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charincharge · 3 years

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I Don't Want To Wait, forty-six

rowaelin high school bffs au masterlist

AN: We're baaaaack. In case you missed it, chapters will no longer have tag lists (tumblr desktop has decided on limiting the amount of tags to 50 per post, and that just doesn't work for me!). If you want updates, the easiest way is to put this account on notification or subscribe to my A03 page. Alright, without further ado, let's get back to the story!

. . .

Dear Rowan,

Surprise! As I write this, you are in the other room with my dad and Lorcan, trying to do some hundred pushup challenge. And, I had to excuse myself to write this letter to sneak into your bag before you leave tomorrow morning, first because I don’t want to waste a second of time, and second… you might have looked a little too good doing pushups. You’re getting really strong. Do you think you could do a push up with me on your back? I bet after this summer is over you’ll be able to. Sigh. I can’t believe you’re going to be gone the whole summer. I miss you so much already, and you’re not even gone yet. I want to hear every detail of your summer, okay? No detail is too small. And I’ll tell you all about how lifeguarding goes, too. Speaking of, I’ve included a picture of me in my uniform, since you won’t be here to see it in person. I was going to text it to you, but I decided I should print it out so you can keep it next to your bed. That way, any girl who walks into your room will know you are NOT available. I love you, Ro. Write me back ASAP! (I know you can probably call and email, too, but you promised letters!). Sending you a thousand kisses.

xx, Aelin

. . .

Dear Aelin,

Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend? Because you are. Thank you for the letter and the picture. Leaving you in Orynth felt like leaving part of my heart behind, and I love that you thought to send you with me. Plus, that picture? There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe how stunning you are. I can’t believe I’m missing a whole summer of you in that uniform???? Feel free to mail more pictures. It’s a good thing you didn’t text because there is absolutely no cell service here. Apparently, we’re right in the middle of some mountain range, and it makes phone use really spotty. So, I guess it’s good we got this letter sending thing started already. I plan on writing as often as I can, although I’m not sure how much that will be. Our first program event is tonight. We’re going to have evaluations of our playing to see how we’ll be split up into smaller groups for the summer. The schedule is pretty intense. Breakfast at six, lunch at one, and dinner at seven. With practice from 7-1, 2-7, and then gym training from 8-10. I’m tired just thinking about it.

Also, you silly girl, you definitely don’t need to worry about anyone wondering if I’m available. The first thing I did was tell my roommate about you. And there are no girls here. Just an entire floor full of lacrosse-playing dudes. Since the campus is so remote, we’re pretty much the only people here. They’re doing crazy construction here over the summer, so we’re literally some of the only people here. Just us and the construction crew. Haven’t seen another human on campus, and certainly not a female one, haha. But you shouldn’t be worried about that anyway, you know you’re the only person I’ve ever had eyes for. Did you see what I left for you? Your dad promised he’d give the bag of hoodies to you as soon as I left. I hope they bring you a tiny bit of comfort while I’m away. They are ON LOAN, and I’d like them back, though. Okay? Love you a thousand loves. Can’t wait to hear from you. (I want all the mundane details too).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: June 7

. . .

Rowan! Finallllly. Here I was thinking you’d forgotten all about me. Please ignore my last three voicemails when you get them. I was getting stressed that I hadn’t heard from you, even though Aunt Maeve said you were probably just busy and she’d gotten an email from the program director letting the parents all know about the lack of phone use on campus. I can’t believe you don’t have phone service. Do they not have wifi either? What kind of hack college in this training program at? Sorry to be snippy. I just miss you.

I looooove my hoodies, but they’re already losing their scent. Elide has been making fun of me for wearing them every day (because it’s definitely too hot to be wearing a hoodie), but I need them to survive. (It’s extremely cute that you think you’re ever getting them back – sorry, but they’re mine now!).

It’s only been a week, and I feel like I’m going through withdrawals. Every time something happens, I turn to tell you, only to realize you’re not here and getting sad all over again. I did make a list of the most important things to include in my letter though. First, Lorcan officially started his firefighter training! It’s weird going back to the beach and not having him there, but lifeguarding has been pretty fun. The whistle is the absolute best. How did you not tell me how much fun it is to have a whistle??? Second, Rhoe has started letting me practice driving more, and I’m getting SO GOOD! I’m planning on taking the test at the end of the month. Cross your fingers and toes for me, okay? Ugh, and I had more written in my journal to tell you, but I put my iced coffee on the page and can’t read the rest. UGH! This is what I get for having an extra coffee today. I’m sure I’ll remember by our next letter. I await to hear from you with bated breath. Seriously, tell me everything. You’ll have two weeks to tell me about by the time you get this. How’s the dorm, besides having no phone service? The food? Your roommate? Do you have just one or more than one? What small group did you end up getting into? Is the schedule as intense as you thought it’d be? Paint me a picture so I feel like I’m there, please. I miss you so much. I miss your kisses so much. Where are my thousand kisses, huh? I thought you’d send some back. Sending you a thousand more.

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: June 14

. . .

Dear Aelin,

I’m so sorry for not sending you back kisses. I’m hoarding them and storing up all my kisses to give to you in person. I don’t want to become completely depleted of kisses. What would happen to me then? I’d probably shrivel up and die. Your kisses are the only thing powering me through this week. When they said Lacrosse Intensive, they weren’t messing around. There’s never a moment of the day where I’m not playing, learning strategy or working out. The thought of kissing you is the only thing that keeps me going. Which… all the guys in my group have figured out, and they really enjoy giving me a hard time. It’s my own fault for hanging up that picture of you next to my bed and talking about you nonstop. I should have known better. You look too hot in your lifeguard uniform. It should be illegal. And all the guys know it, too.

Actually, I’d like to send you a blanket apology for ever having to deal with teenage boys. Myself included. We are all disgusting. So, so disgusting. I thought I had a pretty dirty imagination when it came to you, but the stuff these guys say is so much worse than I could possibly have ever come up with. The things that come out of their mouths should never ever be repeated. It turns out living with dudes 24/7 is gross. We’re always hungry or horny, and we smell so bad (the constant training isn’t helping that and the water pressure in our showers is barely a trickle). Please pass my apologies onto Aunt Maeve, too, please.

Okay, I’m sorry to keep this kind of short, but I’ve got to run back to practice. I love you so much.

xoxo, Rowan

PS – Good luck on your drivers test!

Postmarked: June 21

. . .

My dearest Rowan,

You are officially hearing from a licensed driver!!!! Yup, I did it. I passed. On the first try. Everyone is extremely proud of me. (Especially my dad). To celebrate, a bunch of us are going to the drive-in tonight. I get to drive! It’s the Princess Bride. I’m going to spend the entire time quoting it and annoying the crap out of Manon and Elide I’m sure, but I can’t help it. Did I tell you that Manon has started coming to the beach in the skimpiest bikinis I’ve ever seen? She and Elide aren’t back together yet, but if Elide’s staring is any indication, it’s only a matter of time. But for now they’re “friends” who stare at each others’ boobs a lot, haha.

So, you have a dirty imagination when it comes to me, hmmm? I hope you’re taking notes from your camp friends because I wouldn’t mind putting any of that into action. … you are making friends, right? You haven’t mentioned anyone. Should I be worried? know you’re training most of the time, but they’re not all bad, are they?

Speaking of new friends, I’ve been hanging out a lot with Chaol and Dorian? They’re in charge of the snack shack this year, and befriending them has gotten me many a free ice cream sandwich. They’re actually coming to the movie tonight, too. I’ve only really spent time with them in my science classes before now (well, besides that awful Homecoming date with Chaol) – I didn’t realize how funny they are. I know you think Chaol is kind of a stick in the mud, but Dorian is so wild, they balance each other out. And they’ve been friends for just as long as we have, and it’s nice to have someone who understands that. We’ve been having a lot of fun. They’re also the only ones who aren’t sick of me talking about you, too, so I really appreciate that.

Because I talk about you….alllll the time. Every little thing that happens I find some way to relate it back to you. Like, the other day Dorian brought a chocolate pudding cup, and I started laughing hysterically remembering how when we were in middle school you bet me ten bucks I couldn’t eat the whole cup in one bite. I did it successfully, but then you made a funny face, and I snorted and chocolate pudding came out my nose. It hurt so bad, but it was worth it. I can’t believe you still like me after you’ve seen chocolate pudding come out of my nose. Have I mentioned lately that I love you and miss you terribly? Sending you a thousand more kisses (don’t want you to become depleted of kisses!).

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: June 28

. . .

Ace, we’re officially at the halfway mark.

In five weeks, I’ll be back home in Orynth. And honestly, I can’t wait. I didn’t realize how hot the south was. Yesterday was over 115 degrees, and we still trained all day. I fell asleep as soon as I finished in the gym last night. I didn’t even shower (I know, I’m disgusted with myself, too, but I did warn you that this camp was making me more disgusting right?). I did wake up early this morning to get one in before breakfast, but I don’t know why I bothered. It’s already up to 100 degrees and the sun is barely out yet. So… mundane details? The food is pretty solid. Nothing like Maeve’s, of course, but acceptable. Or maybe I’m just so hungry that it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I think I’m going through a growth spurt or something – I’ve never been this hungry in my life. Last night I had three plates of meatloaf. I don’t even like meatloaf!

I laughed extremely hard at your letter. Yes, of course I remember the pudding cup incident. And believe it or not, it made me love you even more. Because you didn’t care about laughing and looking ridiculous in front of me. You’re adorable, even with pudding coming out of your nose. Mm… now I want pudding. See?! Hungry. All the time. I think I have some almonds in my desk. Sorry, that’s not important. Moving on to much more important things.

CONGRATS ON YOUR LICENSE!!!! Can’t wait to have you drive me around for a change ;)

Yes, I am making friends. I actually really like my roommate. His name is Vaughn, and he’s from up north, too. He’s in a pretty serious relationship, too, so we get each other. He’s the only one who hasn’t made a lewd comment about your bathing suit pic. He’s got another friend here from his lacrosse team, Malakai, and we’re all in the same small group, so we hang out a fair amount.

Oh! I forgot to tell you – you’ll never guess who came as a junior coach for the second half of the summer? You really will never guess, so I’ll just tell you. Nox fucking Owens. YEAH! That one. The one responsible for the disaster of last summer. I told him that we were together now, and he didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. He said he always knew you were my girl. Pretty sure I gasped when he said that. Gods, sometimes I think about last year and feel so dumb all over again. Let’s never be that dumb ever again, okay? Pinky promise and seal with a kiss?

Anyway, He played for Rifthold last year, but I guess Antica is trying to recruit him, so he’s testing out their program by helping coach us. I forgot what a good player is. I spent so much of last year irrationally hating him, but he’s actually pretty cool. Shut up, I know you’re laughing at me. I can hear it from here.

So, Manon and Elide are back on? I have to say I’m slightly surprised Lorcan didn’t make a move on Elide when they were broken up. How is he, by the way? He’s been missing from your updates. Is everything okay with you guys? You’re not fighting, are you?

I love you and am sending you back a handful of kisses (can’t give them all away). Halfway, halfway, halfway. We got this. Okay, sending more kisses. I think we both need them.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 5

. . .

Ace, I know I just talked to you today (and I also sent you a letter last week so I’m doubling up), but I had to write to you again. Hearing your voice was absolutely magical. I don’t even care that I missed out on our day at the amusement park (though, I owe Vaughn and Malakai a hundred pushups since I stupidly bet them I wouldn’t be distracted by my phone – I didn’t think there’d actually be service, since we weren’t going that far away from campus!). But, baby, it was completely worth it just to hear you talk. I could have listened to your voice forever.

I still can’t believe you’re driving. Am I even going to recognize you when I come back, seeing you behind the wheel? What car have you been driving? I didn’t even ask. Rhoe’s? Wait, have you been driving my jeep? …I know I said you could, but I kind of meant when I was there so I could see it. The idea of you driving my car is, uh… pretty sexy. And I’d like to be there to see it. Damn it, now I’m imagining it. Yeah. Sexy.

I’m glad you and Lorcan aren’t fighting – although it does kindaaa sound like you’re maybe jealous of him a little bit? (Don’t shoot the messenger!). I think it’s sweet. I know you’re still mad that he grabbed the phone from you, but it was nice to hear him too. It sounds like fire academy is kicking his ass as much as lacrosse is kicking mine. Don’t be too hard on him. He loves you, too, you know. He just shows it in weird ways sometimes… like annoying the crap out of you. It’s nice to know that things aren’t changing THAT much with me gone.

