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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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He’s A Keeper

Summary: Working as an artist hired by Durrell Zoo, you spend your days sketching the day to day life of the animals and the keepers. One keeper in particular catches your eye.

Pairing: AU Zookeeper Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Fandom: Henry Cavill

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Safe Sex/Use of Condoms, Realistic Sex/Relationship discussion, Vaginal Sex.

Typo’s are allowed to run wild and free, only the finest organic free range fuck ups for me.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and hit ‘notifications’, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new. Back catalogue/masterlist can be found there and also on AO3

He’s A Keeper

Working the pencils over the sketchpad you quietly captured the beauty of the animals the zookeepers had nursed back to full health, the Ruffed Lemur currently hanging off the keepers arm as he spoke through the headset to the group of excited school children watching through the glass.

You’d been hired by the zoo to capture day to day life at the zoo throughout the summer season, drawing the animals and the humans, however there was one particular human you had found yourself drawn to numerous times, and that was the rather tasty zookeeper by the name of Henry. He also had one of the sexiest voices you’d ever had the pleasure to listen to, so as he explained about the Lemur’s your mind wandered, as did your gaze;

“... originally from Madagascar, and have been part of Durrell zoo since 1982 where they have been essential to the breeding program…”

Your mind fell even further into the gutter at the word ‘breeding’, your eyes raking down Henry’s body, taking in how the branded t-shirt clung to his chest before tapering down to a narrow waist where it was neatly tucked into cargo pants that did little to hide how thick his thighs were and a pert arse you could bounce a satsuma off of. Biting the end of the pencil you had all but given up drawing, only realising that the talk was over when the group of school children were being herded onto the next exhibit by their tour guide and teachers.

When the kids had disappeared you finally got back to drawing, watching as Henry finished up feeding the Lemur’s before he met your gaze and smiled at you. Tapping your pencil on the glass he frowned and shook his head, before smiling and pointing to the sign in the corner of the window that said ‘do not tap the glass’, getting closer you tried to mouth your words to him, but was surprised when his eyes went wide in almost shock, before looking down and realising you had pressed your chest to the glass, your low cut cami top helping to accentuate your cleavage. When you looked up again he was gone and you let out a sigh of disappointment, before he appeared through a door to the side of the viewing area;

“Hi” he had a smile that could charm the panties off a nun; “Did you want me?”

“God yes…” Oh fuck, did you say that out loud?; “Sorry, i mean, you’ve dropped the foam bit off your headset...”

He glanced into the enclosure just at the moment one of the larger Lemur’s picked up the small round piece of foam and staring straight at Henry, proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces.

“Furry little fucker…” he cursed under his breath before turning back to you, but before he could say anything a group of other keepers came walking in and soon you were hanging onto the periphery of their conversation where they were discussing going for drinks after work. Moving to pack your stuff up as you presumed they weren’t including you, but a call of your nickname drew your attention;

“Hey Da Vinci, you up for a few beers after work?”

You hesitated to answer, glancing at Henry who had a smile across his face and a hopeful look in his eye;

“We’re all going…”

“Ok, yeah sure, that’d be great” you agreed.

An hour later you were sitting on the wall outside the main entrance waiting for the rest of the keepers to finish their shifts, smiling as you saw them coming out of the doors, and the ensuing 10 minutes that followed as people sorted out who was driving and how many people could fit into just a couple of small cars. As spaces were allocated Henry laughed and shook his head;

“I am NOT riding five up in a Renault Clio, i’m too tall, i’ll have to fold myself in half! Where are we going anyway, i can take my bike and just walk home after”

Waiting as everyone discussed location and finished off seat allocation, they’d finally decided when Henry turned to you;

“Hey, i think the last seats are in the stoner wagon…”

“Oh…” you didn’t have anything against anyone smoking pot, but didn’t fancy being in a car you could barely see out of the windows of.

“But you can ride with me on my bike?”

Looking to where Henry was pointing, you saw a fairly large trails bike, the kind that could go 50mph over rough land and through forests;

“I… I don’t have a helmet…”

“Wait here, let me run into the locker room and grab the spare i keep here”

Everyone else pulled away as Henry ran into the zoo, and you glanced at the bike. You’d never been on a motorbike before, so this would be a first. Stowing everything loose in your backpack, you hooked it over both shoulders just as Henry reemerged from the building, swinging his keys from one finger as he came to stand in front of you;

“Hey, thanks for waiting”

“No worries! So, where are we going again?”

“The pub in Rozel does good food and pulls a great pint” he nodded to his left and you saw a row of motorbikes; “You ever ridden?”

Shaking your head you laughed; “No, never”

He carefully helped you put the helmet on, his nimble fingers helping to secure the strap beneath your chin before putting his own on and climbing onto the bike, pushing it off the kick stand and nodding for you to climb on. You tried to sit back, but he wrapped his arm behind his back and pulled you flush to his body;

“Gotta hold on tight, otherwise you’ll throw the balance off. Lean when i lean and just squeeze a bit harder if you’re scared, the ride won’t take long” he shouted over the thrum of the noisy engine idling.

The ride down to the small village of Rozel had been exhilarating, from the vibration of the motorbike between your legs to the way you were able to wrap your arms around Henry’s waist and cling to him as he hurtled around the country roads at what seemed like warp speed, when in fact it was little more than 30mph. By the time you arrived in the small fishing cove your heart was racing and you actually let out a reluctant moan at the thought of removing your arms from around Henry’s waist.

“C’mon” he grinned as he helped you off the bike; “I’ll buy you a vodka and coke to calm your nerves”

“It wasn’t nerves” you muttered to yourself, smirking as you know he heard you.

The group had managed to find a cluster of small tables chairs and benches in the corner of the pub beer garden, and as the sun had set behind the hills to the rear of the pub, the cold Atlantic sea had glowed in pale blues and pinks. You were squashed into a bench with Henry on one side and another enormous hulk of a keeper on the other, and as the temperature had dropped you’d found yourself thankful that Henry had casually rested his arm behind you so you could leech some of his warmth, but it didn’t stop a violent shiver involuntarily running up your spine.

“Cold?” Henry asked quietly, before gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close; “Any better?”

You nodded and let out a very quiet whine as you smiled at him, completely surrounded by his scent and warmth. It made your stomach do a flip and you clenched your thighs together, something that didn’t get past Henry as your leg twitched against his thigh. Before either of you could say anything an enormous bowl of cheesy fries was set down between you, your stomach growling at the aroma’s that wafted around you as it turned out someone had ordered sharing bowls for the whole table.

With the meal mostly devoured as you’d sat side by side on a small wooden bench in the pub garden, laughing as you fed each other and strings of cheese hung from your fingers. As the giggles of a joke faded away you glanced at Henry’s almost finished pint;

“Hey, you aren’t planning on riding that bike home are you?”

“Nah, i’d never drive after a pint, let alone three… my place is just behind The Navigator restaurant…” he paused; “Oh god, where are you staying, do i need to call you a taxi?”

“No no, i’m renting a studio up the hill, on the hairpin bend”

“Oh…”

It wasn’t a bad ‘oh’ and there was definitely something loaded in the subtext, so when people had started to leave and arrange ride’s back to St Helier and St Johns it felt natural for Henry to stand with his arm around your shoulders as you both waved everyone off.

“Can i walk you home?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise, and you nodded as he slid his hand into yours, leading you along the low coast road that skirted the harbour.

You hadn’t gotten far before the evening turned even better, a brief suggestion of a walk along the beach as the tide was out soon had your feet in soft sand as you were pressed to the weathered stone of the sea wall, Henry’s lips on your neck as your fingers dug into his back, his teeth nipping and biting at whatever exposed flesh he could find. You hadn’t even realised he was going lower until he was on his knees in front of you, those sea blue irises staring up at you as he pressed kisses to your legs where your shorts ended. His fingers softly rested on the button and he finally spoke, his voice low and thick with lust;

“May i?”

Nodding fervently you bit your lip as you watched him slowly unbutton you, pulling the garment down your legs until you were able to step out. Never breaking eye contact he lifted your leg and gently rested it on his shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses up your inner thigh until his face was pressed against your panties and his wide tongue worked against the soaked cotton and lace. His finger crooked beneath them and tugged the scrap of fabric to the side, seeking out your clit before tracing down to your cunt and tenderly teasing the entrance.

“Henry… please…” you whined, desperate for more

“Don’t you worry, i’m gonna make you see stars…”

Pushing his head forwards his lips caught your clit as he slowly slid two fingers into your soaked channel. You let out a long groan at the feel of his lips and fingers finding the right spot immediately, his other hand cupping the back of your thigh before he ran it around your hip and caught your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he quickly drove you closer and closer to the edge with that added touch of intimacy. Suddenly he hummed against your clit and the world exploded, making you cum so hard you truly did see stars as a white heat bloomed in your belly and you rode Henry’s fingers until you were spent.

As you rested against the wall behind you he carefully withdrew his fingers, licking them clean as he tugged your shorts up your legs. You couldn’t help but to notice the obscene bulge in the front of his cargo pants, your hand rubbing over the smooth curve of it;

“You keep doing that and i’ll cum in my boxers… “ he panted out, his lips inches from yours; “What’s your room like?”

“Its a little summer cabin studio right at the end of the garden, away from the other holiday rentals and the main house… what about you…”

“Shared flat with two other guys from the zoo. They’re probably drinking in the lounge right now… so, your place?”

Unlocking the door you stepped inside and turned on a small lamp, standing aside so Henry could come into your small summer living space.

“Mmm nice” he nodded and looked around; “Wanna give me the tour?”

You snorted out a laugh at the formality, and held your arm out;

“Well this is the kitchen area, right next door we have the smallest shower room in Jersey, and here’s the bed” you didn’t need to take a single step for the ‘tour’, the room seeming even smaller as Henry took a single stride and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you flush with his chest. Never breaking eye contact he gently trailed a single finger over your cheek, his thumb brushing your plump bottom lip;

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your legs almost buckled at the deep baritone of his voice, igniting something within you that you hadn’t even known existed, eagerly nodding;

“Yes Sir”

Lowering his lips to yours he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips as he took control, walking the pair of you back until your legs hit the bed and you fell back onto the soft unmade covers. Covering your body with his, he quickly stripped you of your clothing, his mouth trailing behind his hands so every inch of you was gifted with a kiss.

Standing between your legs he pulled his t-shirt over his head and you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of his body; toned and just the right amount of hair on his chest and a treasure trail on his abdomen that surely led to untold riches. Quickly sitting up your hands joined his on his button to his cargo pants;

“May i?”

Henry released his hands and nodded, watching as you carefully plucked the button before lowering the zipper painfully slowly, his boxers tented obscenely and you couldn’t help but to cup him in your palm, the searing heat of his engorged cock a welcome feel in your hands, the wide mushroom head clearly visible through the stretched fabric. Unceremoniously tugging the rest of his clothing down, you felt yourself getting wetter as his beautiful cock was finally revealed; big, thick and uncut, you had to taste him and quickly ducked your head forwards, swallowing his head between your lips as his hands flew to your hair to steady himself.

Now it was your turn to drive him crazy with your mouth, taking him as deep as you could even though it was barely half of his length, you wrapped both hands around what was left, the thick root of his shaft filling both palms. A few more pumps and he pulled his hips back with a gasp, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his bulbous tip;

“If you keep doing that i’m gonna cum far too soon…” he said, his voice shaking; “Lay back and let me treat you right…”

Scooting up the bed you settled against the pillows as you watched Henry shed himself of the rest of his clothing, his boots and socks hooked off, cargo pants and underwear all left in a messy pile at the side of the bed, before he crawled up the mattress like a Panther stalking its prey.

Capturing your lips for another searing kiss, you felt his hot shaft against your belly, burning against your skin and you so desperately wanted to feel him inside you. Pulling away just slightly you were already breathless;

“Just a second…” reaching for the small drawer at side of the bed you pulled out an unopened box of condoms, Henry sitting back on his knees as you ripped the box’s cellophane open with your teeth and pulled out a small foil packet, tearing it open before smoothing the latex over Henry’s shaft. Looking up to his face he wore a rather sheepish smile;

“Sorry, shoulda’ thought of that”

“S’ok, a girl’s gotta keep sharp these days…”

“Right…” he met your gaze; “But you know, if you had gotten pregnant, i would have stood by you”

“Umm thanks? But its for STD’s. I’m on the pill”

“Oh… good thinking…”

A tense pause hung over the pair of you, before you reached up and rested your hand on his chest;

“Shall we continue?”

At your words the tension in the room suddenly dissipated, Henry kissing you as he slid a hand between your bodies so he could position himself at your entrance, groaning as he pushed in slowly breaching your body. Your tight channel hugged him tight, unfamiliar with such a size splitting your walls so he paused, pressing light kisses to your face as your body grew accustomed with his size and the heavy weight of his dick in your pillowy soft embrace. Finally you moaned out his name;

“Henry… please…”

“What do you need?”

“Move… please move. Fuck me, please”

Pushing up on his forearms he started to fluidly move his hips, slow and steady, each thrust was gentle but firm, your body yielding to him as he started to increase the pace, the sound of hot bodies meeting filling the small wooden cabin as the gentle sounds of the sea not far away filled the rest of the night. Soft moans spilled from your lips at the feel of his body playing yours like a delicate instrument, waiting for the chorus and the inevitable crescendo. But he was going to play the entire symphony first, knowing how to get you to sing the high notes as the thrum of your bodies were in tune with each other completely.

With the stretch of his girth and the way the curve of it meant he was able to find your g-spot with every thrust you were fast approaching your orgasm, your body trembling as your lips found a life of their own;

“Henry… please, so good… keep doing that… oh god, i’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, my good girl, cum on my cock, let me feel you squeezing me so tight… feel so amazing right now… that’s it, you can do it…”

With a cry you came, your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him deep whilst your body shook with a fierce orgasm, triggering his own as he pumped a heavy load into the condom.

Finally spent, Henry settled on top of you, his weight a heavy comfort as your sweaty bodies lay skin to skin, the gentle roughness of his chest hair against your naked breasts a tender reminder of his virility. When he started to soften he finally shifted, holding the condom at the base as he pulled out and staggered the few steps to your small bathroom;

“I’ll be back in a second, gotta sort this out…”

The door closed and you shifted on the bed, pulling the duvet back and sliding between the sheets, listening as you heard the tell tale sound of a man urinating and the high pitched, double barrelled squeak of a fart. The flush of the toilet and water running soon after meant you knew the second he would reappear, a flannel in his hand and he stopped dead, his cheeks suddenly bright crimson;

“You heard that didn’t you?”

“It's a small wooden cabin… yes i did”

“Sorry” he approached the bed and with a warm flannel he carefully cleaned between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your lips as he did. When finished he sat on the side of the bed; “Can i stay the night, or did you want me to go?”

“Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. Please, stay”

He quickly threw the flannel into the sink in the bathroom, before with a giggle climbed under the duvet and pulled you into his arms;

“So, how many more condom’s you got?”

The morning light broke softly through the trees that surrounded your cabin, your body sore but sated, knowing every bruise and ache came from soft lips, sharp teeth, or skilled fingers, apart from that one ache deep inside that you knew exactly what had caused that delicious soreness, and the owner and cause of all of it still softly slept in your bed. Climbing out you quickly used the bathroom, and as you came back into the room the artist in you couldn’t help but to admire how the dappled morning light cascaded over Henry’s body. Slipping his work t-shirt over your head you pulled your sketchbook from your backpack and settled onto the only chair in the room, quietly working carbon to paper.

Henry woke 45 minutes later, the gentle scratching of your art making him squint at the bright daylight, before laying back on the pillows with his arms spread;

“Still life class?”

Setting your sketchbook down you padded across the room and climbed onto the bed;

“Sorry, i couldn’t help myself… the way the sun was hitting the muscles of your back and shoulders, you were like an anatomy masterpiece”

With a laugh and moving much quicker than you thought he was possible of, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you, his body atop of yours;

“Well that’s enough of that, i would like to become better acquainted with your anatomy… and as we’ve both got the day off i suggest we make the most of it”

Laughing you fell into his embrace, sighing with happiness. Henry really was a keeper, as you were for sure not going to let him go.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction

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heliads · 3 years

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Breaking Barriers

You are a Winter Soldier, used to being a hired gun anymore and nothing else. When Sam Wilson calls you to help with the Flag Smashers situation, you assume it’s just a job like everything else. He might convince you otherwise.

masterlist

When you first see the call pop up on your phone, you’re not sure whether you should answer at all.

You recognize the name, you know who’s calling. You know who’s waiting on the other end. You also have a sinking feeling as to why they’re calling- you know you couldn’t stay dormant forever. You were a Winter Soldier, after all, and you would never be allowed to stay away from a fight for too long. No matter how much you wished you could avoid it.

In the end, you answer. James Barnes, as you suspect, is waiting for you to reply. He’s not alone this time, joined by one Sam Wilson. The Falcon, a possible Captain America, now an ally of the very man who once tried to kill him. Then again, if you were going by people who tried to kill him, you would also be on that list. You operated under harsh mind control, you lost every fragment of your reality and ability to think for yourself. You’ve only been able to recently claw back some semblance of control, and even that has been hard-won.

You had hoped that staying away from the fight, whatever fight it may be, would do something for you. After the war against Thanos, when you had fought your hardest only to die and be reborn into another fight, you had taken advantage of the time to relax. In a way, that brief death was one of the only true moments you had to yourself. In that instant, watching your fingers give way to ash and dust, you had thought for just a second that you would finally stop being someone else’s weapon. Then you had been brought back to life, and a gun had been shoved into your hands as you had been told to fight once more.

It wasn’t their fault, of course. The Avengers needed help, you were there. However, there is something nice about being asked whether or not you wanted to join Sam and Bucky’s cause this time around. Yes, there are strings attached, as there always seem to be, but there have rarely been jobs without them. You know Sam Wilson is a good man, and Bucky tries his hardest to be one. Of all the fights to start, this might be your best one so far.

You meet them at a small airport in the outskirts of Latvia. You’ve managed to make record time on your flight, but even from your first few footsteps in the dusty tarmac, you can tell that you arrived too late. Seconds before you landed, you saw the videos trending across the world. You saw John Walker, that false Captain America, raising Steve’s shield like a barbarian and using it to slaughter a man who was begging for his life. You know what this means, and you know why you’ve been brought here.

Even without the video, you can tell that something terrible has happened. There’s a haggardness in Sam’s face, a weariness that seems to line his brow. You hadn’t spent that much time socializing with the Avengers, as even the world’s mightiest heroes tended to shy away from silent, potentially mind-controlled soldiers who tend to operate between the darker shades of gray, so you couldn’t claim to know Sam as well as his other coworkers.

This being said, you’d come to see Sam as someone who always knew what to say. You’d watched with grudging admiration as he plied the tools of his trade: soft knocks on the doors of people who needed to talk, gentle reminders that it’s okay to let one’s guard down. He’s tried them on you before, but they never really stuck. You didn’t know him well enough to fully go along with his talks, or he was still too wary of you.

You could hardly blame him- even Bucky Barnes was known first as a kind, courageous 40s-era veteran. No one knew anything about you; no files to prove your worth, to save you or damn you as someone worth the Avengers’ time. HYDRA had essentially erased you from history, and all the world knew about you is that you were one of the Winter Soldiers tasked with mindless killings up until Sam and Bucky had pulled you out. Even Bucky had Steve to back him up, but you had nobody. That is the way of the world, you suppose, not everyone has a protector. Some people have to pave their own way through.

Despite all this, though, it still shakes you to see Sam so worried. You didn’t realize how often you’d looked to him as a source of calm and reason until you saw him concerned. This alone is enough to make you lengthen your strides, closing the distance between you and the pair of Avengers until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Sam extends his hand without hesitation, and you try to match his trust when you take it.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. You look well.” From anyone else, this would be a nothing, a pleasantry designed to get past the first few stages of protocol. From Sam, however, you feel something different. Like he might actually mean it, or know how to look for the good and bad in you. You’re not sure you were ready for that, or that you’re entirely displeased with the fact that he’s already looking out for you.

Sam gestures towards an awaiting vehicle at the far side of the airport, and the three of you begin walking. You nod once at Bucky, he nods once at you. Winter Soldiers, always knowing when to hold your tongues. Sam raises an eyebrow at this. “So the staring thing isn’t just him?” You smile inwardly. There’s the Sam you remember. Even this brief moment of humor, however, disappears quickly to be replaced by a look of concern.

“Judging by the fact that you’ve gotten here so quickly, I’m assuming you’ve seen the videos. John Walker has to be stopped before he does more damage, and we think he’s taken the super soldier serum. We could use your help in trying to get him to stand down or in taking the shield.” Even this last saying is phrased like a question. You can’t help but compare this to the way HYDRA or even the Avengers used to talk to you. Their speeches were always full of brief, harsh sentences saying exactly what would happen. You would fight, the enemy would not get away, you would stay until the job was done.

Sam, on the other hand, always leaves a way out, an escape route if you need it. You’ve already taken his call, already arrived in Latvia. There’s no chance you wouldn’t be willing to take on this job, yet Sam still checks to make sure you’re fully on board with the idea. This simple act of empathy is oddly heartwarming, and you find yourself trusting the man even more.

You nod at him, forcing yourself to recollect your thoughts. You’ve been a soldier for a long time, far longer than you should have. You can at least pull yourself together and not act like a starstruck teenager just because Sam’s the only one in years who’s truly looked at you as something more than a weapon. But it does strike like something different, doesn’t it? That’s why it’s so hard to push aside.

“Sounds good. Walker won’t come quietly, though. He saw those cameras and kept going, I doubt he’ll hand over the shield without a fight.” Sam tilts his head in acknowledgement. “I would be surprised if he did. That’s why we’ve got you, though.” You raise an eyebrow. “Backup?” Sam grins. “A friend in case we die.” Maybe he keeps surprising you after all.

John Walker, as it turns out, does not like the idea of turning over the shield any more than you had thought he would. It ends up in a fight, as it usually does. Sam and Bucky approach first, as you had agreed, with you waiting in the shadows in case Walker decided to come out with fists swinging. When things had looked particularly dire, you had jumped in, using your enhanced strength to begin forcing the shield away from Sam’s exposed head.

Walker had glared at you, recognizing you the same way he had Bucky. “You’re another Winter Soldier. You’d turn to criminals instead of staying on my side?” This last part is directed towards Sam, who stands up with a grunt. Something flickers in your chest at the sight of blood slicing up his face. “She’s not a criminal. She is an ally.” Sam says. You’re surprised to hear the honesty in his voice. He truly believes you to be a friend. He might be the first in a long time.

Walker turns back to you, attacking with renewed vitriol. “It doesn’t matter. I am Captain America. The shield is mine, even if I have to take down another super soldier to get it.” You shake your head. “It’s not about the super soldiers, Walker. It’s about making the right call. And I’ve fought enough super soldiers in my time to know that this is the right one.” You manage to wrest the shield away from Walker long enough for it to clatter to the ground. At the sound of ringing metal, the fighting momentarily stops as everyone- Sam, you, Walker, Bucky- turns to face it.

The din of metal on the ground fades away as it comes to a halt, and then everyone dives to either retrieve the shield or stop it from being retrieved by someone else. In a way, it kind of reminds you of the golden apples of immortality from the Greek Myths- one thrown, groups of mortals falling after them. The shield doesn’t just represent power as it does to Walker, it’s a legacy to uphold. The immortality of a name always seems to come with a legacy.

The fight ends with Walker unconscious on the ground, the shield finally returned to Sam. You watch as Bucky strides away after nodding one last time to Sam, then stand up yourself. Sam calls after you and you turn, seeing him silhouetted in the light of the empty door. The dark of the garage seems to hang around everything but him. It somehow seems right on him.

“Do you have a place to go? Somewhere safe? After this business with Walker, you’re going to get some unexpected callers.” You nod slowly. “I’ve been able to keep HYDRA off of my back for years. Disappearing without a trace is my specialty. I’ll be gone before you know it.” Sam considers this for a second. “What if you didn’t have to do that?” You cock your head at him, confused, and he takes a step forward. The light from the door seems to follow him in, reflecting off of the sharp white lines and metal details on his suit.

“There’s a place in Louisiana. Delacroix, near the harbor. I have family there. You can come visit, if you like.” You smile, feeling the refusal already rising to your lips. “I appreciate the offer, Sam, but if you’ve got family then I probably shouldn’t be there. I attend to attract trouble.” Sam shakes his head. “So do I. So does everyone in this line of work. It doesn’t mean you have to be on the run forever. Take a chance, Y/N. It might pay off.”

With that, he leaves, disappearing into that window of light to the outside world once more. You watch him go, thinking over what he said. There’s a small motion from Walker and you glance over sharply, relaxing when you realize he’s still unconscious. Well, he’s going to wake up eventually. You might as well take a trip and see what you find in Louisiana.

Bucky ends up having the same idea as you, and the two of you meet up for the drive in. Once in Delacroix, it turns out to be fairly easy to find Sam- just follow the train of people congregating around one particular sun-bleached boat bobbing away by the dock. Sam’s gaze lights up when he sees you, and for some reason seeing his happiness makes you feel a little better about coming. You had always been taught that this lightness in your chest, this carefree feeling, was a distraction, something that would only serve to make you worse at your job. Yet why do you feel stronger now then you have in a while?

You don’t have that much experience with boats, but everyone around you seems willing to teach you. You’re not sure whether they recognize you as a murderous Winter Soldier from the news or are just willing to overlook it, but everyone seems ready to accept you as yet another visitor. You can see how this place shaped Sam- his unwavering kindness is present in every single face you see.

You end up working almost all day, and find yourself relaxing on the dock as the golden light of dusk starts to reflect out across the horizon. You hear steps echoing down the dock, and seconds later, someone sits down beside you. “I’m glad you came.” You turn to Sam with a slight smile. “I’m glad too. There’s a new kind of feeling here, something I haven’t had in a while. It’s good to get away from everything and just take a second to breathe.”

Sam gestures towards you in agreement. “That’s the thing. We can all be excellent fighters, but you’re going to wear yourself down to nothing if you stay on the battlefield for too long. We all have to give ourselves a chance to rest.” His tone becomes softer. “That goes for you too, by the way. You are worthy of taking a break.”

You force yourself to laugh. “I didn’t realize I was going to be having this in-depth of a conversation tonight. I would have prepared myself.” Sam gives you a look. “You’re trying to avoid the topic by making jokes. You’re forgetting that I do counseling for the veterans. You can’t use any of the old tricks on me.” You raise an eyebrow. “I can try.” Sam shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “It’s too late, I already know what you’re up to. The point is, your past can only take you so far. You have a right to a good future, and you keep running from it.”

You sigh, staring out over the water. “I just- I’ve done so much. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be without it. Bucky had Steve, had an entire museum exhibition where he could go read up on who he was. I don’t know who I was before the Winter Soldier program because HYDRA wiped it all away. Without something to fall back on, how do I know who I am anymore?”

Sam reaches over, gently wrapping his hand around yours. It’s a surprisingly comforting gesture, and you end up getting so distracted by it that you forget to move your hand away at all. “I know who you are. You are Y/N L/N, the Avenger who would never give up on a fight if she thought it was good. You have a drive unlike anything I’ve seen before, and you’re the one person I called because I knew you would always have my back. I trust you, Y/N, and I know that you will be able to find a place for yourself. You found a place with me, if it’s worth anything.”

You smile at him. It’s a full smile this time, unburdened by worry or fear of the past. “It’s worth a lot, Sam Wilson. To me, it’s worth everything.” When he kisses you, you’re not surprised at all. Just happy that it would be him to finally break down your barriers, and to convince you that you are worth all of the time and energy and love that he will have for you.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise

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reyescarlos · 3 years

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someone to you || a tarlos fic

for the bright spot herself @sunshinestrand. i wonder if the sun ever gets jealous of how much warmth you give to everyone who is lucky enough to know you. i hope your special day is filled with as much light and love as you constantly give to us all. happy birthday, sweetheart! 💕💜

word count: 6.1k || read on ao3

I'll make the moon shine just for your view I'll make the starlight circle the room And if you feel like night is falling I wanna be the one you're calling

“If you don’t say something to him one of these days, I just might lose my mind,” Michelle says with a sigh as she approaches the counter where Carlos is standing.

He chews absentmindedly on his bottom lip as he looks over at TK. Everything to the guy is so effortless. Somehow he makes sitting down in a coffee shop look like an ad as he holds up his mug aloft and laughs at something one of his friends says.

Carlos would give anything to have that kind of access to TK, to be able to share in jokes and to simply know him. Carlos is fairly certain TK doesn’t even know they’re in the same lecture every Tuesday. But even in a hall filled with students, Carlos is always able to spot him, constantly dialed into his frequency like his favorite radio station.

Realizing that he’s been blatantly staring, Carlos clears his throat and looks away, mindlessly pouring sugar into a dispenser.

“It’s just a stupid crush. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Michelle rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well the way I see you gawk at him every week he shows up here says otherwise.”

Carlos can’t help it. In their class TK almost never speaks but each time he makes it out to an open mic, Carlos gets treated to TK quite literally under a spotlight, up on stage singing and playing his guitar or the keyboard.

“He’s really good. I like his sound is all.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Michelle teases, bumping her hip against Carlos’ as she passes by him. “I think it’s safe to say you like his everything.”

He jokingly glares at her before laughing. She’s definitely not wrong about that. Carlos has been crushing quietly since he first saw TK in their lecture at the start of term a little over two months ago. TK has been coming to open mic nights here at the cafe for the last month. Each week he performs, Carlos feels himself fall a little harder, swept up in his beautiful voice. Whether TK performs original music or a cover of something, he always brings the house down.

Michelle glances at her watch. “Oh, I have to start in just a few. Are you okay up here?”

“Yeah, I can tackle the counter. You go ahead.”

She pats his arm once with a smile before moving from behind the counter to head towards the stage to double check the microphones and setup for the evening’s session. He turns his focus back on refilling the dispensers in front of him. A shadow casts suddenly over the countertop, darkening his work area. Carlos looks up, his hand jerking forward in surprise to see TK smiling at him. Sugar spills against the surface, Carlos quickly tipping the bag upright to stem the flow.

“Shoot, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” TK says, grabbing a tissue and trying to clean up the grains of sugar.

Carlos grabs a dry rag from under the counter and wipes it away.

“No worries. It’s cool. Uh, can I get anything for you?” he asks, looking back at TK, doing his best to ignore the way his heart is hammering. This isn’t how he pictured his first substantial interaction with TK to go but he saves face as best he can.

“Could I trouble you for a scone?” TK says, jutting at the case with his thumb.

