna have to hurry,” she whispers, avoiding your eyes. “We have orders to shoot on sight.”

Chills run down your spine and spread out through your hands and toes. Fuck.

“We have to go,” you say evenly, not looking at Steve or Sam.

We have orders to shoot on sight.

Not if you can help it.

#i knew you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #captain america: civil war #cacw #soulmate au #marvel soulmate au #angst city #the next part is worse #oops #sorry about this being kinda short!

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obsessivelycapricious · 3 years

Note

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

Helloo! Thank you for this message, I've sat on it for a few days so I could answer it properly!

I've got this idea for a reader insert/ oc insert DC fic. It's too cliché for me to ever write it tbh. It's kinda a slice of life idea where it's just daily regular life in Gotham really though it'll probably morph into a Jason Todd x yn fic because I'm a simp for him rn. I just really like the idea of a gothamite going about their daily business and having random casual encounters with DC's main characters and being unawares or whatever about it. I feel like there might have been some fanfics that have influenced the idea but honestly I've read that many they all kind of blend into one.

(coffee shop reader insert au anyone? Seriously if there's a fic like that out there hmu, PLEASE.)

So yea anyway, this idea is about an art teacher. This is our (Y/N).

She works part time in Gotham City High School and loves her job. This turns into a bit of a Damian Wayne fic for a while because she's his art teacher and every other teacher in the faculty is having a really hard time dealing with Damian, but she has no idea what they're talking about?? Because sure when it comes to interacting with his peers in class, there's been a few outbursts but he pays attention in class and his work is excellent. She doesn't get the snipping comments and the constant stream of criticism that the other teachers seem to be getting. She just shrugs it off as that she's doing her job and that he's comfortable in class.

So it's like the day before Parents evening and Damian asks if she will speak to his father when he visits his teachers, she was already planning on it, but she agrees anyways.

So when Bruce ends up in her classroom, he's already pretty fed up, he's had some less than stellar reports from his other teachers and he knows Damian is having a hard time adjusting since he came to live with him but he isn't sure what the right thing is to do. He's considering stopping Damian from being Robin but that seems to be one of the only outlets that works for him, so he is hesitant to take it away.

So Y/N meets with him and says - well actually, Mr Wayne, Damian is making excellent progress in my class. He shows a real aptitude and respect for the topics we study and his own projects, both assigned and extra credit show a real dedication to the subject. Honestly, he's a pleasure to have in class.

Bruce goes away thinking hard about it all and being Bruce, he does a background check on her and finds out she is also a qualified art therapist. Long story short, he ends up hiring her to do personal tutoring sessions at Wayne Manor. The ethics of this as a teacher is a liiiil sketchy but lets just suspend our disbelief for the sake of fiction.

Then comes a little montage of her working with Damian in the manor. There's a couple of emotional outbursts at first where Damian doesn't want to think about his feelings and would much rather be given assignments and tasks like in school, so she uses that to formulate her approach. She also sometimes paints along side him so there's less pressure. Damian is adament that no one else is allowed to see his paintings and she actually tells one of his brothers off for prying one time when they are having a break. She also sees and hears things around that manor that dont always add up but she stays professional and so long as damian is safe she minds her own business. Damian reaches some kind of personal breakthrough and Bruce can see him settling down in the house more and things seem good. He still keeps her on for lessons tho cause why ruin a good thing?

So here's where i'm thinking it could be a soulmate au. I'm a sucker for these and there isn't enough imo. I'm thinking that the identifying marks on her are something super generic and boring like "Oh, sorry." So when she overhears Jason referring to Damian as a Brat, she tells him off. He says "Oh, sorry" and walks away but he has what she said word for word on him. And he's a lil emotionally constipated resurrected dude so he does not engage.

Though he does start following her Uber home, just to make sure she gets home okay.

So after this point for me the ending gets a little fuzzy. I'm thinking highlights of it could include:

being invited to a Wayne charity gala (because I really wanna go to one of those just cause)

Bruce investing money into art therapy charities

Damian threatening Jason telling him to leave her alone. Lil jealous nugget.

Jason finally trying to flirt with her only for her to remind him that she has a professional working relationship with the family and it would be amiss of her to entertain him. ouch.

the obligatory red hood saving her from a mugging scene

her finding out that Damian is robin and Bruce is batman and Tim is, and jfc this family.

Finding out Jason's has her words

Some mushy ending where it's all gravy and you skip off into the sunset together.

Told you I hadn't thought it through.

But heh yeah, there you go. A WIP that isn't a WIP that I'll probably never write. If anyone wants to run with it, just be sure to tag me in it!

#Damian wayne #jason todd #y/n #jason todd x y/n #fic ramble #badly written #answered #thank you friend #ask game #anonymous

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twstarchives · 4 years

Text

Vil Schoenheit・Voice Lines

Additional Voice Lines: Scary Dress event card

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “Every single one of you looks miserable. Where should I start disciplining you all?”

Groovy “Classes are still valuable lessons. Let’s try to enjoy them.”

Home Setting “Stop looking so sluggish. You should move with more of a bounce in your step.”

Home Transitions “I am the only one who can express myself. Even these designated uniforms are just tools I use for that.”

“If you’re going to dress yourself in Night Raven College’s uniform, I expect you to behave appropriately.”

“Isn’t that uniform too big on you? It’s unflattering to your figure if it’s not the right size.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Would you like to run to the store with me? I’d like some fresh fruit, and I could also use someone to carry my bags.”

Home Taps “Oh, no, don’t tell me that’s cat hair on your uniform—oh, wait. It’s Grim’s, is it?”

“You have a question for me? Heheh, I don’t give out my secrets for free.”

“It’s natural to need to work hard so that you make up for what you lack. I have no sympathy for you.”

“You want to know my diet? What are you going to do with it if I told you? You won’t become beautiful just by eating like I do.”

“Enough, stop pulling on me. I don’t remember saying you could mend my clothes for me.”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “I spare no effort if it’s for the sake of beauty.”

Groovy “Are you ready? My regimen is very intense.”

Home Setting “Now, let’s begin our training.”

Home Transitions “You should do everything you can to preserve your beauty. Are you going to come running with me?”

“Hah, I’m worried about getting sunburnt during our outdoors classes... I’ll have to ask Rook to put on my sunscreen for me.”

“Every once in a while, I come across idiots who believe they can win against me if they use their fists. Of course, the tables always turn against them.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “How long are you going to stay here? I’ve already finished my daily workout.”

Home Taps “It’s good to do some stretches right after you’ve taken a bath.”

“Physical strength is an important factor in becoming a great mage. Make sure you work your hardest.”

“Sweating helps you feel refreshed. It isn’t good for your beauty to bottle up stress.”

“It’s important for there to be an agreement between your clothes and your body. You need to be careful not to build muscles for no reason.”