Okay, well, nothing much has happened since I talked to you earlier that I need to update you on. You’re pretty much caught up. I had McDonalds for dinner and feel a little nauseous (it’s been way too long since I had fast food, I forgot how greasy it is, how do you eat that shit?). I hope I’ll be able to sleep tonight, but I honestly feel so wired after talking to you, I’ll probably be up all night thinking about you.

I love you so much, Aelin. I’m so glad you’re having a good summer and not just moping around (I knew you wouldn’t – if anyone around here is going to be moping, it’s definitely me, but I don’t have time to mope unfortunately). Okay, I love you. Did I already say that? Sorry. I can’t help it. I want to say it over and over and over. I love you I love you I love you. Sending you a thousand kisses (I’m all loaded up on your voice so I have extra kisses to send).

Alright, uh… I have a situation I have to go deal with now that I keep thinking about kissing you. Okay, maybe I’m thinking about more than kissing you. Have I told you how much I miss you today? (Kidding, I know I told you about a thousand times).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 12

. . .

ROWAN!!!!

I’m still riding high from hearing your voice today. I honestly can’t believe it – it feels like a dream. When I saw your name flash on my phone I thought for sure I was hallucinating. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that I’m not insane, and that I got to hear all about your summer so far. I’m so glad they finally gave you all a real day off, and I hope you finally went on a few of the rides with the boys instead of letting me talk your ear off. And I know you told me not to apologize, but I feel terrible! You were supposed to have a day off, full of fun!

I love that you are making friends. Vaughn and Malakai sounded extremely nice – you didn’t need to snap at them for giving you a hard time for calling me as soon as you had a bar of phone service. They wanted to hang out with you! I don’t blame them – I wish I could hang out with you, too. Only a month now until you come home.

Lorcan wants me to tell you AGAIN that he’s incredibly offended I haven’t been including him in my letters to you (it’s not my fault that he’s insufferable since he got into the fire academy – all he does is go on runs with my dad and hang out in my kitchen eating us out of house and home! Not the most interesting of updates). Seriously, if someone had told me last year that Lorcan’s new bff would be MY DAD, I would have called them a liar. But they’re almost as inseparable as we are – it’s so annoying. I didn’t ask for an older brother! I’m supposed to be the only child! The favorite! You need to come back and set things right again, okay?

I miss you so much – I didn’t know I could miss someone as much as I miss you. But tonight I’m going to sleep with your voice echoing through my mind, so I know I’ll sleep well. Love you love you love you love you.

SWAK (that means Sealed With A Kiss), Aelin

Postmarked: July 12

. . .

Dear Aelin,

I thought hearing your voice would make me feel better, but getting that small taste of you has sent me into a spiral of hopelessness. I miss you so much more than I thought, and my ability to pretend has run out.

Each morning, I wake, staring at your face, longing for the days to pass quicker, and return to bed feeling even more restless that I can’t smell your shampoo or taste the berry flavor of your chapstick and the faint sweetness of your tongue. I think about all the times I felt your soft skin beneath my fingers, grasping at air and wondering if it wasn’t just some incredibly vivid dream. Your curves live imprinted on the insides of my eyelids, taunting me, knowing I’m too far away to reach them. My imagination runs wild under the cover of darkness, thinking of what lies beneath the thick straps of your lifeguard uniform, and what would happen if they slipped off your shoulder. The memory of your flesh appears and then disappears, the edges blurring until they disappear into a dream-like fog. I’ve lost my grasp.

I am in hell without you – destined to be tortured until the day I can wrap my arms around your waist and pull you against me solidly, and be reassured that you are real, that you are mine. I long to press my lips against the crook of your neck and inhale. When I see you again, I don’t plan on letting you go. Ever.

Three weeks, my love.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 19

. . .

Ummmmm…. Ro, as much as I love your flowery words and sexy poetry (which, I really do, more of that please), I know you. What’s really going on? Sorry for the short letter, but I’m running late to work, and your last letter (though beautiful) was deeply concerning. Talk to me, drama queen. What’s up?

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: July 26

. . .

Ace,

How are you so in tune with me that you can read between the lines and get to my core? I wasn’t going to talk about it (because I’m so fucking nervous), but since you called me out, I guess I have no choice, huh?

We’re in the last stretch of camp – which is awesome. I’m so tired and sore, I can’t wait to go home and take a long Epsom salt bath (or maybe recruit you to give me a massage? A man can dream). But, I’m not going to lie, I’ve also gotten pretty damn good at lacrosse. I mean, obviously. That sounds so stupid to say. But, when we do scrimmages, Coach Sartaq has started putting me in the group of strongest players. Even Nox said he’s impressed with my improvement, and he thought I was already pretty good. I guess I didn’t really think about it, but I’ve always been a pretty good player. But now? It’s like… next level. My speed has increased a ton, and my footwork is second nature now. I’ve never really had anything come easily to me before, and it’s weird how much this game feels a part of me now. I always knew I wanted to play in college, but I never really thought about how it would all play out.

Coach Sartaq sat us down and let us know that for our last week of the intensive, he’s invited scouts from all the college lacrosse teams to have a first look at our playing. That means I have coaches coming to watch me play and see if they want me to join their college team. A LOT of them.

I knew that was going to happen at some point – they told me when I agreed to come to the intensive that scouts would be looking at my playing, but they lulled me into a false sense of security with these long ass, hot days and endless practices. My mind became so numb, everything became so routine, and I became so utterly exhausted that I forgot the whole purpose of this camp. Recruitment for college.

I’m kind of freaking out. I wish you were here to calm me down. I know we’ve talked about college a little bit, but this could be THE moment for me, you know? I could come back to Orynth knowing where I’m going to college, with a recruitment letter in my hand. Which is insane to think about. I thought I’d just be sending tape from last season out to the scouts. I didn’t think that they’d come to see me play now. It’s not like I’ve never been watched by scouts before. They came to a few games last season and the season before, but I never knew they were there until after I was finished playing, so I didn’t have time to get in my head about my playing. Now, I’m so far in my head I don’t know that I can see a way out.

What if no one wants me? What if I fuck up my playing because I’m so nervous and I miss my shot to get recruited? What am I going to do if I don’t get recruited? That’s my one shot at college. The restaurant doesn’t make that much. We’re comfortable, but it’s not like she has tons saved for college. If I mess it up, I won’t be able to afford to go. There’s no backup plan. Aunt Maeve has been banking on this. It just feels like a lot of pressure. And then, what about you? What if I get recruited to a college that you hate? What if that’s my only option? Or one really far away? I don’t know why I didn’t spend more time thinking about this. I’m really nervous, Aelin. I know I don’t usually talk about my feelings that much – I didn’t realize how much I had stored up about this until it became a reality. And now the reality is coming closer and closer, and, yeah, I’m just really freaking out.

They’re coming next week. My entire future could be decided NEXT WEEK. So, yeah, I’m fucking terrified. I’d much rather think about how much I miss kissing you than fucking up my entire future. What happens if I fuck everything up?

I wish I could call you. I wasn’t kidding about hearing your voice. It soothes me. I think you’re the only one who can help me when I get like this. I’m trying to imagine what you’d say. Probably something like – don’t be dumb, Ro, you’re being completely irrational! Am I close? Wait, no – maybe something a little more encouraging to follow that up – like, I’ve worked hard and my playing has never been better, and whatever happens happens and we’ll figure it out. Right? If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost hear you saying it. And I can definitely see you rolling your wide blue eyes at me.

God, I miss your eyes. The picture I have of you doesn’t nearly do them justice (plus, I end up looking at your cleavage a lot more than I should admit – please burn this letter so your dad can never see it). But I miss your eyes. They change color depending on your mood. Did you know that? I can always tell when you’re mad because the yellow ring around your iris gets a little bigger and it flickers like I’m looking at the tendrils of a fire. And when you’re sad, the blue deepens, so it looks almost blue-grey, like a stormy sea. And when you laugh, they’re the clearest turquoise like the tropical waters of the southern continent and the yellow turns almost golden, warmer, like honey. How’s that for poetry? It’s the most I can do right now in my current state of panic, so I hope it’ll do. I promise you’ll get much more in the future. I could wax poetic about you forever.

Okay, I feel slightly calmer just having told you. Thank you for pressing. I love that you know me better than anyone else. That you could tell just through a letter that something was up. Hoarding your kisses until I see you next. I’m going to need them to get through the next two weeks.

I can do this, right? (Lie to me).

Missing you more than I can even say.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: August 2

. . .

Oh, Rowan, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this all by yourself. I wish I could call you and calm you down, but you did a pretty good impression of me. That’s exactly what I would say – eye roll included.

But I wish I could do more. When I got your letter and saw how many pages it was, I nearly fell off my chair. I love you, but you’re not the most talkative human I’ve ever met, and you certainly don’t share your feelings so easily. I’m glad you got it all out (all five pages back and front!). But I have a little bit more to say, so hold on, okay?

You are one of the most amazing, spectacularly talented humans I’ve ever met. You were the only sophomore who made the Varsity lacrosse team, and you were MVP in your junior championship game. You were so talented that you got invited to a super exclusive, fancy shmancy program all summer, and like you said, your skills have only improved since then. You’re going to knock those recruiters all on their butts. They’re going to be fighting hand over foot trying to get you to go to their college. You’re nervous you’re going to blow it? I’m not. I’m nervous that you’re going to come back with multiple offers from the best colleges in the world, each one better than the last. Because you know that’s what’s going to happen, Ro. They’re going to love you. They’re going to be offering you the world to try and get you to go to their school. Just make sure you don’t forget about me when you’re a top college athlete, okay? I knew you when, and I always knew you’d succeed.

I hope this reaches you before the recruiters come so you know I’m crossing all my fingers and toes for you and sending good vibes into the universe (can you feel them?).

Seriously, you’re going to crush it. I’m not worried about you at all. Just take a deep breath and have a good look at my cleavage (heheh) and let all the stress fall away. You got this. TWO THUMBS UP!!!!

And if you need a bit of a distraction, here’s one – Lysandra’s back. I hadn’t seen her all summer, but I ran into her while I was filling up the jeep with gas (yes, I’ve been driving your jeep, I’m sorry, I swear I’m being SO CAREFUL – I just love it so much, it smells like you and Maeve said it was fine!). Anyway, back to Lys. She was there filling up her mom’s Range Rover and totally avoiding eye contact with me, so I wasn’t going to be the first to say anything. I tried reaching out to her and she made it super clear that I was not going to be forgiven, but get this – as she was finishing, she looked up at WAVED at me before getting back into the car. Can you believe it??? She looked okay. She cut her hair, but it looks healthier. She looks healthier. I don’t really know what to make of it all. That’s a positive, right? That she waved? She could have gone on ignoring me, but she didn’t. I’m taking it as a good omen.

We’re going to go into senior year knowing where we’re going to college and surrounded by the best friends, and it’s all going to be perfect and amazing. You’re coming home SO SOON!!!! And then good luck ever having me let you out of my sight again ;)

Remember – I’m thinking of you every moment of every day, and you’re going to rock your final week of camp.

SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!!!!

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: August 9

. . .

Dear Aelin,

You were right, per usual. You have a habit of that, hm? This is going to be a short letter because I’m about to hop on a bus back to you, but I couldn’t resist sending one more. This letter thing was pretty fun, but I can’t wait until I can call and text you – I’m going to be blowing up your phone so much, you’re going to have to put me on mute. Just kidding, please don’t do that. I’d be really sad.

Anyway, we’re going to have some things to discuss when I get back because I have some pretty big news. I’m not going to put it in a letter, so you’ll have to wait until you see me face to face, but that’s going to happen before you even get this letter.

I’ll see you TODAY in eight hours. (Longest bus ride everrrrr). I’ll be sure to sleep through the whole thing so I’m awake enough to hang out tonight. Promise.

Love you. Sending you thousands of kisses (I’ll collect when I see you).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: August 16

~*~

#don't forget to put me on notification or subscribe to my AO3 page #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #idwtw au #charincharge writes #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #we'll be back with another update next Monday!#can you tell that i missed yall?#there's a lot that happened this summer and I'm so ready to unpack it with all of you #senior year is hereeeee #let's go team #what team #wildcats #okay i've derailed in the tags #comment like reblog leave notes in my inbox whatever #come interact with meeee #xoxo

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kyle-valenti · 3 years

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burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives.

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

“Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

“I—what’s wrong?”

“Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

“Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

“No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

No response.