Carlos holds his breath and nods, clearing his throat, picking up the tongs and a plate. “Yeah, sure thing.”

TK smiles and Carlos can feel something inside his chest melt at the sight. Before he can dwell on it or potentially embarrass himself by randomly saying something to prolong the moment, he quickly puts the pastry on the dish. TK already has his card out, ready to pay for it.

Carlos ignores the slight tremble in his hands as he takes it, mentally reprimanding himself for getting so worked up over his brief and truly mundane conversation with TK.

“Here you go,” he says, handing back TK’s card and pushing the plate toward him.

TK thanks him and Carlos thinks that’s the end of their interaction until TK looks up again and eyes him thoughtfully.

“I feel like I know you.”

The phrasing makes his breath catch in his throat but he quickly realizes what TK actually means.

“We have a class together, don’t we?”

“Astronomy,” Carlos supplies.

TK snaps his fingers and points at him. “Right, yes. That’s it. Man, that was really bugging me. I knew I recognized you from somewhere other than here. It’s good to see you…”

“Carlos.”

“Carlos,” he repeats as if weighing the syllables on his tongue. “I’m TK. It’s nice to meet you officially.”

“Yeah, you too.”

The house lights dim and both TK and Carlos snap their heads towards the stage where Michelle approaches the microphone.

“Hello and welcome to open mic night here at Déjà Brew,” she greets. There’s a warm round of applause and eager cheering from the crowd gathered.

“It’s always so great seeing so many familiar faces and new ones alike. There are still slots available. Our sign up sheet will remain here just offstage for anyone that would like to perform,” she says, gesturing to her left. “Without further ado, please help me welcome one of our favorite regulars to the stage…Mr. TK Strand. Take it away, sir,” she muses.

TK turns back to Carlos and looks as if he wants to say something but the crowd is already giving him a warm, welcoming applause. He quickly takes his scone and hurries back to his table where one of his friends is holding out his guitar for him.

Carlos lets out a breath as TK approaches the stage and settles on the stool positioned right in the center of it. A few people whoop and cheer for him once again now that he’s situated. TK laughs coyly but the microphone sends his chuckle throughout the room.

“Thank you for that lovely intro, Michelle. Very flattering; I love being a favorite but really, who doesn’t?” he jokes, earning a few laughs. “I was debating what to play tonight. I’ve been working on some new stuff but finally settled on just going for one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite artists. This is The Girl by City and Colour, bastardized by me.”

There are a few more laughs, TK personable as ever that he makes each person feel like they’re old friends. Anyone who has ever heard him play knows there’s no way he won’t knock this cover out of the park.

From the first string TK plucks, the room is completely his. Carlos watches his fingers move expertly along the fretboard. It’s a real sight to see and as Carlos looks away from TK’s hands to his face, he can see just how much fun he’s having with the playful opening melody.

TK gets close to the mic and starts to sing and instantly Carlos leans closer, arms folded on the counter as he watches TK in action. There isn’t a single person speaking quietly to a friend or distracted by their phone. All eyes are glued to the musician on stage. Carlos could listen to TK play all day and never grow tired of the sound. It’s remarkable how his voice floats and cloaks the room, each note nestling in his chest like seeds.

The audience erupts into applause as TK’s final note rings out. He smiles to himself before looking out at the crowd.

“Thank you so much,” he says into the mic before slipping off his guitar and hopping down from the low stage.

Carlos can’t help but to smile as people TK passes give him thumbs up or murmur compliments as he returns to the table with his friends.

Michelle gets back on stage and introduces the next person on the sign up sheet.

The next performer is great but Carlos knows he’s more than a little biased in saying that TK will be the best person to hit the stage tonight.

He chances a glance over at TK and sees that TK is looking at him as he breaks off a piece of his scone. Carlos quickly looks away and focuses on other tasks throughout the rest of his shift, ones that don’t include keeping tabs on the comings and goings of a certain musician.

The night comes to a close, marking yet another successful open mic night. Given that it’s Friday, most of the crowd dissipated as the evening progressed to perhaps party or hang out elsewhere. TK and his friends opted to stay for the entire session, as they almost always do, showing support to each performer who graced the stage.

As TK and his group begin to file out for the night, Carlos waves them off as they say their thanks for another fun night at the shop. Carlos turns his back for a moment to replenish silverware when he hears the quick rap of knuckles on the counter. He turns and is greeted to TK’s bright and open smile up close for the second time this evening.

“So, I’ll see you on Tuesday, right?” he says, hitching the strap of his guitar case up his shoulder.

Brought up short at TK essentially singling him out just then, Carlos nods slowly before he finds his voice again.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll uh, I’ll see you next week.”

“Cool. Have a good night, Carlos,” TK replies simply with the smile that hasn’t left his face. He knocks on the counter once as if to punctuate his sentence and slinks away to join his friends just outside of the shop.

“Looks like you made it onto someone’s radar tonight,” Michelle sing-songs, settling in beside him.

Carlos stares out the window at TK with his friends, one guy nudging his arm as they begin to walk away. Once they’re out of view, Carlos turns back to look at her.

“He’s just being nice.”

“Denial runs deep in you, doesn’t it?” she teases, shaking her head. “Come on, let’s try and finish up so you can have some of the night to yourself, loverboy.”

~*~*~

On Tuesday Carlos makes sure he shows up early for his lecture, standing outside of the hall doors waiting for the group before him to clear out. Today has the potential to be so different from all the other lectures that have come before it. This Tuesday in particular marks the first time TK will truly know of his existence in the hall too.

He tries to settle his nerves by reading news on his phone but he’s too anxious to focus on the words for long. He gives up with a sigh, tucking his phone into his pocket when TK comes bounding toward him with a bemused smile.

“I was hoping you’d come early, too. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much on Friday,” TK says, completely blowing past any formal greeting. Carlos is taken aback by that candor.

“Yeah, I guess not. You were great, by the way. I mean, you always are but...I really liked your performance. I’ve pretty much been listening to the song on a loop since Friday so thanks for the rec.”

Carlos’ heart nosedives as he realizes what he’s just disclosed so openly. But TK doesn’t appear to think it an odd statement. His face lights up, genuinely pleased.

“Oh yeah? That’s awesome.”

“You’ve got great taste in music though, I guess that really shouldn’t be surprising.”

TK laughs. “I’d be majoring in the wrong field if I didn’t, that’s for sure.”

Before Carlos can reply, the doors to the lecture hall open, students filing out into the hallway. Carlos thinks this kills off the chance of speaking to TK still but the guy stays close to him once the doors are clear enough for them to enter too.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit with you today?” TK asks.

Carlos quickly shakes his head. “Uh, no. Not at all.”

He heads up the flight of stairs in the hall, taking up his usual seat. The one beside him is typically home for his backpack but today it’s TK’s frame that settles into the chair.

Carlos takes covert glances at him from the corner of his eye. It was truly so much easier to look at him when he was across the hall these last few weeks. This close up, it’s much harder to sneak and get an open look. But just sitting beside him makes Carlos so acutely aware of TK’s movements.

As the lecture starts, he zones out in favor of taking notice each time TK toys with the strings on his hoodie or his leg bounces restlessly.

The hour and a half passes in a blur and Carlos is surprised to look down and realize he actually still managed to take a decent amount of notes. Their professor reminds them of an upcoming assignment to which TK groans and quickly writes something down in his book, underlining it twice.

“I totally spaced on that.”

“Was that meant to be an astronomy pun?” Carlos cringes at himself but TK laughs heartedly.

“That was a good one.” He closes his notebook and puts it back into his bag, Carlos following suit and packing up his things as well. “But seriously, I completely forgot the deadline was coming up so quickly.”

“I could...if you need someone to go through it with you or anything, I could help,” he offers.

“Carlos, that’s so sweet of you but you don’t have to do that. I got myself into this mess. I’ll figure something out. But, I mean, maybe I could get your number just in case I hit a snag or something?”

The quick turnaround from feeling rejected to elated is jarring but Carlos smiles and says, “Definitely, yeah.”

TK flashes a smile back and takes his phone out, unlocking it before surrendering it to Carlos to create a new contact. When Carlos is done, he hands the phone back to TK who looks at the newest addition to his phone.

“Cool.” TK sends him a quick text. “Just in case you need to get in touch with me for any reason before then, now you can.”

That phrasing sounds like a challenge, as if TK is now tipping the ball into his court.

“I’ll keep that in mind ,” he says.

~*~*~

Texting with TK becomes such a part of Carlos’ daily routine now. It’s to the point where he comes to expect a message from TK each time his phone buzzes as they’ve had a pretty consistent chain going all week. TK’s most recent text, however, wasn’t a Spotify link to a song he thought Carlos might like but rather an SOS to help him complete his astronomy assignment. The message was followed with TK’s building and room number and the entire walk across campus is spent with Carlos’ heart racing until he’s knocking at TK’s door.

“Thank you,” TK immediately says as he lets Carlos in. “I almost didn’t text you to come over but I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing this wrong.”

Carlos looks around the room as he steps in, clearly picking up on which side is TK’s. There are guitar picks and sheet music on one of the desks, two guitar cases leaning against the wall by the foot of one bed. Above the bed itself is a stylish black and white map of Manhattan. Carlos smiles to himself seeing these traces of TK in the space.

“You can grab a seat,” TK says, gesturing to the desk chair. TK sits at the foot of the bed, a small gap of space separating them.

The air feels charged but Carlos is certain that’s all in his head. Being alone in TK’s room is worlds away from sitting beside him during their lectures.

“Okay, let’s see what you have so far,” Carlos says, determined to focus on the task at hand.

They work for about two hours, getting distracted with cracking jokes every now and then and talking about random things as they eventually end up on the floor with papers and charts spread out between them. It’s a mess but Carlos looks over all that they have and draws one very clear conclusion.

“We did it. You’re officially done.”

TK throws his hands up in victory and laughs, flopping down to rest his back on the floor and stare up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit. Thank you. Again. You’re a lifesaver; I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” He turns his head to look at Carlos who merely shrugs.

But Carlos can’t deny how good it feels to be of help and save TK from the stress he’s been feeling with this assignment hanging over his head. TK is looking at him as if he’s a saint or something. Carlos can feel the back of his neck warming up and busies himself with gathering the sheets of paper around them to avoid looking at TK for even a moment longer before that blush spreads to his face.

“What are friends for, right?” he says, only daring to look back at TK now that he’s collected himself.

TK eyes him thoughtfully and Carlos holds his breaths as he waits to see what TK will have to say.

“Lucky me for having you as mine.”

~*~*~

TK has been frequenting the shop more often than his usual Friday nights. Now Carlos has come to expect him here and there but on Sundays mostly where the crowd is far less dense and the evenings are slowgoing enough that Carlos can actually linger behind the counter and chat with him. It’s become a common occurrence for TK to plant himself at one of the elevated seats and work on assignments. More often than not, the books get neglected for long stretches of time. It’s a comfortable routine, one that Carlos has been finding himself growing dependent on.

TK helps him clean up for the night, offering to sweep while Carlos closes out the registers. They don’t speak much as they focus on their tasks but there’s a comfort in just having TK there, to look up from counting the till to see him moving about the room. This coffee shop really belongs to them in their own ways and now they’ve managed to find yet another way to make it special.

Carlos gets back to his closing duties as TK volunteers to put the trash out back. While he’s gone, Carlos makes a quick to-go cup of green tea, TK’s usual, as thanks. TK comes back in and heads over to wash his hands in the bathroom.

When he returns, he joins Carlos at the counter who pushes the cup forward.

“For your hard work tonight,” Carlos says.

TK smirks and picks it up, bringing the cup to his mouth. “If you keep this up, you may never get rid of me.”

“Ah, so you’re on to me then.” The words slip from his lips so easily but TK doesn’t seem put off. Instead the boy smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

Relieved, Carlos takes his store keys out of his bag and heads for the door. TK steps out as he flips off the switch, the shop plunged in darkness as he locks back.

“Thanks again for sticking around and helping me,” he says as they begin to head back to campus. “You really didn’t have to do any of that.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s the least I could do. You completely saved my ass last week and besides, it was just...nice. I like hanging out with you.”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking out into a ridiculous grin. He feels like he’s in middle school again with just how much he’s been crushing on TK but he can’t help it. His stomach always seems to do cartwheels when TK is around, especially when he makes statements like this.

They walk alongside each other in comfortable silence for a time. Carlos does his best not to keep stealing glances at TK but it’s easier said than done. A few times he’s caught TK looking at him which throws him off guard but it’s certainly not unwelcome.

“How old were you when you started playing?” he asks as they near campus.

“I always sort of grew up around the piano. My mom played and she had one in the apartment so I’d sit with her sometimes and she taught me a few things here and there. But I didn’t start taking it really seriously until I was about seven, maybe eight. It was our thing, you know? My parents...things with them went south and she was busy a lot with work. But whenever we did get to check in with each other, we’d find ourselves on the piano bench together. I loved that time with her, even though it became harder and harder to come by the older I got.”

Carlos smiles a bit sadly. But, he thinks, it says a lot that TK is able to be so candid with him about his upbringing. It’s pretty personal insight and yet TK extends it to him so freely. He supposes TK may just be an open guy in general but it still means a lot to be trusted in this manner.

“Wow, that took a turn, I’m sorry,” TK laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind at all.” TK nods at this and continues after a beat.

“I got my first guitar on my tenth birthday from my dad. I think he was trying to speak our language in his own way and I really appreciated it. I took to that pretty well and became a bit obsessed, clearly. Totally thought I was going to be a kid rockstar,” he jokes. “Anyway, music’s always been there for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s really cool, TK. Most people go on a long journey to find the thing that’s right for them but your passion found you early on.”

Carlos’ building comes into view and each step towards it fills him with utter dread. They’ve already managed to stretch this night but greedily, it’s still not enough for him.

As they come to a stop outside the doors to his building, TK stares at him and for a wild moment, Carlos thinks TK might kiss him. TK does lean in but it’s to give a hug, one in which Carlos gladly reciprocates.

“It was great getting to hang out with you tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” Carlos replies, subtly drawing in a breath and breathing TK in as they embrace.

TK begins to pull away after a moment and places a soft kiss on Carlos’ cheek.

Carlos is sure his face flushes and he’s all too grateful for the cover of night to disguise it. They both avoid each other’s gaze for a second before laughing a bit. TK stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Carlos tries to remember how to form a sentence.

“Goodnight, TK,” he says softly.

TK searches his eyes for a moment, almost pensively before smiling faintly.

“Goodnight, Carlos. Sweet dreams.”

~*~*~

Carlos has not been able to shake his walk home with TK. Each time he thinks about it, he can practically feel TK’s lips on his cheek. It was such a modest kiss, a quick peck that probably didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things and yet, it’s all he can think about.

On Tuesday they sat beside each other, same as always and have continued chatting regularly through texts. Neither has made even the smallest hint or mention of what happened Sunday night. It makes Carlos wonder if he’s been blowing this out of proportion or if TK is just as clueless on what comes next as he is.

The latter seems almost comical. TK is perhaps the smoothest, most confident guy he knows. If he wanted to progress things further, he would have already.

Carlos does his best not to stare now at TK’s table. Friday night has rolled around once again and while Carlos is excited to see TK perform, it’s hard to see him and not feel transported back to Sunday night. The phantom sensation of that chaste kiss has kept him up every night this week.

“You okay?” Michelle asks, pulling Carlos from his thoughts.

Carlos blinks twice and nods. “Yeah, just tired I guess.” His eyes flicker to where TK is seated.

Something about him seems off tonight. Normally he’d be the liveliest one at the table but TK seems withdrawn.

Michelle makes a noncommittal hum but says nothing else on the matter and Carlos is grateful for it. She excuses herself to start tonight’s event.

He busies himself with customers who approach the counter as the evening kicks off, the backdrop of performers truly background noise as he works.

Michelle calls TK to the stage when it’s his turn and immediately Carlos zeroes in on his table. TK’s friend pats him on the back before letting out a whoop as he settles up on stage before the keyboard.

“Hey, guys. This one’s been playing on my mind a lot these days. Figured I should do something with it and free it somehow. So, yeah. This is Bloodstream by Stateless.”

TK clears his throat and it’s strange but for the first time, the young man actually looks and sounds nervous. He looks over at Carlos who smiles encouragingly. TK blinks twice and looks down at the keys, brows deepened before playing.

The melody he plays is eerie but beautiful, Carlos’ interest all the more piqued as TK’s fingers strike deftly. The song is haunting, TK’s voice much more gravelly than usual and it’s all so captivating that Carlos holds his breath as he listens.

I think I might’ve inhaled you I could feel you behind my eyes

“Gee, wonder who this one is for,” Michelle says, coming up beside him at the counter for a glass of water.

Carlos can’t even offer a response as he continues to watch TK. The guy’s eyes are closed as he croons into the mic, his shoulders bouncing as he strikes the right notes.

He feels goosebumps watching TK perform and can’t help but to hope there’s some validity in what Michelle is not so subtly hinting at.

TK tinkers around on the keyboard for the last few notes, his eyes landing on Carlos for the briefest of seconds as the audience claps for him. He thanks them and rises from his seat, hopping off the stage and returning to his table— but not without another look at Carlos before he sits once more with his friends.

Carlos feels shaken, his heart ricocheting like a pinball.

He hopes so fiercely that TK’s performance was a declaration of some kind but the night ends for the first time since they’ve befriended each other with an awkward smile and wave from a distance as TK and his friends leave.

Carlos isn’t sure what to make of any of this.

~*~*~

The strange energy doesn’t last long. The very next day TK shoots him a random humorous text and Carlos is glad for the ice breaker as it allows them to get back on track. They easily fall into their usual routine and as the week progresses, the night at the shop soon seems like a lifetime away.

TK invites Carlos to his dorm to hang out Wednesday afternoon and Carlos is all too happy to accept, taking advantage of his free time to head over to TK’s building.

From what he can discern, TK’s roommate is the next best thing to living alone. The guy is never in the room, leaving Carlos with uninterrupted time to just talk and be around TK any time he visits.

TK sits at the foot of the bed with his guitar, plucking out a melody for a song he’s been working on and hoping to debut at open mic. He’s got a pencil trapped between his teeth as he plays, stopping occasionally to jot down a note in the open book beside him. It’s fascinating to watch his process from his spot in the middle of TK’s bed, seeing how he develops an idea from a mere thought to an actual song, to something tangible.

“I hope this one goes over well on Friday,” TK mutters, moreso to himself.

“I know it will. Everyone loves you there and your songs are always a huge hit. This won’t be any different.”

TK smiles warmly at his sentiment. “Thanks. It’s always a bit nerve wracking to perform something new and original but it’s pretty exciting, too.”

Carlos shakes his head and laughs, resting his back against the wall.

“I could never do what you do.”

TK finger picks without even looking at the fret as he eyes Carlos quizzically.

“What? Play or perform?”

“Both. I love music but I don’t have the talent for learning. And performing? Ha, there’s no way you’d ever catch me in front of a crowd. But every week you get up there and knock it out of the park. It’s incredible though.”

TK’s mouth twists to the side slightly before he sets his guitar back into its case on the ground and turns to face Carlos again.

“Lay down,” TK says unexpectedly. Carlos is sure his expression must be bewildered because TK laughs and rolls his eyes. “I’m not about to steal your virtue. Just...settle back for a second.”

Carlos does as he’s instructed and stretches out on TK’s bed completely, his head coming to rest on the guy’s pillow. TK’s scent is everywhere and with the young man smiling over him now as he sits just to the left of him on the edge of the small bed, it’s enough to make his head spin and heart stop. He stares at him as TK speaks.

“Playing is a lot easier than you might think. It’s all about proper placement and timing.” He sets his fingertips against Carlos’ ribcage like they’re keys on a piano.

Carlos searches his face as TK mimics playing and hums a melody. It sounds familiar to Carlos but he can’t place it; it’s something classical, he knows. But his main focus is on TK’s light touches, each press of his fingertips like ripples on the surface of water. His long fingers skate up and down Carlos’ side as TK continues to play as if he’s on a Steinway.

It’s a marvel watching his expression. It’s all make-believe but Carlos has no doubt TK can see it all as clear as day in his mind’s eyes, the ivory and black keys. Though his gaze is fixed on TK’s face, the young man doesn’t lose his own focus and doesn’t catch Carlos’ eye until the final note.

“See? Nothing to it,” TK says, eyes shining with amusement.

It isn’t a conscious decision, that much Carlos knows as he sits up slowly and inches closely to TK, his hand cupping the nape of his neck. He doesn’t typically make bold moves but the draw he feels to TK is simply too much to ignore now.

TK falls silent and stares at him but doesn’t move away, his lips parting. After a beat, he draws nearer as well. Their noses touch, Carlos nuzzling gently before bringing his mouth to TK’s. That first press sends a spark shooting down his spine but Carlos doesn’t hurry or balk at the sensation. He relishes in the slight shiver that runs through TK, the small intake of breath, happy to see that he feels this thrill too. His fingers card gently at the back of TK’s hair, curling around the strands as he continues to kiss him.

TK’s hands encircle his waist, pulling him closer and Carlos is pliant as ever, melding against the man’s frame. The kiss grows gradually, moving from tentative to assured, both guys shedding away any hesitancy and owning the moment.

It’s easy for Carlos to get swept away in kissing TK. His lips are proving themselves to be skilled at more than just offering beautiful smiles.

When TK breaks first, his eyes are still closed and Carlos can’t help but to stare, smiling softly at him when he finally reopens them.

“That’s what playing feels like,” TK says quietly. “An electric rush.”

Carlos’ face burns but TK doesn’t tease him for it. Instead he leans in and kisses Carlos’ cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose. This draws out a laugh from Carlos, a note so carefree and unguarded he’s almost surprised it’s ripped from him.

He smiles shyly and rests his forehead against TK’s, settling down and simply breathing him in. His hand finds its way once more to the nape of TK’s neck, skimming his fingertips lightly against his scalp. TK seems to appreciate the subtle touch, his eyes fluttering briefly. It’s almost hard for Carlos to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s capable of any real effect on TK and yet, the proof is laid out right before him.

All these weeks of getting to know him as more than just the cute guy in a shared class or the talented performer who frequents open mic nights. All these weeks of truly getting to know him and falling even more, they haven’t been one-sided.

“I see why you like performing so much now. I could get used to this feeling.”

TK laughs and places another kiss on his lips. It takes everything in Carlos not to get too carried away but it’s certainly tempting. TK, a musician through and through, knows what to do with his hands. Placement and timing, as he said before.

He’s able to draw out sounds from Carlos like any of his instruments, a sigh, a moan, a whimper. Carlos’ lips feel swollen by the time they break apart for good, his head in a fog.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks now,” TK says.

“Yeah?”

TK rolls his eyes jokingly. “You know, I don’t usually go around serenading guys at open mic nights, right?”

“So, that really was for me then?”

“You thought I was singing that about some other guy? Seriously?”

Carlos shrugs a shoulder, looking down until TK lifts his chin gently. He stares into his blue-green eyes and finds the confidence to keep going.

“It felt too good to be true that you may have been dedicating it to me. I thought—I mean, I’ve been hoping but was too scared to ask. In case you aren’t aware, you’re a very attractive and ridiculously talented guy, TK. You could have your pick of anyone.”

“Just like you could. Easily, Carlos. You’re such a catch. I’ve spent weeks hoping you liked me back. I was out of my mind nervous up there. It seemed like a great idea beforehand but actually being on stage and seeing you watching me? I almost chickened out but I knew my friends wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I did. And, honestly? I wanted to get my feelings for you out there somehow. Music is always my fallback so, seemed like the best bet.”

Carlos shakes his head and draws in a deep breath, letting it out in a gust.

“It was beautiful, TK. Absolutely beautiful. No one has ever done anything like that for me.”

TK gives him a small smile, looking down and playing with Carlos’ hand. “Since we met, I’ve just wanted to matter to you. Is that weird to say?” he asks, pulling his gaze upward.

Carlos shakes his head. “No, not at all. I actually liked you before we even met,” Carlos admits. “You’ve always been someone to me, TK. Never doubt that because I get the feeling that you always will be.”

TK searches his eyes, relief flooding his features before he leans in and kisses him again. Carlos serves it right back, pulling TK against him as he sinks back against the man’s bed. It’s light, it’s playful with soft laughter and even softer kisses. It’s safe and comfortable to hand this vulnerable side over and trust it will be protected.

All in all, Carlos finds, it’s simply natural to be this way, to fall for this beautiful boy and his beautiful music that makes him feel like a work of art to TK in his own right.

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koreaweeb · 3 years

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Red Strings - Sixteenth String

@underc0vercryptid-reads @laraplisetski @omegahighendpro @thooo0t @t3sselated @youngestdelacour

TW: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, ABUSE, MENTION OF SUICIDE, MENTION OF SELF-HARM, SEXUAL CONTENT

With the project proposal approved, all there was left to do was actually organise the fundraiser.

Kurenai was pretty much on her own now. Since the incident with her being held hostage, she had not heard from Ichiro, nor did she want to hear from him. After he learnt the truth of what happened, even Atsushi agreed that she should not be contacting him. It was a great opportunity to have the Morita Corporations wrapped around their fingers after all.

Still, Ichiro could have been useful to have around when actually organising. Though, now that Kurenai was thinking about it, she had someone better in mind.

“If you don’t mind,” Kurenai said, stopping everyone in the conference room from leaving. “I have but one request now that we’re actually organising the fundraiser. I’d like for Honoka-chan to be my assistant.”

“Miss Hara? But...she’s a medical student.”

“I know,” Kurenai sighed, pouting a little. “I wouldn’t be such a pain in the neck if I weren’t in such a pinch. It’s hard to do everything by myself, and I thought maybe Honoka-chan could help me out. I’ll even pay her a salary. And I’ll do my best not to interfere with her original duty.”

And so Honoka’s nightmare began.

She never thought she would hate the sound of her own name so much but there was just something about the way Kurenai would call her ‘Honoka-chan’. Just imagining it would send chills down her spine and honestly, Honoka was wishing that she had been let go instead. Although being a doctor was a lifelong dream of hers, it just did not seem worth the trouble at this point.

“Honoka-chan, would you mind delivering this contract for me?”

“But that’s halfway across the city.”

“Oh really? Then you better hurry. Don’t want to catch them on their lunch break.”

“Having fun?” Chishiya asked.

Document in hand, Honoka was out of the break room as soon as Kurenai remotely threatened her, not sparing Chishiya even a glance. Honestly, he had been enjoying this period of time too. He was no longer bothered by Honoka every morning he came to work. She was so busy that she did not even have the time to ask if he would like to have lunch with her.

And as sadistic as it sounded, it put a smile on his face to see Kurenai having so much fun.

“Just teaching her not to mess with the wrong person,” Kurenai smiled. “A friend of mine has someone everyone calls the Golden Secretary. I’m trying to see if I can train Honoka-chan to that level.”

“Don’t do anything too over the board.”

“Why? Are you worried about her?”

“I’m worried about you.” Chishiya turned her around in the chair so she was facing him, his hands on either side of her, essentially trapping her. “Sometimes when you corner a dog too much, it’ll start to bite back.”

Kurenai smiled and held his face, stroking his cheeks gently. How cute of him to worry for her. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m the only one you need to worry about biting someone. And I’d love to bite you some day.”

“Some day.”

Straightening himself, Chishiya was about to leave when Kurenai called out to him. “Are you working the night shift today?” He shook his head, no. “Would you like to come over to my place tonight?”

Her apartment was empty when they got back; Ayako was most likely still out grocery shopping or meeting with her friends.

Chishiya knew the building Kurenai lived in, it was famous for being the residence of many influential people including politicians and celebrities. Kurenai, however, lived right at the very top in the penthouse on the eightieth floor. Somehow, her place seemed familiar.

“Is that the pantry there?” he asked, pointing to an obscure door in the kitchen.

“Yes, how did you know?” Kurenai asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh no, are you stalking me, Shuntarou?”

“I just felt like I’ve been here before.”

That was actually how he felt about everything in regards to Kurenai.

Ever since they met at the ballet, as cliché as it sounded, it was like they had met somewhere else before though he could not quite put a finger on it. It was not one of those ‘passed by on the street’ meetings either. It was one where they had gone through so much and built a relationship. Like they had been through life and death. Like they were lovers.

He did a little research online, though most articles and blogs said that was most likely his brain making everything up. He probably saw Kurenai’s face somewhere and possibly had a dream about her that he mixed with his own memories. It would not explain, however, how he knew where her pantry was in an apartment he had never been to before.

“Odd...that’s how I feel about you,” Kurenai said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Like...maybe we were lovers in a previous life.”

“And if we were?”

“Then perhaps we are tied together by the red string of fate. Perhaps something prevented us from having a proper relationship and we are now continuing that fate in this life.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“Maybe you should.”

She pressed her lips on his, closing her eyes as she pulled herself into his body. Even the kisses they shared, they felt familiar. Like they had done this before. Kurenai was not a strong believer in fate, but perhaps there was something pulling her and Chishiya together.

-Meanwhile-

“Ayako-san!”

Seeing the familiar figure just a few streets away from Kurenai’s apartment, Aoi stopped his car by the sidewalk and called out to her. He got out and helped her with the grocery bags before giving her a ride back to his sister’s place.

“Gosh, I’m so lucky you came at this time, Mr. Aoi,” Ayako sighed. “Miss Kurenai should be home by now and with everything I’m carrying, it’s going to take me another half an hour just to walk home.”

“Kurenai would not be as happy to see me as you are.”

“Oh shush. Miss Kurenai is always happy to see you. She just doesn’t show it. You know she talks about you all the time.

Having worked for Kurenai since she was eighteen, there was no one in the world who knew her like Ayako did. While the first year or so Kurenai was rather closed off, she eventually opened up to Ayako about her feelings and would talk to her about her worries too.

Turning the corner and entering the parking garage of the building, Aoi parked in his usual spot and got out to help Ayako with her bags. The pair made their way up to the penthouse, entering a seemingly empty apartment.

Aoi noticed Kurenai’s heels by the front door, along with a pair of unfamiliar shoes. The apartment was dark, however, as if there was no one home.

“Kurenai?” he called out, pausing to listen for a reply. When he did not hear one, Aoi put the bags down and left Ayako to unpack the groceries as he headed up the stairs. “Kurenai?” he called out once more, but still no response.

She was not in her open study as he walked past. He checked her walk-in closet but she was not there either. Only her bedroom was left. He knocked a couple of times, walking in when there was still no response. What if something happened to her? Oh, how he regretted opening the door.

Sitting on the edge of her bed was a man Aoi had never seen before. His sister, however, was kneeling on the floor with her head between the man’s legs.