“You should direct any questions you have to Epel instead of me. Flying seems to be that boy’s strong suit.”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “You want me to teach you about magic potions? Will you even be able to keep up?”

Groovy “I could make any potion you could ever dream of. Hehe, should I tell you my tricks?”

Home Setting “I even pull this lab coat off beautifully.”

Home Transitions “I’m very confident in potions. It's helpful to know so much about herbs when making smoothies as well. It’s up to you to take care of your own body.”

“You want me to help you with your work? I’m impressed with how strong your will to study is. But research on your own first before asking me.”

“Rook is in the science club. In exchange for helping me with the film studies club activities, I lend him a hand from time to time too.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “True beauty is determined by strong intellect. You can always doctor your looks, but your true colors will still shine through right away.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Don’t I smell nice~? This is a perfume I concocted myself. It fits my image, doesn’t it?”

Home Taps “If you want to perfect your skill in pharmaceutics, then you need to have focus more than anything. It’s important to have a strong resolve to bring things to completion.”

“You can’t use magic, right? Then you should at least put all your effort into your studies.”

“I do my own cooking. I prefer to choose the nutrients my body needs.”

“You have wrinkles in your lab coat. Ironing is a must if you want to look polished.”

“Oh, you certainly seem to have a lot of free time. I’m not going to pity you if Crewel scolds you at your next exam.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “The ingredients I pick for my morning smoothies are always based on how I’m feeling health-wise that day. Hm? You want to know my recipes? That would take all day.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “Being a student of Night Raven College is something you should be very proud of.”

Groovy “Don’t I look just as flawless in these ceremony robes as well?”

Home Setting “Chic clothing fits me well, doesn’t it?”

Home Transitions “Why are you so stiff...? Oh, are you nervous? You haven’t seen anything yet if you’re still getting nervous at school assemblies.”

“You shouldn’t strive to be like me. Try pushing yourself as hard as you can while keeping your experience level in mind.”

“Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. I wouldn’t mind you staring at me so mesmerized for a little longer.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “A mysterious makeup look with a monotone finish goes best with this unique outerwear. If the makeup doesn’t match the outfit, then your clothes are going to outshine you.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “The colors of our ceremony robes blend in nicely with the night. I don’t hate this deep and mysterious style.”

Home Taps “Just when I thought things were getting noisy... it’s you again. You’re always so full of energy. ...Hold on, that wasn’t a compliment.”

“Your figure is important with these ceremony robes. Tying this wide belt around your waist lets one show off an androgynous beauty.”

“You may not have magic, but you can still take care of your appearance, can’t you? It’s not an excuse to look sloppy.”

“At the entrance ceremony, I thought for certain you were going to get thrown out right away... But you seem to be adjusting to this academy.”

“I know you want me to entertain you, but I’m busy right now so can you wait until later?”

Home Tap (Groovy) “I like the ceremony robes. They have an eternal beauty that never goes out of style. You should be proud you get to wear them as well.”

Dorm Uniform - SSR

Unlock Card “Strength is what makes one beautiful. Allow me to present my power to you.”

“I presume you’re prepared to put your life on the line for the sake of beauty, yes?”

Groovy “Is it this uniform that’s captivated you? Or perhaps, is it me? Hehe.”

Home Setting “So? Do I look just like a queen?”

Home Transitions “What will you be off doing today? Would you mind helping with our shoot for the film studies club? I’m sure even you are capable of using the equipment.”

“The dorm leader’s work can be a lot to manage, but there is no person more suited for leading Pomefiore than me.”

“My skin has been on point lately. ...What? You want a closer look? It isn’t my fault if my beauty blinds you.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “The Ramshackle Dorm is just awful. It smells musty and there is dust everywhere. You do know the difference between “vintage” and “run-down,” right?”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Have you met our vice dorm leader yet? I have full trust in his insight. ...There are times his conduct may be odd, but I’m letting it pass as of now.”

Home Taps “The Pomefiore dorm leader’s crown was designed based on motifs the Queen was said to fancy. Take a look—it’s perfect for me, don’t you think?”

“I swear, I always catch Epel staring at me in complete silence... Hehe. He must have so much going through his head.”

“The freshmen this year are nothing but potatoes. None of them know how to improve themselves and it gets so frustrating to deal with.”

“You think I look good in this uniform? That’s only natural. The dorm leader is meant to flaunt it even more beautifully than the other students.”

“Yes, there is no doubt that my beauty would make anyone unconsciously want to reach out and touch it...”

Home Tap (Groovy) “You think I’m stoic? ...It’s true I hear that a lot. I’m simply focusing all my efforts towards my goals. Wouldn’t this be the obvious outcome?”

Duo Magic Vil: “Leona! I don’t need anyone dragging me down.” Leona: “Ha! Who do you think you’re talking to, Vil?”

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

Unlock Card “Now, how are you going to celebrate for me?”

“It seems my birthday will be especially wild this year. Well, it is nice to go over the top every once in a while. Just behave yourself.”

Groovy “It’s completely unexpected that you would bring me so much joy. ...That is a compliment.”

Home Setting “This outfit stands out. Well, I’m used to having attention on me.”

Home Transitions “Leona gave me a pen, and it was out of ink. Was it too much of a chore to throw it out so he handed it off to me? ...It figures.”

“My father sends me postcards on my birthday. He travels all over the world, so every year I look forward to which country the pattern on it will be from.”

“Epel, Rook, and the rest of the film studies club put together an opera for me. It was clumsy, but not too bad.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’m beautiful as always today? Of course I am. But don’t think that I’m only trying hard because it’s my birthday. My beauty is flawless no matter what day it is.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Sometimes, the energy you and Grim bring can be useful. Please keep it up and breathe some more life into the party.”

Home Taps “My birthday reminds me of the auroras. When Jack lived in my area, he told me the best spot to see them as a birthday gift.”

“I posted a thank-you picture on Magicam for all my fans who sent me birthday wishes. I need to show appreciation for their support.”

“There exists no magic that can stop you from aging. However, it’s up to you how you grow. I’m just constantly pursuing beauty that matches my age.”

“Lilia gave me shoelaces. They’re flat and seem hard to come untied. I think I’ll start using them right away for my jog tomorrow.”

“I heard your wishes to me the first time. If you want my attention that badly, why don’t you let me do your makeup? I’m curious how much it could transform you.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Oh? Are you going to give me anything? Then list 100 things you find beautiful about me. Simple enough, right?”

Duo Magic Vil: “None of your schemes on my birthday, Azul.” Azul: “Of course. I wish you the best, Vil.”

Tutorial “Enough of that daydreaming. Let’s hurry up.”

Lv Up “Not bad. Let’s keep this up.”

“I’ve moved up a level higher, hm?”

“Don’t you think I’m someone worth dedicating yourself to?”

Max Lv Up “The fact that I can shine even brighter than I have before is because of your dedication, isn’t it? Heheh. Watch closely. I’ll show you I can be even more beautiful.”