“I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

“I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house.

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

#so yeah this was the lighter version #i had to stop before things got to dark for my own mind #also genuinely feel like the mentions he gives to rosa about feeling lost #should stem from this if the writers aren't cowards #kyle valenti #rnm fic #kyle valenti fic #roswell new mexico #tw covid #tw depression #my fic #my post

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ring-a-ding-dumbass · 3 years

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Companions as Hallmark Christmas Movie Love Interests

Happy Holidays!! I’ve been watching a LOT of bad Christmas Movies, so here are the companions as Hallmark movie love interests! (I’ve left out Codsworth, Dogmeat, Strong, and DLC companions.) [disclaimer: I know most jobs listed in these do not work in the way that I will imply, but that’s pretty standard for these kinds of films, so I’m rolling with it. Also, most of these are based off of SOME movie I’ve seen this Christmas, so obviously it’s not going to be super original. They’re Hallmark movies; they’re not supposed to be ‘good.’]

Note: I’d love to expand these into a fic, but I really don’t have the free time right now. If anyone is interested in taking one of these ideas and running with it, please do!! Just tag me when you’re done so I can read it!!

Cait- Cait owns a bar and she has a strict “No Christmas” policy. No Christmas music. No singing Christmas carols. No decorations. She hates the holidays because she thinks that all of the happiness and love that they inspire is a bunch of BS. She say’s it’s all fake for the sake of Christmas cards and holiday specials. One day, you’re the last patrion in her bar, and Cait slips on some ice while she’s locking up. You take her to the hospital and she has *gasp* AMNESIA. You let Cait stay with you because you can’t find any friends or family of hers, and the hospital can’t keep her. To your surprise, this Cait actually seems to like Christmas. She treats everything like she’s learning about it for the very first time. She’s not all soft and lovey-dovey, sure, but she doesn’t mind the peppermint bark and ice skating and snowball fights and eggnog. As she begins to get her memory back, she gets colder, and she opens up to you that the reason she hates Christmas is because Christmas never meant anything to her as a child. Her parents were mean to her 24/7, and that didn’t stop around the holidays, which is why Cait was always so certain that Christmas cheer was a hoax. Cait regains her full memories, but because of your re-introduction to the holiday, she doesn’t mind it as much anymore. She’s no santa claus, but she does stock up on peppermint vodka and candy canes for the bar, and wears a mistletoe headband during December, which you always manage to take advantage of.

Curie- Curie is the owner of a flower shop in North Pole, Alaska. Every year, more people move out of town, and Curie has to try to sell more items during Christmas, which is her most profitable season. You’re a character actor who works as an elf for a mall santa agency, and this year, you’re sent to the Fairbanks/North Pole region. One day, you go to see the sights in North Pole and meet Curie while she’s working in her shop. She’s running around like a chicken with her head cut off. You ask if she’s busy, and she mentions that she just lost her only employee to the local Build-a-Bear. She charms you, and you apply on the spot. After she hires you, you realize that there’s a well dressed real estate executive that comes in at least once a week to hit on Curie. She explains that he’s been offering to help her business in exchange for a date, but she won’t do it. As you and Curie ready up for the Holidays, you realize that you’re really compatible. You have fights with the fake snow used for window displays, you help organize flowers in the walk in freezer together and bring hot chocolate in when it gets too cold, and you start sneaking kisses to one another when you have to retrieve an order from the back. One day, the business man comes in and tells you that he’s buying the land that your shop is built on unless you can afford to pay an astronomical hike in rent. Curie begins to worry that she’ll have to sell her shop, but you promise her that it won’t happen. Together, you come up with the idea to sell Christmas packages online, so families who live far away from each other can send a little piece of christmas to other family members for the holidays. The idea takes off. Not only are you able to sustain the hike in rent, but you’re able to pay for your own land to move the shop, so Curie will never have to worry about rent again. You never go back to the mall santa place, and you run your shop with Curie for years, making a comfortable living in a cozy town.

Danse- Oh, Paladin Danse-- He’s the son of the president, and one of the best generals in the country, and he’s getting married. You are the baker for his wedding. One day, when you’re trying to haul a prototype cake to the other end of the capitol building to put on display to show Danse and his future spouse, you turn a corner and run into Danse, covering the both of you in cake. You don’t recognize him, and he doesn’t introduce himself, but offers to help you in any way he can to rebuild the cake. He insists on helping, so you let him, which sparks a friendship between you. Once the cake is ready, you bring it back upstairs, to find Danse and his spouse ready to look at the cake. Danse and you start speaking when you run into each other in the halls, and one day, he asks you on a walk around the grounds, where he confesses to you that he doesn’t personally feel attracted to his spouse, but it must be done for the good of the country. Just before his wedding, you confess your feelings and Danse runs off. The wedding comes to a halt and nobody knows why until Danse shows up to tell his future spouse that he can’t go through with this because he is in love with someone else. He approaches you as you’re cleaning up the confectionary table and tells you that he has to be true to himself, and that means being true to you.

Deacon- You’re a server working at a diner in a moderately large town. Deacon comes in one day and introduces himself as the new hire. You train him, and he’s kind of terrible, but he makes you laugh. You slip him your number after a week or so of light flirting and banter, but he turns you down. You leave to let Deacon close, but realize that you left your phone at the diner in an embarrassed hurry. You head back to the restaurant and find Deacon snooping through the boss’s files! After you catch him, he confesses that he’s an undercover spy, sent to keep an eye on your boss, who is suspected of using the diner to launder money. Now that you know, Deacon brings you on as his partner, and swears you to secrecy. You two go on a cute stakeout, have researching sessions together, and slowly fall in love over the course of December. At the end of the month, you come in for a shift to see your boss being arrested, and Deacon isn’t there. It isn’t until Christmas eve that you get a knock on your door. Deacon is there with takeout. He explains that his boss decided to go in without asking him, and they forced him back to the office, barring any outside contact until he could provide a full report. He confesses that he has fallen in love with you, but has also lost his job because of it, because he confessed to breaking cover. You reunite with a warm kiss and warm takeout, and, now that you’re both jobless, you start a P.I. agency together.

Hancock- Oh. Oh. Oh. BAD BOY CELEBRITY gets in trouble with his publicist over general bad-boy-scandalous behavior. YOU are a choir director for a low income rec center in a small town and you are putting on a Christmas Pageant. You don’t have the funds, but eventually the publicist finds out about your little operation, and she is ALL over it. She brings Hancock in to work with the kids and she brings an entire media team with him. He’s arrogant at first, and doesn’t even remember your name for the first few days, but you notice a change in him as you begin to work together. As skeptical as you are, Hancock really connects with the kids, and really seems to care about the Christmas Pageant. While you’re there, the kids start teasing you two, and implying that you have crushes on each other. In the end, The publicist scores him a comeback story and interview on a national morning talk show, but it would mean missing the pageant. While it seems like he’s chosen to go to the talk show, he changes his mind and arrives just before the pageant with flowers to apologize. After you accept his apology, the kids push you two under some construction paper and white puffball mistletoe.

MacCready- RJ is a single father who is still getting over the death of his wife. He has yet to move on in part due to his son’s illness. You are an heiress to a rather large fortune, but you’re told that you have a year to get a job and learn about good old fashioned hard work before you’re allowed to have access to the fortune. You start out with no discernible skills, so you become a babysitter for RJ. He goes to work in the evening as a security guard and you take care of Duncan at home. Duncan confesses to you that things haven’t been the same since his mother died. One night, you decide to ask Duncan what he wants for Christmas, and he tells you that he told the Santa Claus at the mall that he wants his dad to be okay. One night, RJ comes home and confesses that with the holidays coming up, he doesn’t know if he can afford to keep paying you to watch him every night, to which you reply that you’d gladly work for half salary. One night, you two stay up until Duncan has to get up for school, just talking about your lives. MacCready starts inviting you on outings with him and Duncan. One day, after RJ loses his job and can no longer to afford medicine for Duncan, you confess to him that you’ve been rich the entire time, and that you can pay for it yourself. MacCready accuses you of lying to him this entire time about who you are, and he asks if he can ever trust you again. You tell him that omitting to your fortune was a lie, but your feelings for him never were. You two make up, move into a house together, and Duncan thanks you for granting him his wish.

Nick Valentine- Did someone say GHOST ROMANCE? Yes, I did. You inherit a small farmhouse from an old relative that you haven’t seen in years. You go to get a good look at to see if it’s even salvageable, and you find that not only is it relatively well kept, but things move when you’re not looking. You spend the night and are woken up in the middle of the night by someone rummaging around in the attic. You find Nick, and you threaten to call the police. He’s polite, and promises it’s not what it looks like, but tells you not to call the police. When you do, they show up to find nothing in your house. Once they leave, you turn back, and Nick is in your house again. He explains that he’s a ghost, and for some reason, he can only be seen by the deed holder of the house, which is why your relative hasn’t been to the house in years. Nick explains that he died in this house a few decades ago, but he doesn’t know how it happened. Determined to figure it out in hopes that it can help him pass on, he was looking in the attic to see if it might have any proof of how he died and if foul play was involved. Over the course of your investigations, you two become good friends, and as much as you want it to be more, you tell yourself that it could never happen. Together, you slowly piece together that Nick was murdered just before proposing to the daughter of someone who used to own the house. As you and Nick celebrate this information, you realize that Nick hasn’t passed on. Nick explains that ghosts can’t pass on until they feel they have nothing to leave behind. He explains that he has grown attached to you, and doesn’t want to leave you behind. You move into the Farmhouse with Nick where you two live until your spirits can both pass on together.

Piper- Piper is a journalist who has been tasked with writing a weekly features column about Christmas, but she has found herself disillusioned with the holidays. She thought she’d be getting a Christmas bonus that she could use to buy Nat something special, but there was never a bonus, and money is really really tight. You’re quite literally the child of Santa Claus who has been sent out into the world to be with the people and really learn what the true meaning of Christmas is before you start your apprenticeship with your father to be the next in line. You meet Piper at charity event where you’re gathering toys to send to low income communities. After Piper interviews you, you start asking her questions, and upon seeing that the cold world has turned such a warm heart into a Christmas cynic, you decide to give her the Christmas of a lifetime. I’m talking ice skating, light shows, snow on christmas, and Nat getting a few extra presents. On Christmas eve, you’re called back to the North Pole. Your dad wants you to start your apprenticeship with him on Christmas by seeing how it’s done. You tell him that you can’t, because you have your own duties this Christmas, and he’s proud of you for that. You tell Piper about your dad, and she doesn’t believe you at first, but after bringing her and Nat to the North Pole to see it all happen, she apologizes for not believing you. You kiss, and agree to split time between the North Pole and Piper’s hometown, because you would never make her give up what she loves.

Preston- You grew up in a small town, but moved to the city to get a job at an ad agency. Around the holidays, your agency notes that they’re looking for something more down-to-earth and rustic for their new ‘winter campaign,’ so they send you to your hometown for Christmas. They’re expecting a campaign plan by new years, but while you’re trying to do your job, you find Preston, selling Christmas trees at the local Christmas tree farm and greenhouse. He teaches you to slow down, and to appreciate a christmas built on family, camaraderie, and love. You use your ad/social media experience to save his dying christmas tree farm. At the end of the year, you decide to quit your job and stay with Preston, who brings you on as a partner in the business and in life.

X6-88- X6 is a loan company executive who has been sent to audit the inn that you have been taking care of since your spouse passed away years ago. He’s quite serious and no-nonsense, which clashes with the capacity for compassion that you clearly possess. He thinks such traits are inefficient and pointless. Despite that, you include him in all of the Christmas dinners and events that you have planned, even if he’s not enthused about them. Through the Christmastime events that you plan for the inn throughout the Christmas season, X6 realizes that you’re not just all heart and no head. You have great ideas, and you’re inclusive of him even when he’s pessimistic. He uses his own knowledge of your loan plan to outsmart his own company and save your inn for the time being. He decides to leave his job in the city to live with you at the inn so he can handle the business and finances.

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insufferablelust · 4 years

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Hi, I hope you're having a great day! I was wondering if you could write something for Hotch where the reader is one of the younger members and he always wants to protect her. She messes up on a case and Strauss yells at her and she ends up crying and Hotch takes care of her. Thank you so much, and it is okay if you don't want to write it!

Hi! i’m so sorry it took me awhile to write your piece but i hope this is worth it! and i also changed it a bit so i hope you don’t mind, but if you have any specific ideas just let me know! anyways thank you so much for requesting and waiting! much love!