“Oh God!”

#rs ch 16 #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #aib #alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no arisu #imawa no kuni no alice

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haosvteen · 4 years

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I Found You | soulmate seventeen series

a/n: this is my first traditionally written imagine i’m posting here, so i hope you like it!! i’m a little bit nervous to post, so please let me know how you like it :)

minghao x reader | soulmate seventeen

~ - fluff

word count: 3.2k

main masterlist

All you could focus on is the ticking of the clock and the tapping of your pencil on the worn-out wooden desk. No matter how hard you tried to tune into your professor’s monotone voice lecturing about string theory, your mind kept wandering elsewhere. Literally anywhere else. At first, you started thinking about why you had to take this class anyway. It didn’t have anything to do with your major, so what was the point? But as soon as that thought came, it went, and you were trying to decide where to get lunch after the unnecessarily long class ended.

Leaning down to your side and reaching into your backpack on the floor, you pulled out a brown leather-bound notebook. Running your fingers over the intricate gold designs adorning the spine, admiring the swirls and flowers, you placed it on your desk and flipped it open. Gliding your pencil across the unlined, seemingly old paper, you wrote “What do I get for lunch? My stomach is about to grumble in class”.

You run a hand through your hair with a sigh and look back up at your professor, once again trying to figure out what he is attempting to explain. One-dimensional strings? Quantum gravity? It meant nothing to you. Thankfully, Hao had been helping you almost every night. Honestly, you felt a little bad because he was trying his hardest to make it simple for you, but the content was essentially impossible to understand. Your brain just doesn’t seem to cooperate when it comes to physics.

Looking back down at the notebook below you, you received a response: “What about that pizza place you like down the street from your apartment?”. Just the thought of the greasy slice of goodness makes your stomach emit an audible grumble, causing several heads near you to turn your way, judgmental looks behind their eyes. After taking a moment to apologetically smile at them and deal with your embarrassment, you jot on the paper, “Hao, you’re a genius how do you always know what I want?”.

Almost as quickly as you finished writing your sentence, you see Hao’s handwriting appear letter by letter on the page. “It’s because I’m your soulmate, duh”. You lean your head on your hand and smile to yourself, noticing the students around you start packing up their books and leaving the room, signaling to you that class had finished.

After closing all of your books and stuffing them in your backpack, you slung a strap on your shoulder and started to make your way out of the classroom. Before you had the opportunity to escape into the hallway, your professor called to you, “Ms. Y/L/N, would you mind seeing me for a moment?”

Slowly turning around, you made your way up to the front of the classroom where he was wiping down the blackboard for the next class. It felt as if you were walking to the gallows due to the tone of his beckoning. “Yes, sir?”, you asked, curious as to what this may be about. Had he noticed you weren’t paying attention? That you were writing in your soulmate journal?

“As you know, final exams are coming up and I am concerned about your final grade in this class. In order to pass, you need to earn at least an 85% or higher on the final,” he nonchalantly said, not even bothering to make eye contact with you as he began to pack up.

You knew that you were not the best at physics, but you did not realize your grade was so low. That you would basically have to eat, sleep, and breathe the subject until the end of the term. “I’m so sorry, is there any extra credit I could possibly do? I’ve been trying my best, it’s just that-“, before you had the opportunity to finish your statement, he had cut you off.

“You haven’t been trying your best, though. Far too often I see you writing away in that notebook of yours and I highly doubt your taking notes.” You didn’t even know what to say in response to that because he was right. You weren’t taking notes. But could you be blamed for wanting to talk with your soulmate? Somewhere along the way since your 16th birthday, you and Hao discovered that you lived in different time zones so there were only certain times of the day you could talk to each other…one of those times just happened to be during this class. If only your professor understood this.

As if the gruff man in front of you read your mind, he continued, “I am assuming that is your soulmate journal?” Silently giving a small nod, you internally cringed for what was to come because based on the raised eyebrow and demeaning glare, it could not be good. “You know all of that’s bullshit right?”. Your jaw slightly dropped because you were not expecting that to come from your professor’s mouth.

“Statistically only 32% of people actually end up with their ‘soulmate’? No one even understands the technology of these journals or where they come from. Researchers haven’t been able to find conclusive evidence of the accuracy of these journals. The odds are higher that you will end up with someone in this class rather than whomever you are speaking to through those pieces of paper. I suggest you keep this in mind for the remainder of the semester,” your professor concluded and hastily marched out of the classroom.

You are dumbfounded. You didn’t know what your professor wanted to see you about, but in no way did you suspect that. Alright, maybe you suspected him addressing you about your poor grade, but that rant? Probably would have been the last thing you guessed. After overcoming the initial shock of the encounter you just were on the receiving end of, you shook your head and finally left the room.

Walking down the street to your favorite pizza place (as Hao suggested), you couldn’t stop thinking about everything your professor said. Was it really true that only 32% of people end up with their soulmate? And now that you thought about it, having someone’s writing showing up in some magical journal you get on your 16th birthday seems a little impractical too.

After taking a seat at the small pizzeria, you took a bite, the cheese stretching, and about to fall off the slice. You wiped your greasy fingers off on a napkin before pulling out your soulmate journal to write to Hao, telling him his suggestion was an excellent choice.

While waiting for his response, you decided to do a little bit more research about the probability of soulmates ending up together. With a simple google search, thousands of articles came up about the illegitimacy of the journals, however, there were equally as many describing the validity of them while recounting people’s personal positive experiences.

After reading article after article, you couldn’t help but question if you would actually end up with Hao. You’d never had to think about it before. Your whole life, you had always been told: “whoever you write to in your soulmate journal is who you will find true love with and be forever happy”. You didn’t have a reason to question it either because you love Hao. Even though you had never seen him, you knew that you love him.

Your parents were connected through the soulmate journal and found each other, so they raised you to believe that the same would happen for you. The difference is that your parents had known each other since they were six years old. It was easier for them. You didn’t even know where Hao was from. You had your guesses considering his timezone, but you really knew nothing else. The journal would erase writing that held personal information (which sounds kind of…magical? but everyone has a notebook in which they can speak to their soulmate, so who’s to judge when that is an aspect of your world). When you first got your journal, you immediately wrote in it, providing your social media handles so your soulmate could find you. However, with every letter you wrote, they disappeared twice as fast.

There were many sleepless nights you complained to your friends about how hard it was because you just wanted to find him. You just wanted to be able to see his face. Hear his voice. Almost everyone you knew found their soulmates easily, but you were what felt like the only one left without your soulmate. Especially one on the other side of the world.

Becoming so wrapped in your thoughts, you picked up your pen again and wrote in the journal, “Hey…have you ever thought that we maybe…won’t end up together?”.

“What do you mean? Of course, we will end up together. We’re soulmates. That’s the whole purpose of this journal,” Minghao responded.

“I know, I know, but my professor just told me some stuff today. It’s stupid and I know I shouldn’t even worry about it, but he said that only 32% of people actually end up with their soulmate,” you explained. Sitting up in your seat, you started to get a little anxious. You know that Hao hated talking about this stuff.

“Y/N, I’ve told you this so many times before. We will find each other. I will find you. Don’t listen to the statistics,”. As you see the words appear on the paper in front of you, you can’t help but think…what if? What if you don’t find each other. Taking a moment to logically think about it, there is really no definitive way to track the other down. It all happens by chance.

As you placed your pen on the paper, about to write back, Hao’s handwriting appeared again. “I don’t want you to worry about this. The universe wants us together. It will find a way.”

With a sigh, you simply responded, “You’re right, I’ll talk to you later” and quickly drew a heart. You closed the journal, hoping it would help the thoughts leave your head, but you couldn’t stop the constant what-ifs running through your mind for the next days.

During that time, you did more research and truly discovered statistically how low the chances are that you will find your soulmate. There are 7.5 billion people in the world, what are the odds you find your person?

Things between you and Hao were never really the same after that.

It started out slowly. You would happen to forget your journal at home when you went out and instead of running back to get it (like you usually would), you didn’t bother. There were days that turned into weeks where you wouldn’t write to Minghao at all. Every so often you would maybe leave a kind message telling him to have a good day, but there were no longer meaningful conversations between you two. You even started seeing other boys. If statistically, you were not going to end up with Minghao, it was okay to start looking elsewhere.

Having been raised on the idea that this person on the other end of the journal is who you will end up with, no ifs, ands, or buts about it, didn’t allow you to experience young love the way many people do. When you turned 16, all of your attention went immediately to Minghao…because you were 100% sure you would end up with him. Now that you knew the small likelihood of that actually happening, you allowed yourself to find happiness. Even if it wasn’t with your soulmate.

Not to say that you forgot about Minghao. You could never forget about Minghao. But no matter how much you wished that it would work between you two, you knew the reality of the situation.

Several years had gone by. You and Minghao would write to each other in your journals sometimes, but never at the same time. Typically, you would write a message every several months to update him about what was going on in your life and he would do the same. Even years later, you still regret leaving him the way you did. You cannot imagine what providing little to no explanation did to him, but you were young. You didn’t know how to handle it.

But now, your life was completely different from those years ago when your best friend was through a journal. You had a career that you loved, amazing and supportive friends…there wasn’t more you could ask for. Except that you still hadn’t found someone. You thought that it would be easier to find a boy to spend your life with, even if it wasn’t Minghao, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Everyone was just looking for people to hook up and have one-night-stands with as they waited to find their soulmate. No one had accepted the reality of the situation as you had. While some might say that you were being pessimistic, you liked to think of it as being logical.

It was 8:54am and you were stumbling all over your apartment in an attempt to get dressed while simultaneously pack your bag for work. You were sure that you set your alarm for 6:30am so you had ample time to prepare and have a relaxing morning before you had to leave to catch your train. The image of the 6:30am alarm on your phone being switched on was ingrained in your mind, you knew you turned it on. Technology works in mysterious ways.

While tugging on the first appropriate shoes you found, you swung open the closet door that contained your sweatshirts that were still appropriate for work. This was your go-to when you were running late and today was definitely one of those days. As you swiftly opened the door, a book fell down from the top shelf. Your soulmate journal.

The panic of the morning immediately halted. It had been years since you had even looked at it. You shoved it away in a random box while moving to this city for your job and you honestly hadn’t thought about it since. While the memories of your conversations with Minghao flooded your mind, you decided to pack it in your bag. Maybe you would write to him while you were on your lunch break.

Grabbing the last of your items, you hurried out the door, trying to make it to the next scheduled train. As you exited your building and began running down the busy sidewalk to the train station, the crisp air whipped against your face. Your nose and ears were numb, but that was the least of your worries.

Your lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding as you approached the train and saw the double doors sliding closed. “Hey!!! Someone hold the door!!! Please!!!”, you shout breathlessly, hoping to catch the attention of anyone inside the warm transport. To your luck, someone heard you and stuck their hand outside. Little did they know they were saving you from having to wait another 30 minutes for a train.

As you quickened your pace to enter the train, you smiled at the man who held the doors open for you, “Thank you so much, if it weren’t for you I would even more late for work than I am now”.

“No problem,” he said while making his way to a seat. Taking a moment to smooth out your hair, you followed behind him trying to find a place of your own. After looking around, the only one you found available was right across from that same man.

You looked at your watch and couldn’t help but watch the seconds and minutes tick away, making you more and more late for work. Stealing you from your trance, your phone began ringing. Noticing that it was your boss, you couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh.

Before you had the opportunity to say hello, he was screaming into your ear, “Y/N where are you?! We need you here now!! This is unacceptable behavior.”

“I understand, I apologize. I’m on my way, sir. I will be there as fast as I can,” you responded, trying to keep your cool. After some more several unkind words, your boss hung up the phone. Running your hands over your face, you look up to see the man sitting opposite you, staring at you with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. You gave him a small smile and looked away, trying to ignore the look he continued to give you.

“Y/N?” you heard him say.

“Oh, me?” you questioned, to ensure that he was talking to you. Hopefully whatever he has to say won’t take too long because the train was due to stop in three minutes and you had to get off immediately.

He responds with a nod, eyes still as wide as a deer in headlights, “I’m Minghao”.

With that, your expression imitated his. Minghao? As in your Minghao?

“Wait, I don’t understand. You’re here?” you asked because last time you read a message from him in the journal, he hadn’t moved or mentioned traveling. Well…the last time you had touched the journal was years ago.

Minghao quickly moved to rummage in his bag. After a few moments, he pulled out a brown leather-bound notebook…with gold designs on the spine…swirls and flowers.

Before you knew what you were doing, you also began to dig in your bag for your soulmate journal…that happened to fall out of your closet today…that you wouldn’t have opened if your alarm would have gone off…

You immediately opened the old journal for the first time in years. The first words you see are, “I found you”.

Looking up at Hao, tears began to form in your eyes. You hadn’t admitted it to yourself, but it had been so hard without him. It’s like whenever you weren’t with him, everything was so much worse. Even if you only knew each other through the soulmate journal.

The train came to a screeching stop and the people around you began standing and exiting to the station, but you two remained seated. There were some people giving you some strange looks, but they didn’t realize that two people who were meant to be together had finally met. That you and Hao had met.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you,” Hao said as he stood up. “I told you I would find you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, but run up and wrap your arms around him. The arms you wanted to hold you since you were 16. You could finally feel him. Hear his voice. See his face. You could be with him. Not just through pieces of bound paper.

You pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. Your cheeks were tear-stained, but you couldn’t help it. “We are not a statistic,” Hao softly whispered. His eyes flicked from yours, down to your lips. He moved his hands up to your face, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that won’t stop cascading down your cheeks. He leaned into you slowly, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“I found you,” Hao said so only you could hear, as he leaned his forehead against yours.

He found you.

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carveredlunds · 3 years

Text

“I won’t be hands-on”: A meta on Jack becoming the new God

“But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?” -- Dean Winchester, season 4, episode 2 “People pray to you. People build churches for you. They fight wars in your name, and you did nothing.” -- Dean Winchester, season 11, episode 21 “I won’t be hands-on. Chuck put himself in the story. That was his mistake. But I learned from you, and my mother, and Castiel, that when people have to be their best, they can be. And that’s what to believe in.” -- Jack Kline, season 15, episode 19

I’ve still barely processed my anger at the end of the Brothers VS. God storyline. The idea of Jack being a “new God” is ridiculous. Not only does it ignore established lore of the universe by reducing Chuck to a human who was (apparently) just filled with divinity which can be sucked out of him like Daniel Plainview drinking his milkshake (yes, that’s a There Will Be Blood reference!), rob Amara of any agency by making her exist inside her nephew (ew), and make Jack (who has always been an OP character) a super duper Gary Stu, but its final message is an insult to long-held beliefs of both of the brothers, especially Dean.

Let’s break it down, shall we?

Ever since the earliest seasons, Dean has had an issue with the state of the world. In season 2, episode 13, Houses of the Holy, he makes the following pessimistic speech to Sam:

There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere, and rips you to shreds.

There are too many mentions of Dean’s lack of faith in God to go through each one, but it essentially boils down to this -- Dean can’t believe there is a God, because the world is so full of suffering and injustice, and no God would allow that to happen. It’s a classic atheist stance, held by a lot of people. But it goes a little further than that. In season 5, episode 2, Good God, Y’all, Dean says the following to Castiel:

Even if there is a God, he is either dead -- and that's the generous theory -- or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us. I mean, look around you, man.

So, what a lot of atheists point out is that not only do they not believe in God, but they often believe that, if there is a God, he is not worthy of worship or praise, because he made such an unfair, pain-filled, evil, world (for a very eloquent speech on this, check out Stephen Fry talking about it.) I’m not going to get into the Problem of Evil, because I’m not a theologian, and that’s not the point of this meta. But basically, that’s Dean’s stance on the subject of God. At first, Dean doesn’t believe there is a God, and then, when he’s forced to accept that there is, his belief changes to “God must be dead, or evil”.

Enter Chuck Shurley in season 11. At last, Dean is able to actually vent his feelings to God, and they have this exchange:

CHUCK: You're frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on. Real hands-on for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being over-involved is no longer parenting. It's enabling. DEAN: But it didn't get better.

Given what we later find out about Chuck, it’s easy to say he’s lying. He was hyper-involved all along, pulling the strings, being the puppet master. This is what Dabb wants us to believe. Even though it literally ignores 14 seasons of established canon which say that God was an absentee father. Even though it ruins the narrative parallel between John Winchester and Chuck. Even though it retcons season 11, episode 20, Don’t Call Me Shurley -- one of the most beloved episodes, adored by fans and cherished by Rob Benedict as his favourite episode.

But sure. Let’s say Chuck is lying. That’s not even the point. The point is that Dean isn’t satisfied with a God who took a backseat, and let humanity stumble along by themselves. He wanted a God who steps in, who is involved, who stops suffering, and helps his creation.

Even Sam Winchester, the one with all the faith, eventually loses his cool with God, and, in season 14, episode 20, Moriah, says the following to Chuck:

Then why don’t you do something? If I had your power, I --

If he had God’s power, he’d... what? Rid the world of suffering and evil? Remove all the monsters? Get involved? Maybe even all of the above, given the context of the whole conversation. But again, the point is that Sam is angry at Chuck’s lack of involvement.

Fast forward to season 15, episode 19, Inherit the Earth, and the conversation between Jack and the brothers.

JACK: I’m already there. DEAN: Where? JACK: Everywhere. SAM: So you are... Him?

This isn’t the first part of the interaction that I take issue with, but I’ll focus on it anyway, otherwise this meta will be 1000 words long. The small gasp Dean gives when Jack says he’s “everywhere”? The almost reverent way Sam says “him”? The wannabe poetic explanation Jack gives to being “in every drop of falling rain, every speck of dust which the wind blows, and in the sand, and the rocks, and the sea”? It’s all supposed to bring the long-since lost mystique back to the character of God. Before he was introduced in the form of Chuck, God was only talked about reverently. Angels talked about his wrath, his power, his Divine Plan. God acted as an offscreen force, putting Sam and Dean on the plane at the beginning of season 5, bringing Castiel back from the dead in Swan Song. He was an unseen force. Yes, he intervened, but the idea of God sitting and playing a guitar? It would’ve been ludicrous in the early seasons of the show. They wanted the mystery of God as an unseen force, working in the world when the plot needed him.

All that to say, obviously that’s what they’re going with now, with Jack. He’s in everything, within everyone. But my question is... was Chuck that way too? If Jack is just God 2.0, if he’s omniscient and omnipresent, then surely, Chuck was too? Heck, we know Chuck was omniscient, because he told Amara he was, just two episodes ago.

Which brings me (in a very roundabout and rambling way) to the double standard here. It is okay for Jack to just “be in everything”, to not answer prayers, to be a “hands-off God”. But it’s not okay for Chuck to do that? It’s okay for Jack to make some speech about how people can find him by looking within, but that they don’t have to pray to him. News flash, kiddo: People are still going to pray to you. So... are you just ignoring those prayers? Jack is doing exactly what Chuck did, but, where Chuck was shown by the narrative to be a villain for stepping back, this is seen as a good thing. Because they played some sad music, and Sam and Dean looked solemn, and Jack talked about the power of human goodness. The show was screaming at us to see this as a good thing, to see Jack as a benevolent force, to be glad that the new Man With A Plan was the three year old son of Lucifer, instead of the ancient deity that’s been doing the job since the dawn of time.

And Sam and Dean do think this is a good thing. They get all teary-eyed, and let their surrogate son walk away in his fancy white suit (which has got to be a call back to both Chuck’s Swan Song appearance, and his final scene in Inherent the Earth, right?)

Everyone is talking about the Death of the Author, and how Chuck had to step aside to allow the boys to be free. But there was no Death of the Author. There was just a change in management. Jack is still fulfilling the role that Chuck once did -- an uninvolved, neutral, God, with all the power in the universe at his disposal, but apparently no intention of using it.

We have no reason to believe that Jack didn’t bring the world back exactly as it was before Chuck vanished everyone. All the murderers, rapists, monsters, abusers, are back. All the evil and suffering which Dean hated so much in the earlier seasons is still happening. The difference now? God is a three year old who looks like he’s in his mid-twenties.

And the most annoying thing? The show itself lampshaded, in season 15, episode 13, Destiny’s Child, how ridiculous it would be if Jack took over the role of God:

DEAN: But if Jack kills her... Kind of a family plan. Then there's no God, there's no Darkness. Nothing out of balance. World saved. SAM: Okay, yeah, but then who takes over? Uh, Jack? [Jack enters, chewing gum. He blows a bubble and pops it, grinning proudly] JACK: I just learned how to do that. DEAN: Probably not.

But now he’s made some saccharine speech about the inherent goodness of humanity, and Sam and Dean have conveniently forgotten how they hated it when God did nothing, and we’re all supposed to be okay with this, because Chuck turned out (over the course of one season) to be nothing like the neutral, distant, God we’d come to know over 14 seasons, but instead, he was a megalomaniacal control freak who apparently sent Kevin to Hell, tortured Sam, and is personally responsible for every bad thing that ever happens in the world, and has happened to the brothers. (Side note: Does this mean that they’ll blame Jack now, when bad things happen to them?)

I could go on about how sapping Chuck of his “powers” doesn’t stop him being God, because being God is more than just being a human filled with God-ness, and Chuck was never canonically said to be possessing a human vessel the way angels and demons do, but this is already long enough. So, sure. Let the Devil’s kid go be the rain, or whatever.

#supernatural #spn #spn meta #spn spoilers #jack kline #chuck shurley #sophie speaks #sophie talks about spn #i am so tired tbh

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Male alien x nb human (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here's the winner of the 'which monster to write next' poll (at least it was at the time I started writing it). It’s been on early release for Patreon folks for about a week now, and I was supposed to post it here yesterday, but I forgot. I hope you enjoy it!

Lex is non binary, and if they lived on Earth at the moment, would most likely be assigned male at birth. Tarann (alien) is male, an assassin, and didn’t have what we might view as a normal childhood by any standards. As such, there is an awful lot he does know, and a lot that he's completely unfamiliar with...

Content: fluff, the tiniest pinch of angst, plus mention of genetic modification and sterilisation, 'creation' of genetic 'super-soldiers', nsfw, tentacle cocks (plural) Wordcount: 8000

The dull, steady voice of his ship’s computer informed him that faster-than-light travel would not be viable with all systems in their current state of blaster-riddled repair.

He cursed.

It then informed him that actually, since barely sticking the landing in a crumbling red-stone canyon, Tarann would be lucky to take off again at all.

He let out a long string of curses, even switching languages a couple of times.

“That was creative. I even detected some Tch’larian in there,” Menot, the androgynous computer, commented. “Been a while since I’ve heard you use your native tongue, Tarann…”

“Go fuck yourself with a Savaranian spiked tuber,” he grumbled, to which the computer had no qualms responding that if they were not a mere collection of unfathomably complicated code - which he had had no hand whatsoever in creating, they sarcastically pointed out - they might consider the directive.

Tarann simply shook his head in frustration and used the lower of his two sets of arms to smash the bulkhead open by the button on the wall, and stalked through the smashed-up ship towards his cramped sleeping quarters. The Spark was hardly a ship built for comfort. She was utilitarian; designed for quick escapes and aerial combat, and short-range sorties. She’d been his home for over a year now, and he’d be lucky if he ever got her to limp into the upper atmosphere of this backwater planet, let alone space. An unhealthy layer of fine red dust was already clinging to her wings and the intakes would likely need some extensive work before he could get her air-worthy again.

Mounting stress made the old implant scar in the side of his neck throb and he trailed his three-fingered hand along it, his skin currently a neutral, dull grey. Barefooted, as nearly all Tch’larians preferred due to particular shape of their three-toed feet, with one additional thumb-like digit that didn’t quite meet the ground when they stood, he padded silently along the metal floors of the ship and began to check and clean his weapons back in his quarters. The familiar monotony of clicking, sliding metal, and the smell of gun lubricant always soothed him.

“Think,” he hissed at himself.

Menot’s voice sounded over the system twenty minutes later and said, “Incoming transmission from the Agency. Would you like me to play it for you?”

He closed his four yellow eyes and inhaled steadily. Reluctantly, he growled, “Yes.”

“Agent Triskelion,” the familiar voice of his handler rumbled. “We understand that your ship took heavy damage in a dogfight after completing your last contract.”

“That’s a fucking understatement,” he snarled but he didn’t interrupt the message further.

“While it was unrelated to the contract on the Red Flame, your unplanned skirmish with Invaranian Rebels did attract attention and we have intelligence to suggest that they might have attempted to trace you following your escape. You are ordered to keep a low profile and your open contracts have been reassigned to other agents until we can be certain that the Red Flame is no longer looking for you.”

The metal of his blaster creaked under his grip and he relaxed before he damaged it, taking another deep breath. He hadn’t had a contract reassigned since he’d first joined the Agency all those years ago. The humiliation of it forced his skin to change from the dusty grey to a vibrant blue, dotted with teal. Feeling like a teenager again, he forced his skin back to its neutral grey and set the blaster aside, reflexively checking the safety before it put it down.

Back at the bridge, though it was barely large enough for him to squeeze around the seat, he snarled, “Menot, record this and prepare to send it to HQ.”

“Very good.”

“Agent Triskelion, acknowledging receipt of transmission and instructions to lie low. Currently grounded in a canyon twenty clicks north west of a small mining town on a planet that’s so fucking tiny it doesn’t even have an official name.” Tarann steady himself and added, “But I’ll get Menot to send coordinates with this transmission. Ship’s pretty beaten up and I’ll probably need extraction at some point. I doubt this place has the parts I need, but I can look. I’m going to head into the town at sunrise and I’ll take Menot with me. And I’ll keep a low profile.”

“As low a profile as one of the galaxy’s finest killers possibly can,” Menot added, and Tarann cursed whoever had coded sarcasm into their system.

“Exactly,” he said. “A stranger rocking up out of nowhere in a town that tiny is hardly going to pass unremarked, but I’ll adapt.” He snorted a little at the irony of that, knowing that his rather unique genetic melange was designed for camouflage. Not for him was the messy application of paints and disguises, though he couldn’t actually change his bone structure beyond accelerated healing. “So yeah, for the love of all you hold dear, please don’t just forget about me here. End recording. Menot, send it to HQ.”

With that, he slumped into the pilot’s seat for a moment and sighed. Menot helpfully informed him that dawn was three hours away, and he told them to shut everything down save for the essentials and maintain a vigilant watch while he attempted to get some sleep.

“I’ll wake you if anything needs your attention,” Menot promised.

With the sun high in the sky, Tarann stalked across the dusty plain that formed a ring around the town. In fact, it was much larger than they’d initially thought, and Menot quietly informed him in his hidden earpiece that the town appeared to go down into the earth, perhaps following the original mine shafts.

“Puts a new meaning on going to ground for a while,” he snorted.

He was relieved as he passed through dirty, dusty, narrow streets, to note all sorts of lifeforms here - some familiar and many not. With limited biodiversity, he might have stood out like a sore thumb, but the place seemed stuffed to the brim with hopeless outcasts from all over the system. There were even some humans here, which surprised him. The temperature was hot and arid, not ideal for the creatures he’d only had brief dealings with. Earth was seen as a backwater, with the emphasis on the water. It was the kind of place people went to retire to, and that was… about it. Enterprising humans had left centuries ago and gone to the newly terraformed planets like Mars - if they still wanted to remain in their solar system - and many more had joined up with the Federation and scattered all over the known galaxies.

When he passed a bipedal, slender human male, he asked Menot to give him a run-down on the species. “Both surprisingly easy and surprisingly difficult to kill, can be self-destructively curious and reckless, capable of making leaps of logic insurmountable to many species while being unfathomably illogical at other times…”

“Baffling,” he murmured. “Sounds like Agent Luna,” he said with a fond smile.

The legendary assassin had assessed him upon arrival at the Agency for unarmed combat, and somehow despite looking so… breakable, had had him on his back in two seconds flat. She’d also been the one to give him his field name, Triskelion, given that a decent number of things in his body, except his two hearts and four eyes, seemed to come in threes - three fingers, three toes, three lungs… The only trio of anatomical parts she hadn’t seen first hand was, well… elsewhere.

The fact that Luna was a fraction of his size and weight hadn’t seemed to matter at all in combat training, and he’d been very wary (and more than a bit in awe) of her since she’d returned from a mission with an injury that even the best surgeons at the Agency had said would kill her. Six months later, she was back in the field. He shuddered. Humans were like Anthariacs, once you thought you had a lock on their size and shape, they could simply morph into something else. Or perhaps they weren’t anything like that at all.

Unsettled, he shuddered again and nearly crashed straight into a small vendor’s stall in the narrow alley.

He heard the scraping voice say something, at which the ear piece translated, “Watch it!”

Shrugging off the encounter, he moved through the streets until he came to what looked like a bar with a noticeboard outside. Most of the listings were mundane requests and adverts for various services, and the rewards were in a currency he’d never heard of.

It took him a month on the planet to earn enough cash to stop having to make the twenty click trek out to the Spark every night to sleep. He would have slept in a doorway in the town had he not witnessed on his very first evening what happened to people who were caught unprepared and exposed. The sight of the slender wings being yanked off a tiny creature with a scream powerful enough to rupture eardrums had stuck with him and he’d risked the local wildlife - largely dirty great lizards - and gritty wind-storms on a daily basis to avoid that.

His handler at The Agency kept contact to an absolute minimum, except to update him periodically on the investigation that the Red Flame was still conducting and to tell him to stay holed up there. Boxed in with nothing to do, Tarann became irritable and jumpy. It wasn’t that he was itching for the next kill - he didn’t do his job for that - but the constant vigilance and insecurity of taking short, messy, shitty jobs here and there was waring him down, so when some jackass in the bar made a comment about that ‘four-eyed hill varanus over there’, he snapped. He’d encountered a hill varanus on one of his long treks back to where the Spark was still stashed out of sight in the canyon, and the enormous lizard had been curled up beside a large boulder, minding its own business until it decided to make Tarann’s sensitive inner calf its business with a maw full of teeth coated in thick poisonous saliva.

He’d been hallucinating by the time he’d managed to get back to the Spark - miraculously without dropping off the ledge and plummeting to the bottom of the canyon - and his body had been rippling through every colour in the known universe, and maybe even a few more, before he’d finally stuck a huge needle full of universal antidote into his left heart. It had taken him a whole day to recover enough to leave the ship.

Being compared to a hill varanus then - yes, his skin had the same gnarled texture as a number of reptiles found all over the galaxy, and yes, his saliva was also poisonous to a huge number of species - had suddenly broken all his carefully constructed control and he’d lunged at the large, slug-like creature, all four hands going around the thinnest point of its neck and squeezing until its eyes bulged.