Episode Lv Up “Hah. You’ve turned out nicely yourself. At this point, I’d even let you stand at my side.”

Magic Lv Up “Beautiful flowers are poisonous. But isn’t that just another one of their charms?”

Limit Break “My progress is far from over. I need to shine even brighter, even more beautifully than I do now.”

Groovy “Oh, I’m so sorry. Am I too dazzling for you now?”

Select Lesson “You’re only wasting time worrying. Please hurry up and pick.”

“You won’t rise to the top of this world if you lack intelligence. Study your hardest.”

“Neither our lectures in class nor the skills we learn firsthand must be taken lightly. Let’s put in all our effort.”

Lesson Start “Can you really afford to not pay attention?”

Lesson End “Well, that’s about it.”

Battle Start “Show me all you’ve got.”

Battle Win “This was the obvious result. You and I aren’t on the same level.”

Other

Profile Quote “Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all? Of course it is me, isn’t it?”

January 2020 Trailer “If you want to be beautiful, then you’ve got to do your very best at this academy.”

Countdown Poster “At this moment, who is the fairest of them all? ...Of course, it is me.”

Login Bonus “Neither beauty nor power can be achieved in a single day. It’s crucial that you persevere through everything that comes your way, but that’s the most difficult to do. I wonder how you will fare?”

Player Birthday Wish “It’s your birthday? Oh, dear, I completely forgot. Only joking. Don’t underestimate my memory. Of course I got everything ready. You should feel honored that I’m celebrating for you.”

Magic History

Good ★

“Trends come in and out.”

“You look half-asleep.”

“Competition brings one to the top.”

“What a beautiful dress.”

“This is more self-improvement.”

“The qualities of a king... hm...”

“Please sit up straight.”

“My makeup is still intact this afternoon.”

“Even great figures worked their hardest.”

Great ★★

“Naturally.”

“I enjoy reading.”

“Too easy.”

“Even my handwriting is beautiful.”

Perfect ★★★

“Didn’t lift a finger.”

“Perfect.”

“These are reasonable results.”

“There’s no way I wouldn’t get a perfect score.”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“Oh, do you need something?”

“Please stay focused.”

“Not a problem.”

Flying

Good ★

“This is a nice workout.”

“If my hair’s a mess, my mind’s a mess.”

“Get me a hat, please.”

“Often reapply your sunscreen.”

“Just like a graceful raven.”

“Sound advice.”

“This is my after-meal workout.”

“Sunburns are my worst nightmare.”

“I’ve checked the new arrivals.”

Great ★★

“Staying hydrated.”

“So, what’s next?”

“Flexibility exercises are part of my daily routine.”

Perfect ★★★

“Elegant and graceful.”

“Beautiful? I know.”

“Just keep trying until you can do it.”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“You’d like to see an example, wouldn’t you?”

“I feel someone’s eyes on me...!”

“Did I mesmerize you?”

Alchemy

Good ★

“Be quiet and concentrate.”

“Understand the materials we’re using.”

“Measure carefully.”

“Did you read the textbook?”

“A practical recipe.”

“Crewel has excellent taste.”

“This is making me smell like chemicals.”

“Eternal beauty...”

“Carefully...”

“This stench is making me lose my appetite.”

“Don’t lose focus.”

“There is no way I made any mistakes.”

“Done in the wink of an eye.”

“Looking sharp in these white clothes is a must.”

“That’s wrong.”

Great ★★

“It’s easy if you just follow the recipe.”

“I’m worth more than jewels.”

“Well done.”

“One cannot live without desire...”

“Unrusted gold... Just like me.”

Perfect ★★★

“What a snore-fest.”

“Brewing is one of my specialties.”

“There’s not a chance in a million I’d ever fail.”

“Gold used for more than just a crown...”

“The fact that I can do this much shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“I can’t make any mistakes.”

“Stop talking to me right now.”

“You’re not done until you’ve reviewed everything.”

“Don’t rush anything.”

“This is what it means to work little by little everyday.”

#vil schoenheit #voice lines

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buckyswinterbaby · 3 years

Text

Always By My Side — Chapter 1

Click here to read the Prologue.

Synopsis: The fates have spent millenniums correcting the daily mishaps that interfere with soulmates ever meeting. Will they find a way to bring together Bucky and Zara, two people separated by time and circumstance, just as they’ve done a thousand times before?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!OFC Ziarah Heartwell

Warnings (will change with each chapter): flashbacks, PTSD, mentions of past sexual assault, angst, bits of fluff

Word Count: 3,791

Acknowledgement: I’ve created this AU alongside my best friend Taylor in roleplays, along with many of the plots and scenes that will be featured. I’m posting this with his expressed permission as we both continue to work on the story in our chat. Credit for its creation goes to both of us.

Please like, comment, and reblog (I love that shit). The divider was created by me, please credit me if you use it. The gifs are not mine. Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!

Note: Here’s chapter one of my new series “Always By My Side”. It takes place in a soulmate AU where a bond is triggered when one or both halves experience a life threatening level of distress. The bond allows them to see imaginary versions of their soulmates to help support them while they wait to meet their other half. Just a warning, up until we reach the current time in the story, there will be significant time skips for plot progression’s sake. The time changes will always be labeled.

Addition: I said I’d tag you when I posted my WOC OFC story so here’s chapter one, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer !

[Bucharest, Romania -- 2016]

The Romanian streets were bustling with early morning energy as Bucky took the final steps outside of the clearly worn apartment complex that he had been calling home for sometime. He seemed unfazed by the sixteen year old girl practically jogging to keep up in step with his longer strides. He had grown rather accustomed to her presence and her commentary since she first appeared to him in 2014. It had been during his final brainwashing session with Hydra before they fell. He couldn’t help but view her as a banshee of sorts, harkening the end of what remained of his mental stability. He couldn’t fathom another reason as to why he would hallucinate an opinionated teenage girl.

Even so, he found comfort in their conversations and how at ease she seemed around him. Almost as if she had always been with him, a piece of himself that still saw the good that was left. Never addressing him with fear or apprehension, never as the monster and killer he was forced to become.

Her features were young and innocent, seemingly unscarred by life despite the bruises that graced her skin--which he was never sure why they existed. At first, he feared that she had been one of his countless victims who had returned to haunt him in her afterlife, though the theory became less likely to him as more time passed.

The defined coils of her hair were pushed up into a messy bun, edges laid smoothly to her forehead in defined loops. When she first started showing up, Bucky had attempted to make sense of the witty phrases and references that so frequently adorned her clothes but he had long since given up on ever understanding them. He had to admit that the shirt she wore that day, a middle finger painted with pink, yellow, and blue, was quite the fashion choice. Not that he could particularly judge with his similar pieces of clothing that were practically identical besides in color.

The pair made their way down the familiar stretch of pavement on their way to the outdoor market that Bucky had made a habit of visiting. He had found that a reliable schedule throughout his week helped him better grasp the passing of time, a fact that his companion had been informing him of for weeks before it finally seemed to click.