This is an Aaron Hotchner x SA!Reader Blurb.

Warnings : Fluffs, angst, Mean!Strauss, Hotch is like your caregiver in a professional way like he guides you through the cases and help you etc because you’re new and young, Mention of Guns, Blood, Supportive!BAU, Mental disorder, and Abductions.

this blurb also have a special meaning to me since i’m diagnosed with the same Disorder the unsub has in this so i’m sorry if the descriptions are a bit too detailed. i still hope you like it and give me feedbacks or constructive criticisms thank you for reading❤️

———————

Being the youngest in every field has its own disadvantages, when you were at school, being the youngest would get you picked at, but you shut them up quickly with your bravery. When you were in college, most people doubted you even your professors, but you also managed to make them stare in awe when you became the top student of your criminal psychology class. When you were training in the academy, many underestimate you, but again— you came out on top, trainee with the highest score amongst others. So you never thought about being the youngest much,

No, not until you actually work— by work i mean becoming a part of BAU, Special Agent Y/n Y/l/n. It was easy at first, you received such a warm welcome from your new teammates that you already thought that this is going to be easy enough. The first time you met them were at the bullpen, they were all lounging and talking about a recent case as you stepped in nervously yet you put a stern smile. The first person who approached you was the wonderful Miss Penelope Garcia, who happens to be your friend, and then you shook hands with David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, and got a flirty remark from none other than Derek Morgan— who you scoffed at and said “not going to work on me pal, Garcia has told me aaaall about it” which drew laughter.

Your assignments were quite easy at first, you were always the one to be confident, top of your class and all— so on your first day you got your first assignment with the team, a case in Virginia. You were told to follow Agent Hotchner, and you have to be honest that it couldn’t be any more easier for you. He showed you the ropes, how to analyze certain behaviors, even let you interview the family alone. He made you feel safe and comfortable to do this job, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Now that you’ve gotten to several cases, you’ve felt like you earned your place here, not just as the new girl, but a profiler, an agent, and you couldn’t be more prouder— and you can’t help but to thank Aaron for it, he always guides you through all the horrible things that you just feel content to work on cases with him. Your teammates joked about it sometimes, saying how close you two have gotten, they noticed how Hotch never raised his voice with you, not once, it’s either you’re that good or as Prentiss likes to call it “He has a soft spot for you (Y/n)”

But not all paths are smooth paths, it was sunday afternoon, you were lounging with Emily, Garcia, and Sergio when you heard the call coming from Garcia’s phone. Upon seeing “HOTCHER” as the called id, you and Prentiss sigh deeply before preparing your go bag not even bothering for Garcia to finish the phone call.

Turns out it was a child abduction case, and the first thing to note about this is that time is of the essence and every second counts. The first abduction started in Virginia a month ago, where it was handled by the local police— but then the same type of M.O and Victimology appeared in some abduction cases all over the country, the most recent one is Los Angeles. So off to LA you goes with the team, only thing different this time is that JJ and Hotch was staying behind to talk to the police in Virginia—it’s your first ever case without his guidance and you haven’t decided if you like it or hate it.

———————————

12 hours into the abduction, and Y/n has messed up bad, bad enough that it put her own life in jeopardy. Y/n had gone to follow a lead, that she received from the hotline tip, she debated at first.. on telling the others about the call she received, all her training would told her to tell someone, you can’t go alone but the caller insist that you go alone. Something about this man is not right, you can feel it in your guts. But you know that if you were about to tell the others- they wouldn’t let you pursue, not because you’re incapable but because its not right to go alone, but you took the risk to save these children— the caller did mentioned you only have 10 minutes to drive to his address and if you don’t show up alone, the children will be killed— and you can’t let that happen. So you told the tip responder that you have told your team and that you’re under pursue before sprinting out of the LAPD.

When the team realized that Y/n was gone, it was an hour after she actually left. The second they found out about her whereabouts, they rushed to the location— already hoping that you and the kids are still alive. To their relief, you were found alive, but you were tied to a chair, face bloodied and its clear that you took some harsh beating. The unsub was holding one of the child, threatening to kill him.

He was a man who has Abandonment issues with severe borderline personality disorder, the reason why he abducts children is because he hated his childhood— he hated himself for being a fuck up, so he took the perfect children according to his judgment and kept them— it’s masochistic, he kept them as a reminder for himself of how worthless he is.

“Put the gun down, and let the boy go” Morgan’s voice rang through the abandoned building, causing the unsub to panic and move backwards “No! stay there! c-come any closer and i’ll blow his perfect fucking face off” He snarled, before you gained all the energy you have left and speak up,

“Adam, let him go please. I know how you feel, and let me show you that you are none of those things your mind is telling you. You’re not worthless and you deserve to be loved, a- a mother’s love.. don’t you missed it? Come here, i- i can give it to you” You coughed up blood as your vision gets blurry, The team gasped as the unsub let the boy go.. all of them and kneeled next to you, gun still in hand as he untied you, then lay his head on your thighs. Your fingers shakily move, to ran through his hair, and inching to get the gun from here.

“Shh, shh Mama’s here, give me the toy.. I’ll let you play w-with it later” You said holding back the tears as he slowly handed you the loaded gun before you tossed it and the team cuffed him.

You cried hard as you fell to your knees on the floor, the last thing you heard was Prentiss’s voice calling for medic and then you black out.

——————-

Its been a few days after the incident, you’re on your way back to Quantico. Some of the bruisings are gone but there are some scars that will be there forever, and honestly you don’t worry about it all— the only thing you worry about is what your superior is going to do with you. You knew you messed up bad and it doesn’t matter that you are the reason that those kids are free, you should’ve told your team. When Emily asked you why, you said it’s just gut feeling em. And when Spencer asked you how’d you know?

you told him, that The unsub told you about his young mother, the same exact age as your age, your hair color, and around your height. Thats why he wanted you to come, and the pieces clicked, All of the hesitancy to kill, He liked the pain, not inflicting it to others if not necessary but to himself. That’s how you know. Your answer seemed to please the young doctor as he smiled and whispered a small “Great job, Agent.”

All of them were understanding on why you did it, except Morgan because he’s like your big brother but he did said something along the lines of “You’re a damn good profiler but you’re still stupid” but the worst had to come from your superior; Erin Strauss.

As soon as you landed in Quantico, Hotch was there waiting for you, then escort you to his room, where Strauss was there also. You were nervous not because you’re wrong but because you knew you could’ve done better and it’s against the regulations.

Hotch had said to you during a phone call that he “understands why you did what you did but it certainly doesnt justify it.” The way he spoke those words calmed you down up until now.. standing in front of Strauss herself.

“Agent Y/n, sit down.” You sat down in front of her with Hotch leaning against his desk, you put on a smile as you keep eye contact with her, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine, Ma’am. Thank you for asking—i’ve completed the psych evals too and-“

“What you did was reckless and stupid, Agent. You put your own life in danger as well as your teammates. You let your own ambition to lead you into this mess—“

Taken aback at her words, you quickly replied, “Excuse me Ma’am, with all due respect i never have any intention other than saving the boys from the unsub. So i don’t understand how my ‘ambition’ led me.”

“Agent, you will not interrupt me. Must i remind you that you’re an intelligent, bright, and exceptionally young with a lot of great potentials but let me ask you this, Are you too immature that your ambition on becoming the one who caught the unsub is your top priority? The Director agreed that maybe you should take another year of training to successfully complete mature so you dont make mistakes like this.” and at that your eyes brimmed with tears, How could she? how could she compared your age to how you do your job? You were trying to save the kids and you did. Your age has no connection to any of this and certainly not to your abilities. You were about to say something when Hotch stand and put a finger up signaling you to hold it.

“Ma’am I know what Y/n did is incredibly reckless but she only did that because the unsub specifically asked for her— she reminded him of his young mother, their features are the same. Agent Y/n, does know the regulations and protocols, and she knows that if she tells anyone the risk of those boys dying is greater than any other. So with all due respect Ma’am, As her direct superior in this case, i’m asking you to back up and let me handle her penalty according to my professional judgment as someone who has seen her incredible work and sacrifices.” His voice is loud, ringing on your ears like you’re the only thing that mattered. It left you speechless as he give you the tissue box and then waiting for Erin’s reply.

To your surprise she didn’t say anything before leaving his office. You broke down once again, gasping for air as you feel the pain now, the ache on your shoulder and wrists, the dull pain on your face, the cuts and bruises on your stomach. You are exhausted, and It seemed that Hotch knows it too.

He sit besides you as he gently placed your head on his shoulder, so you can cry with a shoulder to support you. You were so exhausted, that you dont even care if this is breaking any rules or protocols. You just want to save people, you just want to be with your team.

“She won’t do anything, I promise you that ill protect and guides you, so hang onto my words.” He said, rubbing the back of your neck and shoulders as you let out tiny gasps, trying to form a sentence.

“T-thank- y-you, Aaron.” is the only thing you managed to speak before the exhaustion wipes you out, the last thing you heard was his voice, “Anytime Y/n, Sleep well.”

——————

Feel free to send me blurb ideas! give this a like and reblog, thank you!

#aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fluff #insufferableblurb

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Pure Blood 35 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

Words: 2,084

Warnings: Mentions of death

Masterlist:

Chapter 34 Chapter 36

"And what was it like having the whole train to yourself?" James asks sitting next to me.

“Lonely,” I sigh. "But I was able to sleep better."

He nods.

"Well, Jenna still doesn't know I'm here. So, it's your turn to help me catch up with all the gossip.”

“Sorry, Singh. But I won't be your gossip consultant,” He huffs.

"Oh, come on! I know you're a gossip. Even more than Sirius!”

“I am not a gossip. I only find out about events on accident.”

“Ha!"

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Everyone is nervous about graduation. They’ll make a ceremony and a small party here. What else? Regulus looks bleaker than usual. Sirius has tried to talk to him, but it's impossible. Peter tried to invite someone to graduation. The first attempts failed, but then he got someone from Slytherin, I really don't know how it happened, but I'm happy for him."

"What about the plan with Lily?"

His face lights up and he smiles, I can even see his cheeks blush.

"It's going well,” He clears his throat.

"Tell me something else, please,” I say, lightly hitting his leg with the crutch Jane told me to use for another month.

“I asked her out,” He laughs like a small boy. “At first she seemed uncomfortable. They were all staring at us, but Merlin! She was beautiful. She always is. Then she agreed to go on a date with me! We went to the three broomsticks and I told her about my family and she finally told me about hers, everything improved when she felt comfortable around me…”

I smile at the sound of his voice, he looks genuinely happy.

“Then we went to the bookstore. I know, the only way I’d be there would be because Remus asked me to, but with her, everything seemed more interesting. She explained to me what some of the books were about. We kept talking, we ate sweets,” Little by little he was sliding on the couch all the way to the floor. “We got to the castle and I wasn't thinking of doing anything else, but she kissed me! To me, Persephone!” He reaches the ground, melting completely at his own words.

"So my advice worked."

He looks at me and nods.

“You’re dating, then?" I ask. He climbs back up to the couch.

“I haven't asked, but I'm waiting for the right moment. After the kiss, she was happy, but embarrassed, she didn't want to ruin anything. Maybe I'll take her to a nice place…”

"Or you’ll just blurt it out.”

"That makes more sense.”

We both laugh.

“Glad to see you like this, James. Truly. It seems like it was worth waiting so many years, right?"

"Maybe. If I hadn't been an idiot, we would have been together longer. If I had listened to you, but it doesn't matter anymore. Thank you, Persephone.”

"You're welcome, James."

“Now, I know that's a stupid question, but. You'll be okay?" His tone is serious now.

I shrug.

"I don’t have any other option.”

"But it's something you want, right?"

"It's complicated. I'm sick of just waiting for bad things to happen, for someone else to control me. I no longer have the family I thought I had, but I don't have control either. I'm afraid of not knowing what to do now, without someone telling me what’s next.”

“Complicated," He makes a face and I nod.

“Yes, but I try to hold onto what I have left. Apollo and Jane, Atlas has been a great help. You, Sirius, Jenna. I don’t know…”

"I have a theory.”

"I hear you.”

“You’re hurt, and maybe that also affects. Just think about it, you can't move without that crutch, you have a very ugly neck scar and your left arm is still broken. Maybe when you're fully healed, you'll feel better, you know, therapy, going out, sticking to a routine a bit. By the time graduation comes you’ll walk better.”

"Could work…”

"Persephone Amelia Singh!" Someone yells.