“Oi!” a relatively high-pitched shout went up from behind the bar and a moment later a short blast of sound shot through the room and everyone cringed. The high-frequency noise made his insides crawl and he let go of the offending creature and staggered back a pace, toes splaying to try and steady himself. His skin flushed a sickly green before he could stop it.

Tarann turned his head and saw that the sound had emanated from a small, hand-held speaker which had been plonked down onto the surface of the bar. Behind it, wielding control of the button on the top of the speaker was - and he could have sworn that he felt his right heart lurch a little in his chest at the sight of them - a human. They had a blaster in their left hand and looked prepared to use it, if not necessarily formally trained. Their stance was pretty shoddy, but the distance of only a few spans between them more than made up for that. If the human fired, Tarann would die for sure.

“No fighting in my bar,” they said, voice stern and steady. “You got an issue with someone, you take it waaaay outside, am I clear?”

Both Tarann and the slug-thing nodded and he decided he needed another drink.

Approaching the human while they still held the weapon was probably not a wise move, but when he leaned his lower arms on the counter, his upper pair hanging loose and relaxed at his sides, Tarann saw a smile on their lips. “You must be new,” they grinned amicably, reaching below the counter to stash the blaster and pulling out a glass in its place. They then turned behind them to fill it up. “Haven’t seen any Tch’larians in here for a long time.”

He liked the way the human almost got the click at the start of the word but not quite. Some humans were known for their incredible mimicry skills, but this one clearly wasn’t as proficient. He also had no idea how to address a human after they’d just threatened his life, so he settled for a curt nod.

“And you’re about as chatty as the last one. Whatever that bit of pond slime over there -” they gestured with a bottle of distilled alcohol at the creature who’d insulted him “- said to you, just ignore them. They’re… a regular in here, but they don’t have many friends, if you catch my drift.”

“I wonder why,” he said flatly.

“It speaks!” the human chuckled. “And you’re fluent in sarcasm as well as Federation Common. Here, on the house.” And a small glass was shunted his way, sloshing with a clear, ruby red liquid. “You’ll like it. It’s a kind of brandy made with a fruit that grows in the mines. At least, the last Tch’larian I knew liked it. I could be grossly stereotyping an entire race based on one data point. Still, free booze…?”

“You talk a lot,” he said before sipping it. It burned his neon blue tongue pleasantly and then left a sweet aroma in his mouth that went up into his nasal cavity, leaving him with the impression he might breathe fire if he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah, well, you don’t, so… one of us has to balance the equation.” After a beat they added, “I’m Lex.” They held out their hand over the bar counter and Tarann vaguely remembered something about touch not being a taboo for humans. Not that it was taboo for Tch’larians either, but with so many people mingling under the Federation’s relatively peaceful protection in the past few centuries, it was still easy to offend someone inadvertently.

He noted the strength in the human’s hand as he slid his own three fingers into the grasp, and smiled at how smooth their skin was. Their hair was cut short at one side and had been left to flop a little longer at the top of their head, and he’d always wondered what a human’s hair would feel like beneath the pads of his sensitive fingers. Agent Luna hadn’t exactly been the type to let him try. He’d known that Agent Luna was female, but he had no idea what this human went by, and he was unfamiliar with human naming conventions, so that gave him no clue either.

Eventually he realised that he hadn’t told them his name, and murmured, “Tarann.” It seemed fairly safe out here, and most of the people who might want revenge on him for his line of work knew him as Triskelion anyway.

“Where are you staying?” Lex asked as they got back to work, keeping their head turned towards him a little so that he could still talk to them while they polished glasses and took orders from the odd patron.

“Out of town,” he said.

Lex paused halfway through pouring a bottle of something frothy and blue into a glass the size of a small bucket. “There’s nothing out of town…”

“My ship’s out there. Dead in the water, as it were,” he offered, taking another sip of his brandy. “This is excellent, by the way…”

His compliment was met with a grin, but the gesture quickly faded. “You’re not seriously sleeping in your dead ship out in the hills, are you?” they asked.

“Why would that be a problem?”

“You’re lucky the scavengers haven’t found you and stripped your ship - and you - bare…”

He tilted his head and blinked his four golden eyes at them. “I haven’t seen any sign of anyone out there except me. And the odd varanus…”

Lex winced dramatically. “Nasty fuckers those…”

Tarann nodded, rolling his right ankle. “Indeed.”

After a pause, Lex looked like they were about to say something, but the crash of glass on the other side of the room stopped them. “Shit, not those two again,” they hissed, and Tarann looked around just as a fight broke out for real this time.

They grabbed the blaster he’d seen before and the little speaker that emitted the unpleasant noise, and strode off around the bar, ignoring him completely where he sat. He had eased his lean, muscular frame onto a bar stool to take the weight off his frankly rather bruised and sore feet. The unpleasant sound seemed to do nothing for these two as they scrapped - all arms and teeth and roars, and even when Lex shot a quick, low-energy blast into the stone floor beside one of their feet, they didn’t break it up.

He should stay out of it. The human had guts, for sure, but the two creatures that were fighting were large and aggressive, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. A stray flail of the tip of one of their tails caught Lex in the face and they staggered back, yelling and spitting curses.

Making his mind up, he slid off the stool and approached the brawling patrons. Grabbing the nearest one by the scruff of their reptilian neck, he yanked hard and backed towards the doors of the bar, clearly catching them completely by surprise. Top thugs never expected to be bested by anyone, and it gave him a good few minutes of stunned compliance. Tossing them out onto the street with a snarl of his own seemed to sober that one up a mite, and a second later the other creature was booted out of the door with another curse, leaving Lex framed in the open doorway, blaster raised, face slightly bruised and utterly thunderous.

Something happened then in Tarann’s body that he was not expecting. A sharp, unfamiliar pang of arousal shot down his spine and fanned out through his entire nervous system. He shivered, a low-frequency rumble escaping him without permission. There was something about seeing a creature that should have been vulnerable in this situation - could have been crushed - standing there with a bruised face and blazing eyes, staring down two enormous beings three times their size, that made him hot all over. It was like mating season, or at least, his vague recollection of it from a brief talk at the Facility to explain that none of them would ever experience any of that because they had essentially had it edited out of their DNA. He’d escaped the Facility and joined the Agency and had never experienced the slightest tinge of lust since a brief flare in his teens. He bit those memories down and looked back at Lex.

“Thanks,” they grinned as the two brawlers separated and headed off in opposite directions down the street, yelling curses over their shoulders in their various languages. “How’d you feel about another brandy?”

He nodded and followed them back inside, watching the way their legs moved - their legs hinged forwards at the knee, which was intoxicatingly the opposite way to his own, their hips swaying rather alluringly.

“Listen,” Lex said as Tarann closed his fingers around his second glass of fiery brandy that evening. “If you’d like somewhere to stay, I’ve got a job opening here for a bouncer. The last girl I had got into trouble with some bounty hunter and had to scarper, but it comes with the offer of a room, use of the kitchen out the back, and a steady pay. It’s not great, but if I get tips, I’ll share them with you.”

Tarann blinked. “You can’t be serious…”

“Why not?” Lex shrugged, refilling a container with a viscous, silvery sauce that crackled softly as it sank into the jar.

Barely suppressing a shudder at the offending liquid, he made a mental note to avoid that at all costs, whatever the fuck it was supposed to be or go with.

Lex caught him staring sidelong at the fluid and laughed. “One of a small number of things on the menu that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone except a hazmat droid, or an Efulgari bombardier -” they added nodding across the room to where a frankly enormous creature sat waiting patiently, presumably for the bucket of viscous gloop in Lex’s hands. “Now, do you have to get back to your ship tonight, or do you want to stay here and think it over? You can let me know what you decide in the morning.”

He scowled softly; wary and distrustful. “You’d just let me stay?”

Lex shrugged again. “You’ve already earned your keep for tonight,” they grinned, revealing hopelessly small teeth. How could they hope to defend themselves with those? His own, by comparison, were two rows of viciously pointed fangs that could rip open the jugular of most of the known species that didn’t have exoskeletons, and even some that did.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll think it over.”

Lex left him in peace after that for an hour or so, but when the patrons began to trickle out into the night, they returned to him and asked, “Want to head up to your room?”

He nodded silently, and followed Lex through a door behind the bar and upstairs.

“That’s my room,” Lex said, nodding at a door with peeling teal paint which stood ajar on his right. “And this is yours. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable and I kept it pretty clean. There might be just a little bit of dust…”

Again, Tarann just nodded his understanding and set his small pack down gently beside the bed. The room was indeed humble, but that wasn’t an issue. He didn’t have many belongings anyway; just Menot in their portable device and some clothes and local coin. “It’s fine,” he said, turning round to find Lex leaning against the door frame in a way that spoke of casual trust and again made his skin flush hot. Embarrassed, he looked away, but Lex didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps they didn’t notice.

“Kitchen is downstairs - it’s the only other door than the one that leads to the bar. You can’t miss it. Help yourself. See you tomorrow, I guess?” they smiled, running a hand through their hair and messing it all up in a way that did nothing to help the rising temperature of his skin or the syncopated lurching of his twin hearts in his chest.

With a final nod from Tarann, Lex left him for the night.

He heard them closing up about an hour later, and then caught the steady tread of their footsteps on the metal stairs, the squeak and click of their door, the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and, another few moments later, the gush of hot water. In the corner of his own room was a sink, so he splashed the dust and grime off his face and decided to ask about a shower in the morning.

The rhythm of his life for the next few weeks was considerably easier than the first had been. Menot kept him abreast of activity both regarding his ship - nothing, mercifully - and the Agency. After three weeks working for Lex, the two had become the very thing he had always shied away from. Assassins don’t form attachments; they don’t form friends. Do the job, get out cleanly, and move on. That was how he lived, and yet, the regular ebb and flow of patrons - most of them familiar by now, a few of them new - and the easy manner of the ballsy human who ran the place lulled him quietly into a new life.

He constantly tried to remind himself that it was a borrowed life; a cover, almost. This cosy existence with its easy repartee between them and the comfort of a soft bed and regular meals was not his to keep, and he would have to shrug it off the moment that he was given the all-clear.

One evening, seemingly at random, Lex closed up early.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked as Lex politely shooed the last drunken creature out of the door and locked it behind her six scuttling legs. “What’s going on?” His natural instincts set him suddenly on edge all over again, perhaps because he’d grown so complacent of late. He didn’t like changes to patterns. It had taken him a little while to relax into this one, and even then, he didn’t exactly ease up on the vigilance.

Lex grinned at him like they’d won some kind of cash-prize, hands balled into fists at their hips, and announced, “It’s my birthday.”

He frowned. “What… What does that mean? You’re… You’re giving birth?” He looked at Lex’ body and couldn’t see any indication that they were carrying some form of offspring.

Lex gave a huge snort and bent nearly double laughing.

“Apparently not,” Tarann mumbled. “Apologies.”

“No,” Lex waved, straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s… that just… caught me off guard. No, I’m not giving birth to anything today or ever. It’s…” and then they fell quiet, almost sad, and said, “You really don’t know what a birthday is?”

He shook his head, feeling unsettled.

“Huh,” they mused. “Well, simply put, it’s a celebration of the day I was born. Back on Earth, we celebrate them roughly every 365 days because that’s one complete orbital cycle of our planet around our Sun. Roughly. Give or take a decimal point or two…”

They stared at him and he grew even more uncomfortable. Birthdays were not something celebrated at the Facility where he’d been… raised. The old scar in his neck where their implant had been throbbed and his skin changed colour quietly from grey to a dark blue.

Lex took a step closer and placed their fingertips on his upper forearm. It wasn’t the first time Lex had touched him, but it was the first touch like that; gentle, careful, concerned. “What does that mean?” Lex asked softly.

Tarann wanted to run, but instead he forced himself to ask, “What does what mean?”

“That colour change? I’ve worked out a few already. You go a kind of bright blue when you’re super embarrassed, but I’ve not seen you turn that colour before…”

“You noticed,” he said with a half-smirk, revealing all his dangerous teeth behind his thin lips.

Lex twitched a shoulder but didn’t let go of his arm. “It’s hard not to notice you,” they said voice shifting lower in pitch. “I love watching your skin change. You know, it reminds me of these old antique lamps back on Earth… they’re called ‘lava lamps’ but they’re not actually made of lava. It’s wax or something. Anyway, when you turn them on, they get hot, and the wax inside floats to the top of the liquid in a blob, and when it cools down a bit, it sinks down again. They’re super old and rare now, but some of them change colour slowly, and it’s kind of hypnotic. I remember going to a museum and staring at one for ages. It’s like that with your skin.”

They circled their thumb over a small area of his arm and he shuddered.

“I think it’s beautiful…” And then Lex’ skin flushed and he caught the way their pulse throbbed in their neck, the veins and arteries so close to the surface as to be impractically vulnerable, but they didn’t seem to want to protect it with armour. “Anyway,” they blurted, releasing him so quickly that he actually swayed a bit at the loss of contact, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. What was I saying?”

“It’s your birthday,” he croaked after a pause.

“Yeah, so, uh… I figured maybe we could do something? There’s an Earth recipe involving pasta that I’ve finally managed to get all the ingredients for and I wanna make it. You game?”

“Game?”

“You want to help me?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Lex deflated a little. “You can take the night off if you’d rather.”

“No,” he said firmly. It never hurt to add to his knowledge.

“Ok then,” they smiled, and he caught the way their shoulders dropped a little, the muscles relaxing again. He’d answered correctly.

In fact, the meal ended up tasting alright. Human food seemed strange to him, and perhaps a little bland, but after the protein blocks he’d been raised on, anything tasted alright compared to those. What really made his evening was Lex’ obvious enjoyment. Their eyes were sparkling and alive, like jewels, and they laughed a lot.

They also made some significant inroads into the fiery brandy afterwards, and ended up slumped against Tarann’s left shoulders, smiling softly and running their fingertips over the slight, flattened bumps in his skin along his forearms.

“I can’t believe you have four arms,” they said, their voice slurred and their eyes vague.

Tarann, who wasn’t drunk, shifted slightly and jostled them. They snuggled up again immediately in a new position which forced him to put both his arms around their shoulders as they lay against this chest this time, and giggled. “Why not?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure what else to ask. They were beautiful and strong and tough at work in the bar and during the day, but he got to see a different side before and after work. The fatigue, the loneliness, the gentle-heartedness was never on show for the patrons of their scruffy, homely bar, but for him, they showed all that and more. Now, unwinding even further as the alcohol took effect, Lex became even more talkative than usual, which was saying something.

“Because you’ve got four!” they exclaimed, as if it was blindingly obvious. “And four eyes. I like your eyes. They’re like crocodile eyes.”

Tarann had no idea what a crocodile was and wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not.

“And you said you’ve got two hearts?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, feeling brave and bringing his lower hand to rest quietly on Lex’s stomach as it rose and fell. Their body was warmer than his and he liked the tingling that ran across his skin at the touch.

Lex fell surprisingly silent for a while, their fingertips still trailing idle lines along his skin, until they looked up into his face from their slouched position - now with their head in his lap - and asked, “What did you do before you came here?”

Faced with the utterly open honesty in those deep eyes, he found himself suddenly unwilling to lie or even bend the truth. “I was a contract killer. I am still a contract killer. I’m just… lying low for a while.”

Lex blinked. “That explains it,” they muttered, eyes turning back to his arms.

They hadn’t even flinched at the revelation, which set a different prickling running across his nerves. “Explains what?”

“The way you watch people. You don’t see people though, do you. You see soft bits and armoured bits, dangerous bits and weak bits. You see exits from a room and weapons where there shouldn’t be any…”

Inhaling softly, he nodded. “Yes. Does that bother you?”

They shook their head. “No. But it makes me sad.”

“Why?”

“Because you… you haven’t really lived… have you?”

“I don’t understand.”

Lex lurched to sit upright then, dislodging Tarann’s hands from their stomach and swivelling to face him, their eyes now blazing with intensity. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you react when I touch you?”

The leap from ‘not living’ to ‘reaction to being touched’ was too great a one for him to follow and he narrowed his golden eyes in confusion.

Lex’s face softened and they climbed awkwardly into his lap, swaying slightly. The sudden, warm weight of their body so close to his own stole his breath for a moment and he felt his skin change from grey to acid blue to a dull pink and finally back to grey in the space of a few heartbeats. “See?” they murmured, rolling their hips invitingly and smiling as a low-frequency mating rumble left him before he had realised what he was doing. “You come alive beneath that touch…”

“I…” he began but stopped when he realised he had no idea what he was going to say. It was perfectly true. He did feel utterly different when Lex was touching him. “I’ve never… There’s never been any need.”

“What do you mean?” they asked, placing their hands on his chest, one over each thudding heart.

Tarann became almost painfully aware of his rasping breathing, the way his body was heating up, the stuttering rhythm of his hearts, the tingling in his groin that he’d never bothered to explore, even alone… “I was created to become a weapon. I was incubated and hatched in a facility which created weapons. They sterilised us before we were even born.”

Lex did look shocked at that. “Fuck… that’s… that’s so heartless… But even so, I can’t have kids, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to get my dick wet from time to time…”

Tarann, again, didn’t understand. Lex was speaking Federation Common, but the nuances that the human put into their words were frequently lost on him.

Seeing his confusion, Lex laughed, rolled their hips again, and this time Tarann noticed something a little different at the front of their pants, a hardness that hadn’t been there - or hadn’t been as prominent - a few minutes earlier. “I still like to have sex,” they grinned.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to have sex though,” they went on. “I’m just saying, it’s ok to let someone close. And to enjoy that. However you want to.”

“Oh.”

Lex laughed and tipped their head back a little, looking free and relaxed again now that Tarann’s confusion had been cleared up. Being unsteady with alcohol, however, they kept tipping back until Tarann was forced to grab them with both sets of hands to stop them toppling off; one pair around the waist and another around the arms.

“Steady,” he smiled. “I think maybe you should have some water. And head up to bed.”

“You’re probably right. I had a good birthday though,” they added, gently peeling the three fingers of Tarann’s lower right hand off their waist and bringing it up to their lips. The gesture they left there Tarann knew was called a kiss. Humans weren’t unique among lifeforms in nuzzling intimate parts of their anatomy against the other’s, but the strangeness of it for his species held an instant fascination. How could their lips be so soft? How could he never have done that? How could he never have wanted to share this kind of experience with anyone before?

And before he could stop it, his skin flushed a deep maroon all over like a drop of ink on wet paper, splotched here and there with dark purple. He knew what that meant for his species, and the sight of his own skin changing to the colours of an individual receptive to mating made him freeze.

“Well,” Lex chortled amusedly. Apparently they knew what it meant as well.

“No,” he said immediately, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was he was rejecting.

With a knowing but slightly melancholic smile, Lex clambered out of his lap and stood up. “Night, Tarann,” they said as they walked away. Their hands brushed against the door frame as they left the bar, and he stared at the spot where their fingers graced the woodwork even as their footsteps vanished up the stairs.

His skin did not change back that night, no matter how much he willed it to change. Half an hour later, as he lay in his bed, the sounds of Lex pleasuring themselves reached his acutely sensitive ears. The tiny, muffled moans and grunts that left their body set his skin aflame all over again. He moved one hand cautiously, experimentally down his torso to the slit where, to his astonishment, he was slick and sensitive. He gasped at the touch, and the three delicate, tentacle-like cocks which normally never left the sheath began to unfurl almost curiously into his hand.

Ordinarily, this might have repulsed him, but the sound of Lex gasping and the slick sounds that accompanied the moans, made the tentacles of his genitalia coil demandingly around his fingers. He knew almost nothing about his own species’ reproductive habits because he knew he would never need them. ‘You will never be a breeder,’ they had said when he’d hit sexual maturity - the first time he’d even bothered to explore his body, and, until that night, the last - and that had been that.

Sparks of pleasure shot through his whole body and he began to croon, the sound deep in his throat, rumbling and vibrating like an idling engine, filling the room. He couldn’t stop it. Balling his fingers into a fist, he felt his three pale cocks coil around it instinctively, and he began to kneed exploratively at the inside of the flower-shape they made around his hand, a thin, extremely sensitive membrane stretching between them from the root to about a third of the way down. The pleasure that that elicited made his back arch of the bed and his toes scrunched up the sheets as he lifted his hips too, pressing harder at the centre of the three smooth, increasingly slick tentacles.

Forcing himself to focus back on the sounds of Lex as they apparently approached their climax, he felt a wall of heat building in him. Something was approaching, and he let it sweep over him until the three tentacles surrounding his balled-up fist pulsed, gripping his hand tight as a vice, and warm fluid spurted from their centre over his clenched fingers in a series of messy gushes. His vision went white, his body went rigid, and his mind went completely blank.

Tarann floated in a blissful haze for a long time before he could even bring himself to move, his cocks too sensitive, his hand covered in sticky, slick release, but eventually his cocks retreated back into the sheath in his lower abdomen and he felt able to sit up. His hand was a mess, his lower body too, and when he tried to stand, his muscles felt shaky and weak, as though he’d run the training simulation at the facility for an entire day without breaks.

With his skin so sensitive that it was hard to fall asleep that night. Lex must have finished during his own orgasm because he never heard another noise from their room that night. Shame curled in to replace the pleasure as he realised that he’d eavesdropped on something that was private and not meant for his hearing, and in the morning, he could barely look Lex in the eye as he entered the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Lex, however, smiled warmly. The effects of the alcohol the previous night seemed only to have made their voice drop a little and their reactions were groggy and slower. “I think I'm going to keep the bar closed today,” they announced as they poured themselves a hot drink. “You’re not hungover at all, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “It takes more than that to get me drunk, let alone hungover.” ‘Hungover’ was a term he’d only learned since working for Lex.

“So…” Lex asked a little while later as they cooked breakfast for the two of them the hob. “If you’re only here to lie low for a while, do you know how long you’ll actually be here?”

“No.” Apparently Lex hadn’t been so drunk that they didn’t remember their conversation last night. He paused and added, “But the last transmission the Agency sent me indicated that the people who were looking into the disturbance after my last contract were no longer investigating.”

“So… not long then.”

“Probably.”

Lex poked at the pan with a wooden spatula and sighed.

“Why do you ask?”

He could see the way Lex’s jaw worked from side to side for a moment and recognised it as one of their tells. They were upset. “You think you’ll miss me when you leave?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “You’ve been extremely generous to me when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Right.”

Tarann knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately, but none of his intense training had prepared him for this kind of situation. He backtracked through the conversation, searching for something he could have said differently, something he could have handled better. Lost, he asked falteringly, “Will… you miss me? Is that what this is about?”

Lex nodded without turning around. “Yeah,” they said, voice cracking slightly. They cleared their throat and poked at breakfast again. It smelled ready but they didn’t seem ready to turn around.

Tarann stepped closer, his feet silent on the stone floor, and placed his hands boldly on Lex’ hips. The human immediately eased and leaned back, resting their weight against his body, though their head barely came midway up his chest. Taking the opportunity at last and sensing it would be welcome, Tarann brought his hand up and stroked his fingers gingerly through Lex’ hair. It was every bit as soft as he’d thought it would be, and he watched his skin change colour beneath the strands as they brushed over his fingers. Lex moaned quietly.

When he lowered his hand and Lex saw the maroon fading back to grey, they smiled and turned around, switching the hob off as they did. They put their own hands on his chest and he ached suddenly to have nothing separating them; to remove his close-fitting space-suit top and Lex’ loose-fitting shirt. As Lex slid one palm tentatively up to his neck, he felt the touch in a wave of heat and closed his eyes. His fingers tightened on Lex’ hips and Lex moaned softly.

“I want you,” Lex murmured. “I thought about you last night.”

Tarann opened his eyes a crack and blinked softly. “I heard you,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Lex laughed, looking part bashful and part turned on. “What did you do when you heard me?”

“I…” he flushed neon blue and stepped back, ashamed.

“Hey,” they breathed, chasing after him. “It’s alright. It’s… really hot that you did that while thinking about me.”

“You don’t mind?”

They shook their head. “If you wanted to try together…”

That mating call thundered through him and he lowered his forehead, bringing it to touch Lex’.

“That a yes?”

“What about breakfast?”

“I overcooked it all already,” they laughed. “It’s ruined.”

Grabbing his hand, they tugged him out of the kitchen and back upstairs to their room.

They shed their clothes in a tangle, and once again Tarann was left staggered and enchanted by the human’s body. This time it was the sheer vulnerability of it. He could also see their arousal plainly - there was no sheath to tease - and something about that made his own sheath throb so hard he let out another mating croon.

“Fuck, that sound is so hot,” Lex gasped, lying back on the bed and tugging him down atop them. “Look at you,” they added, running their fingers down his heaving chest and playing with his sheath as he collapsed atop them. “I’ve always found Tch’larians attractive, but you… the way you move, the way you shudder when I touch you, the way you fucking croon like that…” He did it again - entirely involuntarily - as Lex crooked two fingers and delved carefully into his sheath, catching the inner walls of his three cocks inside and making them unfurl even quicker than they had last night.

They wrapped around Lex’ fingers and Lex moaned. “I want those on my cock… please…” they gasped, and Tarann felt like he might die if he didn’t do as Lex asked. His body was so tight all over, his skin flushing from dusky pink to dark magenta with every deep, sonorous groan that escaped him.

With one leg on each side of Lex’ thighs, he lowered his hips down until they were touching, and his cocks immediately curled around Lex’ own hard cock, covering it in weeping, slick fluid. Lex let out a string of curses and flung their head back into the bed beneath them, rutting their hips up into Tarann’s grip. The pressure of the tip of their cock against the point where the three cocks joined inside him made him growl with pleasure, his maw full of teeth opening, his saliva starting to fill his mouth, bright blue tongue lashing behind them.

“You know…?” Lex panted, thrusting up into the wet heat of the grip that his tentacle cocks had around theirs.

“Know what?” he snarled back, shaking from the effort of holding himself upright over Lex.

Lex reached up to his face with a fingertip and trailed it around his drooling mouth before putting it in his own and sucking. The sight of it sent Tarann into a fury of lust for some reason, and only then did he recall that his saliva was poisonous to many species. Before he could warn Lex, the human grinned and their eyes went wide, pupils blown until their irises were a mere whisper of colour. Apparently he wasn't poisonous to humans. Quite the contrary if the way Lex fucked upwards into his body and filled him with sparking pleasure with each thrust was anything to go by.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Lex hissed, and Tarann felt his cocks contract around the hard length inside him.

He didn’t have the breath or the words to agree.

“I’m… I -” Lex cried out, and suddenly heat flooded the inside of Tarann’s sheath and he felt his own cocks clench and pulse rhythmically around Lex’ cock as he came too. He drew every drop from Lex that they had inside them as his own orgasm rolled through him and left him mute, panting, and thrumming all over.

“Fuck that was intense,” Lex chuckled some while later, when Tarann’s cocks had finally let go of their own softening cock. “Are you ok?”

“Mmm,” he rumbled from his new position, slumped on the bed beside Lex, his trio of cocks lying limply across his torso, splayed out and spent and utterly sensitive.

Lex sat up, heedless that their own body was covered in their combined release, and trailed their fingers down Tarann’s torso towards his still pulsing sheath. “Can I?” they asked.

Tarann didn’t reply but he responded with a shrug. He had no idea what Lex intended, but he trusted them. What Lex did was to lean forwards and take one of his cocks into his mouth and suck on it gently. Tarann’s whole body lurched and he bellowed at the sheer volume of the sensation as it thundered in his head and under his skin all over again.

“Too much?” Lex laughed.

“No?” he gasped, trying to steady his spinning head and suddenly racing hearts. “No. Definitely not too much. Just…”

“Intense?” Lex supplied.

“Do it again?”

Lex did.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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#alien #male alien #alien x human #exophilia #alien boyfriend #monster boyfriend #non binary character #non binary human

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staranon95 · 3 years

Text

dincobb blade runner au

okay i got some nice likes on my post from last night, and i finally have some time to draw out my thoughts.

this is going to be heavily inspired by Blade Runner 2049 so yes i will be taking multiple elements from that movie, its story, its themes and characters but with my own special twist.

Din

he is a nexus-9 replicant (styled after Officer K) and works for the LAPD as a blade runner, tasked with hunting down older replicant models (nexus-8 units)

he reports to Lieutenant Bo-Katan; their relationship is a very tense one to say the least. the big part of nexux-9 models is that obedience is hardwired into their genetic makeup, so Din is Bo-Katan's obedient little blade runner, dispatched to the harder jobs that humans can't do because replicants don't matter right?

as part of the replicant build, replicants are given false memories upon their conception since they're formed as fully adult, fully human, you need to have something rattling around in there to kickstart their brain

Din has a named. Din Djarin, but this sets himself apart from other replicants the LAPD has employed in the past. because none of them previously asserted that they had a name. but it's almost automatic for when people introduce themselves to him that he responds with Officer Djarin. it's like a reflex.

as part of Din's memories, he knows they're false. but some of them are so starkly vivid like the image of a child calling him 'papa' reaching up with their arms at him, smiling wide which is weird isn't it? replicants can't reproduce but why does Din always feel struck with the desire that he lost something? that he had to say goodbye to a child? he never mentions this to anyone, not even Bo-Katan, because they don't matter right? they're false. right?

one of the big memories Din has is of this Child. he's slipping a necklace around their neck and saying 'i'll come find you' and he doesn't know why but he's so driven by the urge to find this Child. but he doesn't know where to begin and he can't go against Bo-Katan. he can't disobey

Cobb

Cobb is a nexus-8 model, but he's an aberrant variant of the line in that he's an outlier from the model. he's not as big, not as strong, but still as deadly, and when originally created, he was used for infiltration and surveillance against rebels, uprisings and so on. it's easy for him to blend into the situation at hand. he's highly charismatic which makes him so dangerous. eventually he broke free of those who controlled him and became a rebel figure among the underground replicant freedom movement

as an aberrant nexus-8, Cobb is wanted by a lot of people, the most important person being Moff Gideon, CEO of Gideon Corporation. the GC revived the replicant production after the nexus-8 models rebelled in a bloody war that led to many governments declaring replicants illegal. Gideon wants Cobb because he shouldn't technically exist. it's like he's a mutation, so Gideon pulls his strings with the LAPD to have their blade runner Din sent to find Cobb

now Cobb established himself as a rebellious figure back in the day during the Blackout (canon for the time when all digital devices just stopped working. good times!). one time, however, he did get caught by a human militia. the militia wanted money from his capture, so while they were negotiating with the authorities, they had him stashed away in one of the many bleak recycling operations, chained down and forced to work while his fate was decided.