The girl’s nose clinked as they neared the fresh fish stand, just as it did every week. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at her childish antics as they were so few and far between for someone who seemed quite mature despite her appearance.

“It smells like cat food,” she whined, making a clear act of breathing primarily through her mouth as she jogged to keep up. “How are you not gagging?”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being a figment of someone’s imagination, Zara. If I start gagging, I have a feeling a few people will start to notice.” The man gave her a knowing look. Drawing attention to himself was the exact opposite of what he wanted during his brief outings. “Besides, I can’t say I’ve smelt cat food or have any intention to. So I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

Zara rolled her eyes as the smell began to dissipate the further they moved past the stand, her trademark smile working its way onto her features. “Could’ve had me fooled, I thought that was your guilty pleasure. I can’t say I’ve ever intentionally gotten a whiff, but when I feed the outdoor cats at my house, it’s kinda unavoidable.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as if it was the most natural thing in the world for an imaginary person to have their own home and animals.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes down to her smaller form beside him. “You don’t have a cat because you aren’t even real,” he retorted. Somehow the idea that she could be real made her presence in his life even harder. The idea that she was just some girl he had passed by in the street or on a mission and his brain decided she’d make the ideal emotional support apparition.

“Who are you to declare that?”

“The creepy hundred year old man who hallucinates a sixteen year old girl, occasionally in her pajamas, for one.” His voice raised a bit louder than he intended, drawing the attention of a few nearby pedestrians. Bucky offered them an awkward smile before ducking back down under the bill of his hat and picking up his pace a bit. She couldn’t argue with his logic so she focused on keeping up until they reached their destination, the produce stand that had the best plums in the city, or so Bucky described.

Zara watched as he spoke Romanian with the merchant, only catching a few words she had learnt over the past few months from their conversations. She couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Bucky seemed to interact with the man and how it contrasted so starkly to how he acted when he first arrived in the city. Decades of next to no positive human interaction left the soldier awkward and clunky in his exchanges, often stumbling through questions and requests, or simply forgetting them altogether. It had taken a great deal of patience and metaphorical hand holding to build up his confidence and ease his anxiety on the matter.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to blend in, in fact he was almost too good at it at times. Over their conversations, she had managed to show him that yes, blending in made him go through the motions of life, which was better than nothing. Yet, the beauty of his life now and the freedom that came with it was that he no longer had to settle for simply surviving and he could instead use it as a chance to learn to live again. It started small, like convincing him to get a pillow and blanket for the mattress on the floor, to which they compromised with a sleeping bag. Soon came two pillows for the couch and a lone floor lamp that he shoved in the corner near his bed for the late nights when night terrors had him scribbling away in his journals. They were minor improvements, in truth, but the progress spoke volumes as Bucky worked on building a place that felt a bit more permanent than his last few hideouts.

Zara had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even registered that Bucky completed his purchase and had moved to stand at the edge of the sidewalk. She approached him curiously, watching the way he hesitantly analyzed the seemingly anxious newspaper peddler from across the street. It was very clear something was wrong from the way his demeanor had changed.

“Buchanan?” Her voice raised a bit at the end of his name, concern now replacing her curiosity as he began to make his way to the stand. He either didn’t hear her--which she found unlikely--or he simply opted to ignore her as he picked up the paper, ocean blue eyes scanning over the headline. The color seemed to drain from both of their faces as they took the accusation in, not having to speak to know what it meant.

Bucky would have to pick up his life, yet again, and run. Find a new country, new home, and start the process all over again. The ex-assassin hardly seemed surprised at the realization, as there is no rest for the wicked.

[Boston, Massachusetts -- 2016]

Zara made her way down the hallway to her bedroom, an imaginary version of Bucky trailing along behind her. She let her book bag drop to the floor once she entered the room, stepping out of her shoes before flopping down onto the soft, sunflower themed duvet of her bed. A look of weightlessness overtook her features as she let the events of the day settle in. Today she would graduate with a PhD in Biomedical Engineering from MIT, top of her class. It was the culmination of years of pouring herself over every textbook her parent’s provided, testing out and early graduations. At only sixteen, Zara would join the ranks of some of the youngest individuals to ever receive a doctoral degree. It truly seemed unreal to her.

Emerald eyes drifted to where Bucky sat at her desk, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest.

“I wish you could be there tomorrow,” Zara commented, propping herself up on her elbows as her fingers pulled at the frayed threads on the yellow quilt folded at the end of her bed.

A smile teased the corner of Bucky’s lips as he leaned back against her swivel chair, long hair swaying as he tilted his head to the left to look at her. “I will be there, maybe not in person, but I’ll be there cheering right along with everyone else,’ he assured.

“It’s not the same and you know it, Buchanan.”

“I know. Just try to focus on the positives. Tomorrow is your day, you’ve more than earned it.”

Zara nodded, though her disappointment was still evident. On the average day, Bucky’s seemingly invisible presence to everyone else but her came in handy. As she was willing to bet her parents wouldn’t be too keen on the amount of time she spent alone with the grown man, let alone if they knew who he was. The public’s perception of James Buchanan Barnes, who she had quickly identified him as, was low to say the very least. Though it was days like this that she found herself wishing the most that he could truly exist in her life outside of her mind.

She could never quite pinpoint why she began hallucinating him two years prior. Though, the time before and after her fourteenth birthday had flown by in a post traumatic daze so it was even more difficult to analyze. The aftermath of four older boys assaulting her in her own bedroom left her wishing to repress that portion of her life altogether. Zara squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the ghost of their hands on her body. Grabbing, groping, pulling and tearing at clothes. She had hardly seen them since their attack but her mind was still trapped in the room with them.The feeling took her back to meeting Bucky that night, or more so the Winter Soldier, as he appeared at that time.

Upon entering her room, Zara failed to notice the masked man sitting silently in the corner of the room, illuminated only by the small lamp on her bedside stand. When she caught a glimpse of the figure, her body jumped to it’s fight response, just as it had an hour or so before. The young girl grabbed the closest thing she could find, a textbook on advanced chemistry, and held onto it tightly before turning to face the intruder.

“You need to leave,” she ordered, her voice wavering at the end of the demand. Her green eyes only met a pair of dark glasses securely strapped to his face. She couldn’t make out any facial features to identify him by, as all but his forehead and hair was covered.

It wasn’t just his silence that sent an unnerved shiver down her spine. It was his demeanor, cold and nearly unresponsive to her presence and defensive stance. Had his head not briefly turned her way when she started to speak, she’d question if he even heard her at all.

A large gun, likely a rifle from what she could tell, was resting across his lap. His hands weren’t actively gripping it, but something told her he could take aim in the time it took her to breathe her next breath. A variety of handguns and knives were also visible from the holsters adorning his thighs. If he had this many weapons visible, Zara could only imagine how many he had stashed under his tactical vest and heavy boots.