"Oh, Jenna already knows you're here,” James mentions.

“Hadn’t noticed,” I replied sarcastically.

***

“Thanks," I say when Lily grabs my backpack, we both walk towards our classrooms. She laughs and I look at her confused.

"A few years ago, you would have insulted me for even being in the same hallway as you.”

I feel my cheeks burn.

"You're not going to kick my crutch in revenge, are you?" She laughs again.

"No, calm down. The good thing is that now we’re friends.”

"It's strange. But I do not regret it.”

"Neither do I,” She stops and gently touches my arm. "I also wanted to thank you.”

"Why? I just arrived yesterday–”

"For helping James,” She says.

"Uh, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I know you helped him. I thought someone had done it and once I saw you alone talking. Don't worry, it's not a bad thing. I guess we both just needed a push. Now I feel like a fool, but I'm glad that everything is going well…”

"I really don't know what you're talking about, I don't talk to him that often,” I say. She laughs.

“Persephone…”

“Perhaps you're imagining things, Mrs. Potter,” I say with an innocent smile.

"Persephone!"

***

"Are you sure you're comfortable?"

I roll my eyes and smile.

"I'm sure. Don’t worry.”

“Okay."

Potions class continues, but I still feel Sirius's gaze.

"Now what?"

"You don't look comfortable.”

“Have my arm and leg bandaged will always bother until it heals, it's not like I'm in a perfect position to be comfortable Sirius. I'm fine, now pay attention…”

After a few minutes, not only does Sirius's gaze return, but now he's just playing with a lock of my hair. I let him pass, at least he's quiet.

"Professor Slughorn. I'll have to ask students Black and Singh for a moment,” says Professor McGonagall.

Slughorn nods and points at us. Sirius takes my backpack and helps me off the bench. We both leave the room, following the teacher.

"What is it, Professor?" Sirius asks.

“I'm afraid, young Black, this is not good news. But there’s someone in the principal's office looking for you."

"I-it's not someone from my family, is it?" I stutter.

“No, Miss Singh."

We got to the office. The Headmaster is at his desk talking to a woman.

"I'll leave you alone," says McGonagall.

Dumbledore finishes speaking and points to us. The woman gets up and sees us with a sweet smile. Her hair is black and short, she wears a black dress.

"Andy?" Sirius asks.

"Hello, cousin,” she answers and they both embrace.

I missed something, I'm sure, but at this point I just want to sit down. My leg is heavy and the silly stairs up here didn't help at all. I sit in the other chair near the desk. Sirius and the woman talk about things.

"How does it feel?" Dumbledore asks me, drawing my attention.

"I'm improving,” Then I remember something. "You and I have unfinished business.”

He smiles.

"Maybe for another time.”

"I just want to know how you knew…”

“I can't see the future if that’s what you were thinking. I knew that sooner or later something was going to happen, but I had no idea how serious it would be. Yet you are still here, healing,” He winks at me with amusement.

I still don't know what to think, it's quite suspicious, but I'm still in school, so I can't make a claim on him.

“She's my girlfriend, Persephone, I turn back and smile, shaking the woman's hand. "Percy, she's my favorite cousin, Andromeda.”

"It was about time that little Siri introduced me to a girlfriend!” I raise my eyebrows and look towards my boyfriend.

"Siri?"

He blushes.

"A silly nickname,” He complains looking at his cousin. We both laugh.

"Sorry I couldn't stand up, my leg was killing me," I say with a grimace.

"Oh, don't worry, honey. I understand,” She sits in the chair next to me.

"I think it's time to tell the news, dear," adds Dumbledore. Andromeda’s smile disappears.

“Yes,” She clears her throat. “After hearing all about your families, I knew it would be my duty to tell you if something happened. Guys, I'm so sorry. Alphard passed away last night.”

"What?"

Andromeda takes my hand.

"It's true, darling. I know this is horrible news…”

"B-but how?"

Alphard's tired face appears in my mind. Was he sick? Dumbledore and Andromeda share a look.

"The medical report says it was a cardiac arrest…”

"But you know these are dark times," continues Dumbledore. “And we suspects the old families. They both had reasons for not wanting Alphard on their way…”

“Is there a possibility that my family is in all of this? Do the aurors know? Someone must investigate it. We can't just leave him like this…” My hands are shaking.

“As Miss Tonks said. The report is done, I'm afraid we can't do anything. You know they’re very good at hiding anything that stains their reputation."

"Where is he buried?" Sirius says. I turn to see it. His face is pale and he seems about to throw up. "I don't think my mother buried him with the others."

“Ted agreed to put him together with his family. I hope you don't mind,” Andromeda answers.

Sirius shooks his head and looks down.

"He wouldn't have wanted to be with them anyway,” His voice breaks and his cousin stands up to hug him.

"Can we go to the funeral?" I ask the director with teary eyes.

“I'm afraid that's another risk, miss. If the assumptions are correct, they would be waiting for you both. You better not leave Hogwarts until they finish.”

"I'll take care of everything,” says Andromeda, separating from Sirius. “I promise you that Alphard's memory will be remembered. Many of his friends have written to me and asked about you.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

"Thank you…”

She smiles taking my hand and caresses Sirius's cheek with the other.

“He would be very proud of you. And above all, he would like you to remain close and safe.”

"In addition to giving you the news, we must speak of a small inheritance you have received from Alphard," says Dumbledore.

“Alphard knew that his life was in danger, so he hastened to leave some things to you,” continues Andromeda.

I nod wiping my tears. Andromeda sits Sirius in the chair and Dumbledore reads us the will. I don't even bother to ask why the Headmaster is responsible for giving us this. I only hear his distant voice.

In the end, Alphard left us the money that he had kept in his vault. Sirius got his house and some things he couldn't use until he’d graduated.

"This too," says the director, handing him a red velvet box. “Along with an indication. 'Use it when you're ready,’” He recites.

Sirius takes it, but he doesn't open it, just nods.

“And for Persephone Singh, this,” He hands me a long box of the same material. "Alphard indicated that this necklace once belonged to his late beloved, and he knows that it’ll be in good hands.”

He opened it, and I see a beautiful necklace of small green diamonds. It’s a very simple and elegant necklace. I smile wistfully.

Andromeda says goodbye, but not before agreeing to a small meeting with her husband and her six-year-old daughter. Sirius and I walked through the hallways of the school. He walks me to my common room. We stop at the entrance.

"I'm so sorry Sirius," I whisper. “I know that Alphard meant a lot to you. He was the only one who treated you like you were his son…” I close my eyes and feel some tears escape them.

I feel his arms surround me in a strong hug.

“He also treated you as his daughter. He loved us very much, Percy.”

We hugged each other for a few minutes, crying.

“Now more than ever we must go on, Percy. May Alphard's death not be in vain,” He says as we part. He takes my face and wipes some tears. "We are in this together, my love.”

I nod not knowing what to say. He kisses my forehead, and hugs me one last time. The first thing I do when I enter the Slytherin common room is look for Jenna and try to cope with the pain that will not go away so easily.

Thanks for everything, Alphard Black.

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#Pure Blood #Sirius Black #Sirius Black x reader #Persephone Singh #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Regulus Black #Lily Evans #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fanfic #twoidiots writing

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freehawaii · 3 years

Text

THIS IS WHY WE DO WHAT WE DO

The following is an unabridged version of the article entitled “My Travels With A Hula Legend” that was written by Mr. Nathan Nāpōkā and published in Wailea Magazine Spring/Summer 2016.

OVERVIEW

Traditional hula traces its beginnings to Hawai‘i’s mythic past. Many traditions say that the gods were the first hula performers. These gods provided the inspiration for mankind who in turn created an earthly tradition of dance. In pre western times hula followed a strict religious protocol. Practitioners worshipped at an altar with elaborate rituals. They venerated the deity of the hula, Laka, who could be both male and female in nature. Chiefs usually kept their own circle of chanters and dancers whose job it was to honor the gods and in turn celebrate their chiefly patrons.

Today’s hula students can choose to learn a wide variety of hula types. Modern dances performed with music and vocals are often called “‘auana”. The more classical dances are called “kahiko” which literally means old or ancient. These kahiko dances are often accompanied by a gourd or sharkskin drum. All forms of hula, old or new, are performed with words either sung or chanted. Hula does not exist without a poetic text. So the dancer is actually an extension of the poetry, embellishing those words with the visual impact of interpretive movement.

Over the past forty years there has been a worldwide explosion of interest in hula. Most people are content with sitting back and watching, while others cultivate a deeper interest in hula by becoming students of the dance. These students usually join a hālau, or hula school. These schools are sprouting up all over the world. In Japan alone, according to a recent estimate, there are 400,000 students of the hula.

KEAHI-THE FIRE

Shortly after the arrival of Christian missionaries in 1819, hula was denounced as an evil remnant of Hawai‘i’s pagan past. With the conversion of a majority of Hawaiians to Christianity, hula went into decline. During the reign of King Kalākaua (1874-1891) hula performances were once again encouraged and hula experienced a comeback. Kalākaua’s wife, Queen Kapi‘olani travelled throughout the Kingdom encouraging her people to propagate a healthy generation of Hawaiians. On a trip to Kaua‘i in 1885, Queen Kapi‘olani saw a promising young dancer and Kapi‘olani recommended that this girl, Keahi-nuiokaluaoPele (The Great Fire in the Pit of Pele), be brought to Honolulu to live with her older sister, Kaleihulumamo, who had already settled there earning a name for herself as an accomplished dancer. Keahi moved to Honolulu at the age of eight and throughout her youth she travelled between Kaua‘i and O‘ahu learning from the greatest hula teachers of her time. She eventually married and settled in Honolulu, where she taught traditional hula and chant. As the twentieth century unfolded, she emerged as one of the most respected Hawaiian cultural authorities of the time.

‘IOLANI LUAHINE

As Keahi aged she realized that it was important for her to pass on her priceless knowledge of the hula to the next generation. She looked within her family for a pupil that she could train. Knowing that her nephew Manase and his wife Besse just had a child on January 31, 1915, she asked them if she could have this newly born daughter, Harriet Lanihau Makekau. After giving the proposal some thought Manase announced that Harriet would go to his Aunt Keahi to be trained in the traditional hula, his family’s legacy. At three months old Harriet was taken from Napo‘opo‘o, Hawai‘i Island to Honolulu where she was given in Hawaiian fashion to her grandaunt, Keahi, who became her hānai mother from that day forth.

When Harriet arrived in Honolulu, Keahi noticed that the baby’s eyes were filled with mucous. No matter how much they wiped and cleaned the problem persisted. Keahi was worried and she summoned a kahuna to her home. The priestess sat and observed the baby and then asked for her name. When they told her that her name was Harriet Lanihau, the kahuna paused briefly then said, “That name is not right. She should be called ‘Iolani Luahine.” From that moment, her name was changed and her mucous filled eyes gradually cleared. She was now ‘Iolani, the soaring hawk of the heavens.

‘IOLANI’S CHILDHOOD

‘Iolani was exposed to hula from infancy but did not start formal training with Keahi until the age of four. She was taught all aspects of the dance. Her training was nonstop. Sometimes Keahi would invite a hula teacher to the house to spend time with ‘Iolani, exposing her to their style of hula. Keahi wanted her to experience the best teachers of the time in the same manner as Keahi was trained thirty five years earlier. When she was old enough to attend school, ‘Iolani was enrolled at St Andrew’s Priory. She attended school during the weekdays and most of her other time was spent with Keahi. Keahi filled ‘Iolani with her knowledge of traditional hula. ‘Iolani was a bright and free spirited child. Even at a young age she was extremely charismatic and anyone who saw her dance knew that she was destined for greatness.

THE LEGEND EMERGES

After graduating from high school, ‘Iolani worked at various jobs. She eventually ended up at the University of Hawai‘i where she studied to become a social worker. While at the University her life was forever changed when in 1937 her beloved hānai, Keahi, passed away. ‘Iolani was devastated. She was only 22. She left school and worked as a telephone operator during the day and she started dancing in Waikīkī at night. She loved entertaining and enjoyed performing. She was extremely successful. Wherever she performed people flocked to see her. She developed quite a following. There was something very unique about her style of dancing almost as if all of her ancestors including Keahi were supporting her on stage.

As much as ‘Iolani loved the excitement of Waikīkī she always felt the need to pass on her knowledge of the traditional hula to the next generation. In 1947, she opened a hula school. By this time her eldest sister’s daughter, Helen Hoakalei Messer, was living with her and Hoakalei helped with the running of the hālau. ‘Iolani was especially happy to have a niece that she could train in hula.