(2049 is a bleak world and includes child labour. bad times all around)

so while Cobb is chained in place, he comes to know this Child, this special Child with a unique necklace, and he talks to the child (he always talks. he's Cobb) and they build a relationship and Cobb realizes how special this Child is

eventually Cobb is broken out of his interim prison, but before he goes, he makes sure the Child is taken with him, and he makes sure the necklace is left behind so that people assume the Child died here

The Child (it's grogu lol)

The Child is seemingly human, but actually born of a replicant. they are an impossibility and the symbol of a replicant revolution. they can control themselves. they can be free from the human worlds because they were built to survive.

rumors of a replicant child break out and of course Gideon also wants this child for his own purposes. to study. to understand.

later on in the story, we learn that the Child's father (idk who this is yet) had their memories taken and implanted in a nexus-9 model, and that this nexus-9 would become the Child's sworn guardian, but he needs to recognize that drive on his own. he needs to break from the rules that keep him rooted to the humans he works for. that's a journey he needs to take

The Story

Din learns of the Child's potential existence when he happens upon a crime scene. a human possibly killed by a replicant. he's sent to investigate and finds a shallow grave on the property. the bones belonged to a replicant, but it's clear they had been pregnant based on old marks on the bones.

He learns form the crime scene that this human was in contact with known rebel Cobb Vanth based on a photo he finds stashed away along with the body, so the LAPD figure Cobb returned to tie up some loose ends, that he's essentially reemerged and Din is being tasked to bring him in

Din is contacted by Gideon to speak about Cobb's whereabouts, what Gideon knows about Cobb's history, and that Gideon knows about the rumour. that a replicant child lives and that Din will be well compensated if he manages to bring the Child to Gideon

Din follows Cobb's past, learns of who he is, how he broke free of his intended purpose, and Din wonders quietly to himself what that's like? what is it like to be free of human control? to be his own person?

he comes to the recycling plant where Cobb was once held and does some digging on the premises, coming to know the story of how Cobb escaped. he finds the necklace from his memories and realizes his memories can't be fake. otherwise why would this be here? so he digs through the plant's records of all the children who've worked here and finds his name in the ledger. Djarin.

following a series of cryptic clues, Din realizes that Cobb is hiding in the wasteland of Las Vegas, a place that's inhabitable by human standard, but not to replicants. so he goes there. Cobb and Din meet for the first time and duke it out until Din says he knows about the Child and that stops Cobb from nearly killing him.

they talk. Cobb feels sympathetic for Din because he knows how hard nexus-9s have it. to be obedient on that level? how hard must it be for him to be here? but then he realizes that someone must've planted those false memories in Din for a reason. this is where Cobb and Din really connect to each other. how much Cobb wants to show Din he's worthy of a life outside of his purpose. and how much Din realizes he wants to follow Cobb wherever he goes.

surprise attack! Gideon's forces locate the both of them. Din is incapacitated and Cobb is captured. Din is left for dead.

Din is later found by Boba and Fennec, replicant leaders of the underground movement. they patch him up and ask him where his loyalties lie i imagine at this point Cobb has told them of Din's emergence and that he has implanted memories, that he's meant to be the Child's guardian. and Din has to make a choice here. he has to choose to be his own person and fully go rogue. so he swears that he'll rescue Cobb since Cobb actually knows where the Child is hidden

Din goes after Cobb and rescues him from Gideon's clutches. they run and Din realizes how much he actually cares for Cobb. and he doesn't know if he's built to feel love, but he imagines this is what it must feel like. that rush of relief when he sees Cobb is okay, touching him and pulling him along.

Cobb takes Din to the location where the Child is, and Din is struck with all these memories. holding the Child when they were just born. seeing the Child take their first steps, their first words. calling him 'papa'. having to say goodbye to the Child. leaving them forever. and he knows they're not technically his. but they real and they feel like they're his.

so that's how Din and Cobb become parents to their replicant son

#dincobb #cobb vanth #din djarin #mandalorian #star song #blade runner au #i could go on about this #but i think i've said enough lol

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kotoplasm · 3 years

Text

liabilities in assets

summary: your grandmother at the time said you were a child who enjoyed the little details of life: listening to the fables she told you as you sat in her lap, soaking the information up like a sponge, avidly day-dreaming when you were supposed to be paying attention to classes and quoting random strings of dialogue to yourself from books you’ve either read previously or had a deep interest in. seven year olds wouldn’t know the difference between being cherished and being mocked. for you, the realisation didn’t hit until you got older.

twenty-four years of age didn’t treat you well.

there’s little patches of skin that have already started to crinkle; eye bags that you thought had disappeared had returned only to grow deeper and darker, the inability to avoid trauma. they were things you took caution of when you looked at yourself in a mirror.

some could handle themselves, inspecting certain parts of their body that made them them essentially.

and you were no different: at least you wished you wish you weren’t.

you’re still beautiful regardless.

you bet he thought you wanted to hear that. to feel a sense of hope that maybe the way you perceive is yourself isn’t the same way others do. maybe if you were feeling up for it, you would’ve smiled, appreciating his kind words and moving on.

but there’s something so haunting about mirrors - always showing you a reflection of yourself that you never want to see.

the door leading to the corridor outside suddenly swings open as you look back, only to see the nurse that has been taking care of you since the incident.

she didn’t look much older than you, probably still in her mid-twenties by the looks of it. mouse-brown hair that fell into a sleeked ponytail trailing down her back and a tiresome smile to match the disheveled look.

“good news. that bullet wound has started healing on its own so you won’t have to rely on the bandages for much longer,” she tells you, flicking through several sheets of paper. “but you won’t be able to leave here soon.”

so she did ask them.

you were grateful. perhaps there were still some people you could trust in this strange establishment.

“well i suppose that’s good news. will i be getting my own room at least?”

“i can’t say for sure, but i’ll definitely go and ask around. i only know as much as you do, so i apologise if i come off as rude.”

“it’s fine, honestly.”

she then tells you that if you need any more assistance, you can always find her in the room at the end of the corridor, probably the office with all the other members of staff on site.

sometimes you wonder whether your grandmother had been right all along. there were times when you’d blissfully ignore the problems occurring around you but that’s only because you never found any proper ways of dealing with them.

to you, death was inevitable. not even the body can keep up with the environment. seeing so much of it, so much blood was something that you’ve been forced to deal with - as your sister put it: there’s nothing you can do to make it disappear. just take a glance and move on.

“but how do you know we can’t do anything about it?” you remember asking, stepping quickly to match her fast pace.

“because we’re just children. it’s not our responsibility to change something that an adult has done. it’s always been like this.”

you remember frowning, a contorted frown twisting your features. “but weren’t those adults also children? and we’ll surely grow into those adults right?” was it really naivety? or were you just more observant than most children?

“just forget about it. you talk too much anyway.” her hand harshly grabs a hold of yours. somehow the action made you smile wearily despite how hard her nails pricked your skin.

whatever it was, it was something that made the greed in your father’s eyes grow more prominent with every fleeting glance you took at him.

the door opens a second time, this time revealing a redhead. a familiar redhead actually…

“hinata shoyo.”

he feels on edge when you say his name. something about it radiated hostility, which wasn’t surprising to say the least.

“erm, you haven’t seen mika around have you?”

you frown. you always do that, he notes.

“i think she was the one who was treating that wound you got? this tall with brownish hair?” he frantically illustrates his descriptions with hand gestures, all of which made no sense to you. however, it didn’t take much time before the person of interest walked through the doors, giving the pair of you a glance before settling her eyes on hinata.

“another gauze?” he nods and follows her to one of the beds, watching her get to work.

“i really don’t understand what goes through that idiot’s head -” she’s talking about miya again. “- like who in their right mind sends a rookie on a mission that could’ve been your last? hasn’t he learned anything since the last incident?”

she gestures for him to remove his shirt, revealing the already bleeding wound, soaking the cotton with a deep crimson.

you didn’t say much about it - mostly because you wanted mika to concentrate and not have other things disrupting what she was doing - but you could feel his eyes on you, carob pools of curiosity watching you from afar. if it had been any other person, perhaps you would’ve spoken up about it, not hesitating to show how it made you feel but something compelled you from doing so.

mika finishes after ten minutes, disposing the old gauze and cleaning her gloved hands.

“just make sure to let me know when it starts to soak through again.”

“yeah i’ll make sure to.” his chest rises and falls gently, sounds of his laugh reverberating through the room. it was calming.

after that, the room returns to its silence. you think you’ve finally got the room to yourself until you hear the scuffle of shoes on the ground. suddenly he’s just a meter away from you, taking a seat just not far from you.

“i’ve already told you that i don’t know anything. don’t you think it’s rude to interrogate someone who is still undergoing rehabilitation?”

“why did you lie earlier?”

“excuse me?”

“that evening, when you heard those gunshots, there was this look in your eyes.” his eyes remain on you, vigilant for any sort of response or reaction coming from you. “under any other circumstance, your first instinct would’ve been to run or hide. but instead you just stared - almost as if you’ve seen those people before.”

“it was just a shock that’s all. i didn’t think stuff like that was common in that area.”

“you’re not a very good liar.”

“what makes you say that?”

“you tend not make eye contact a lot whenever you do.”

“and what about it?”

“nothing really i guess. just ought to let you know.” he watches you frown again, one so deeply scorning your face.

“okay. so what makes you think that i’m lying about this then?”

“just a hunch, i guess.”

“just a hunch?”

“i think that’s what people call it.”

“i think that’s what people call it.” his hand cups the side of your cheek, thumb gently caressing it. “just stay vigilant okay?”

“you wouldn’t happen to know whether there were any survivors?” why were you asking that now of all times? it wasn’t like you could go find out by yourself anyway but you hated the way you sounded - so vulnerable and meek… it made you sick to your stomach.

he hesitates for a moment. he wasn’t that stupid as to tell you the answer. not when you sounded like that.

he was too kind to allow anyone to grieve when they were in such a bad state both physically and mentally. telling you might have delivered the final blow but perhaps showing you was the better option.

which is the exact reason why you found yourself at the mortuary, forced to take a look at all the black bags in the room sitting on top of silver operating tables.

“we’re still trying to find out who was behind it-”

“but wasn’t it you?”

“we only came to get you-”

“but if you never came, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. innocent people wouldn’t have gotten their lives taken from them if you hadn’t come that evening.”

you scour through some of the black bags, names of people who you either recognised or knew blurring your vision. it’s odd how you felt sorrow for those who you never had any interest in speaking to.

yakushi misaaki.

your grandmother’s voice rings in your mind once more. nausea builds up in your stomach. your throat feels ablaze.

perhaps you truly were too naive of what the world had to offer.

conclusion: the normal that miya spoke of hits hinata once again. he laughs dryly, looking up at the ceiling with a bittersweet smile. so this is what i have to get used to. he feels something wet cascade down his face. [1.5k]

#[ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔ ~ myworks]#haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo #haikyu x reader #tw; mentions of body insecurities/dysmorhpia

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

Text

June 25: 2x24 The Ultimate Computer

Belated notes on my watch of The Ultimate Computer yesterday.

Kirk’s definitely in Captain Mode today. You can tell when he’s on edge and suspicious and serious.

Yet another old Kirk friend. Does he know everyone in Starfleet?

War games lol. But it’s “not the military.”

Spock is super into this computer.

A-7 Computer Expert Certification.

The crew’s not needed? Wow, okay, this is going to end badly.

“This gadget.” How do you really feel, Kirk?

And there’s Spock literally making faces behind the Commodore’s back. He is soooo that type. He’s like “Jim, are you hearing this? Can you believe this guy?”

I’m insulted on Kirk’s behalf right now. Replacing people with machines so blithely is offensive.

Of course Bones doesn’t like it.

Oh yeah triumvirate walking scene. I love them. it takes so little for me to think ‘what badasses.’ S2 is really stepping up this dynamic in particular.

And Spock is comfortable enough around Bones to be sassy around him

Oh no, the computer is already glitching, and there is no backup and no plan B.... Bones is completely right in his assessment. This is essentially a Titanic situation: way too much hubris involved. Nothing can go wrong so nothing will go wrong so we’ve planned for nothing going wrong!

McCoy has BFF Clearance. He can go wherever he wants.

“It’s the M-5? What happened to Ms 1-4?” Channel #5.

Ahhhh little gratuitous touch to Spock’s arm. They’re In Love.

“There are certain things men must do to remain men.”

“The right computer finally came along.” Damn Bones.

Jim’s suspicions about the computer coming right after that line make it look like he’s jealous that Spock likes it so much.

He’s getting a “red alert right here.” Computers don’t have that kind of intuition.

Jim’s so thoughtful and self-aware. He really cares both about his instincts and about interrogating those instincts for bias and unreasonableness. This is giving me real S1 vibes: the quiet, intelligent, idealized hero Captain at the fore.

This whole scene is perfect, eminently quotable, and sounds exactly like something that could have been written about automation in 2021. You’re okay with it when it’s happening to someone else but then the computer comes for YOUR job....

Uh-h, M-5 is turning off all the lights...

Space merchant marines... good to know.

HOW are the Captain and CMO “non-essential personnel”? The first sign that M-5 is illogical. They should bring some doctor on the landing party mission given that uh humans are going on it and might get injured.

Anyway I can’t wait for Kirk to destroy this bitch and save the day.

Lol it turned off the lights on Bones in sickbay.

Damn, now it’s trying to take Uhura’s job too!

Chekov is so bored.

Spock wants to serve under one man and one man ONLY. Loyalty to one man... sounds like a wedding vow... and Kirk looks so soft...

So, if Spock has to describe to McCoy what that (unnecessary bitchy and catty) “Captain Dunsel” remark means, by saying that it’s a phrase that “midshipmen use at Starfleet Academy,” is this to imply Bones didn’t go to Starfleet Academy?

He’s never felt so at odds with the ship.... a lover’s quarrel...she’s cheating on him with another man...

Jim Kirk, certified Poetry Nerd. He’s such a romantic.

So glad Bones got him a drink so he can return to the bridge and a possible emergency with just a little bit of a buzz going.

Spock in the chair...

Huh, an automated ship with no crew. Interesting concept.

Oh no M-5! She’s got control of the ship and she won’t let go!

Kirk’s face when Enterprise attacks.. the betrayal... his beautiful lady used for mindless destruction.

“Only a robot” ship--! Bones is insulted.

Kirk orders the computer turned off but we’re only halfway through the ep so...

....And the computer is sentient now.

That was the shortest Captain’s Log ever. “The computer has taken over the ship the end.”

Scotty’s like, “...Well what if we just unplug it?”

Okay so now they only have 19 crew.

Spock and Bones are on point today. “Don’t say it’s fascinating.” / “I won’t. But it is... interesting.” This bitch knows exactly what he’s doing.

The computer isn’t a child, guys!

We need powerful computers “so men don’t have to die in space”--like uh that man your computer literally just killed?

I don’t get Daystrom’s logic at all. He talks as if people, like, needed to do work in space, to survive or something. We don’t need to. We want to! We want to go out and meet cool aliens! This guy is no fun.

What is the thing “greater” than fact finding in space that the robots are going to free us to do? Like what is more impressive than SPACE? I don’t even get that.

Time to mix up fake sci fi world-building references with real references! The Nobel and Zee-Magnee Prizes. Sitar of Vulcan.

A theory emerges... the computer acts illogically...Daystrom won’t let Spock near it... I know this isn’t where this is going, but it kind of sounds like they’re implying it’s a scam, lol. He sold an idea he didn’t have so it’s like.. not a real computer.

Spock’s little protege, Chekov.

“We have been pursuing a wild goose.” Aw, bb’s trying so hard to be colloquial. (Also he 100% learned that phrase from McCoy in The Gamesters of Triskellion and now he’s trying it out on Kirk...when McCoy isn’t around.)

“Not to offend you by using the h-word, but... could it be... human?”

Kirk’s really mad at Daystrom now.

The Commodore really set up that dramatic turn to camera there.

Poor Kirk. His ship is being used for evil.

“They can’t destroy the ship, what would happen to the computer?!” Yes, the computer. And the other 19 people and himself but mostly the computer. Daystrom really has lost it.

I love the actor who plays him, though.

“You are great. I am great.” Nothing weird happening here.

Spirk attack! (Spork it out.)

Spock’s way too sure Commodore Wesley is about to die. “He was decent, it’s a shame the ship I’m on is gonna kill him.”

And now another round of Kirk versus the computer and Kirk’s logic wins.

M-5 should argue that it did not commit murder, it committed homicide in self-defense. But then Daystrom didn’t program it with a lawyer’s brain.

It’s uh just gonna leave? Not turn the lights back on?

Kirk is so smart! I know I say this all the time, but it’s true! He knew what to do to save the ship because he knew Bob Wesley. He had formed connections, he had experience and knowledge that doesn’t come from logic. He is not replaceable!

McCoy’s like “Spock, fight me. Debate me Spock. Fight me. I’ll be fun.”

Spock HAS answered the computers versus humans question--he likes humans. He wants to be surrounded by humans.

That was really good! One of the better S2 episodes. Great Kirk, great triumvirate--as a trio and all three sides of the triangle--great sci fi concept, great guest star, great social commentary--still 100% relevant today.

i definitely have to think more about the ‘human computer’ concept. I liked that they specifically went out of their way to explain why the computer was human, how that was part of its design, and then tied that into its creator, his background, his belief system, and his insecurities. I feel like most ‘sentient computer’ or ‘advanced AI’ narratives just assume a computer that’s powerful enough will eventually be alive, which is not something I believe. The scariness of advanced AI to me is the incredible power it has to act quickly, but in a complete black-box way: you can’t literally see the logic string of its thought processes, and nor can you figure them out easily or completely using the creators’ intentions or logic because the machine has ‘learned’ since its inception, and its learning processes are not human. There is a real alienness to them that I find scary. And I do think this ep captured that nuance in M-5: it has the speed and abilities of a super computer, the “human” qualities of its creator for well-explained reasons, and the unpredictability of a mechanism that is NEITHER human nor human-controlled tool. And of course the ep’s ultimate thesis--that humans cannot be completely automated or replaced, and that we should not want to automate or replace humans--is comforting and of a morality I can and want to agree with.

This was also one of those eps that made me curious about the differences in AOS and TOS Kirk--in other words, an ep that relied on his history with Starfleet and his experience, on the reality that he’s a 34 year old man with 15+years of experience in the Fleet. Time, experience, connections, these aren’t things you can replace no matter how smart you are, and I feel like it would have been interesting to see AOS!Kirk deal with some situation that is trickier for him because he’s a Captain with a startlingly small amount of institutional experience. It’s not just about being young or generally inexperienced, in other words--it’s about NOT knowing every Captain, Admiral, and Commodore in the service, it’s about NOT having friends across the galaxy because he just hasn’t had time to make them. Even in deep space, that matters. And I think it’s something that I appreciate more as an adult myself, with actual real world experience of the importance of connections and experience and time, especially in sort of insular or smaller work communities.

Anyway, next is Bread and Circuses! Another great ep for the triumvirate. I can’t believe we’re almost through S2!!

#the year 2021 #2021: star trek #star trek tos #2021: fandom thoughts

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rosaetae · 4 years

Text

among the evergreen

☇ “The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do”

➣ pairing: reader x jungkook

➣ genre: christmas themed, modernfantasy!au, e2l!au, fluff

➣ word count: 12.6k

➣ disclaimer: this is literally an exaggerated satire of Hallmark Christmas movies filled with eggnog crack for the holiday spirit. please do not take this seriously. happy holidays!

➣ summary: the odd christmas wedding with the odd christmas runaway with the odd christmas adventure with the odd christmas stranger

"You can't be serious right now, ___."

"Hyunjung, I've never been more serious in my entire life." Grabbing a chunk of clothes from your closet that ranged from sweaters to leggings, you shove it into your duffel bag. "This version my parents made of me?— I'm not her. They seriously think they're going to discipline me by selling me off to a man I don't know?"

"Oh, don't be dramatic. They're not selling you off, they just arranged a marriage for you."

You open your mouth, gaping at her. "Even worst! Where's my consent? Where's my sense of individualism?! I'm an adult and yet, they're giving me away to a random person they arranged a marriage with just last year!"

"And may I remind you that you're getting married to that random person in two weeks, ___. Perfect for a Christmas wedding," Hyunjung optimistically exclaims over the FaceTime call, removing her towel that was wrapped around her head and combing her hair with her fingers. "I don't think you should be leaving."

You cringe at her romanticizing an arranged marriage that takes away your sense of freedom.

"No, Hyunjung," you point your lotion bottle in your hand at her. "The version that my parents fabricated of me— she. She's the one getting married in two weeks. I, however, am taking a trip to Europe."

"Europe?" She repeats, nearly gaping at the sound of that. "That's why you need me to drop you off at the airport? Europe? Are you joking me?"

You nearly snort, folding one of your t-shirts messily and tossing it into the duffel. "You thought I was joking when I took that trip to Greece by myself. Does it look like I'm joking?"

"Insane. You're absolutely insane."

"I hope you say that in a good way," you throw a wink at her.

"You cannot be serious."

"And why not? I'm my own adult! I can go to another country myself. Plus, you remember Hana, right? She offered a place for me to stay in London."

Hyunjung raises her eyebrows. "And you're sure Hana is going to let you into her humble abode and take you in?"

"98% sure," you pause for a moment, continuing on to your last minute packing of shoving whatever you could into a duffel. "The 2% is only if I actually get there before she leaves for Amsterdam."

"Wait, what?"

"I should be getting there before Tuesday night, hopefully. If not, then I'm stuck to tend to a motel for a couple of nights until she comes back from finishing that research project in Amsterdam," you snort. "Which will be unlikely. I scheduled a plane for Italy that leaves tonight. From there, I have to take a bus to Belgium to take a ferry to London, so essentially I should be there before Monday."

"Why not take a straight plane to London?" Hyunjung inquires, evidently confused to your excessive and over-the-top plan.

"Where's the fun in that?" You chuckle, grabbing your backpack. "Do you wanna hear my plan that I originally called you for?"

Hyunjung makes a motion with her hand, urging you to proceed into such plan that you always make up to escape your drowning parents.

"A couple nights ago, I bought a plane ticket to Italy. I went to a travel advisor today and paid for a bus and a ferry with cash. This way, my parents will simply think I'm in Italy and while they'll most likely hold this whole huge crazy man hunt for me in Milan, I'll be in London, living my own life, single as a bird. Maybe drinking tea with the queen, perhaps."

The thin look Hyunjung plasters on her face is as if she was talking to someone who told her that she was having twins— maybe even triplets.

"Okay," she begins slowly, squeezing lotion into her hands. "Where do I lie in all of this?"

"What?" Narrowing your eyes at her mischievously, you smirk. "You think you have a role in my plan to be set free?"

"I have a role in any devious plan you make up in your head to get the hell away from your, and I quote, "insane, restricting puppeteers of parents"," she scoffs, making you laugh. "Now what is it? Do you want me to lie to them that you're in Italy?"

"See, you're already ahead of the game!"

She rolls her eyes.

"I just need you to lie that I did go to Italy only for a few weeks and if they press you, just tell them that that's all I told you. Easy."

"Yeah, until your parents try to blackmail me."

"They've never blackmailed you."

"Yeah," she exclaims before biting her lip. "But they could!"

"They won't do that," you roll your eyes at them. Sure your parents are strict, but they find blackmail a bit too extra. "Look, are you going to pick me up soon or not? I have a flight to catch."

"Yeah, yeah," she sighs. "I'll leave in five."

The parents that you call yours were indescribably suffocating.

Over-exaggerating, but you do try to peer at it from their perspective, but all you see is publicity and reputation in a string of lies and facades— all of which is clearly evident because you were grown up to keep such a good reputation.

Daughter of a CEO of an oil company and a broadway star, your life was bound to be molded into the flawless model of what a family should be. From the fake smiles on the news to having to be present at elite parties that nearly make you want to rip your brain out, doing one wrong thing would be an instant detrimental effect to your family.

And being tired of having to keep an ideal picture during the day, you sneak out during the night under fake names and fake personas— you are not the daughter of two important people, you are yourself.

Not getting caught was your specialty. It progressed well over time, knowing how well you can harbor in the dark for so long without being exposed, but that week-long trip to Greece was what probably ruined your streak when your mother found out you were not on that school trip upstate, but you were oceans away, relaxing in the nice beaches of Corfu.

Maybe then your mother has gone insane trying to maintain a good reputation for you, but an arranged marriage? Something they've never told you about since two weeks ago? Hell, you were going to drop everything and go off grid just for the arranged marriage to not happen.

And that's exactly what you're going to do.

The current position you're, unfortunately, in is not ideal to your original plan you have set out for yourself.

Muscles growing tired, you've become exhausted, a tad bit dehydrated, and you had an odd craving for something with chocolate. And to tie it all off, your bus driver had just announced they are scheduled to depart a little later than usual as you sat at the window seat, pondering about the extra time you could've used to get a bottle of water and maybe some fudge brownies from the store, but sacrificing this seat is not apart of your plan.

So you sit there, watching strangers trickle in slowly to find seats on the bus, and thankfully none of them took the chance to sit in the empty seat next to you. As you finally grow a comfort in your seat, ignoring your growing dehydration and aching muscles, you may have spoke too soon when you felt the bus almost shake by how the one stranger slipped into the seat next to you with heavy momentum.

Glimpsing at the panting stranger, you shift your crossed legs to point towards the window. You don't see his face well enough, but you didn't show much care when you lay back into your seat. "Woah there, cowboy, we depart in twenty. You didn't have to rush and crash into this seat beside me."

"What?" He says, breathlessly. You can tell from the corner of your eye, he's giving you a questionable look. "It's supposed to depart at 10:30."

Snorting, you fix your posture. "Yeah, well, delays happen, big guy. It's going to be 11 now. Nice entrance."

As you peek at him, he don't miss the eyebrow he raises at you. Settling in nicely beside you, he holds out his hand in a polite manner. "Jungkook."

You glance at his hand and back at him, going back to leaning your head against the head support. "Hi."

"Ah," he takes his hand back after he notices you not taking it. "So you're going to make me ask you for your name?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "I'm not making you do anything?"

"I introduced myself. It's a common courtesy to at least share a name back, but seeing that you didn't tell me your name, you're in turn ruining that common courtesy by having me ask you for your name."

"Or I'd rather keep my name to myself than reveal it to an utter stranger," you smile. "Nice try, but you haven't earned my trust enough to know my name."

He has a fixed gaze on you. "Did you want my life story in exchange?"

"That depends. How badly do you want to know my name?"

"Well," he lets out a dramatic sigh. "When I was little, my mom and dad got divorced and my mom married another man—"

"Hmm, see, " you cut him off. "I can't even trust that's a real story. Guess we're better off as strangers."

He chuckles as you close your eyes.

And that's how you shut him up from then, when the began to depart, and in the midst of just entering the freeway when you make the mistake of grabbing a small bag of pretzels from your backpack and sitting back to eat them in hopeful silence.

"Why are you heading to Brussels?" The stranger asks mid-crunch of your pretzel.

Your eyes widen slightly by the sudden question, before you're shrugging at him in response. "None of your business."

It would be easy to tell him that you're only there to catch a ferry, but along with that will follow up more questions— talking to him was draining enough.

He lets out a light scoff. "A simple question."

"That's none of your business."

Jungkook cocks his head to the side as you're chewing on your pretzels. "Are you always this hard to crack?"

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Not really, but it's definitely getting a rise out of you."

"So I sit next to a dipshit named Jungkook who probably has daddy issues," you throw at him, referring to his previous said fact about him to exchange for your name. "Long hours ahead of us."

"And I, for one, intend to make the most out of it by trying to get to know you."

You snort, pulling out your earphones from your pocket, closing your eyes for the last time until the next stop. "Good luck."

Fortunately for you, when they flutter open, the bus had made a stop in the middle of a venue with greens and whites that catches your eye as you peer out the window. Making it quick, the bus driver announces for a 20 minute break parked in the Swiss Alps, instructing where the bathroom is and demonstrating a shop just in sight.

"Finally," you breathe in relief, feeling your dehydration grow with each second.

You ignore Jungkook and the fact that he was blocking you just slightly to take your break when you squeeze your way between him and the seat, making room for yourself between the people packing in the bus aisle to leave the bus as well.

The air was crisp and your breath was evident every time you exhaled, taking you aback by the wonders of the place around you. The skies were grey, but the massive trees and the sparkling fresh snow of the woods is what makes you wide-eyed.

And you think about how there are so many wonders in the world that your parents have not made you seen. Sure, you've visited Switzerland, but only for pure business. Never once were you told that you could explore and initiate that wanderlust that always grew inside of you when you're away from home.

Taking your boots and trudging through the snow, you follow the flock of people from the bus who are noticeably going inside one of the small wooden buildings or heading to where the restroom signs were.

Grabbing a water bottle along with a bag of chocolate-covered almonds, you're about to buy something with the cash you exchanged with Swiss Franc, when you tiredly see that the line was taking awhile. Letting out a yawn, you divert your attention out the window, only to see something interesting just nearby.

It was a cottage that looked completely different from the similar buildings like the store you're in. Squinting, your curiosity gets the best of you as you're trying to get a better look of it, noticing that there evident trails of moss on the roof, creating a rustic aura, as well as interesting charms being hung on the patio.

You wonder what's inside, completely enchanted by its appearance and its—

"What are you buying?" The voice of your familiar, annoying seat partner appears by your side, causing you to jump out of your thoughts and to scowl at his arrival.

"You don't ever know how to leave someone alone, huh?" You sarcastically grin to which he responds with a smirk, shaking his head.

"Just you."

You give him a look before you're buying it. "Give me some space, Jungkook."

"I don't know if you're allowed to say my name when I don't know yours, gingercake."

You give him a fake smile before you were finally next in line and Jungkook seemingly follows you to the register. When you notice he's beside you empty-handed, you give him a pointed look. "You're not buying anything?"

"No," he replies. "I don't need anything."

"So, you're just here to annoy me then."

"Essentially," he laughs before he nods his head to a certain direction. "You noticed the cottage out there, too?"

"Quite creepy that you're watching me, don't you think?"

He shrugs. "Think of it what you will. But you didn't answer my question."

"I don't answer to strangers."

"But we're not," he says. "We're bus buddies."

"No," you cringe at the term he made for both of you as you grab the receipt and your snacks. "No, we're not."

Before he would say anything more, you make a hurried walk for the door, back turned to him.

"Oh, come on," he persists as he tries to walk beside you. "Is your name embarrassing, or something?"

"My name is none of your business."

"You're being so stubborn over a little thing. Are you like a wanted criminal? Is that why?"

You gasp dramatically as if he was correct. "Yes! Right on the nose!"