Her green eyes followed where she believed his gaze had drifted. He seemed laser focused on the strip of light just barely visible from under her door as a roar of laughter could be heard from just outside. His hand moved to rest just over the barrel of his gun. The young girl analyzed him for another moment before lowering the textbook, while still keeping it tightly in her hands.

“Will you at least tell me why you’re here?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, one that vocalized all of the fear she had been trying to hide. She was met with more silence, which quickly became deafening to her. She was afraid to make a move to get his attention again, naturally unsure of how he would react. Yet, at the same time she couldn’t relax, not with him in her space.

After another few moments of no response, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that he wasn’t actually there. She had just been through something horribly traumatic and it was entirely possible that this was her brain's way of coping with the stress and fear. That it had conjured some masked figure to sit at her bedroom door and keep all the bad away.

She knew how best to test her theory, but she recognized the risk that came with it as she picked up a neon pink highlighter that she had been using earlier that night. She gripped it for a moment while weighing her options, throwing it across the room only seconds later. She didn’t put too much force behind it, hoping that if it gently came into contact, he’d be less likely to be angry. The consideration meant very little as the marker passed straight through the man and knocked against the wall before falling to the floor. She watched as it rolled across the floor and disappeared underneath her nearby dresser, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. On one hand, he wasn’t real and couldn’t hurt her. On the other, she was truly alone and definitely going crazy.

“This is fine,” Zara tried to reassure herself with very little luck.

She was pulled back from her thoughts as Bucky called her name for the third time, snapping her back to reality. Their eyes connected for a moment as she attempted to ground herself again, focusing on the small changes between how he was now versus then.

He had since lost the mask and goggles, she remembered him removing them a month or so after he first appeared. His current casual attire contrasted starkly with the hard kevlar of the tactical vest she first met him in. His features were more at ease now, no longer reflecting the fear that she could only compare to an animal in captivity. While she wasn’t fond of the comparison, following what she had learned of the real James Barnes, it wasn’t entirely far off.

As if the world was reading her mind, she faintly heard the voice of the local news anchor from the living room directly below her bedroom. Her features scrunched as she focused in on hearing the report, only catching snippets here and there. The words explosion and Sokovia Accords were most of what she could make out along with what she could’ve sworn was the suspect’s name, James Buchanan Barnes.

Before Zara could even question it further, she found herself racing down the main staircase of their suburban home, sock clad feet skidding to a halt on the polished dark oak flooring. Her eyes widened as she took in the security camera footage that was believed to place Bucky near the scene of the crime. Despite having no real proof, something deep within her gut screamed that it wasn’t true. She knew him, maybe not the real version, but he’d never do that.

Imaginary Bucky followed her into the living room a minute later, his pace slow and relaxed in comparison as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Being held responsible for the most recent atrocity was honestly just beginning to feel like the average Tuesday to him. More than anything, it was Zara’s reaction that took him the most by surprise. Her unwavering faith and loyalty was unexpected and as he believed, undeserved.

He had committed unspeakable acts over the years and this was likely far from the worst he was accused of. Sure, they had grown close in the two years since he first appeared and he imagined that made it easier for her to block out the rest of the stories, since she knew at least some version of the person in question.

Zara was good, in every sense of the word. Of course she had flaws, but who didn’t, especially at sixteen. But he saw the way that she looked at the world with love and curiosity despite the violence and violations she had experienced. It was a strength of character that he truly wished he could grow to embody. Bucky couldn’t help but find it funny that he was left looking up to a teenager who hadn’t even passed her driver’s test yet; but she honestly had more morals and heart than most of the adults he had met in his life. All of those facts being true is what made her belief in his innocence all the more confusing.

His eyes fell to her father, Gabriel, as he sat on the couch to take in the evening news. The man’s head shook in what seemed to be disappointment, or maybe it was anger, Bucky honestly couldn’t be sure anymore. They had never spoken, as Bucky’s intangible form made communication with anyone other than Zara impossible, but he knew Gabriel was a black and white kind of person. He couldn’t help but accept that to anyone who didn’t know him, the evidence would be damning.

“They need to just put him down while they have the chance,” Gabriel scoffed, speaking to no one in particular while switching the flatscreen off before they could finish the broadcast.

“He’s not a wild animal to be euthanized.” Zara’s expression twisted in disgust at her father’s casual nature. “He’s a human being. If he's guilty, and that’s a really big if with how blurry that security footage is, he deserves a trial just like anyone else!”

Gabe turned to look over the back of the couch, clearly displeased that she would defend the man. “I’m in no mood to debate with you, Ziarah.” He rose from his seat and dropped the remote onto the foot stool before leaving towards his study.

Zara watched him leave, her eye practically twitching with each step he took. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to make him see that there were likely more sides to the story than they were seeing but she knew that it was useless. Her father rarely took her opinions or beliefs to heart on things that actually mattered to him, a topic like this would truly be a lost cause.

She looked up at Bucky as he shook his head lightly, letting her tension fade away as she accepted that it was pointless. “It’s okay, Zar,” Bucky assured, his small smile wiping away any lingering doubts she had. “There are more important battles to pick with him. This isn’t a hill worth dying on.”

Zara would’ve liked to argue that defending her friend was more than a worthy cause but she nodded nonetheless.

“How about we go find your mom. I bet she’s already working on the cake for your graduation and knowing you, you can convince her to let you lick the spoon.” His tone was playful as he coaxed her into motion, the promise of sweets and a friendly face luring her into the kitchen behind him.

Hanna was busy mixing away the different batters she would need for the next tier, the sweet aroma of baked goods filling the air. She hummed lightly as she worked, creating her own personal mix of her favorite 80’s songs together in a unique medley. Her green eyes moved to the doorway as she heard Zara walk in, a bright smile overtook her features as she set down her mixing bowl.

“There’s my little scholar,” she praised, moving around the kitchen island to take her daughter into her arms. Her warm embrace was a welcomed escape as Zara melted.

“Momma,” Zara grumbled as her mother placed a series of kisses on her forehead. “I thought you stopped doing that since I was a baby.” While Zara whined, deep down she always loved her mother’s open displays of affection. Not that she was willing to admit it.

“That’s the beauty of you always being my baby. You’re never too old for me to embarrass you. Just be grateful that I’ve opted to do it now instead of at your party.” The woman grinned away as she moved back to her work.

Zara honestly couldn’t argue with the logic as she found a seat on one of the tall bar stools. She quickly lost herself in the pleasant conversion with her mother, happily opting to clean the excess batter and frosting off of the bowls and mixing spoons like the helpful child she was. Imaginary Bucky sat quietly at the kitchen table, watching the women as they fell into the usual banter and discussion. After they finished her conversation she quickly grabbed a snack and made her way towards the door.

“I believe you’re forgetting something,” Hanna reminded, sending Zara a knowing look.