In the early 1950’s, ‘Io fell in love with a Honolulu artist, John MacMahon. They got married and moved to ‘Iolani’s birthplace, Napo‘opo‘o on Hawai‘i Island. The marriage was short lived. ‘Iolani realized that she missed dancing, her real passion in life. She also became aware that hula was also an important source of income. Her birth mother, Besse, later explained to her that because of her sacred dedication to hula, she was kapu and should not have considered marriage. ‘Iolani returned to Honolulu alone and continued dancing. In 1961 she moved to the Royal Mausoleum in Nu‘uanu, where she worked as curator for the next four years.

By this time the world had taken notice of ‘Iolani. The great American modern dancer, Ted Shawn, saw ‘Iolani perform on one of his visits to Hawai‘i. He said: “She is an artist of world stature. Her knowledge of the old and almost lost repertory of the Hawaiian dance is probably unmatched; her technical ability to perform and project these dances is of the highest order.” She was invited to perform three times at the National Folk Festival in Washington D.C.. The State of Hawai‘i presented her with the Order of Distinction for her contribution in the arts. She was now recognized as one of Hawai‘i’s greatest treasures.

RETURN TO HAWAI‘I ISLAND

In the mid 1960’s ‘Iolani decided to move back to her birthplace in Napo‘opo‘o, Hawai‘i Island. She worked as curator for Hulihe‘e Palace in Kailua Kona and spent her time living between a cottage on the Palace grounds and her family home in Napo‘opo‘o. Her dream was to eventually have a school in Napo‘opo‘o where she could teach traditional hula and chant. Like Queen Kapi‘olani’s support for her hānai, Keahi, many years earlier, ‘Iolani also drew the attention of a royal patron, Princess Abigail Kekaulike Kawānanakoa, the great grandniece of Queen Kapi‘olani, who supported ‘Iolani by building her a new facility in Napo‘opo‘o, where ‘Iolani could open a traditional hula school.

As she approached 60, ‘Io realized that the hula was going through significant changes. For the sake of continuity, she wanted the next generation to see the traditional dances as she learned them. Soon a plan was devised by Alfred Preis, who was the executive director for the State Foundation for Culture and the Arts. Preis believed in ‘Iolani’s artistic genius and wanted to do all within his power to support her desires as an artist. Preis was responsible for establishing a program with the State Department of Education called the Artist in the Schools Program. It was through this program that Preis found a way for ‘Iolani to fulfill her dream of sharing her legacy with the next generation of Hawai‘i’s school children.

ARTIST IN THE SCHOOLS

‘Io’s niece, Hoakalei called me in 1975 and asked if I was interested in travelling with her and her Aunt ‘Iolani , across Hawai‘i presenting a program of traditional hulas to the next generation. Aunty Hoakalei was my teacher and I was teaching her male hula classes at that time. I found out later that it was ‘Iolani who asked Hoakalei to approach me. They needed a narrator, male dancer and a person who could handle the logistics of the tour. I met Aunty ‘Iolani a few years earlier but this would be my first opportunity to spend time with her. I said “Of course” and shortly thereafter Hoakalei and I flew to Kona to work on the program with ‘Iolani.

Aunty ‘Io was 60, at the time, but she danced with the agility and strength of someone years younger. At the end of a week of rehearsals my legs were trembling with exhaustion. ‘Io asked me how I was doing. She could see that I was tired. I said alright and she said “Good, because you have only begun to learn these dances…we have a long way to go.”

When in Kona, I slept on the pūne’e on Aunty ‘Io’s porch at Hulihe‘e Palace while she and Hoakalei shared her bed inside the cottage. On the last day of rehearsals everyone retired very early after a poi supper. Somewhere in the dead of the night, ‘Io started chanting next to me on the porch. Aunty Hoakalei came out of the house and sat beside me on the pūne’e. We were told that we were going to see Tutu Pele. No questions asked, I grabbed my blanket and jumped in the backseat of the car while Hoakalei got the car keys and with Aunty ‘Io as co-pilot we made the long journey to Halema‘uma‘u Crater. Upon arriving at the crater we locked the car and followed the path to the crater rim. All was still. Aunty ‘Io made an offering to Pele and as she chanted her prayer, a massive fountain of lava gushed up from the floor of Halema’uma’u. I was scared. We were so close to the edge and I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Aunty ‘Io started dancing and Hoakalei supported her with a chant. With Tutu’s acceptance of our offering the path was clear for our work to begin.

HAWAI‘I’S KEIKI

I heard a loud ”Hui…Nāpōkā”. It was Aunty ‘Io on the other side of the chain link fence that separated my dilapidated plantation cottage from the Bank of Hawai‘i parking lot. I grabbed my bags and paddle and climbed the step ladder over the fence and landed at the back of Hoakalei’s station wagon. We loaded up and were on our way to our first school program. Aunty ‘Io was dressed in a tan London Fog trench coat with a purple felt hat. She ran through a quick checklist with us as I settled into the car. No matter how set our program was, we all knew that the lineup could change in a minute, depending on Aunty ‘Io’s spirit.

All three of us were visually challenged to some extent so when the final moment came to start the program and we removed our glasses we had to be ready to go with the flow. Many times we were expecting a certain hula and ‘Io would call out a completely different dance that I would have to give an introduction for and Hoakalei would have to be ready to chant. That was ‘Io. You had to always be prepared for the unexpected. She especially loved dancing for the elementary children and they adored ‘Iolani. We were warned that their attention spans would be short but this was never a problem when ‘Iolani danced.

TRAVELLING WITH ‘IOLANI

For the next two years we visited all the islands except for Ni‘ihau and Kaho‘olawe. We usually did an evening concert at some point so that the community at large could see ‘Iolani. Aunty ‘Io always had me checking on ticket prices. She wanted to be sure that our kama’āina could afford to come. Prices were always reasonable.

On Maui we performed at the school in Ke‘anae and Hāna and while in Hāna we planned a concert for the community at Helene Hall down at the Harbor. We were staying at the teacher’s cottages at the old high school and we made sure to mix the poi and prepare a meal before leaving for the hall. Hāna did not have restaurants that would be open in the late evening.

So many elderly Hawaiian faces filled the hall that evening, overflowing onto the lānai. They wouldn’t let ‘Io leave the stage. She was in her element. As one of her hana hou encores she unscrewed the long push mop handles backstage and throwing one to me we did a battle spear dance for Ka‘uiki Hill which rose just outside the stage door. She changed from a nimble cat like persona to a fierce warrior in a matter of seconds. She made it a point to tell me not to baby her in the dance. At the end of the dance my knuckles were bleeding and she brought the audience to their feet. Over a bowl of poi later in the evening, she explained that there was a point in time when very few men were interested in dancing. During that time some women carried some of the male dances to the next generation. She said, “When you have to be a man you just let it happen.”

Midway through the tour, ‘Iolani suffered some serious medical setbacks. We paused and waited for her to recover from a surgery that temporarily hampered the movement on one side of her body. She was determined to gain her full motion back and using her hula implements. She danced until she completely regained control of her limbs.

We spent time on Lāna‘i and then moved on to Moloka‘i where ‘Iolani’s sister, Dorothy Kahinu lived on Hawaiian Homestead land at Ho‘olehua. Before leaving the island we took all our leis to Kanakaloloa Cemetery near her sister’s home where ‘Iolani’s parents were buried. I stayed near the car while ‘Iolani and Hoakalei had a tearful graveside visit.

‘Iolani’s health was unstable but she was determined to finish what she had started and over the next year we travelled to O‘ahu and Hawai‘i Island. We ended our tour on Kaua‘i. After making all of our appearances at the schools, we did an evening concert and planned to return to O‘ahu the next day. Early the next morning ‘Iolani wanted to go to Hā’ena to visit the hula heiau at Kē‘ē. We made a call to her friend, Imua, and set out for Hā’ena. We stopped in Hanalei for Imua and an offering, then made our way to the end of the road. It was a windy stormy day and a high surf was wildly pounding at the reef in Hā’ena. We were all fully dressed to get on the airplane and Aunty ‘Io motioned for me to get our seaweed leis from the car. She went down to the small inlet and started chanting. The booming north shore waves suddenly went still and we traced our steps along the reef, out into the ocean.

She gently laid our leis on the surface of the ocean and explained once again that the reason we used limu kala was because kala meant to forgive in Hawaiian. Wearing this lei meant that all was forgiven and thus at peace so that the creativity that was hula could occur. We turned back to the shore and as we reached the sand, the ocean waves rumbled in taking the lei offerings out into the depths. We started the climb to the heiau at Kē‘ē and it quickly became clear why she called Imua. His six foot muscular build came in handy when ‘Io could no longer climb. Halfway up, Imua cradled her in his arms and made the rest of the trek carrying ‘Iolani who was chanting all along the way. She called to the stone guardians along the path, announcing our arrival. At the top, Imua gently placed ‘Io on the grassy platform and she thanked him with a kiss. ‘Io brought out her offering and poured a small amount in a cup for each of us to drink. She then flicked the rest of the offering into the air and onto the altar so that the essence went to the gods. She explained why we were there and acknowledged the next generations that were with her. Tears streamed down her face as she said goodbye for what she knew was her last time. She danced one last dance and turned to the trail and made a slow retreat to the car. ‘Iolani died later that year on December 10, 1978 leaving her rich legacy of dance for all.

#iolani luahine #hula #free hawaii #hawaiian kingdom

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weasleydream · 4 years

Text

Not gonna leave

Masterlist

Hogwarts had always been my home. It was the best place in the world. But when this awful toad arrived and took the control in the school, things started to change. Merlin, even Trevor, Neville’s toad, would have been a better director than her! Umbridge was everybody’s nightmare as she made more and more stupid rules. “Boys and girls are not permitted to be within 6 inches of each other.” How could she be that intrusive in our lives? How many times did she separate me from Fred and George when we were just walking in the corridors? Lucky us, she never caught us, Fred and I, while we were hiding in some broom closet to snog as if our lives depended on it.

Yeah, by the way, this beautiful redhead and I had been together since he asked me out on a Hogsmeade date during our third year. I had always gotten along pretty well with the twins, but I had always been a little closer to Fred, a little more tactile but also a little more impulsive. That’s why George and I never fought, I somehow always succeeded into calm my anger. But with Fred… Let’s just say that one day, he received pumpkin juice on the face because he had made fun of me the day before for almost tripping in front of Snape. So yeah, things can escalated quickly between the two of us. But it’s not always a bad thing, if you know what I mean.

One of the worst decision Toadbridge had taken was to prevent us from playing Quidditch. If it wasn’t for McGonagall who talked to Dumbledore, we still wouldn’t be allowed to play. Fortunately we got the permission and Angelina, our new captain after Wood’s departure, trained us. Unfortunately, our new keeper, Ron, seemed to be way too anxious whenever someone was looking at him. Worse, some Slytherin’s team players had seen him and made fun of him whenever they could.

We knew that the Slytherins loved being foul, but when Fred, George and I saw the badges they were wearing the morning before the first match of the year, we understood that it wouldn’t be easy. Weasley is our king. Of course it wasn’t against the twins, they were too self-confident to let themselves be dampened by such idiotic things, but they both seemed furious.

-Don’t worry, I’m sure Ron’s gonna be incredible.

Honestly, I was not sure of who I was trying to convince: the twins, whose faces were as red as before, the two Slytherin girls that were giggling behind us, or me. My fears turned out to be justified when Ron entered the Great Hall. His face was very pale, he seemed to be on the verge of vomiting. Harry dragged him to our table, clearly trying to get his friend avoiding every single Slytherin that happened to be on their way. All we could do is hope Ron would make the Slytherins shut up.

The air was really cold. I was pretty sure my hands would freeze before the end of the match. Alicia passed me the Quaffle and I barely heard Lee make some comment about our captain. My left hand firmly holding my broom, I headed towards Bletchley, Slytherin’s keeper. The guy looked like a big gorilla cowering on a little broom. Riddikulus. I was ready to throw the Quaffle when a bludger hit me on the back, which made me drop the ball with a groan. Fred screamed and rushed to me.

-Are you okay?

-Yes, don’t worry.

A little exchange but accompanied by a sweet touch on my cheek, and I was ready to face the world again. The game continued. When Warrington scored, throwing the Quaffle just between Ron’s arms, the Slytherins sang so loud that I understood what they were saying.