"Come on," he continues, knowing very well your sarcasm was not a pretty trait on you. "I'm not a snitch either way."

"No, but you do know how to get on my nerves."

"That hurts," he chuckles. "Come on, it's just a name—?"

You turn over to him in brooding irritation. "That you don't deserve to know, end of discussion. Jungkook, please, I am of little importance to you and you to me. Not knowing my name won't hurt you in the long run. So please, can I spend the rest of this bus ride without you bombarding me asking me what my name is?"

Jungkook looks at you before he puts his hands up in defeat. "Fine. But for the record, I have never met anyone so protective over something so little like their name."

"And I've never met someone so pushy, but here we are—" As you turn around, you notice that the bus was gone and your eyes widened.

"No, no, no," you mutter before you're sprinting towards the road and just there, the bus was moving further down the winding road, growing tinier within the second.

"Great! How absolutely peachy! We missed our bus!" You groan, removing your beanie from your head, exasperated. You turn over at Jungkook who just so happens to finally catch up to you, noticing the reason for your distress.

"It's fine, don't panic."

You turn over to face towards the standing dumbass with a baffled look. "We're in the middle of the fucking Swiss Alps, idiot! There is no service here. How the hell are we going to get to Brussels now?"

"Look, just calm down. Let's go inside and see if the cashier can help."

However, going into the store didn't help when the lady at the store didn't have any type of phone to help you contact anyone, nor was she interested in helping you both so she pointed you towards the cottage you happened to stare at earlier.

At first, you didn't oppose the idea, very curious as to what this cottage has to offer. And when you step onto the patio and a notice a wooden sign that says open, Jungkook is the first to turn the knob and take a step.

Remarkably, you're not walking in with fear, but you're walking in with a curious mind— and when you happen to step inside, you're not quite disappointed.

It was breathtaking— something you've never seen before. There were rows and rows of jars filled with herbs of sorts and odd colorful gems and crystals were displayed with the occasional plants that hung from the ceiling. A bucolic, yet eerie feeling was blossoming in your chest that you don't notice that you've walked farther in than Jungkook.

"Hello?" Jungkook calls aloud. You peer behind yourself, noticing his wandering eyes as you turn your head back front, focusing on the table with a crystal ball.

"Hello, is anyone here?" Jungkook tries again as you wonder where every single ancient thing came from before the sound of foot steps makes you pause, moving backwards to stand behind Jungkook.

"Visitors?" A voice of whom you'd assume belonged to a female spoke aloud in the unreal way possible.

As she makes an appearance coming out of one of the corridors, you notice that out gracefully comes a woman of red hair and piercing green eyes, lips decorated in berry and cheeks of a deep plum. Her clothing was almost a gypsy, but she wore a coat of fur over the gold jewelry she wore on her neck and hips.

"And what is this?" She brings a finger to her lips in utter astonishment and peculiarity, eyes narrowing to focus on you and Jungkook. "A wreath's bond?"

A what bond? You think.

Jungkook and you take a moment to glance at each other, exchanging odd looks before looking back at the woman who was shuffling towards the circular table with the crystal ball sitting in the center of it.

"Ah, you two don't know," she observes, laughing hysterically and taking a seat. You're confused, but there was an odd feeling in your stomach that seemed to give some sort of trust to her. "Come, you two. Sit. I have a feeling about you both."

"Actually," Jungkook begins, grabbing your wrist and preventing you from moving towards her. "We were told that you would know how to get to the nearest bus station."

Her head snaps up, and lets out a scoff. "By who?"

"Lady in the gift shop," you answer. "They had no phone, but she told us to come here."

"That damn grinch. Always tells visitors to come here when they need a phone or directions."

"Well, do you?" You ask politely.

"This is the Alps, honey-pie. There is no such thing as service here."

"Great, she sees you as food," Jungkook whispers quietly down to you. "She's going to eat us."

The joke that comes from Jungkook makes you nudge him with your elbow, releasing yourself from his grasp that you didn't realize was still there.

"Is there a bus stop nearby?" You try.

"Not nearby, but I can lead you to a village just an hour travel by walking... well, it's more of a ski resort, but surely there's people there willing to help."

"Where is it?"

She's silent before she's patting on the table, motioning you both to sit.

Jungkook and you hesitate, but you're the first to move, walking towards the lady who could easily kill you, but emanates curiosity that even you couldn't resist. Jungkook follows after you, sitting in the chair across from yours.

"Let me see your hands," she says, palms outwards, awaiting your hands. However, you were reluctant, looking up at Jungkook who was shaking his head discreetly. "Oh, I promise I won't bite. I'm Evanora, the friendly witch of the east."

"A witch?"

"That could explain the crystal ball," Jungkook nods, staring directly at the iridescent ball sitting on the table.

"What did you think I was?" She inquires, a berry-lipped smile on her face. "And the crystal ball is just for decoration. Now, hands. Give."

You, with a slight bit of reluctance, gives your hand to her, Jungkook following after you as the witch throws a smile, to which she closes her eyes and slightly squeezes.

You meet Jungkook's smile he was trying to prevent by the odd circumstance you both were in, you shrugging in uncertainty before Evanora opens her eyes.

She nods, pointing outside her window. "If you go down the trail, you will see cabins."

"Wait, that's it?" Pressing her, you were immediately concerned as to what she saw.

"What I saw," she pats your hand in an eerie manner. "Shouldn't be said."

You open your mouth, curious as to what on earth she could possibly have seen that's making her bite back a smile. Eyes peering over to Jungkook, you shake your head. "It doesn't matter anyways," you scrunch your eyebrows at her words. "Trail? What trail?"

"Packed up by snow. But if you follow the opening of those trees, you will find the village." She gives a smile before it immediately fades.

"What?" Jungkook presses, noticing her mood change.

"I must warn you, there are winter elves ahead."

"Elves," you blink.

"Like Santa's elves?"

"Winter elves," she nods. "Do not interact with them. They tend to distract you from your purpose. And they like to steal anything shiny."

"You can't be serious," you arch an eyebrow.

"You've met a witch. Is it really that hard to believe?" Evanora says as she stands. "Go, embark on your journey, but I will tell you this—"

Jungkook stands quite abruptly, seemingly ready to leave the cabin of Evanora's while you stand up slowly, awaiting for Evanora to finish. "Lose one another, you will lose the purpose."

"We won't lose each other," you promise.

"I have a feeling that you may," she quietly says, but it was audible for you to hear. "And when you must, your wreath's bond will find you both again."

Scrunching your eyebrows together at the phrase, you're about to open your mouth to ask for explanation.

Immediately, the witch puts her finger up to silence you before she smirks. "The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do."

The two of you searched for the opening of the immense and jaw-dropping trees before you, noticing the snow, as Evanora said, being packed up on a trail, however that didn't stop the two of you from walking down the trail.

When you first begin walking, Jungkook is quiet, knowing that you're in your thoughts. And he was right. The so-called witch made you more concerned, especially after she held your hands and said she couldn't say what she saw. You think of the bad things that she must've seen, ranging from a terrible accident or a betrayal or anything that would bring you in harms way.

"Come on, you actually believe she's an actual witch?" Jungkook asks all of a sudden. He must have noticed your brain turning in the silence. "She didn't give us the best directions. She told us to find a ski resort where someone can help us."

"The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do," you say aloud, slowly. "What does she mean?"

"Just a whole lot of mumbo jumbo to me," he postulates. "She was probably just saying shit out of her ass." When he sees that you've paused, Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you. "You're not telling me you actually believe in that nonsense?"

"I'm superstitious. I believe in ghosts, aliens, mermaids. A witch doesn't sound like nonsense."

Embarrassed wasn't the word you'd say you felt when Jungkook looks at you, flabbergasted after you decree that you believe in the supernatural. Maybe a tad bit awkward, but seeing that he lets out a chuckle, you purse your lips. "You've read Harry Potter, haven't you?"

"No. No, I haven't actually. I just believe in a little bit of magic, that's all."

"I still think the winter elves is a load of bullshit," he states. "Come on. Elves?"

"Yeah," you nod, semi-lying. "Yeah, I know."

From then on, it felt exhausting.

The continuous trudging in the snow with heavy boots felt overtiring, but determination was your factor that kept you persisting. You couldn't afford to miss a day— not when you didn't think of pulling out enough cash from the bank, so paying for a couple of nights at a motel in London will surely give your location away to your parents who are probably on a manhunt for you.

Just then, Jungkook, who was in front of you, stops.

It makes you bump into him, looking up from the white snow to give him a questioning look. Seeing that he points at something in front of him, you glance at the direction, noticing evident small houses that were seemingly built by branches scattered amongst the area.

"Is this it? Are these the winter elves we have to worry about? Oh man, I sure hope they don't eat my toes!" Jungkook howls, hands on his stomach as he pokes at one of the houses on a tree stump. "Oh no, I wonder if they're magical. Are they gonna freeze us to death?"

You stand up straight, rolling your eyes at him. "Pipe the fuck down, asshole," you scold him, punching his shoulder.

"Oh, come on, did you really believe there would be winter elves? Elves? Please, these are houses made out of branches that a hiker probably made—"

His words were muted out when your ears catching something similar to a musical pipe.

"Shh," you bring a finger to his mouth. "Do you hear that?"

Jungkook's words are mute with your finger pressed against his lips while your ears try to pick up what sounded more clearly like a faint flute folk song.

Scrunching his eyebrows, he brings a hand to your wrist, removing your hand from his lips and stares at you intently. Gazing up to him, you stand still when he comes near to you, bringing his previously muted lips to your ear.

"That's the wind," he whispers, causing you to exasperatingly sigh, lifting your hands to push him away as he cackles loudly that he was clenching his stomach once more.

Annoyed wasn't a term you'd settle with how you were feeling at the moment, but as you stand there, with arms crossed over your body, you wait for him to shut up. "For gods sake, come on."

Grabbing his arm, you continue to walk along the veiled trail, his laughter fading away after a long time, and once it did, your breath nearly stops when ahead you see a spread of lights.

"Is that it? The ski resort she was talking about?" Jungkook asks, panting as you shrug, continuing to walk as you saw people in layers walk around. You admire the colors they were wearing, some were neutrals, but some wore festive colors of red and green, gold and white.

"Come on, old man," you tell him as he was trailing further from you.

"Slow down a little bit, would you?" He calls for you as you throw a grin at him, turning back around to keep walking on the cobblestone sidewalk, mesmerized by the village.

After a few steps of being mesmerized of the things around you, you turn around, noticing that you weren't the only thing mesmerized by the things around you, but when you see Jungkook being swept away off his feet into what seems to be a pub by a strand of golden hair, you're once again, annoyed.

Pursing your lips, you let out a sigh and turn around, beginning to walk down the street, easily letting your contempt ease off your chest as you try to look for someone to help by yourself. You didn't even care if you were going to have to leave this ski resort by yourself, that was your whole purpose.

You walk further down, watching in awe as the people decorate their exteriors, putting up tinsel, lights and garlands, those carrying a fresh tree into their homes, and those carrying stacks of presents, curious at how festive the place was being.

Stopping in front of a store, you stare from the outside, admiring the exterior before your eyes narrow, attempting to peek inside the store.

First, you see a spectrum of colors of what your eyes focused to be wrapping paper of different designs and patterns galore. You think it's a gift store, but then, you observe that there are people in rows, wrapping boxes in a quick and swift motion. At first, you're marveling at how fast they're wrapping, tying it all off with a bow on top and tossing it in a pile of other finished presents before you're thinking they resemble something so familiar that—

You're distracted.

Realizing this, you tear your eyes away from the store, continuing to walk, searching for someone who was not tending to decorating or not busy in this ski resort to help you, only when you reach a revelation.

This was no ski resort— at least one without a ski left. And as if Evanora's raspy voice was echoing in your ear, you realize the mistake that you and Jungkook made; you separated.

It is with no hesitation that you're walking with a brisk pace, others on the street looking up at the foreigner walking towards the pub in such a hurry.

You pull on the door, a bell indicating that customer walked in, eyes searching for the person you were warned not to split from, implicitly ignoring that others were looking at you with a strange curiosity.

Walking inside and letting the door shut behind you, your eyes graze upon the small pub before they stop to the familiar raven-haired boy talking to the blonde in which her pernicious coquetry was evident even from afar.

You're about to grab Jungkook from his arm in attempt to drag him away, but you stop when you see that the blonde seductively takes a finger to his neck, tracing a line down his throat to hook her finger along the silver chain that was tucked under his shirt.

Nearly vomiting whatever was in your stomach at the sight in front of you, you crinkle your nose in utter remorse when Jungkook looks at her up and down, a smirk on his face.

The sight merely makes you leave the pub, until you turn around adamantly, only to remember what Evanora was saying— they tend to distract you from your purpose.

Groaning distinctly, you whip towards the idiot and the seducing winter elf, clearing your throat at the two who were sharing a laugh together.

"Oh, hey," Jungkook looks up at you briefly before looking back at the blonde. "There you are. Where were you?"

"Can I grab you for a second?" You say oddly sweetly, feigning the blonde a friendly smile lifted by your cheeks in which she returns one politely before going back to drinking from her cup. Without even hearing Jungkook try to object, you grab his arm hastily and take him outside.

Jungkook stumbles over his feet for a moment before the crisp winter air hits both of your faces on impact. "Woah there, gingercake. What's going on?" Even with a tug, it doesn't loosen your grip from his arm as you try to drag him away from the pub as fast as possible.

"We're leaving," you utter, but hearing that, Jungkook immediately stops, your turn to be the one stumbling.

Turning around with a huff, you give him a scowl, letting your hand that was digging into his arm go. He opens his mouth, his narrow eyes questioning your motive. "Why?"

"Jungkook, just listen to me."

He crosses his arms across his chest, a smug painting his features. "What if I don't want to?"

You half-heartedly scoff at him, shrugging. "Fine, then stay. I couldn't care less."

He opens his mouth to say something, but even when he could even process words to elicit, you're already turning around again, eyes focusing on the horizon that's being set as your only goal and focus. As you walk ahead with persistence, you curse in your head for even being kind enough to get him out a situation that could easily have him stripped.

"Hey, woah," Jungkook jogs up to reach in front of you. Stopping to raise an eyebrow at him, you observe him as he gives you an uncertain look. "Is that jealousy in your voice?"

"How rich," you scoff. "Jungkook, I am anything but jealous right now, and you're really testing me." Moving around him, you continuing to walk before he stops you again, looking around to find a gap between stores, pulling you to the side from the strangers who were walking past you both.

"You are!" He exclaims once he successfully pulls you away.

"Jungkook," you exasperate, before lowering your voice. "This is not the ski resort. This is the village Evanora warned us about."

"What?"

"You were flirting with a winter elf, idiot," you whisper loudly. "This is not a ski resort, it's a village of winter elves."

Jungkook half-heartedly laughs, shaking his head. When he sees that your face was anything but amused, his face morphs into confusion. "No, there's no such thing as—"

Rolling your eyes, you shut him up by moving closer to him, eyes not tearing away from his when you bring your finger to his neck, which ultimately makes him freeze at your sudden movements. As you're tracing down his throat, you don't think of anything more as you yank down the collar of his shirt, only to reveal what you originally suspected.

"Where's your necklace, Jungkook?" You ponder, your eyes never leaving his. Jungkook hesitates before he removes his eyes from yours and looks down, your hand not leaving its current state and exposing his bare, pale chest.

He inhales sharply before you finally let your hand go, waiting for his eyes to meet yours again. You take a step back, crossing your arms with slight arrogance as you offer an amused smile.

"She was trying to seduce you, Jungkook," you state. "So she could steal. She obviously did a good job when she made you forget your purpose and stole your necklace."

"For fuck's sake," Jungkook curses, running a hand through his hair. You were close to tell him 'I told you so', but you refrain when he takes your wrist and drags you out of the opening. "Let's go."

The scenery was beautiful, with the green hues that contrasted with the white that was almost so bright it blinded you, but with the little bit of sun that peeked from the clouds, you couldn't help but get distracted with everything around you.

It almost makes you feel like you don't have a crazy dad or an insane mother that expect you to be home in perfect condition just to sell you off to someone you don't know.

You must have been mindlessly walking and trudging in the snow with your boots nearly weighing you down because just when you bump into something, you're about to curse at yourself for being stupid to walk into a tree. That is, until you realize it wasn't a tree, it was Jungkook's form, who had idiotically taken a halt that caused you to bump into him.

"Jungkook—"

"Look," he cuts you off. Peering over his shoulder, your reaction had shifted from annoyance to awe when you notice that the evergreens weren't the only wonder.

Walking down to the ski resort was just over a hill, trudging over inches of snow and having to make sure not to fall face forward. Jungkook eventually sees a bit of struggle coming from you— to which, in your defense, he has an advantage due to his elongated legs— and reaches out to your for support. However, your adamancy slaps his hand away, continuing to walk over the hill to see more of the lights that contrasted the nearing night sky.

"Hey, question," he inquires aloud once the snow had reached scarce and just ahead were the many wooden buildings with warm lights.

Nodding, you spare him a glance, breathing almost heavy as you both continue to walk. "Shoot."

"Don't you think you could've stopped her when she was stealing my necklace?"

Jungkook reaches to your side as you both reach the icy street where people were bundled in clothes. What reassured you were the group of people walking down the street across from you, carrying their snowboarding gear inside a building, their laughter echoing down the streets.

Without pondering, you shrug. "I wasn't the one flirting with her."

"I'm going to ignore your raging jealousy here and ask you one more time—"

"Jungkook, I wasn't the idiot who easily got distracted and forgot what Evanora said," you cut him off. "She said that, lose each other you lose your purpose— and while you were being whisked away by some winter elf, I was trying to find someone to help us. It's not jealousy, it's called not being stupid."

"Great," he exhales deeply. You don't miss the stress that elicited along with it, you cocking your head to the side in sudden curiosity.

"Why? Was it important?"

He waves you off. "It was just a family necklace, that's all."

"A family necklace," you repeat, before scrunching your eyebrows. "Sounds pretty important to me."

"Doesn't matter anymore," he shakes his head as you both continue to walk down the village. "It's gone now."

Feeling a tad bit sympathetic, you reach up to him, matching his pace. "This," you say as you pull out your hand from your pocket. "This was handed to me by my mother which was given by her mother and by her mother and by her mother."

He peers down at your frozen hands, eyeing the ring. "What does the leaf mean?"

You don't tell him that the leaf meant growth.

In your mother's line of successful women, the ring was always passed down so long as there would be potential demonstrated. Your grandmother, being a former model, and your mother, having to be a broadway musical star, you were seen to have potential to be an heiress of the company your father runs— but it's too bad you distasted such high expectations. Hell, you were even willing to have the elves steal this rather Jungkook's necklace when all you're doing is creating a ruination in your line of successful women.

"It's alright," Jungkook says, shaking his head after noticing your reluctance. "You won't tell me your name, I can't expect you to tell me the meaning of your family ring."

At first, you're taken aback at how easy that was for him to say that, especially after trying to have you choke out your name. You stare, flabbergasted but almost grateful he didn't try to push this time.

"The necklace was given to me by my uncle from my mother's side," Jungkook explains nonchalantly as you both unconsciously walk towards the line of cabins that most likely held travelers. "Said he'd give it to his son if it weren't for the fact that his wife can only reproduce daughters."

Snorting, you quirk a smile at him. "How many daughters does he have?"

"Five," he chuckles. "All of who are very, very annoying."

"Why's that?"

"Annoying in a way that they're disgustingly successful," he says. "Runs in the blood except for mine."

To that, you let out a snigger. "I can definitely relate to that."

"What's this?" He laughs. "We're actually having a decent conversation?"

Rolling your eyes, you give him a nudge, shaking your head.

And oddly enough, for once the silence when both of your laughter dies isn't awkward— it's not tension nor is it uncomfortable. It's almost pleasant.

Jungkook, silently, looks at you in a peculiar fond way that makes you slow down your pace a bit. Your insides twist and turn in your stomach at the way he just stares at you without so much of a word— as if he's either judging you or he's admiring you, in which you're hoping deep down it's the former.

You're exhaling a shuddering breath when you desperately decide to ruin the moment, taking one of your hands out of your pocket at pointing at one of the cabins. "Over there," you declare, cheeks beginning to redden. "Let's try over there."

And you do not miss a second to speed up your pace, careful on the slippery street not to slip, hearing Jungkook walking behind you.

When you finally reach to a random cabin with a car parked outside, you're silently hoping that they would answer the door to two strangers.

And with each second passed and your hopes were falling, you hear the door unlatch, your ears perking at the sound when the door opens. A man, wearing a red plaid flannel and a black beanie opens it with a confused look.

"Hello?" He asks and your eyes light up.

"Hi!" You cheerily state, relieved that someone was even willing to open the door. "Sorry to be such a bother, but we're stranded and we were hoping if you knew where the nearest bus station is?"

The stranger nods with a warm smile. "It's down the hill, actually. Quite a trip on foot."

"Is it?" Jungkook asks. "Are there any taxis or maybe Ubers that you know of that's available here?"

The stranger shakes his head. "Nope, but I'd be gladly to drop you guys off there."

"Wait, really?" You ask in surprise, looking at Jungkook with excited eyes. "That'd be really great!"

"Of course," he gleams. "I'm assuming you both need to get to your families for Christmas."

Jungkook and you exchange glances. "Something like that."

"I'll let my wife know and grab the keys."

"Thank you!" You call out, the door being left a crack open as you turn over with Jungkook with excitement. You're nearly about to squeal when Jungkook gives this uncertain look that throws your whole excitement out the window. "Alright, what's in your panties that got you in a twist?"

"You really trust this guy?"

Your expression falls, shrugging. "He's got a car— unless you want to walk another who-knows miles on foot by yourself?"

"We can't trust everyone we meet, you know."

Ironic he said that. Your expressions falls as you narrow your eyes. "Says the one who trusted a winter elf."

Sure, pettiness could be drawn from tHe opens his mouth to make a riposte, but the stranger comes back with his keys and a coat over his shoulders.

"I'm Seokjin, by the way," he introduces himself as he unlocks the car, both you and Jungkook sitting the backseat. He turns the engine on, immediately turning on the heater that felt like cold air at first.

When he backs up out of the snow without the problem of getting stuck, you feel your body at ease as you finally realize that your plan was setting back on track.

Seokjin speaks up, apparently disliking the silence that you both elicited. "How did you guys get stranded?"

"Our bus left without us," you tell him. "It was his fault."

Jungkook gapes at your accusation. "Oh, nice, we're pointing fingers now?"

Couldn't help but laugh in return, you counterfeit a smile. "Can't deny it."

"You know, for a person to look so nice," Jungkook tilts his head to the side. "You're an absolute pain."

"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee," you send a wink his way, immediately frowning afterwards. "Piss off, Jungkook."

"Love to, gingercake, but looks like we're stuck with each other for—"

And just then, Jungkook's voice trails off by the sonorous jolly laugh that comes from the man in the front seat. You turn your attention to him, wondering why on earth he would be laughing. "Sorry. You both remind me of my wife and I."

"What?" Jungkook and you say in unison.

"We used to banter like that a lot."

To that, you snort. "Banter is an understatement. Can't help it when he's a walking idiot."

"And she's a headache in human form," Jungkook pipes in, to which you glare in return.

"Well, my wife used to call me dick for brains," he adds, a jolly chuckle following after as he reminisces his memory lane. "But, I guess I must have warmed up to her if she somehow let dick for brains marry her."

"Yeah, well, she's much more stubborn and colder than that. I don't even know her name."

"You don't?" His eyes peer in the rearview mirror to give us a glance.

"We just met. And besides," you reason, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. "It's not important."

It really wasn't. Your name isn't really your identity when all you think about when you hear it is high expectations. If you let your name be known, everyone is bound to find out who you are and eventually— with word getting around— your mother will find out where you are running away to.

Sure, you could make up a fake name, but you'd be creating bridges even after this trip you know you're going to have to burn them.

He chuckles. "I remember my wife being that stubborn. She really wanted me to give up on her."

"I'm guessing you didn't," you observe.

"She was worth all the constant banters, I'll tell you that," he shakes his head. "Once, she didn't want to admit she was sorry for keeping us a secret from her friends and family. It took her three months of guilt to finally say sorry."

"Three months?" Jungkook ponders. Seokjin nods behind the wheel.

"It took her time to tell her friends and family about us, but she eventually apologized."

"She must have been scared to want to hide it from them."

The idiot next to you snorts. "Or embarrassed."

"Scared," he answers. "Which is why I forgave her the day I found out about it."

"And you let her feel guilty for three months?"

"I knew she was sorry from the beginning. I just didn't think that the most adamant person in the world would even think of apologizing to me," he chuckles. "But hey, eventually she did."

To that, Jungkook lets out a chuckle before he's making a trip around the roundabout, making a stop in front of a wide building.

"Here's your stop," he says, putting the car in park. "You two have a nice Christmas, alright?"

You smile at him. "You and your wife as well. Thank you again for helping us."

He shoots you a smile just before you close the car door. "Anytime."

When you hurry inside the bus station, you totally forget about the time until you see it on the massive clock built in the station, and you sincerely hope that the next bus ride to Brussels would be in the next 2 hours. Luckily, as you and Jungkook stood in line for awhile, you both get a ticket for the next bus to your destination which comes in the next twenty minutes.

And as you're trying to forage for remaining cash, you realize that you were short. Jungkook must have noticed this when he coolly steps up and gives his cash, paying for his and your ticket. You look at him, surprised, when they give two tickets to him.

"You didn't need to do that," you utter to him as he gives your ticket.

He shoots you a winning smile, a wink following after. "All you have to say is thank you."

The entire trip of having to hike down the woods was more exhausting than the plane ride to Milan that you couldn't help yourself when you fall asleep on the bus ride. Jungkook must have knocked out too when you wake up in the middle of a bus stop, head on his shoulder.

You think of the possible reason as to why he would be going to Brussels. After all, this whole trip was of him trying to ask questions of you, not the other way around. And it's not like you weren't interested— it wasn't your priority to get to know someone you won't end up knowing in the next week anyways.

Because like everything in the world, not everything is permanent.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder once more, basking in the comfort that will only last for so long.

Getting off the bus at your desired location, you both realize that it reached dusk, the sun had made its set and the night has become dark. It made a stop just nearby a grand area of colorful lights that intrigued you from afar.

You turn around to face Jungkook who stretches as he hops off the bus. Shooting tired smile your way, you decide to give one back.

"Do you want to go see what's over there?" You ask him, nodding your head towards the place that caught your attention.

His eyes flicker from what you were indicating to yours, a mischievous look painting over his former tired one before he angles his arm, in which you gladly take as you both make way to the bright, shining lights before you.

It doesn't take you long to realize that it's some sort of Christmas Market, as advertised by some of the posters that you saw on the way to the big area.

There were chatters and squeals and Christmas songs galore and despite the weather being cold and brisk, you felt warm.

Saying that there were colorful lights would be an understatement, when really, the Christmas Market looked like an utter theme park within itself. The tall, elongated buildings were decorated from head to toe and even the gazebos that gave shelter to those selling— it was all breathtaking.

It must have taken Jungkook's breath away too when you catch him eye goggling at the many fascinating attractions around him.

"So," you begin, ready to take your first bite from your waffle that Jungkook bought for you after he saw you eyeing it from afar. "Why did you want to come to Brussels?"

The questions surprises him, but his answer was responded with ease. "To start anew."

"Does it have to do with the whole success-running-in-family's-blood-besides-yours thing?"

"You could see it that way," he chuckles. "Or simply because life as it is now for me isn't exciting."

You give him a look, lowering your waffle. "You sound discontent."

"And you sound like you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Chuckling, you shrug. "Well, I'll just say that my trip isn't so much of a nice vacation."

"Hm, you sound tired of the life you have."

"Sounds like you know exactly what I'm talking about."

And with that, both of your words are left in the air as you both are walking down, side by side, down the streets of the brightly lit Christmas market, being thousands of miles away from home.

In your own thoughts, you think about the what if's. What if you didn't hear your parents talk about an arranged marriage for you? What if you actually were forced into it like everything you've ever done in your life? What if you're walking down the aisle to meet a man you haven't even said one word to? What if you end up not loving him?

This wasn't any type of romantic story where two strangers eventually fall in love through force, this is was an ending to your own story. Realistically, there's a chance that the person you're going to marry isn't the prince charming or the knight in shining armor that anyone would expect.

And there goes your life.

Gone and wasted, and not being able to give it a second chance.

However, you weren't letting that happen now— not at this moment in time.

"Do you think that such high expectations can be overbearing?" You ponder out loud, glancing at Jungkook who was a bit startled by your sudden question.

"A lot of the times," he responds. "Why? What type of high expectations are you being held to?"

"Doing something that I don't want to do," you state honestly. "That's why I came all the way here."

"Avoiding it?"

"You could see it that way."

"Can't avoid it forever," Jungkook says. Can't avoid it forever.

You don't think you've ever seen a light show— or at least not one against a building that brings people's jaws to the ground, so when you're watching it, you're absolutely mesmerized.

The lights were dancing and moving in a fluid motion, you were marveling each second of it.

There's a feeling in your chest. So bright and so merry, you finally understand why almost everyone loves Christmas. With your family either being busy during the holidays, you never realized that this is what you're supposed to feel like. Light and finally content.

Gleaming up at Jungkook, you only smile wider when you realize you caught his eyes. "What is it?"

There was this ghost of a smile on his face that he hides. "Nothing."

You give him a nudge, smugly grinning at him. "It's a simple question."

When he hears you repeat his statement in target to him, he gives this smirk— and for once you're not looking away in irritation or giving him some snarky comment back because when his eyes flicker to your lips and back to your eyes, you knew what was bound to happen.

And you were inevitably going to let it.

Jungkook, with gentle hands, brings you to him, pressing his warm lips onto yours and it is as if you felt your entire body just melt. You move softly against his lips, savoring every bit, but your lips were not helping themselves when they curl into a smile.

He is warm. Like a mug filled with hot chocolate, he is a fireplace on a Christmas eve, and admittedly, you've never been this warm in the cold.

When he lets go, he's looking at you with eyes shaped as crescents. "You trust me enough to kiss you but not know your name?"

To that, you let out a joyous laugh, reaching up on your tip-toes to kiss his cheek. "I'll have you know that revealing your name is dangerous."

Jungkook scoffs, dropping his hands from your cheeks. "How dangerous could yours be?"

You bit back a smile at his subtle frustration, grabbing his falling hands and holding them in yours. "Very."

And all throughout the night, it was filled with cheer and excitement as Jungkook and you strolled around in the everlasting lights. Free samples and attractions at its finest, you both spent your time together forgetting you two had lives you're running away from.