She huffed lightly before turning on her heels to grab her blood testing and insulin kit, waving it at her mother knowingly. She quickly turned back around and left the kitchen, making her way back upstairs.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to follow after her, stopping only when he saw Zara staring in her old room, which now housed her older brother Daniel. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she ran over the events that more often than not had her scurrying past said room without acknowledging it. It was easier to just pretend it didn’t exist.

A few more moments passed before Zara pulled herself back from the darker parts of her mind, focusing in on everything else in her life that was good and worth celebrating. She had known pain and a time in her life where she often considered if it would’ve been easier to just fade away, but she had made it through to the other side. She had a lot going for her now and that was enough to push her feet forward again.

Chapter 2

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strrawberrii · 3 years

Text

wildflower {four}

What happens when you start to fall out of love with your husband? What happens when that husband is Kim Namjoon?

pairing: idol husband Namjoon x reader

tag / warnings: none really, just minor mentions of alcohol and drinking

author note: thank you for the continued support!! <3

I wasn’t sure what was worse; living in a fever dream of a marriage or living in a silent one. Since the night Namjoon found out truly how I had been feeling and that I believed we no longer should be together anymore, our daily lives had started to shift and it really was starting to bother me in a way I wasn’t quite sure why. I still put Yumi’s needs before everything - stuck to my routine of cleaning, cooking and caring for my daughter practically alone - but now the days dragged on even longer than they ever had before and Namjoon would not talk to me.

It wasn’t that I’d overtly tried to talk to him either, but it was very clear that he was avoiding me at all costs. In the past month I’d maybe caught a glimpse of his face a handful of times but only in passing and it was making me uneasy which only bothered me more.

Wasn’t this exactly what I wanted?

Why did it suddenly feel like I was even more isolated than before?

The mornings were early and the nights were late and on the days where Namjoon couldn’t be at the label, the studio door was kept locked tightly shut with him hunkered down inside. He never came to bed after that confession and instead resolved to sleep either at one of the boys' places or in the studio if they forced him to go home. I only knew of that fact because, despite the ever growing abyss that was sucking me and my husband down into it, I still was on fairly good terms with the rest of the men in my life.

“You know,” Yoongi said after we’d just gotten coffee at our favorite spot. The cafe, Cafe Cache, was only known to those who had stumbled upon it. If you didn’t know it was there you never would have even seen it since it was tucked beneath an overhang of ivy, the faded green door blended in so smoothly it was as if it wasn’t even there at all. We’d stumbled upon it one day after Yoongi and I decided to try every coffee spot in town to decipher which pot would ultimately win and be dubbed the best. It had been a happy accident of myself tripping over a root in the tree blocking the front of the shop and stumbling into the worn in door. We’d been going there ever since his late debut days to the point the shopkeeper knew our orders by heart.

I had not been all that surprised to see Yoongi’s name pop up on my phone a few weeks into Namjoon’s late night charade and I begrudgingly answered despite the fact that I knew he was going to force me out of my cocoon of solitude to talk. “You really should just have an actual conversation with him.” He continued as we soaked up the warmth of the cafe. The bitter air outside was matching my attitude toward this entire conversation and the fact that Yoongi was making me face the very things I had been worried about facing was making it even worse.

“Been there, done that.” I rolled my eyes as I waved him off and Yoongi frowned at me in his signature pouty style. Despite Namjoon’s insistent need to keep everyone away from me, he’d always liked how close I was with some of the members of the group. I’d known them all for as long as I could remember since I’d been with Namjoon for just about longer than that. Particularly Yoongi and I had gotten the closest out of the bunch for his love of my homemade japchae during the later part of their trainee days when I would send some back to the dorm with Namjoon and for our sarcastic tendencies when around all the members. Because of our close relationship he knew he didn’t have to mince words with me, he could tell it to me straight and he, above all else, could be trusted to have my best interests at heart.

“You know what I mean.” He retorted back, never missing a beat. Yoongi could always be counted on to pull me out of my head and make me actually talk about things for a change. He was one of the people I held most dear in my life for so many reasons but mostly because, aside from what Namjoon used to be, he was my best friend. “Quit the cat and mouse game. Just go and talk to him. Really talk to him.” Being as blunt as ever, I couldn’t help but sigh at his response. I knew he was right and it pissed me off.

“Yoongi, I tried. Literally just that. And it didn’t work.” We found ourselves at the counter bar, mixing our drinks to their desired taste, and I immediately grabbed a handful of sugar packets, my ever growing sweet tooth taking over the better part of my brain. My hands were slightly shaking as Yoongi began to talk, sighing as he stirred a small amount of milk into his black coffee. It wasn’t that I didn’t want his advice but the more we talked about Namjoon the more I was starting to really lose it and could feel myself getting more and more frustrated at the situation I had created for myself.

It wasn’t as if my feelings had suddenly changed again and it wasn’t as if I was having a change of heart, but the more and more Namjoon avoided me the more and more lonely and frustrated I felt. If I thought him being away was bad, having him right down the hall was even worse. Especially when it was all radio silence; static that was making me go crazy.

“No, you both are being foolish and full of emotion. Be more pragmatic about the issue.” He paused to sip his coffee and to avoid my eyes as he continued. “You know, whatever that issue may be.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, as if this whole situation wasn’t making me completely feel like a dying star caving in on itself.

“Oh please,” Stirring the seventh packet of sugar into my cup, I couldn’t help but frown looking back down at my cream colored liquid. “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what was said. I know he tells you just about everything.”

“Then,” He swatted my hand from grabbing the next packet of sugar and really looked at me. It was still odd and a little jarring to see him so genuinely interested in a topic that involved my love life to this day since most thought Yoongi was cold and calculated in every situation but that wasn’t necessarily the case. At least, not with the people he cared about. “You know that I’m right.”

I let out a sigh I didn’t know I had been holding as I contemplated his words. “Why can’t he come and talk to me then? Huh? You know all this is his fault.” I retorted, sullen and mad that Yoongi was trying to get me to go to Namjoon when what I really wanted was for him to come to me. Why was this so hard? Why would my husband not talk to me? Despite the fact of the words that were exchanged, I wanted to feel like he wanted to fight for me at least. Especially after the words that were said, how he begged me not to leave and I did just that - stayed. Why wasn’t Namjoon fighting for his family?

“All this fault? Please. You’re smarter than this.” He ticked disapprovingly at me while he shook his inky haired head and we began to exit the tiny cafe, avoiding all the tree roots in the process. “You could have spoken up more about how you were feeling. Don’t solely put the blame on one person. To me, the way I see it, is you both are just being hard headed. You both clearly love each other otherwise you still wouldn’t be at the apartment. You’d be at your parents house in Mokpo and Namjoon would be selling the apartment to get rid of the memories. But,” He continued as we walked, the bitter cold making the warmth from the coffee cure our shivers. “You both are still there for the most part. You both are still being stubborn. And you both,” He sighed, clearly done. “Are annoying the shit out of me.”