Weasley was born in a bin

He always let the Quaffle in

Weasley will make sure we win

Weasley is our king

I was furious. Completely furious. And also horrified because the song seemed to have the desired effect: Ron lost it and Slytherin scored again, three times. Suddenly, I heard the shouts of joy from the Gryffindor’s supporters and I saw Harry with the Golden Snitch. I joined him and Angelina, and soon Fred and George landed near us. I jumped into my boyfriend’s arms, relieved that we won. Then I hugged George and I was going to congratulate Harry. However, Malfoy seemed to be decided to ruin our joy.

-We wanted to write another couple of verses. But we couldn’t find rhymes for fat and ugly - we wanted to sing about his mother, see… We couldn’t fit useless loser either - for his father, you know…

Then all happened in a second. George was just in front of me. I put myself in front of him while Harry was holding him. Distraught, I looked after Fred only to find him as mad as his brother, hold by Angelina and Alicia. I was furious too. The Weasley were my second family; Mrs Weasley always treated me like her daughter and always welcomed me to the Burrow, this magical place; and Mr Weasley was the first one I had met who shared my interest for the Muggles. I wanted to hit this little bastard, I wanted him to shut up, but I couldn’t let George go, I was afraid he would do something that could bring him problems.

Malfoy seemed to be delighted by the situation. He also provoked Harry, who had a hard time controlling himself, and the little jackass looked at me with an evil smile. I felt George tense behind me and his hands gripping my wrists. He knew how much troubles I had with managing my emotions. Fred seemed to understand what was going to happen because he screamed the worst insults he knew. Malfoy’s drawling voice made me lose my temper.

-And you, the little Gryffindor slut. Unable to choose between the Weasley twins, are you? So you decided, what, to spread your legs in front of all the family?

Once again, it happened too fast for anyone to react. I jumped towards Malfoy, Harry and George close behind me, and tackled him to the floor. He let a pathetic scream out as I broke his nose, barely aware of the fact that George and Harry were also hitting him. I let my fury out until a spell projected us to the floor. Madam Hooch was screaming at us, probably blaming us because we were three against one, but I couldn’t listen to what she was saying. Malfoy was watching me, a grin on his despicable beady face. We were going to leave the field when Malfoy stepped in front of me. I didn’t know what he was going to say, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear it. I spat in his face and leave, still trembling with fury. I only saw from the corner of the eye Fred, still hold by the girls, his eyes filled with anger and worry.

To say that McGonagall was infuriated was an understatement. I had never seen her in this state. She was livid, and looked at her Gryffindor scarf as if she was going to tear it apart. But it wasn’t the worst, oh no, the worst part arrived with a detestable toad. Hum, hum. McGonagall’s face took a red shade, which darkened when Umbridge offered some help. Obviously, it wasn’t just a proposition, because she took a parchment and announced that she had the right to punish us. She claimed happily that George and Harry were banned from the Quidditch team forever, along with Fred even if he hadn’t done anything. Then she told the boys to go back to the common room.

-As for you Miss Y/L/N, I think a bigger punishment is required. Your disrespect towards the young Malfoy is unacceptable and -

-Didn’t you hear what he was saying?

-Don’t interrupt me.

I glanced at McGonagall, hoping that she would help me defending myself, but she seemed to have enough difficulty with calming herself.

-Miss Y/L/N, you’re expelled. You will leave this castle tomorrow.

The world seemed to collapse around me. Umbridge wore a little smile, probably proud to have gotten rid of one of the pranksters of the school. I felt my eyes burning but I would never let her see me cry, because she didn’t deserve this pleasure. I stormed out of the office, and without even thinking, I took my wand.

-Flipendo.

My voice was quiet, but as I was running, I heard shouts of surprise as Fred and George, who had been waiting for me, were knocked to the floor. The sound made McGonagall get out and she yelled something at me. I didn’t listen to her, nor did I listen to Fred who was begging me to come back. I ran as fast as I could, hardly thinking about what I was doing, and soon I collapsed behind a big thicket near from the lake. It was a place that I loved. When we had to work for our OWLs, Fred, George and I and sometimes Lee would come here because we were sure that no one would come. And now -the thought broke my heart into millions of tiny pieces- it was the last time I would see this place because I was expelled. Expelled.

Fred’s POV

I wanted to go find her. Y/N, my lovely girlfriend, was gone Merlin-knows-where, and she had attacked us. I knew she didn’t mean to hurt us, something was upsetting her and she didn’t want us to see her like this. But what happened? I was quickly back on my feet and ready to run behind her when McGonagall ordered us to go back to the common room. I was about to ignore her when Angelina and Alicia arrived and urged us to the common room.

-She’s gonna come back, said our captain. Don’t worry and don’t bring yourself more problems. So, what happened?

When George confessed that the team just lost four players, she became pale and sat hurriedly, taking her head in her hands. I still couldn’t believe what Umbridge had done. And I was still worried sick about Y/N, because I knew her very well and I knew that she could be very stubborn. Every part of my body wanted to be with her. I wanted so badly to take her in my arms, stroke her hair while whispering that all was going to be okay… But two Gryffindors entered the common room wondering why Filch stayed in front of the entrance, so I know I couldn’t get out of here. All I could do was pray for Y/N to come back to me. I was so lost in my thoughts that George had to shake my arm to get me listening.

-The Marauder’s Map, Fred! The Marauder’s Map!

Harry brought us the Map and the three of us, along with Hermione, searched for the dot that represented Y/N. But, after a dozen of minutes, we had to admit that she wasn’t in the castle anymore.

-Maybe she’s in the Room of Requirement, suggested Hermione.

But I shook my head. No, I knew perfectly where she was, it was always the same place, a place she loved to go to when she was upset. However, it didn’t comfort me because I was pretty sure she would freeze to death behind this thicket. But then again, what could I do when Angelina and Filch were on my back? I couldn’t even get out of the common room. When Ron came back, covered in snow, I lost it and ran out of the room, only to be stopped by Umbridge’s wand pointed at me.

-I didn’t allow you to leave your common room, Mr Weasley.

I tried to ignore her interdiction, claiming that she could stupefy me if she wanted, but her answer made me stop.

-If you make one more step, Mr Weasley, you, your twin brother and your girlfriend will be expelled.

Being expelled didn’t bother me. I knew it was the same for George. But I couldn’t risk Y/N’s place here. I was turning my back to her when she added:

-Don’t try to get out during the night, Mr Weasley. The portrait will receive particular orders.

Furious at this old toad, I sat in a couch, trying to relax and wondering why Y/N was so upset. I was determined to stay here until her return, George by my side. I tried twice to leave the common room but, as the toad sait, the portrait didn’t open.

However, when the sun rose, Y/N still wasn’t here. I asked Hermione if she could check in her dormitory, but she confessed that she had already done it and her bed was empty. With a terrible feeling, I rushed to the Great Hall, George close behind me, but she wasn’t here. McGonagall came to us.

-Where is Miss Y/L/N?

-We don’t know, she didn’t come back yesterday.

George had to answer, because my anxiety was suffocating me. McGonagall mumbled something about Umbridge and that she didn’t have the right. I wasn’t really listening, but George seemed to understand something.

-Professor, what happened yesterday?

-Umbridge gave herself the ability to expel students, and of course, she has started with Y/N. But she can’t do this, Dumbledore won’t let her.

George and I exchanged a look, and we left the Great Hall, heading to the thicket where I believed she was. Outside, the floor was covered in snow. The air was freezing and I felt tears burning my eyes. I didn’t know if it was because of the cold. We finally arrived to the thicket and horror filled my body as I saw a little hand behind the vegetation.

She was there, curled up into a tiny ball, her E/C eyes closed. Her skin was white but her lips were blue and she had puffy eyes, and her tears were frozen on her cheeks like little diamonds. She was motionless. If it wasn’t for the steam that escaped her slightly opened mouth, I would have feared her being dead.

I was shocked. George reacted faster than me: he pulled off his jacket and put it on her. I finally got out of my stupor and touched her cheek. It was so cold… I picked her up. The following events were a blur. George was in front of me, yelling to all the students to let me pass, that it was an emergency. I didn’t even feel Y/N’s weight because of the adrenaline that was spreading in my blood. We finally arrived to the hospital wing to find it empty. Madam Pomfrey wasn’t here. I was going to put my girlfriend into the nearest bed when George stopped me.

-You need to get her clothes off, they are soaked and freezing. I’m gonna go get McGonagall.

With that, he stormed off the hospital wing, letting me alone with Y/N. I delicately undressed her, letting her in her underwears. Swearing because I didn’t know any spell that could help her at the moment, I took all the blankets that I could see and laid them on Y/N. She was slightly shaking and I stroked helplessly her hair. I could say that her eyes were rolling under her eyelids and she started to whine.

-Hey, I’m here, baby, I’m here…

I placed my lips on her forehead, hoping that maybe she could feel it and know how much I was afraid.

-Don’t worry, I’ve got you, I’m not gonna leave you…

I slipped my hand under the blankets to find hers. Her skin was slightly warmer. With a loving pressure on her fingers, I continued to whisper sweet things to her. I was kissing her forehead again when George finally arrived with McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. The matron didn’t waste time, she rushed into her office and came back a few seconds later with a purple potion. She made Y/N drink a few drops of it.

-All we can do now is wait. Don’t worry, she’s gonna be okay.

She patted my shoulder and left. I was sitting next to her bed. George stood behind me and McGonagall was in front of us. With a sigh, she told us that Y/N would stay at Hogwarts. Somehow, Dumbledore had managed to prevent Umbridge from expelling her. Then she told us that our detentions would start when Y/N would be better and that she wanted to know when she would wake up. She allowed me to stay with her, but told George he had to go to class. My brother pressed my shoulder in a comforting way and left with McGonagall.

Y/N woke up two hours later. We were still alone in the hospital wing, and I was half sleeping. I felt her hand, the one I was holding, I felt it move and I almost jumped off my chair.

-Fr-red…

-Yeah, I’m here baby. Don’t talk, it’s okay.

I knew her throat was hurting her because she frowned. I just slipped into her bed and hold her against me. She cuddled as close to me as possible and fell asleep again. George arrived after lunch, and wiggled his eyebrows. I chuckled. The sound woke Y/N up and she lifted her head to see my brother sitting on another chair.

-Hi, sleeping beauty!

She waved back, her throat probably still sore. George told us how relieved everyone was because she was going to be okay. He also laughed at the fact that almost all the Gryffindors were waiting at the door to tell her that Y/N spitting at Malfoy made their week. After a while, he looked at me, then at her.

-Have you announced her the good new yet?

-No… No I forgot!

Y/N watched me suspiciously, her beautiful E/C eyes shining in the light. George laughed at me, ruffled her hair and left. I looked back at Y/N who seemed impatient to hear what I had to tell her. Instead of telling her immediately, I kissed her. She melted into the kiss, hopefully feeling all the love and relief I put into it. Then, with my forehead against hers, I whispered:

-You’re not gonna leave Hogwarts, love. You’re staying here with me and the toad is gonna regret what she did to you.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #fred weasley #george weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you

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londonspirit · 3 years

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After the pandemic delayed its highly-anticipated release, the In the Heights movie is finally coming to very thirsty fans this Friday - and, to make the premiere even better, a special behind-the-scenes look at the movie is hitting bookshelves. In the Heights: Finding Home is a joint venture with Lin-Manuel Miranda, screenwriter Quiara Alegría Hudes, and Jeremy McCarter - it combines never-before-seen photos and oral history style-storytelling to take readers onto the Washington Heights set, spilling all sorts of filming secrets. Here, in an exclusive excerpt, read along as the cast battles record heat to complete the "Carnaval del Barrio" number.

Washington Heights is dense enough, and lively enough, to offer a distilled version of the New York paradox: Life is a nerve-fraying ordeal that you miss terribly as soon as it's gone. (According to local custom, people don't just double-park here, they triple-park.) Everybody knew that shooting a movie there would be difficult and expensive. But Jon [M. Chu, the director,] couldn't imagine doing it any other way.

For all of its fantastical touches-what Jon calls its "sing-to-the-stars-y" energy-Heights has always drawn power from its realism, a depiction of life as it's actually lived. The sweet spot for the movie, Jon felt, would be offering "a very truthful take on living in Washington Heights, then upping it."

In other words: No matter how fraught the process might be, the cast, the crew, and all of their gear-up to and including their fake sun in the sky-were going to spend the summer of 2019 in Washington Heights.