And until your legs couldn't hold you up much longer, you had to go find a nearby motel for the night, forgetting that you had to leave early in the morning for a ferry.

Jungkook and you fought for paying for the room, but Jungkook, being charming in a revolting way, inevitably wins and chooses a room where you both end up with a fireplace and a king bed together.

Just before your eyes were closing, time spent with him was filled with giggles and laughter in the air. He tells you about this one story of how, one Christmas, he thought he saw Santa Clause, but it just his dad's friend dressed in a suit trying to climb chimney for his sake. The story makes you laugh, and though almost unbelievable, it makes you flutter your eyes close, reaching a deep sleep that you desperately needed.

That morning, you feel like a child on Christmas morning— even when Christmas isn't for the next week. You felt excitement twist in turn as curiosity has gotten the best of you that all you wanted to do was run downstairs and open the presents that Santa brought.

However, the feeling was fleeting— because even children soon realize that Santa isn't real. And that breaking feeling was because of reality that waves over you as your eyes fixate on the sun that peeked through the window.

Waking up to Jungkook next to you, lightly snoring, makes you feel all sorts of butterflies— something you haven't felt in such a long while. You feel almost giddy, knowing that there's someone there and it just happened to be him, but of course, you knew it wasn't going to last long.

Not wanting to leave without goodbye, you bring your hand to his arm, giving him a little shake as you wake him up. A smile creeping on your face as he groggily awakes, squinting at your active presence.

"Hey," you say quietly. "I have to go."

Go was what made him sit up in bed quickly. "What?" He asks, voice raspy.

"I have a ferry to catch," you say as he rubs his eyes. "I wasn't going to stay in Belgium."

"You weren't?" He frowns. "Where are you heading?"

"London," you reply and you watch as his tired face falls, sitting up straight. "It was nice. You know, meeting you and all."

He smirks at you. "The feeling's mutual."

To that, you smile. "Well," you shrug, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. It was the least you could do. "Merry Christmas, Jungkook."

"Wait!" He pulls your arm back when you pull away. Raising an eyebrow at him, he looks at you with hopeful eyes. "Not even a name?"

You think you'd owe him a name, but you shake your head. "Maybe the next time I see you," you bit back a smile. "But, no worries, I won't forget yours."

When you get to Hana's place in London, you're glad that you made it just in time before she left for Amsterdam. You were also glad that your duffel bag and backpack that were stranded in the bus that left without you was brought to Hana's after you filed a claim for your missing belongings at the bus station.

Hana welcomed you with an embrace, bombarding you with questions that you didn't have time to answer because she had to leave that night, but she made sure she had enough time to catch up with you. You don't tell her about the colossal, mad adventure you had with Jungkook and how he lingers in your thoughts, but instead you tell her about the good things you expect to happen in your time in London.

And before she left to the airport, she gives you a hug, wishing you all the best luck for the holiday season in exploring a city you haven't been to. While you had the house to yourself for less than 24 hours, you realized that all good things come to end.

Especially when you answer the door and your mother is on the other side, hands on her hips.

You completely froze seeing upon her arrival. "Mom, what are you... what are you doing here?"

Without a word, she barges in, sitting on the orange sofa that Hana owns, crossing a leg over her other as she looks at you with darting eyes. "You think I don't remember Hana moving to London? I knew after you took that trip to Greece that you would make a spontaneous trip to London knowing that Hana lives here, but I didn't expect it this soon— oh." Your mother points at you. "—You are something else."

Being yelled at by your own mother felt like a chore, so you calmly close the front door she walked through, walking over to her. "Mom, I don't want to get married."

Her eyebrows furrow together. "___."

"Look, I'm an adult. Most moms want you to focus on finishing college and being able to make a living for yourself, but no, my mom wants me to focus on being presentable— not to mention that she wants to give me away so quickly! And it's not even with a person I love."

"___—"

You shake your head, cutting her off. "You are not making me go back there and marry someone I don't know."

"Sweetheart," she begins before she stands up, searching for your eyes. "You ran all the way here just because you didn't want to get married?"

"I ran all the way here to live, Mom. I wanted to live and experience life without having to worry about what the media has to think about me. Or having to put on a fake smile knowing that I'm a CEO's daughter and the heiress and that if I mess up, that's on me."

Your mother frowns, but you can only shrug in response. "For once, I just wanted to live. Is that so bad?"

Finally, you give her her turn. You hear her sigh, almost disappointingly, but if a little disappointment is what will give you what you need, then you can live with it. "Darling, I think then this is a good time to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

She lets out another sigh. "You're not really getting married."

You blink. "What?"

"You must have overheard your father and I when he were talking with Mr. Jeon, but we didn't want to tell you when we first arranged it."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not actually getting married," she enunciates. "You're having a wedding to look like you're married, but you don't have to go through with it."

You open your mouth in confusion, but immediately close it when your mother continues.

"In order for your father to establish this business proposal with Arua&Co., the CEO's grandfather needs the approval. By doing that, he needs a traditional reason as to have two major companies combine rather than a very good proposal, and that solution is a wedding."

"But, how—"

"Our loophole is that he specifically said he wanted a wedding, not a marriage— not to have both of our kids actually marry each other. So, if you're dressing up and looking as if you're getting married, you don't have to go through saying 'I do' if you don't want to."

"So you're not really giving my life to someone I don't know."

"That's sick," she full-heartedly scoffs. "I may expect a lot from you, ___, but this is just the one thing we really need you to do. After that day, you're still single as you want to be."

"Really?"

"Yes, and..." Her voice trails off as you cock your head to the side. "I wanted to tell you this, but because you ran away so soon..." She pauses before she looks at you with a motherly gaze, one that you haven't seen in a long time. "I know that your father and I have a lot of expectations from you, but I know you're an adult. And you need to live your life." You felt your stomach clench. "If you want your freedom, I'll give it to you."

Your jaw nearly falls but she puts her finger up quickly. "With certain restrictions!"

"That's fine— anything!" Nearly squealing, your eyes widen with happiness. "You really mean that?"

"Yes, I'm tired of having to be dreaded by you— my own flesh and blood," your mother laughs. "So, you don't have to come to any of the events we go on. But you will go to the ones we need you to be there for. And you can leave without being monitored, just— shoot me a text from now on. I'm going to get a heart attack the next time you decide to go halfway across the country without letting me know," she says begrudgingly that you couldn't help but give her hug.

A hug that was genuine. A hug that you haven't given her in a long time.

"Really?" You ask, voice muffled in the hug.

"Really. Merry Christmas, honey," she promises, basking into the hug. "Now, can we go home? After you shower? You smell the bus."

To that, you lightly chuckle, nodding. "Right, but— can I do one more thing?" You ask, pulling away to give her a sheepish look. "Can we go to Switzerland real fast?"

It was a long story of how he managed to be back here, but long story short, Jungkook is one day in Brussels having beer, and now his two best friends are helping him put on a suit.

"I told you running away from your problems is never a good idea," Namjoon says as tends to the cuffs of Jungkook's scarlet velvet suit. Namjoon, the always practical one, was not helping his dread at all on this day.

Jungkook, groaning, looks at himself in the mirror, never thinking that this is how he would be spending his Christmas eve. "I don't want to be here."

"Well, you are and you're going to marry the girl, whether you like it or not," Hoseok asserts, flipping carelessly through his magazine of interior design.

"Thanks," Jungkook says with a hint of sarcasm.

Namjoon chuckles. "You're gonna wanna say I do anyways. I just met her and she's actually really cool."

"It's just... weird. I've never met her in my life and now I'll be spending the rest of it with her," Jungkook states and immediately he thinks of you— the stubborn girl he doesn't know the name and now he's probably never going to find her and actually know her name. Not when he's going to be all over the media platforms after this wedding and you to find out that he's actually an heir to Arua&Co. and married to some girl who probably isn't as adamant, or pretty, or curious as you.

Namjoon shrugs. "Yeah, well. You'll form a bond somehow."

Jungkook looks up from his suit after hearing a bond. Mind immediately tracing back to what the witch— if she even is one— Evanora said: a wreath's bond.

It doesn't take long before Jungkook raises an eyebrow, recalling the moment of when he sat down at the table across from the stranger and next to the witch, stating some sort of phrase— a riddle.

"The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do— it's today," Jungkook speaks.

"Aw, shit. Great," Namjoon announces, letting go of Jungkook's cuff and tending to his own collar. "Jungkook's been in Europe too long he's saying some whack ass shit."

Hoseok chuckles, continuing to flip through his magazine. "I'm telling you, bro, Switzerland is fucking crazy."

"No, you guys. Two of me— she meant the rings— the wedding rings. You do— she meant saying I do. It's a wedding day. She must be here."

"What," the man who finally looks up at his magazine cocks his head to the side. "Now you solve random riddles? What did they feed you in Brussels?"

Jungkook, without so little of a hesitation, gets out of the groom's room of the venue, running down the hallway to the grand venue of the warehouse of where the lights are all around, there are mistletoe hung, and all sorts of greens bringing color to the room. But what he was searching for was the most vibrant of it all— only to realize that he sees anyone but you.

And to himself, he scoffs, thinking of how foolish he could have been to actually believe a witch who possibly could not have been one in the first place.

The dress you wear is lace, from your sleeves to your shoulders. Usually, you'd complain about wearing sleeves on a wedding dress— hell, you'd complain about every little thing that isn't much an inconvenience just to piss your parents off for having a bratty daughter. From the wedding dress, to wedding makeup, to the bouquet, to the food— everything will seem just wrong to you— but having that certainty and approval to say no doesn't make you peep one dreadful word.

Admittedly, you liked the idea of having this wedding. It was like a trial run— and you didn't have to oblige to any commitment.

Your mother walks in on you as you had just put on a dress, hair curled, and light makeup— your mother looks at you so lovingly.

"You picked this dress out, huh?" You ask her and she scoffs.

"Only the best for my daughter," she smirks as she walks over to give you a hug. She wore a deep green dress paired with a fur shawl. "You look beautiful. Even if you're not actually getting married today."

To that, you laugh, shaking your head. "If I have to be a runaway bride, might as well look good doing it."

"That's the spirit," your mother smiles, taking one more look at you. "Are you alright?"

"Just preparing how to dramatically say I don't," you joke, earning a mood lightener in the air. "Is the wedding starting?"

Your mother nods. "Your father is waiting for you outside. Whenever you're ready."

It feels odd, truthfully. About to go marry someone you haven't even properly been introduced to yet, but you try not to think about it— because after all, you don't have to go through with it.

As your arm is interlocked with your father's and you were holding red roses and ferns, you couldn't help but think that this was some sort of fairytale, only for one that you were going to run away from anyways. You think of this just as your father would— solely just business.

As you hear the wedding song play in the audible warehouse, you take a deep breath, your father, giving you a reassuring smile before he starts to take his steps.

Do brides normally feel queasy? No, what were you thinking— you're not actually a bride, and you're not actually going to be married.

Your reassurance in your head makes you feel calm until you're stopping at a spot from across the aisle, where everyone had stood from their seats, countless pairs of eyes staring at you, and only you. Time had froze, but that's not what's making you freeze altogether.

Because standing on the other aisle is Jungkook, the boy from the bus, the boy who went to Brussels who wanted to start anew, the boy who was so curious as to what your name was, the boy—

He was the boy he made you warm in the coldest of nights.

"You alright?" Your father whispers to you, snapping you out of your trance you realized you were in.

"Yes," you answer, eyes not tearing away from Jungkook's.

The person in the velvet suit, waiting for you is just as much in a shock as you are, eyes almost wide, and a look that almost seems like he's relieved to see you. As if he had found oxygen again.

From finally standing in front of him, to staring at him with surprised looks on your faces while the ceremony was taking place, to the very end, you had so many questions and had so many things to say, but couldn't. Instead, you stare at him, thinking what you could possibly say to him to be in this crazy coincidence.

"Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take ___ as your loving wife?"

"I do," he says, his eyebrows scrunching as that was his first time hearing your name. You almost want to snort out loud at how peculiar it is to first hear someone you've been dying to know's name at an alter— standing in front of you. And just immediately, it shakes you because just before, you were thinking of the many ways of how to say you don't, you're actually thinking of saying I do.

"Do you, ___, take Jeon Jungkook as your loving husband?"

The question, that you were so prepared to either say I don't or to runaway dramatically, was left in the air, as you pause. In that moment, you couldn't help but look at the crowd, expecting an answer that was almost obvious— but when looking at your mother for reassurance, she gives you this look and a shrug.

Only if you want to.

Eyes meeting back to Jungkook's chocolate ones, you take a deep breath.

"I do."

"Then Jungkook, you may now kiss the bride."

And there's this big grin you couldn't hide when you notice his little smug look before he's leaning in, recreating the night of when the lights were shining so bright and when just a single kiss could warm you up.

"___," he breathes your name out as if it were fresh air once he releases you from the kiss. "Not as dangerous as I thought."

You scoff, a smile growing. "Just you wait."

He gives you one more look before he kisses you once more, lifting you up from the ground. This time you kiss him harder, confused, yet grateful that this is how you two would meet again— right under your noses.

When he sets you down gently as a feather, he gives you one more look before you slowly both turn over to the crowd who were muted by the moment you had with Jungkook. There was clapping and there was screaming— and you don't even realize that Hyunjung crashes into you with the biggest hug.

"I'm sorry! I tried my best to divert your mom when she asked me if you were in London!" She says, nearly taking your life away as she squeezes you.

"It's fine, Hyunjung— just let me go," you beg, attempting to push her away. As she finally lets go, she gives you look from your eyes to the bottom of your dress.

"I didn't think you'd go through with it," she says, eyes almost tearing up. Rolling your eyes at her, you notice that your mother is walking up beside the nearly crying Hyunjung, an eyebrow raised.

"Neither did I," your mother intervenes. "Is it because he's good looking that you decided to say yes?"

Turning your head to look over at Jungkook who was being hugged and patted down by his groomsmen, you look back to your mother, a big smile painting your features.

"No, actually," you begin. "We know each other."

Your mother is surprised by your answer. "You do?"

"Yes," you smile, looking over at Jungkook. You don't tell her that he was the person who you were stuck with the whole day— the person who made you believe that you could actually live.

"I guess it all works out in the end, doesn't it?" Hearing your mother say that to Hyunjung, you smile to yourself before you're approaching Jungkook who had been waiting for you, and probably has been for awhile.

"I knew you'd be here."

"Really now?" You challenge.

"The day you see two of me is the day same day you say you do," he fluidly states causing you to open your moth amusedly. "A wedding day."

"So, you believe in witches now?"

"Not witches. But maybe just a little bit of magic," he laughs, before he grabs at your waist smoothly, guiding you down the aisle in which you both walk down it, the many people clapping for the newlyweds.

Once he reaches the end where the photographer was snapping pictures, he lets one hand rest at your waist and the other to cup your cheek. He's close, so tremendously close, that his lips only graze yours.

"___," he breathes out with a smirk. "I'm never going to stop saying your name."

And when he kisses you, you feel warm all over again.

752 notes · View notes

raz-b-rose · 4 years

Text

Donsy Week 2020: Day 3: AU

Wow I only finished this last night! This is the longest one out of all of them and was so much fun to write and I enjoyed playing around with the characterization.

Words: 4483

@donsyweek

He sat in his car, staring at his phone in bewilderment. He never thought it would happen, much less like this. He could hear Della’s teasing remarks now, mocking him making a huge joke of it. Part of Donald wanted to believe that it was a joke, it was too good to be true after all.

But he couldn’t see Daisy doing something like this as a joke. She had been rather persistent, he would give her that. Another positive point in her favor.

He remembered the first day they worked together, starting to have fondness for the memory that wasn’t there before.

When he had started working at Webbers it was just to have a job, to make some money. Go to school, go to work, go home. As simple as that. He wasn’t really interested in involving himself with his coworkers. The idea of even trying to talk to them left him feeling anxious, and out of his comfort zone.

He was quiet, hadn't actively talked casually with anyone at the store and in return no one else sought him out. He thought he preferred it that way. Then Daisy was hired.

Daisy was friendly and outgoing with everyone she talked to. All the customers liked her. They would return constantly, looking to chat with Daisy.

Donald really admired that in her, how easily she talked with everyone. She genuinely seemed to enjoy every interaction. Even with him. Daisy went out of her way to talk to him every shift they shared. Donald couldn't meet her eyes, and mumbled constantly. He was surprised, she could understand him each time.

She was persistent in her attempts to strike conversation with him. He didn't mean to keep shutting her down, but she truly intimidated him. How could he hold a conversation with her? How could he not stumble over his words and embarrass himself? She was so cool, and cute. She was always upbeat and brought joy to the store. Why would she want to talk to him?

"Hey Donald, what did the pirate say on his eightieth birthday?"

"What?" He looked up from the cans he had been restocking, Daisy standing above him. Her eyes were alight with excitement, blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder.

"I'm eighty!"

He stared at her for a moment, brain catching up with the joke. He laughed softly, turning back to stock the shelves.

"Hey that's the first time I've heard you laugh!"

"Oh...I guess"

"So you like jokes?" She crouched down next to him, reaching for some cans.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Not Beatrice, she just rolled her eyes when I told her that one" she giggled.

"It was a good joke," Donald felt his face flush, hair falling into his eyes. This was the longest he had held a conversation with her.

She continued to help on stocking, telling him joke after joke, until she was called back to the front. She waved at him, promising more later.

He found himself back in his car, blush deepening as he pulled himself out of the memory. It had been a few weeks now, and conversing with her was becoming easier.

And today she had snatched his phone from his hands.

He stared back down at his phone, looking at the new number with her name attached, along with a purple heart emoji. His blush resurfaced again, warmer than before. Yea she put the emoji there herself, but what would Della say? He couldn't bring himself to edit it.

He jumped, almost dropping his phone when her first text came in. With trembling hands he typed and erased many responses until he settled on

Hey.

He smacked his head on the steering wheel. That was the stupid response ever.

Daisy: What you doing this weekend?

Donald: Working

Donald’s heart jumped around in his chest. He reread her question over and over. Why would she ask such a thing? She didn't want to hang out with him did she? He put the phone away, starting his car, ignoring the soft buzzing coming from his phone. This was something his sister had to help him with.

He found Della in the garage, picking through Scrooge's old junk, a bit carelessly, Donald felt. She was throwing things behind her as she dug through a deep chest. She hadn't noticed his presence yet.

"Where is that blasted…" She grumbled, standing to wipe sweat from her forehead. She was covered head to toe in dust, her sweat mixing with it to make it grime.

"Uh Dells." He croaked out, finally catching her attention.

"Donald! Perfect I need help finding-"

"Actually I need help with..I don't even know"

"You don't know what you need help with?" She raised her brown at him, squinting at him in the low light of the garage.

"Well can you.." He pulled out his phone, showing her the messages while explaining what happened.

Daisy had sent more during his drive, and he was even more confused and flustered.

Daisy: do you want to see a movie after work?

Daisy: There will be other people from work there

Daisy: We were thinking 7 to see The Rise of Duckzilla.

Della looked at him, then back to the messages. "Donald, she just wants to hang out, what do you not understand about that?"

"Why me?"

"Donald," her voice took that sister tone, the one she only used with him. No one else ever heard Della talk like this. "You're amazing, and totally fun to be around, why wouldn't she want to hang you with you"

She had taken a seat on the hard cold concrete, patting the space beside her. He sat slowly, still looking at her messages.

"Because I'm not fun," he pulled at his bangs, "I don't talk with anyone at work, but she keeps trying to talk to me, but she talks to everyone, so I don't think I'm special or anything"

Della listens while he rambles, nodding her head every so often.

"I'm just some loser who-"

"Stop calling yourself a loser, your amazing Donnie"

"No I'm-"

"Finish the sentence and I'll punch you"

He closed his mouth, glaring back at the phone. The screen had timed out, but he knew what waited for him behind the black void. He examined his reflection on the screen. He had dark circles under his eyes from the insomnia, and his hair had grown shaggy and unkempt. He just looked….pathetic.

"Donnie, I know it's not your thing and it scares you, but I think you should go" He groans at the idea of having to spend hours in a casual setting with people he barely knows.

"Maybe tell her how you feel?" Della stood back up, pulling him up as well. "That's enough self-wallowing today, help me find the belt of Gligidesh, I need it for a project!"

Later that night Donald laid on his bed, holding his phone above his face as he debated on how to respond. He felt a little bad that it had been hours, and Daisy must be wondering why he hasn't responded yet.

But he had been agonizing over the answer. Did he just say 'sure why not' or did he ask questions? Did asking too many questions come off wrong? How did people...socialize?

Della came in and snatched the phone from him. Before he could even protest she had tossed it back to him, flopping into his bean bag chair, flipping through one of her travel magazines.

"You're welcome"

Donald: sounds great.

His heart pounded in his chest, indignation building at Della responding for him. Before he could voice his annoyance however, Daisy responded.

Daisy: Great!

Daisy: Why don't eggs tell jokes?

Donald: why?

Daisy: they would crack each other up!

He chuckled. Of course Daisy would keep telling him jokes even over the phone.

"Wow she has a great sense of humor" he glares at Della who was reading above him. She smirked at him, before back off, holding her hands up in surrender.

He and Daisy continued to text, Donald finding it easier than talking to her, but no less nerve racking on occasion. Della sat quietly in the corner, her presence relaxing to the changes in his social life. As Della was leaving his room for the night, he thanked her. It was quiet, and some of his worst mumbling to date, but Della could always understand him.

She winked at him over her shoulder before closing the door. "Anything for my brother" she sang.

Donald hasn't gotten a response from Daisy in awhile, a glance at the time confirmed his suspicion. It was well past midnight. Laying as comfortable as he could, he stared at his ceiling, wishing for sleep, but knowing it probably wouldn't come for a while longer.

He reached for his notebook, opened to a fresh page, and started writing. He wrote many different things. His thoughts and feelings. New lyrics, a few ideas for cords here and there. Before he knew it, Della was barging in, declaring the school day was ahead of them and breakfast was ready. He cursed quietly, while sliding out of bed.

"Did you stay up all night again? Do I need to sleep in here to make sure you're at least trying to sleep?" Della threw a shirt at him.

It smacked him in the face, his hands missing it entirely. Slowly he changed, putting his arms through the sleeves of his favorite flannel at a turtle's pace.

"Please don't, I'll just keep us both up"

"You need sleep"

"I get plenty of sleep at school, he grumbles, grabbing the essentials and following Della to the bottom layer of the manor.

"Even I know that's not what school is for Donnie"

Their bickering continues as they sit down, both only pausing long enough to greet Scrooge before continuing their ‘conversation’. He grumbled what sounded like a string of Scottish curses but left them to it. Duckworth quietly placed breakfast in front of them, before leaving the room, muttering something about teenagers.

Donald looked at his phone when Della finally stopped nagging him to eat, seeing a message from Daisy. It was so weird to see notifications from someone other than his family. I was weird having a friend. Sure he knew people at school, but they felt more like acquaintances than friends. He hadn't been invited to do things since entering high school. Della nudged him with her elbow, Donald looking up from his phone to see Scrooge looking at him rather unimpressed.

“Now that I have your attention, I need your kids help this weekend exploring the-”

“Actually Uncle Scrooge, Donald has really important plans, so it's just you and me!” Della bounced a little in her seat, eating her breakfast without a care in the world. Donald winced as Scrooge looked at her with indignation.

“What could possibly be more important than helping your Uncle with what could be the discovery of the year!”

“He has a date.” Donald chokes on his food, coughing loudly while hitting his chest. Della smacks him a few times on the back laughing loudly.

“A date ye say, that is really important!” Scrooge laughs as well, hitting his cane a few times on the floor.

“Not a date” He choked out, “Movie with friends”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that Donnie” Della laughs one last time when he throws a glare at her. She gets up from the table, aggressively snatching his bag and stomping from the room. Stupid Dumbella.

Surprisingly not only did the rest of the week fly by, but Della toned down her teasing. It was still there, but he could tell she was at least trying to be supportive. Like now for instance, she was rooting through his closet, throwing clothes every which way, ignoring the mess she was making. Sure his room was already a disaster, but at least he knew where everything was.

“Della, its literally just a movie. A movie I’m going to be late for if you don’t let me leave.”

“I wont have my baby brother go out dressed like a hobo”

Donald looked down at what he was wearing. A band shirt with his flannel over top. It was as simple as simple gets.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now”

“It’s too casual” She turned back to rooting through his closet, grumbling about the color black and tattered clothing. Donald stood, rolling his eyes at her.

“I’m going now, clean up after yourself”

“Get back here” She growled out, reaching for him. He easily dodged her, down the hall before she could make it through the mess she had created. “Donald!”

“See you later Dumbella!” He shouted back, slamming the door behind him. She was exhausting, and he couldn't go wasting energy before he even got to the theater. Donald has to say he was really good at ignoring his nerves right up till he saw the large group of his coworkers and no Daisy. His pace slowed, debating on if it was socially acceptable to text Daisy.

“Donald!” She shouted, appearing out from the middle of the group, everything about her shining brightly. He grinned awkwardly waving to her. Everyone else looked at him with varying looks of discomfort or disdain, especially the other boys. Daisy rushed forward, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the theater.

“We still have time for snacks, do you like popcorn?”

“Uh, yeah” He can feel the glares behind him, his shoulders rising and head falling. This was starting to feel like a mistake.

“Hey, hey. Why aren’t there a lot of jokes about popcorn?” She nudged him with her shoulder.

“Uh”

“Because they’re corny!”

He laughed softly, trying to ignore the feeling of Daisy hugging his arm while she laughed with him. Listening to her laugh, and her carefree excitement was almost enough to make him forget the others from work following slowly behind them. Almost.

They never tried to engage in conversation with him, and he didn’t mind too much about that, it wasn’t too different from normal. He never talked to them either after all. Couldn’t blame them.

Daisy however, not only managed to talk to everyone else, but hold individual conversations with him. Della always talked loudly during movies, so they rarely went. Daisy however, talked quietly, her commentary hilarious, so much so he was laughing more at what she said than paying attention to the movie.

He even found himself making a few jokes back, pleasantly surprised when she laughed back. They sat close so they could talk easier and their shared popcorn easily devoured between the two of them.

Maybe this friend thing wouldn’t be so bad.

Donald sat on the edge of the pool, strumming his guitar softly. The air was perfect, not too warm with a gentle breeze. He closed his eyes, imaging he was at the sea, the soft sounds of the water in front of him slightly adding to the illusion.

Hear my voice...

as I'm calling out for you

In the last few months, he had tried, time and time again to talk to Daisy, but his words just got caught in his throat. He would find them alone, and all ability to speak would leave him. She would just look at him, giving him that smile, the sun having come down to earth to blind him everyday.

He liked her. He really did. But he knew she would never feel the same. Yet he wanted her to know, even though it scared him to no end. At the same time, he just couldn’t tell her.

Hear my voice...

there are things I wish you knew

for even if my heart is strange

and hard to understand

He strummed again, pausing to write down the cords.

He would do anything at this point for Daisy. Any task at work, he would help her with, do for her, finish before she had even noticed it needed doing. Management was both impressed and annoyed with him. His coworkers would stare and laugh when they thought he wouldn’t hear.

He knew he was out of Daisy’s league, didn’t make him feel any better though. He loved being around her, he loved hearing her laugh and her jokes. She had quickly become his best friend, his first real friend. Everything about her felt so genuine, so present and real.

I'll give all that I have for you

I'll help you take a stand

so hear my voice…

Her hand would brush against his own or his arm, short circuiting his brain further. He knew he grew more and more awkward around her, but couldn’t bring himself to not be around her either. Her presence alone was a drug, addictive and leaving him wanting more when they weren’t together. It felt so right and so wrong to feel the way he did.

as I'm calling out for you

Hear my voice...

there are things I wish you knew

so hear my voice…

Daisy could never know. She deserves someone who compliments her. Someone who radiates like she does, another sun to shine with her. Not him, a dark cloud that would only lessen her light, keeping it from everyone else. She had so much to share, and he wished he could help with that, he wished he could help show off her beauty, intelligence, and humor.

Hear my voice…

“Wow I didn’t know you could sing”

He launched his guitar into the air, his heart stopped as he watched it fly towards the pool. He reached for it, fumbling it, each pass of his hands over its surface stopping his heart more. Finally he caught it, grip tightening on the stem, leaning over the pool.

Slowly he leaned back, placing his guitar back in the case. He just as slowly turned around, Daisy standing behind him with Della, both looking at him with wide eyes full of amusement and shock.

Daisy was at the manor. Daisy had heard him singing. Daisy had heard him singing a song he wrote for her. Kill him now.

“Uh surprise” Della squeaks. Just by looking at her, he knew she knew. He was not going to hear the end of this tonight.

“You sister invited me over for dinner..sorry I scared you.”

"Daisy" he croaked out.

Daisy took a seat next to him, folding her legs under her. She was so close, her warmth making what was a perfect day into a blistering one, he was on fire.

Donald was suddenly on edge, watching her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for something to happen.

"I liked the song," she said

"How much did you hear?" He managed to say, reaching up to pull on his hair again, a nervous tick Della had pointed out to him recently.

"There are things I wish you knew" she sang softly, a small smile on her lips.

Donald felt his adams apple jerk, struggling to breathe. Please don't ask what the song is about. Please don't ask what the song is about. He repeated the mantra in his head, his leg starting to bounce.

"What is the song about?" Donald cursed, then cursed again when he realized he cursed out loud. He heard Della make a noise behind him, reminding him of why he was in this mess to begin with.

He looked over at Daisy, to see her smiling. It was a different smile than what she normally wore, it seemed knowing and gleeful. Everything he was feeling increased tenfold, positive and negative.

"I'm going to go, see you two at dinner bye" Della rambled before he heard her retreating back into the manor.

“Sorry she really wanted to surprise you” Daisy laughed again, relaxing beside him.

“Definitely a surprise” Donald laughed, also relaxing beside her.

“I really like the song,”

He stiffened again, thinking he was in the clear. “Oh uh, it’s nothing special, just something I wrote”. The heat he was feeling only continued to build.

“Will you sing it for me again?”

Donald looked at her, the way her eyes shone in excitement, hair shining just as bright in the sun, and he couldn’t say no. He reached for his guitar again, verified the tuning and glanced at her one more time. He didn’t really think about if she would have ever heard this song like this, him playing for her, just the two of them. Everyone had always told him he had an awful voice and here she was requesting for him to sing for her. She was full of surprises.