“Hey,” I laughed a bit as we came to a stop on the side of the street to rest on a park bench. “You’re the one that dragged me out of a perfectly good solace thank you very much.”

We had been walking for a few minutes to our favorite park and as we sat down so many memories were flooding back. I couldn’t help but relive the details of Yoongi and myself discovering this bench the first time we’d decided it would be a good idea to gorge ourselves on all you could eat gogi and the mess we’d gotten ourselves into, it seemed, after we’d eaten so much to the point we were both sick. This bench had seen everything; from me crying on his shoulder when I found out Namjoon would be leaving for the better part of two years, when I found out I was pregnant and was too scared to tell anyone other than Yoongi, when we’d been so drunk we couldn’t walk and kept laughing over the dumbest of things, almost puking behind it before calling a taxi to go home. It appeared that, with everything going on, I’d been in much more of a hazy and fogged state than I had realized with all the dusty memories deciding to resurface lately. It seemed that no matter how much I wanted to forget so many things from the past and move on, they were going to catch up to me no matter what.

It was still so odd to be sitting there with him despite the fact that I felt total comfort at the same time. I hadn’t seen him in so long and I forgot that Yoongi had this way about him that always made me feel welcome which used to shock the other members since he never really showed an interest in any of the girls the members brought home over the many years. I was different though, he had said, and that made my heart soar every time we were around each other. It was also quite jarring that Namjoon supported our close friendship. He didn’t mind that we would talk on the phone, texted constantly, and would go on outings like this where we just talked about life.

“Eh I wanted to check in. You know,” He sighed deeply this time and studied my face before offering a gummy smile that made my insides thaw. “Namjoon isn’t my only friend. You’re my friend too.”

“Aww, how sentimental. Are you growing soft on me Yoongs?” He rolled his eyes at me before the smile on his face disappeared into his deadpanned one.

“Shut up and drink your diabetes in a cup.” The banter continued like that for sometime while we sat on the bench long after the sunset like two old men on a porch swing; staring into the silent lives of all the people that passed us, contemplating who was going where, what they were doing and who, we wondered, were they going to meet.

Later, when Yoongi was called away to deal with his own life and I’d sat on the bench much longer than intended, I stalked home begrudgingly. It was odd, the sensation I had in the pit of my stomach as I trekked down the hallway towards the studio door only to find it open. It was as if butterflies were trying to use their fluttering wings to cut through my stomach lining. Where was Namjoon lurking if not in the studio? I was finding myself too nervous to find out when I heard something from within the apartment.

“Hyung, what am I supposed to do?” The voice startled me since it had been four weeks since I had heard it and I jumped unknowingly as my body continued to betray me.

“You know what you’re supposed to do Namjoon, why are you asking me?”

“Because...because I still love her and she wants nothing to do with me.”

“Aish,” I heard Seokjin say under his breath. I would know that voice anywhere and it appeared that Namjoon was residing in the kitchen with him. “You are so frustrating. Just go and talk to your wife.”

“But she wants nothing to do with me! She made that very clear. What is there even to say? Oh let’s get divorced? No, absolutely not. I won’t accept it. I will not talk to her because that is what she’s going to say and I don’t want that.” Something irked inside of me at the mention of divorce. It loomed over my head like a rain cloud out of nowhere and it really bothered me in a way that made me nervous. What was wrong with me?

“Have you ever even considered that this isn’t about what you want?” Seokjin sighed again, exasperated. “What did she tell you, huh? That she didn’t know herself. That she couldn’t be with you because you are always gone and you feel like a stranger to her. She didn’t mention divorce.”

“But she did say we shouldn’t be together.”

“And look,” He paused slightly. It sounded as if he was stuffing his face full of some kind of food. “She’s still here isn’t she? And besides, if you actually love her then get off your ass and go and talk to her. Fix this issue. You don’t want to be a stranger to her? Then don’t be. It’s pretty simple really. Now,” He paused. “Pass me that kimbap.”

Feeling as though I had just heard a very private conversation I tried my best to sneak past the kitchen unseen but, as luck would have it, I failed tripping over one of Yumi’s forgotten toys.

“Look who it is!” Seokjin yelled, making me jump in the process as he clapped his hands together. My eyes met Namjoon briefly and I could tell from across the room that his face was flushed a light crimson color as if I’d just pounced in on their conversation which he was flustered about. Which, despite the fact that I unintentionally did, was jarring to me. Who was Namjoon becoming that he got so easily embarrassed by my presence? “Come and eat!”

“It’s okay,” I tried. “I don’t want to impose-”

“Don’t be like that. I haven’t seen you in a year, get in here.” Truth dripped from his mouth in a way that made me feel so sullen that I entered the kitchen despite not wanting to necessarily be around Namjoon. They were sitting opposite each other at our kitchen table and gorging themselves on a variety of foods it seemed; laughing and talking before things got serious I could tell since there were soju bottles lining the edge of the table.

“I forgot how loud you could be.” I meant to think it but instead it came out of my mouth a bit louder than I would have liked and Seokjin nearly spit out his drink everywhere from laughing. I had forgotten how exuberant he could be, especially when slightly intoxicated, and it made me smile. Namjoon was looking dead at me as this all occurred and it made those pesky little butterflied kick back up at full speed. Being in the same room with him after so long of not even seeing his face was making me overheat and I felt flushed for some odd reason.

What was happening to me? I thought I didn’t want anything to do with him and yet, after seeing Yoongi and now Seokjin, my mind could only process one thing: how good it felt to have them all back around me.

“What are you guys eating?” I asked timidly.

“My homemade kimbap and some kimchi my family sent me. Now,” He patted the spot next to him that was across from Namjoon as he pushed a bunch of empty snack bags out of the way. Shaky and nervous I made my way towards him. “Sit next to me. Let’s drink!”

It didn’t slip by me when I sat down that Seokjin shot Namjoon with a knowing look before jerking his head in my direction. If I was a different person, maybe I would have initiated some kind of conversation, but with Namjoon and Seokjin both looking now in my direction it left me speechless.

“Hey,” Namjoon started, grabbing a bottle of my favorite flavor soju and cracking it open. I watched as he grabbed an empty cup, pouring it full to the brim before handing it over to me. I took it without hesitation, figuring getting a little drunk might take the edge off, and shivered slightly as our fingertips brushed. He was blushing again I could see and I was mostly certain it wasn’t just from the alcohol.

“Excuse me guys, duty calls.” Seokjin interrupted lifting himself up from the table and walking down the hall and towards the bathroom. I waited until he was fully gone, hearing the click of the door for good measure, before I mustered up the courage to look directly at Namjoon. He was sitting there, face unshaven and scruffy, hair a total mess, a stain on a white tee he was wearing that showed off his newly acquired arm muscles and, my God, did he look so unbelievably attractive.