Hear my voice...

as I'm calling out for you

Hear my voice...

there are things I wish you knew

for even if my heart is strange

and hard to understand

I'll give all that I have for you

I'll help you take a stand

so hear my voice…

as I'm calling out for you

Hear my voice...

there are things I wish you knew

so hear my voice…

Hear my voice…

Daisy had closed her eyes, and started swaying back and forth, one of the cutest smiles Donald had ever seen on her beautiful face. He heart hammered in his chest, waiting for her to say something. No one had ever looked that peaceful after he finished a song, they were always grimacing and giving vague compliments.

Not Daisy. Wow was this girl like no other.

While she didn't say anything, he started another one of his songs. She never moved from where she was, or showed any different emotions. Song after song he played.

Finally he was just strumming softly, enjoying the time he was having with Daisy. He himself had even closed his eyes, the breeze gentle enough that the sound of the guitar didn’t carry far. He was no longer on fire, the heat being reduced to a soft ember, still there just less intense.

“Don?” She whispered. He hummed in response, keeping his eyes closed, listening carefully.

“I really like you”

His strumming hand slipped while his other hand tightened round the cords too tightly. The cacophony ringing out breaking the peaceful bubble, the sound echoing in his ears while his head whipped around to look at her.

This was the first time Donald had ever seen her unsure of herself. Her shoulders were hunched, head bowed. He’d never seen her face this red, and despite all that, she met his eyes with a directness that was only Daisy.

The ringing of his ears was quickly drowned out with the sound of his heart beating erratically throughout his veins. He needed to say something, anything, the longer he waited the more uncomfortable she looked.

“Me?”

“Yeah you,”

“Why?”

“Well you’re really cool and cute,” She sounded so cute when she was embarrassed, and it was only then she finally broke eye contact. The loss of her gaze giving him mixed feelings.

“Cute?” His voice rose in pitch, “Me?” He was sounding real intelligent right now. Heat creeped up his neck resting on his cheeks.

“Yes,” She giggled, looking at him again, “Like that is cute.”

“But, but” He scrambled for his train of thought, racing to catch it. None of this was making any sense.

“Donald” Daisy sounded panicked. “I’m sorry, I thought you liked me too, and I-” She starts to stutter, hands dancing around as she struggles outwardly much like he was feeling inwardly.

“I do like you,” He blurted, “A lot”

“Really?” Her entire face lit up, hands clasped in front of her. He buried his head on his hands, nodding confirmation.

“So much Daisy, but I thought...you would never like me back...why me?” He just couldn’t understand. He had never even given the idea proper thought or consideration. Daisy liking him back, was too good to be true.

“Donald,” She gently took his hands away from his face. She had gotten so close, a hardness to her eyes as she searched his own. Her hands tightened around his own, resting softly on the grass between them.

“I like you because you work hard, and you’re funny, and so SO nice to everyone, no matter how they treat you”

“Me?” He was starting to sound like a broken record.

“Yes you, I really like you”

“But I’m-”

“Different sure, but that doesn’t mean you are worthless Donald, you’re really cool”

“You deserve someone better than me”

“Well I think the one whos the best for me is you” She glared at him, then smiled softly, “I want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

That made him stop. Daisy was his first real friend, and she was genuine and honest. She was kind to almost everyone. There were a few times he had seen her temper surface. Most of all though, she seemed pretty dead set on him being better than he thought. He also knew it wasn’t always in good policy to argue with her, and she probably wouldn’t back down from this one.

“Ok”

“I know you don’t really agree with me but it’s a start,” She moves so she’s sitting right next to him, holding his hand tightly.

“I don’t know how to do this”

“Me neither, but I think we make a pretty good team already” She laughs, nudging him with her shoulder much like when they first went to the movies. He smiled at her, reaching up to brush hair from her face.

“You’re amazing you know that”

“Yup” She giggles. Donald could stare at those eyes with that matching smile for the rest of his life. She squeezed his hand one more time, standing and pulling him up with her. “Common, I think it’s time for dinner. Besides, Della is probably wondering what happened,”

His head snapped towards the manor, catching Della watching from one of the upper windows, She bolted as soon as they made eye contact. She wouldn’t get away that easily. “Della!” He took off towards the manor, Daisy running alongside him, laughing. They raced up the stairs past Scrooge.

“Slow down kids, where's the fire?”

“Della!” he snapped out.

“Please don’t do too much damage this time, you kids can cost me so much money” Scrooge may sound annoyed, but Donald swore he heard a fondness to his voice.

“Nice to meet you!” Daisy called out, still following.

“You too Lass, see you at dinner” Donald glanced behind him, surprised at his Uncle's unbothered response, even more so that Daisy was still following.

“This is going to be so exciting!” She jumps, fists pumped in excitement. Donald smiles back, before leading the way once more to find his snoop of a sister. She had it coming, surprising him with Daisy after all. Then he would thank her later, after all everything turned out better than ok.

#donsy week #donald and daisy #donald duck #daisy duck

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ivy-kissobryos · 4 years

Note

hi, im kinda new to witchcraft and i dont really know anything (prayers, rituals, beliefs, etc), plus there's a lot of contrasting info online so i don't know what i should go with. could you please briefly explain how you view witchcraft and what you do? i'm going around asking this to a lot of other blogs to get a general sense of things. thanks!

Before we begin I just wanna point out that when you say prayers and beliefs, I think of paganism. When I hear ritual and witchcraft, I think of magic.

Religion and magic is intertwined but you do not have to be pagan or wicca or whatever to be a witch, or vise versa. For me, a witch is someone who practices magic, whether it be simple things like jar spells or folk magic or traditional witchcraft or anything ceremonial or ritualistic (although some ceremonial magic practitioners prefer the term magician over witch, which is up to them). A diviner is someone who uses divination tools such as tarot or pendulums to seek knowledge (and again, you can be a diviner without ever touching witchcraft). Spirit work and hedge work is also another area for you to look into.

You can be a pagan - lighting incense, praying and making offerings - without being a witch either. Some say there is inherent magic in worship, but personally, if you just worship but don’t practice witchcraft (do spells etc) then you’re just a follower of a pagan religion. And there is nothing wrong with that. Of course, you can also be all that I mentioned above simultaneously too, but there is no hurry to quickly define yourself when you’re starting out. Changing the way you label yourself or your craft as you grow (or foregoing a label in the first place) is equally valid too.

More info on some beginner tips + my views on witchcraft below.

If you’re starting out some times I’d give are:

Learn how to protect yourself. Energy work and shielding techniques is how I started, or calling on Archangels if you believe in them. Once I was more comfortable I began learning how to use witch bottles to defend myself, how to banish (look up the LBRP) and more.

Read and read and read! Not on Tumblr but actual books (the legit ones, not the trendy money-milking ones) and historical sources. If there are contradicting sources, use your gut and your brain. Check for author bias and cross-check with other sources. Listen to your intuition yet use critical thinking and discernment too.

Record and test your divination and spells. See if a prediction comes true. Test if a spell manifest the desired result within the given time frame. If you do a wealth spell, then the spell’s success will be confirmed by increased wealth. Try altering your methods, and note if you become more successful or accurate and adapt accordingly.

Don’t be pressured to spend loads of money on your craft especially when you’re starting out. Of course, you may want to give fancy wine as an offering to your god, but if that isn’t feasible then a home cooked meal alongside traditional offerings such as bread would be alright too. Also with books, of course it is good to support occult publishers but try borrowing from libraries, find e-books and use your university account to borrow them, or find PDFs of them online.

Personally, it may not be suitable for complete beginners but I recommend books by Troy Books for witchcraft info. For learning Lenormand, the Complete Lenormand Oracle Handbook by Caitlin Matthews is the best. I know it’s 600+ pages but I swear it’s so good.

For me, witchcraft is about power. When you feel like there isn’t anywhere else to go, when your friends seem distant or unable to comprehend what you’re struggling with, when the law has failed you and corruption has won, witchcraft is a way to redirect your life and regain your sovereignty. Which is why I also believe in hexes and, in some context, curses (although I know it’s a can of worms to open and I’ll make posts on hexes and curses one day).

Divination is used to give you guidance and insight into something that may take you forever to figure out by yourself. It is also a way to communicate with the divine. What I am against though, is using divination to spy on others, as you’re essentially destroying other people’s rights to privacy. Claiming 100% accuracy is also an act of hubris, which is why I always say that my readings are reasonably accurate because in the end, free will triumphs over all and even the strings of fate has many threads.

If your relationship with a deity is rooted in transaction, then it can be said that you are working with them, not worshiping or devoting yourself to them. A devotional pagan relationship between oneself and one’s deity can be transactional too (eg: I worship Dionysus and he helps me with giving me opportunities to grow, along with giving guidance on my path) but what is more important is the devotion - the love and bond - you have with said deity.

Where the line between witchcraft and paganism blurs is when you involve deities in your spell or divination.

When I was young I used to dismiss the incantations that the monks in my country use. However, one day I went to a ceremony where almost a hundred monks gather and pray, casting their spells in unison, and even with my initial derisive views towards conventional Buddhism I felt something that day. Now, I realize when certain words have been spoken and imbued with power and continues to be recited with fervent faith for hundreds or thousands of years, power becomes inherent in those words. The same goes for rituals and spells.

This is why a beginner who had never managed to manifest anything properly can screw up when doing ceremonial witchcraft and end up bringing misfortune into their lives. Those ceremonies are meant to be performed that way, invoking those gods, for a reason. Best case scenario when you mess up is they don’t work. Worse case is they bite you back. Same goes for spirit work and especially so regarding demon work. I was curious about the Ars Goetia in the past, and I am immensely grateful that my naive, idiotic past self had enough brains not to attempt any summoning. If you want to prove to yourself that the magical world is real, there are better ways to do so.

Do I believe the gods are literally real? That Buddha walked his first step and a lotus flower bloomed under his feet? That Dionysus wrapped a ship in vines and turned the disbelieving pirates into dolphins? I don’t think so. But I have faith in my gods the same way one can be a Christian without believing that the Earth is 9000 years old. And I believe in magic because I have felt it and observed the evidence.

Maybe it was easier for me to believe because I grew up in an animistic and spiritual country, where things like divination and spirit work is ‘normal’ (although people do fear and respect the supernatural). Making offerings to household spirits is something my family does weekly. Hell, almost every family has a mini spirit house in their property that hosts the spirit of land guardians. Going to shrines and praying to our local version of ‘dryads’ and ‘tree ghost’ is common for if you want good luck or a bargain.

Messing with corpses is now outlawed, but witch doctors in my country have been known to make consecrated oil from the corpses of women. As recent as 2012, stillborn fetus had been used in ceremonies which turn them into household spirits to bring luck - if they are pleased and fond of you. Of course, magic of these types are against the law because the actions required to perform them are illegal, but the point is, it shows that magic is very real and still believed in where I come from.

If you’re coming from a western worldview where all of this is ‘weird’ or ‘primitive’ or ‘crazy’, it might feel difficult to trust in your supernatural senses, to have faith or to find your path. But if you keep practicing and refining your skills, you’ll find that magic is something that will always draws you back to it, that it is something you cannot live without.

#about me #witchcraft #paganism #hellenic #dionysus*#tarot #lenormand #energy work #witchblr

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

Text

Four Eighths

airing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word count: 4.5K + Warnings: Coarse Language, slight angst, character building (Four), he’s kinda redeemed for being such an ass in the last chapter! If this were a movie, there would be a shopping montage (Preferably with La Roux Bulletproof playing), also very reckless driving (Eight is a god damned bad ass!)

*Disclaimer, as promised this is a more lighthearted chapter, still with a slight bit of angst, but I feel like that’s just a given when it comes to 6 Underground fics!

Missed Chapters ONE, TWO and THREE.... Maybe read those first? Might help you understand what’s going on here!

Chapter Four: I'm having fun, don't put me down

The trailer door slammed shut behind you, as you stalked towards Five’s trailer, your wet hair being blown in all directions by the sudden gale which had picked up at base. You were mad, you were beyond mad, you were at the point of furious! “Who the fuck does Four think he is? He doesn’t have a fucking clue what I can do!” You snarl under your breath, not that it made any difference. You could’ve screamed the words from the top of your lungs, and you doubted anyone would hear you over the wind. As you rounded a corner, Five’s trailer came into view, her and Two sat on the steps leading inside, both looking up at you when your shadow cast across them. Your eyes were hidden behind a pair of heart shaped sunglasses, the cheerful eyewear masking the look of rage piercing your eyes. Plastering on a smile, you leant against the side of Five’s trailer, resting your clasped hands behind your back. “Sorry I took so long, sleep kinda happened.” You smirk.

Five waves you off, smiling softly. “No stress, if I were still a medical practitioner, I’d be yelling at you right now to go back to bed, and finish healing.”

“You do that anyway. Medical licence or no…” Two grins, earning a shove in the shoulder from Five.

“That’s beside the point! None of you actually have to listen to me when I tell you do something! When I wore a name badge and stethoscope, people would do exactly as I said!”

“Thanks Five, but really, I’m alright. I don’t need any more sleep. I feel fine.” You grin, feeling your anger slowly ebb away. Five eyes you from head to toe, as if she were expecting a mortal wound to appear somewhere on your person. “Seriously Five, it’s okay. I’m no more injured than I usually am after attacking the punching bag!”

At this, Five cracks a grin, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Two, you’ve turned her into you! Next thing we know, Eight’ll be running around with a gunshot wound in her back, telling us all that she’s fine!”

“How is that possibly a bad thing?” Two gasps, looking between Five and you, a tiny smirk working its way onto her lips. “We need more people like me in the world, and I’m honoured that Eight is just that!”

“Besides, eight is divisible by two! So of course we’re going to end up like each other!” You laugh, kicking one foot up behind you, planting it firmly on the side of the trailer.

“By that logic then, eight is also divisible by four, would that make you and Four similar too?” Five grins. Your breath hitches in your throat, the last thing you want it to think about that arrogant Brit. No, you were nothing alike. You would never question someone’s place on a team before they’d had the opportunity to prove themselves.

“Definitely not. He and I are two very different people.” You answer almost too quickly, both Five and Two noticing your sudden shift in posture. Your back had gone pin straight, and your hands had moved to rest in front of you, fingers locking then unlocking over and over.

Two stands up, stepping over Five who was on the step below her. “Well, I don’t know about you, Eight. But I know that after a good fight, I always like to get a big meal. There’s a diner in town that serves pretty decent food. Ready to head on in?”

Pushing away from the trailer, you nod twice, smiling gently at Two. “That’s sounds great.”

“I’ll get the keys from One, I’ll meet you both at the car.” Five offers, closing her trailer door, and heading towards a shipping container. You were still learning where everything at base was, but if you remembered correctly, the one Five entered was the communal rec room. It was often where One and Seven could be found, battling it out in a game of pool.

*****

The silver McLaren 570S sped down the highway, going well over the speed limit, though considering that you had only passed three other cars the whole time, it didn’t much matter how fast you went. Two had offered to drive, as she claimed to know a short cut to the small town you were visiting, and as it was your first time leaving the base in weeks, Five had offered you sit in the passenger seat to take in the scenery, which you would’ve done had it not been blurring past you at a rate of knots. Eventually, the car slowed down as you entered a small populated town, driving through the quiet street at an acceptable speed. “Where are we stopping first? Shopping or lunch?” Two asks, turning to face Five in the backseat.

Five gazes out the window for a moment, contemplating her answer. “Lunch makes the most sense, it’s the right time for it…”

“I was thinking shopping first. If we eat later in the day, then we’ll have an actual excuse to not have to eat whatever Three makes for dinner tonight.” You offer, tilting your head to the side as you wait for a response.

Two chuckles, nodding her head. “I may like Three, but his cooking is atrocious.”

“Shops first, it is then!” Five grins, as Two drives further down the street, until she pulls into a parking space. The three of you climbing out, before instantly being hit with a sticky, humid breeze, making you all wish you had remained in the air-conditioned car.

The two women lead you down the street, as you look at each of the shops you pass. A few small clothing stores, a grocer, chemist, realtor, arcade, cinema, three diners, one Italian restaurant, and finally you come to a home décor store. “They don’t have much, but it’s enough to make things a little more comfortable.” Five offers with a smile as she pushes the door open for you all.

Inside, the store was set up in multiple different sections. One for bathroom, another for children’s rooms, kitchens, lounge rooms, and of course master bedrooms. Moving further into the store, you leave Two and Five to look through the lounge section, as you make a beeline for the bedroom portion of the store. The store offered just about everything you could possibly need for a bedroom, though as you weren’t in the market for a new bed, or furniture at all for that matter, you were left with only a small portion of the display area to look through. There was a tall floor lamb which you select, along with a matching smaller lamp that you intended to use by your bed. Next came bed sheets, the ones you had been using since you arrived were clearly hand me downs, not that there was an issue with that, but you did want to new ones. Finding a few sets that you liked, and also hoped would fit your mattress, you move on to the more decorative side of things. A string of twinkling fairy lights was added to your basket, along with a cream coloured rectangular rug. As you looked further around, you came across decorative throw cushions, which you quickly snatched up five of, all in different colours and patterns, only to then find a throw blanket which matched one of the five, which you found yourself needing!

Making your way back to the front of the store, you found your travel companions causing a ruckus in the kids room section, where they were attempting to build a fort with the few items available to do so. The store clerk looked as if he was having an aneurism, though he was unable to say anything that would make the women stop. “If only One could see you both now.” You giggle, heading over with your arms and basket full of décor.

Two pokes her head up from behind their fort, smirking at you. “Why do you say that?”

“When he was telling me about all of you after we first met, he told me I had to behave well around you two, because you were the adults of the team.”

Five bursts into laughter, as Two joins in with her own giggles. “Fuck One, he sees what he wants to see when it comes to us! He wouldn’t notice if we walked around with fake moustaches drawn on!” Five gasps, shaking her head fondly.

“One time, during a briefing, Seven didn’t show up, but instead stuffed a jacket with paper, and blew up a balloon and put it under the jackets hood. He set it up perfectly, it actually looked like someone was asleep on the table! Unless you got too close, then it was obvious what was going on. One got through the whole meeting, and only when everyone stood to leave, and the fake Seven didn’t, did he notice something was wrong!” Two has a fond look in her eyes as she tells you her story. “If he thinks we’re the adults, then that’s fine, but we know the truth!”

A part of you longs to stay with the women, and help them build their fort, but the other part of you feels the urge to rescue the poor store clerk. Turning to face him, you smile kindly. “Hi there, could I grab these all please?”

The young boy blinks in shock, tearing his gaze away from the two grown women destroying the store. “Uh- sure! Just follow me.”

You do as he says and follow him to the register, he looks no older that fifteen or sixteen perhaps, and clearly has had no experience with dealing with a situation like this. As the youth reads out your total, you smile and pull out the credit card from your purse. Two had handed it to you before you left, saying that is was One’s card, and was only to be used for the essentials. When you had asked if shopping for your tailer counted as an essential, she had looked directly in your eyes and said, that home decorating was the only essential. “Can you add an extra 70 bucks to the total please?”

The boy blinks at you in surprise, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Why’d you wanna do that?”

You shrug lightly, twirling the card between your fingers. “Because I feel bad for the mess my friends have made. Figure this might make up for it a bit.”

He doesn’t question you again and does as told, presenting you with your new total, to which you happily pay. By the time the small items had been bagged up, you were left with two lamps in large boxes, and a rolled-up rug to try and figure out how to carry out to the car. “Oi ladies! Leave the poor shop alone and come gimme a hand here!” You yell across the store, hearing the giggling from the two women cease.

*****

Loading your purchases into the car had been one hell of a hassle, while the McLaren was built for speed, it was certainly not built with the intention of ever using the trunk! After much swearing, and the threat of returning the rug, the three of you had managed to get everything safely inside, slamming the trunk closed, with the vow to not open it again until you were back at base. Next, came a very late lunch. It was well after three when you entered the diner, only a handful of other patrons there at the odd time of your arrival. A middle aged woman with flaming red hair directed the three of you to a booth at the back of the diner, handing out plastic menu’s. You all placed your orders, heeding Five’s warning and staying well away from the nachos. “Four had them once, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so unwell…” She had advised, to which although the thought of Four being sick did spark joy in you, you would rather not find out if it was a one-off thing or not.

Once your meals were handed out, conversation flowed freely between the three of you, no question was off limits now that you were away from the base and One’s prying eyes. “Alright Eight, I’ve been trying to figure it out all afternoon, but I just can’t. So you’re going have to answer it for me. What’s the go with Four? When we mentioned him back at base, I genuinely thought you were about to cry, or scream. Maybe even both…” Five begins, dabbing the corner of mouth with a napkin.

You pray that the ground will open up and swallow you whole, at least then you’d have an excuse for not answering. Of course, they had noticed your reaction earlier, you’d never been good at hiding your emotions, your dad used to warn you to never play poker! Both as an anti-gambling campaign, but also because he knew that if you did, everyone would know straight away if you were bluffing or not. You look across at Two, who although has her mouthful, looks just as curios as Five does. Sighing deeply, you rest your elbows on the table, hissing quietly as you press against a bruise you didn’t know you had. “I’m just tired of the way he’s been treating me is all.”

“Wow, that was so informative. I feel so enlightened! Thank you so much for sharing such a heart wrenching story with us, I know that must’ve been hard for you.” Two grumbles, glaring at you over her meal. You had hoped that maybe they would accept such a basic offer, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

“It’s just that he’s been ignoring me since I arrived! Every time I try to talk to him, he just pretends he can’t hear me, and then there’s the times when I’m talking to someone else! He walks right up to us, and just starts talking over the top of me, no apology or anything!”

Five clears her throat, looking at you softly. “I don’t think he means anything by it Eight. He was like that with all of us when we first met him, he just seems to take a while to warm up to new people is all.”

At that, you can’t help but laugh, causing the two women to look at you in surprise. Out of all the reactions you could’ve had to Five’s comment that was not one they had expected. “Is there more that you’re not telling us?” Two presses on, placing her fork down and giving you her full attention now.

Your fingers comb through your hair, pushing the sweaty strands away from your scalp. “I uh- overheard him talking, or rather shouting with One today.”

“Bloody hell, those two fight like cats and dogs sometimes, you’ll get used to it eventually.” Two shrugs, leaning back to press herself against the booth’s chair more comfortably

You shake your head, breathing out deeply. “No, it’s not that. Christ I couldn’t give a flying fuck whether they scream at each other all the time or not, what I do care about though, is the way he talks about me when I’m not around.” You take a sip of your ice water, the cool glass rather soothing against your palm. “He was questioning One as to why I’m here. He thinks that what I do is pointless, and that I shouldn’t be a part of the team. Apparently, you don’t need a hacker, and that having me around is a liability. Then he accused the fight today of being a fluke, basically saying the Three was an easy take down for me! Oh, and then there was this whole thing about you needing a driver instead of me, and when One said that the team would continue taking it in turns of being the getaway driver, he basically said that I wouldn’t be able to drive a getaway vehicle even if I wanted to!” By the time you finish you feel fresh tears clawing at the backs of your eyes. You squeeze your lids shut, until you feel the need to sob subside.

With your eyes shut, you don’t see the looks exchanged between Two and Five, who were conducting a silent conversation, with you none the wiser. “Eight, I’m not trying to excuse Four’s behaviour, or his comments. But there’s something you should know.” Five sighs, resting a comforting hand over your shoulder, smiling gently when you look at her beside you. “Four, well he’s been part of the team for a while, he joined well before I did, so he’s come to know a fair few people in his time with the Ghosts. By now, you’ve probably realised that there’s a number missing in our team, Six. He was with us for our first mission in Florence, but things didn’t end well, and he didn’t make it. Four and Six, they were practically joined at the hip, despite what One always told us, warning us to never get too close to each other, they did anyways. They were best friends! Six was our driver, and when he was with us, you could always find the two of them dicking around, going for joy rides, just being overall stupid young boys, but at least they were having fun. When Six died, it hit Four like a ton of bricks, for weeks he kept to himself, he disappeared for nearly two weeks, none of us had any idea where he went, we still don’t. But then, he suddenly returned, and begun acting as if nothing had changed. Even though, in his world, everything had.”

A crease forms between your brows as you watch Five, tears are brimming in her eyes, but just like you, she’s too stubborn to let them fall. “Since then, Four’s been, different. He puts on a brave face, but we all know that there’s something eating him from the inside out. But he refuses to talk about it, and we can’t force him to. One uses it to his advantage, reminding us that this is why we don’t form attachments, but we don’t listen to him. Forming attachments keeps us human, even if it hurts sometimes.”

You blink slowly, taking in Five’s words, a deep pang of sympathy pounding in your chest. All of what you had just been told, it made sense to why Four was so quick to defend Six when he was arguing with One earlier. “I get that he’s been hurt, and that maybe he doesn’t know how to deal with the loss of Six. But why is he taking it out on me?”

This time, it’s Two who answers you, drumming her long fingers on the table. “He’s doing exactly what One has been telling us to do for years, not making attachments. He would rather have you hate him, than to get close to you, and have something happen. He can’t do the same with the rest of us, he’s known us too long now. But you? You’re new, he doesn’t know anything about you, and if he can keep it that way, then neither of you will be hurt if another mission ends badly.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he was talking about me like that to One! If he was saying it directly to me, then sure, I’d understand because yeah, I really am close to hating him after those comments. But when he was talking to One, he didn’t know I was there!”

“You didn’t have to be there. Gossip travels quickly when there’s only seven of us around, secrets don’t stay secret for long. One way or another we all find everything out. Four knows this as well as the rest of us do. Anything that he says to One about you, will eventually get around base until it reaches you. This time, the process just skipped a step, and went straight to you, before the rest of us found out.” Two offers with a tired shrug.

You pick at the remainder of your meal, mulling over this new information, unsure of how to process all of it at once. The table grows quiet, the three of you all lost in your own thoughts. “So Four doesn’t hate me really…. And, he doesn’t think that I have no place in the team?”

“I can’t guarantee anything, but I’d bet you fifty bucks that that’s exactly right. He doesn’t know you; he can’t hate you.” Five laughs, and you feel some tension leave your shoulders, finally feeling somewhat relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you gaze across at Two, then at Five, both of whom raise their eyebrows, they could see the cogs in your mind turning, but they had no idea what plan you were formulating. “I may not be able to do much to change this situation. But the least I can do is prove him wrong.”

“What’ve you got in mind Eight?” Two smirks, sitting up straight and pushing her plate to the side of the table.

*****

If you thought the McLaren was travelling fast on your way into town, then the drive out meant you were practically flying! The leather steering wheel was soft against your hands as you swerved in between cars, paying little to no mind as to which lane of the freeway you were legally supposed to be driving on. “Jesus Christ Eight! Would you mind not killing us please?” Two gasped, as you narrowly avoided a head on collision with a semi as you overtook a Winnebago, despite her vocal protests at your erratic driving, the sparkle in her eyes proved that she was enjoying the ride just as much as you were.

Five however was not having a grand time, and looked to be on the verge of carsick. “Eight, there are breakable things in the back of this car! Please slow down! Think of the lamps!”

You look at Five through the rear-view mirror, raising your eyebrows behind you heart glasses. “Why have the speedometer go this high if you can’t drive that fast?” You challenge, pressing down on the accelerator further, the engine revving in a delicious purr.

Whereas on the way into town, even with Two speeding as she was, the trip had still taken forty-five minutes. This time around, you were easily halfway back to base, and had only been driving for fifteen minutes. “Fucking hell Eight, we’re supposed to be dead! What happens if the police pull you over? How do you explain that three dead women are currently driving at a highly illegal speed down a freeway?” Five tries again, though it only causes you to laugh, even Two was finding the whole ordeal rather humorous.

Watching Five in the mirror, you see her open her mouth, ready to ask you to slow down again. Before she has the chance, you flick the radio on, the opening psychedelic tune of Devin Townsend’s True North urging you to speed along further. The music soaks into your entire being, and as you drive, singing along, you find yourself not caring what anyone thought of you in this very moment. You were truly living your best life, and there were genuinely no consequences for doing so.

*****

Four had once again cornered One, or so he thought. Four was under the impression, that if he yelled loud enough, that One would listen to what he had to say and would kick you out of the team. For three weeks now, he’d been trying to think of different ways to prove that you weren’t a good fit with the rest of the Ghosts, but nothing he said seemed to deter One’s line of thought. None of them had a bloody clue what the next mission was, but according to One, you would be necessary. Four failed to see how, there was nothing you could do, that the others couldn’t. Sure, they would need a bit of training to get there, and to be able to get things done as quickly as you did, but he was positive that he could hack into a museum’s security cameras just as quickly as you supposedly had!

“I’m not having this discussion with you again Four.” One groaned, rubbing at his forehead with his thumb and index finger.

“But you’re not bloody listening! What if she double crosses us? Instead of breaking into a computer to steal the information we need, what if she sends it to someone else? Or gives away our location and plans?”

“Why? Why would she do that? Who would she send them to? According to all official documents, she’s dead. Just like the rest of us. There’s literally no one out there who would make a deal with a dead person, just on the off chance they actually delivered on their promises!”

Four frowned deeply, his brows furrowed and scar pulsing in his frustration. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn’t One just listen to him for once? All he wanted, truly, was for you to be safe, and to return to your old life! As glamourous as One had likely talked up the life of a Ghost, it truly wasn’t all it was cracked up to be! No one else should be subjected to this life, there was too much pain and death involved with this way of living, and you had no reason to experience it.

From behind the two men, a cloud of dust could be seen rapidly approaching, red clouds of dirt billowing around until they parted in lieu of the speeding McLaren. One moment it was miles away from the men, and the next, he could feel the heat radiating from the car as it breezed past him, before performing a donut, and coming to halt with the bonnet facing him. The tyre marks in the dirt showed just how perfect a stop the car had come to, there was no fishtailing, just clean tracks. Five was the first to emerge from the car, pressing a hand to cover her eyes, while the other rest atop the car door. Two pulled herself out next, grinning between him and One, before turning and popping the trunk. Finally, out you came, from the driver’s side no less, a cocky grin plastered to your lips as you waved at One, raising an arched eyebrow up at Four.

“Jesus Eight, I said you could drive home! Not warp us here!” Five groaned, as she helped you and Two collect things from the trunk of the car.

“Right, so who the fuck taught you to drive like that then?” One yelled out, earning a grin from you in his direction.

“When you run perpetually late like I do, and go to school on the opposite side of the city, you learn how to navigate traffic pretty damned quickly.” You quip back, slamming the trunk closed, and pocketing the keys. You, Two and Five all making your way towards your trailer.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking say it One.” Four warns, holding up a hand to the grinning man before him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about? I wasn’t going to say anything. Especially not anything about how impressive Eight’s driving skills are.” One shrugs, eyebrows raised in a look of utter innocence.

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Chapter Five out now

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