“Hey,” I managed back a beat too late. Namjoon just scratched the back of his head before he pushed the plate of kimbap towards me.

“Please eat.” He said quietly. “It’s delicious.”

“I bet.” The small talk, as few words spoken as we both could manage, was already killing me. Being in this proximity of him was heating my face and body to a degree that was making me squirm underneath his stare. I took a shot of my drink before looking up at Namjoon again. The liquid hit me like fire and I was hoping it would give me the courage I needed to get through the rest of this interaction.

“Jin helped me put Yumi to bed.” I nodded, chewing the newly acquired food without thought. “She went down really easy.”

“That’s good. Maybe she’ll actually sleep tonight.” Bitterness set back in as I looked at him. Earlier I had dropped Yumi off at her school before going out with Yoongi, only sending Namjoon a simple text informing him that he would be responsible for picking up our daughter since I had plans. He hadn’t responded which only made my furry grow more. Lately it felt very much of the same. It was as if Namjoon was a completely different person living in our apartment and entirely separate from our family. He didn’t eat with us, he didn’t play with Yumi and he certainly didn’t put her to sleep. It was as if I was still a single parent even though I had a husband who was just down the hall.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon admitted, looking down at the empty tin foil that sat in front of him. I couldn’t help but tilt my head to the side as if confused by his sudden confession until he continued. “I know I haven’t exactly been the best of help lately.”

No you haven’t, I wanted to say. Instead I just shrugged. “I’m used to it.” I didn’t miss when he winced at my words but I also wasn’t sorry I said them. It was just simply a fact.

“How was your outing with Yoongi?” He changed the subject when he realized that talking about our daughter was only going to result in a fight. When it came to her I couldn’t help myself; I was extremely overprotective. Having taken care of her by myself for all these years had really ingrained that in me whether I wanted to be or not.

“Good,” I nodded; my lips widening at the thought. “I missed him.” I confessed just now letting it hit me just how much I had missed him. The year had been so lonely and even though we would message, Yoongi was very busy and couldn’t always get back to me. It would be pretty safe to say I’d slipped in and out of my depressive episodes and would ignore my phone for weeks. Perhaps that’s why I’d gravitated towards Sujin at first; out of loneliness. We’d become easy friends out of convenience at first and it blossomed from there. He was filling the void in me that I didn’t know I needed filled until he was there, answering my calls late at night, letting me vent about my marriage, letting me just be me with my daughter without the pressures of having an idol husband and friends.

“I’m glad you could see him then.” He was smiling at me in a way that made my stomach and insides churn with thoughts I was trying my best to suppress. I watched as he took another shot of his drink and I followed suit, downing the whole mass of liquid. I reached for the bottle, filing my glass again before downing the whole thing one more time. I needed this. I needed to get these words out of my mouth.

“Namjoon,” I tried, picking at my hands again as I started to change the subject.Thanks to the flavorful liquid I finally had found some burst of courage and I wasn’t about to let it slip by me. The small talk was killing me to the point I couldn’t take it anymore and all I wanted was answers. I could feel his eyes on me as I continued to pick my hands but Namjoon made no motions to try and stop me this time. “Do you think this is working?”

“Is what working?” He asked slightly puzzled, hands knotting together as he looked at me.

“Us.” There was a long pause in which the quiet hum of the air purifier filled the silence that came from him until he finally spoke.

“If I’m being totally honest,” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. He looked so beaten down and tired that I was starting to wonder just how many sleepless nights he’d had since my confession. “No.”

“So you understand then? What I said? About how I was feeling?” I could feel myself holding my breath.

“Not fully at first...but I guess I understand a little bit more now.” Of course you do, I wanted to say. It was, after all, thanks to your group mates who had intervened to mediate a different trajectory of an outcome. Instead I just nodded. “Look I won’t pretend that I’m blameless but,” He sighed. “I don’t think I’m fully to blame either.” I sat there for a long moment, considering Yoongi’s words from earlier, before I let myself look back at him.

“I...agree. I’ll admit that I could have been more...outspoken about some things. But Namjoon, you have to agree that we aren’t exactly...close anymore. That we haven’t been. For a while-”

“Babe,” He tried, slightly interrupting my train of thought to reach out to touch me. “Please stop. You’re starting to bleed again.” And there he was, with those long fingers of his touching mine ever so gently that I could feel everything in me buzzing alive once more. The sweet Namjoon that I’d missed for so long had returned in that light touch that it felt like an electric shock had been jolted into my system. The pesky butterflies were back, going at full speed now, and I was shaking slightly due to his warmth. He was leaning over the table, so close to me that I could feel the heat alight my face like a lit flame.

When I looked up, I could see that Namjoon was blushing a deep shade of crimson but, despite the fact that he seemed to be just as jittery as me, he didn’t back down. Instead, his eyes were focused on just me, his hands were on top of my hands and his lips, the ones that were parted ever so slightly, were moving forward towards me in just a way that I was just about to let them.

“Yah, why are you guys so quiet?” It was Seokjin’s boisterous voice that broke me of the spell of Namjoon and we quickly jerked back from each other. What the hell had almost just happened? “You better have saved me some food!” When Seokjin entered the kitchen we were back in our normal positions; Namjoon sitting quietly in his seat flushed with me picking at my hands while I stuffed my face full of gimbap and he just sighed when he saw us.

“Momma?” A small voice broke out and instantly all eyes turned towards the door of the kitchen.

“Yumi, what are you doing awake love?” I spoke through a mouthful of food, brows knitting together as I started to rise out of my seat. Motherly instinct was taking over again and I didn’t hesitate even once to see if Namjoon would get up to see what was the matter.

“I had a bad dream.” She yawned widely looking half dazed.

“Don’t get up, I got her.” I watched as Seokjin scooped her up in his arms and trekked back towards her bedroom, bouncing her along the way as she wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling her tiny head into his shoulder as he soothed her. I wanted to scream at Namjoon, tell him that’s how he should be acting, but instead I sat back down and swallowed my food as I avoided his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” He sputtered a beat later. “I’m just...really sorry. To be honest, I’m struggling here.” He breathed out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what to do. All I know is I don’t want to let go of you but I want to give you your space at the same time. Please,” He was begging. “Tell me what to do.”

“Namjoon,” I sighed, beaten down at this point and a little drunk. This day had been really long and, quite frankly, draining. While it was nice to have seen Yoongi and spent some time with him, I had to admit that the activity of actually leaving the house for myself was way more draining than I had thought it would be. Especially since all we did was talk about my love life. Coming home to find Seokjin and Namjoon drinking in our kitchen was another surprise on top of my ever changing mood and, with Namjoon having been so close only moments prior, my head was spinning. What was even going on anymore? My life was such a mess. “Do whatever you want.” And with that, in the mere seconds it took for me to stand up and for him to get out of his chair and be at my side, he was leaning in to kiss me.

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