"The essence of a movie dictates where you shoot it," explains Kevin McCormick, a Warner Bros. executive who was integral to Heights. "And there's no way you could not have made this in Washington Heights. To have a movie about this community and not film there would be such a lost opportunity."

The first thing they did there was listen. Members of the production team, particularly Samson Jacobson, the location manager (born and raised in the area-a definite plus), and Karla Sayles, the director of public affairs at Warner Bros., met with community leaders to field questions and respond to concerns. Once again, Luis Miranda was a vital resource, drawing on relationships he had built over decades to make introductions.

The producers vowed to do all they could to limit the physical footprint of the shoot. Cast members shared trailers that they might otherwise have kept to themselves. The production hired people from the neighborhood for roles onscreen and off. Instead of catering every meal, they encouraged actors and crew to buy lunch in area restaurants. They even funded a student production of the show at George Washington high school.

What you see onscreen is a two-hour-and-fourteen-minute record of movie professionals falling in love with a place and its people. They arrived uptown to discover that Washington Heights really was different from most places in New York. Locals opened the hydrants on hot afternoons and played dominoes on the sidewalks. The piragüeros really did park their carts on the sidewalk to hawk their flavors of the day. The fascination seemed to be mutual: Actors got used to seeing whole families-little kids and their abuelitas-watching from their stoops at any time of the day or night.

Which is not to say that it came easily.

To Alice Brooks, the director of photography, the weather problems were "insane." If a storm popped up on the radar anywhere nearby, they had to suspend production. This happened with schedule-wrecking regularity. They expected to be free of such interruptions when they went underground to shoot "Paciencia y Fe" on the subway. Instead, they experienced a torment familiar to every New Yorker but with a twist: They weren't waiting for the train to appear so they could ride it to work, they just needed the garbage train to pass by so they could go back to shooting their movie.

The need to solve the endless riddles of New York filmmaking had led the producers to add Anthony Bregman to the team. At this point, he reckons, he's filmed in just about every corner of his hometown, always looking for ways to capture the authentic look and feel of a place-even when the movie is surreal. (He produced Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a valuable point of reference for the reality-bending frame of Quiara's screenplay.) So he wasn't especially rattled when, on the night they filmed "Alabanza," a nearby building caught fire, or when, on another night, gunshots rang out nearby.

"You want the life of the city?" Anthony asks. "The life of the city is complicated."

The production lost valuable shooting time on both of those nights. They found ways to make it up later. But other days offered no second chances. Anthony remembers looking at the calendar before summer began, getting a feel for what lay ahead. Some days seemed manageable; some days seemed tough. Then there was "Carnaval del Barrio."

"That day," he says, "was impossible."

What turned out to be a defining episode in the whole long history of In the Heights almost didn't happen at all. Many a movie executive had suggested over the years that there wasn't enough plot in "Carnaval del Barrio" to justify a song that was very long and very crowded, which made it very expensive. But the song's power doesn't come from the plot, it comes from the theme. The characters rally one another's spirits amid a citywide blackout. They raise their flags and celebrate their heritage-and their humanity-in defiance of every force telling them not to.

That community-fortifying aspect of the song is "essentially the DNA of In the Heights for me," Quiara says. Beneath the joy, there's a legacy of struggle and resilience. " 'Carnaval' unearths that history. All we have is our fight to be here together, the testimony to our spirit."

To help ensure that the number would remain in the movie, she hooked it into the plot more securely, situating it as a farewell number for the salon ladies, who have been priced out of the neighborhood. But the budget wasn't the only limiting factor. "Carnaval" is unique in requiring virtually every member of the cast to be present at the same time.

The actors' complicated schedules meant that Jon wouldn't get all the filming days he wanted. He would get only one.

Which meant it was time for the hard, slow, unglamorous legwork of moviemaking: planning, organizing, rehearsing, designing, equipping, and rehearsing some more-months of it, all to give themselves the best possible chance to "make the day," to film the whole gigantic number in the time available.

In the world of making movies, "day" is a flexible unit of time, especially for a scene that would be filmed outdoors- in this case, a courtyard between two apartment buildings around the corner from where Lin went to preschool. They scheduled the shoot for a Monday, when union rules would let them start the earliest. And they picked June 24, one of the longest days of the year.

They didn't realize it would also be one of the hottest.

The song would be filmed more or less in order. Which meant that for the production, as for the characters, the salon ladies would lead the way.

Some of the movie's actors were new to musicals. Not Daphne Rubin-Vega, who plays Daniela. When Rent blew the mind of seventeen-year-old Lin-Manuel Miranda, she was onstage, playing Mimi. But when she arrived for hair and makeup on "Carnaval" day-at 4:30 in the morning-even she was feeling nerves. The uneven concrete floor of the courtyard wasn't like where they had rehearsed. The prospect of filming a seven-page song before nightfall seemed crazy.

She began to hear a voice of doubt in her brain, one that's encoded in a specific ugly memory. After wrapping her first film, she had gone to the airport to fly home to New York and mentioned to the woman at the ticket counter that she had just acted in a movie.

"That's funny," said the woman, who Daphne believes to have been Latina like herself. "You don't look like an actress."

Worries about how they looked, questions about what they were wearing, a general feeling of negativity-Dascha Polanco was feeling them, too. She always loved arriving on set to play Cuca, one of Daniela's fellow salon ladies, because it felt so much like coming home. She was born in the Dominican Republic and while growing up in Brooklyn used to make frequent trips to the Heights with her friends. ("Washington Heights is a small Dominican Republic," she explains.) Now she, too, wondered if she belonged. Am I capable of remembering the steps? she asked herself.

She decided to stop those doubts-for herself and the other salon ladies. She grabbed the hands of Daphne and Stephanie Beatriz, who played Carla, and formed the women into a profane prayer circle.

"Shake that s--- off," she told them. "I'm not going to let anyone or anything interfere with my performance today."

Daphne laughs as she tells the story. "She was so hilarious and said we were going to protect each other from that insecurity. That was such a beautiful thing-going in there with that determination to represent."

By 5:30 A.M., when the sun rose over Queens, sixty dancers had arrived. Christopher Scott, the film's choreographer, tried to prepare them for what was coming, backed by his full team of associate choreographers: Emilio Dosal, Ebony Williams, and Dana Wilson, as well as associate Latin choreographer Eddie Torres, Jr., and assistant Latin choreographer Princess Serrano. By six A.M., dozens of crew members had joined them, making the thousand careful adjustments needed to help a movie look spontaneous.

It was almost nine A.M. by the time Jon called "Action." The cameras started rolling, Daphne started singing, and the clock kept ticking.

Arrange the actors, position the cameras, do a take, reset everybody, do it again. As the sun climbed higher that morning, the temperature rose to what one crew member estimated to be nine hundred degrees. Look closely-see the sweat on people's bodies? Most of it didn't come from the makeup department. But there wasn't time for extra breaks to cool off.

"Please be quiet," a voice on the loudspeaker boomed at one point. "We gotta go."

At one point that morning, Jimmy Smits got his turn to shine. Playing Kevin Rosario wasn't his first Height experience. He had seen the show Off-Broadway and been "blown away" by it, he says. He had offered to help in any way he could, eventually recording a radio ad for the show.

His devotion to Heights carried into rehearsals for the film. As they got underway, he told Chris Scott and the choreography team, "I know I'm playing the dad, but the last thing I want to see is myself in the background, just waving my hands. I want to go all in." They obliged him. He sometimes hobbled home from the dance studio to ice himself for hours.

His payoff came on "Carnaval" day. He had a featured moment in the song: an intricate, whirling combination. The cast and crew watched him do it again and again, cheering him on. He could feel "a lightning bolt of energy" around the set, something he'd experienced only rarely in his long career.

Over the applause after one take, a voice rang out, ricocheting off the walls: "That s--- was crazy! For our ancestors!" It was Anthony Ramos. He, too, had a long history with Heights, but it wasn't as happy as Jimmy's.

Very early in his career, he had tried to get cast as Sonny on the show's national tour. It meant taking a bus into Manhattan from a gig he was doing in New Jersey, going through round after round of auditions. At last he made it to the big moment: a callback in front of Tommy Kail, Alex Lacamoire, and Lin himself.

He gave the song everything he had. He didn't get the part.

He thought he'd missed the one chance he would get to work with Lin, the writer who'd evoked Anthony's own world, Latino New York, so beautifully on a Broadway stage. He needn't have worried. A few years later, the same guys would hire him to originate the roles of John Laurens and Philip Hamilton, Alexander's son, in Hamilton.

When Anthony got to know Tommy and Lac well enough, he asked if they remembered not casting him as Sonny. They said they did.

"You weren't ready yet," Lac said.

Anthony knew he was right. "Only a homie would tell you that," he says.

But he needed one more break to make his way back to Heights and find himself sweating in the courtyard that morning.

In 2018, Stephanie Klemons, an original cast member of both In the Heights and Hamilton, directed a production of Heights at the Kennedy Center in Washington. The night before rehearsals were set to begin, she lost an actor to an injury. She reached out to Anthony: Could he step in with zero notice?

He didn't feel physically or mentally ready, and was about to pass, but decided to do it. That's how he got a second chance to show Lin what he could do in Heights-not as Sonny this time, as Usnavi. In a series of tweets, reproduced on this page, Lin commemorated how overwhelmed he was watching Anthony step into the role he once played. He, Quiara, and Jon all agreed that when the cameras started rolling, Anthony should be their Usnavi.

The bond between Anthony and Lin added to the drama of filming "Carnaval." Lin played Piragua Guy, so he was in the courtyard, too-or, rather, directly above it, on a fire escape. It meant that the whole cast and crew had a clear view of the brief duet that he and Anthony sing in the middle of the number. To people who knew their history, the sight made time go all swirly. Anthony had originated the role of Lin's son in Hamilton, and now he was playing the role that Lin had originated, and somehow the two of them were singing a duet in Washington Heights.

A quirk of the production process made the moment even stranger and more potent. All day, the actors had been singing along to prerecorded versions of "Carnaval" piped over the loudspeakers. But somehow they hadn't gotten around to recording Anthony's side of his duet, so they had to fall back on the only other version on hand: the Broadway cast album. Which meant that Lin wasn't just singing with Anthony that day, he was harmonizing with himself at age twenty-eight, when every bit of what was happening around him would have seemed like a ludicrous dream. "It was like time travel," Lin says.

By three p.m., when everybody had returned from their lunch break-blood sugar bolstered by the ice cream truck that Stephanie Beatriz had hired-time was growing shorter, the day hotter. Now when choreographer Chris Scott talked to the dancers, many listened with hands on hips, hands on knees.

From his fire escape, Lin did his bit to keep up morale. He joined in the clapping that broke out between scenes; he made silly faces; he pulled up his shirt and did belly rolls. Guests watched from the edges of the shoot: Lin's dad and wife, Quiara's sister, Chris's mom, Anthony's sister and mom. Anna Wintour stopped by.

Jon is not the type to direct through a bullhorn, barking orders from the shade. When they'd filmed "96,000" earlier that month on a couple of unseasonably frigid days, he had jumped in the Highbridge Park pool with the cast.

On this day, he darted around the courtyard, giving notes to actors, framing shots, conferring with Alice. He is also not the type to speak in mystical terms, but when he thinks back on that day, he remembers "the sun shining down like a laser-it was like the sun was shining out of everybody."

By late afternoon, the boundary between the make-believe world of the movie and the real world of the shoot had all but melted away. They had reached the part of the song where Usnavi and Daniela try to call forth their neighbors' pride in where they come from. Anthony climbed onto a picnic table and faced the whole cast, rapping, "Can we sing so loud and raucous they can hear us across the bridge in East Secaucus?" Daphne stood near him, arms wide apart, raising them up, willing everybody to stand tall, to keep going.

Both of them were throwing all their skill and commitment into their performances, the stars of two of Broadway's epoch-making musicals doing what they had trained to do. But they also weren't acting.

"To raise the flag for your country, to dance and recognize that we're all here together, and belong here, we don't need to be forgiven for it, or ashamed for it," says Daphne of what she was feeling. "There's a pride in being here from Colombia, or Panama, the D.R., Puerto Rico, Cuba, wherever."

At eight o'clock, with the sun sinking toward New Jersey, the dancers were still dancing. Eleven hours had passed since Daphne had belted out "Hey!" to start the song. Now Jon was trying to get the right take of sixty-plus voices shouting "Hey!" to finish it. In the movie version of the scene, the blackout ends when the song does, so a voice on the loudspeaker would announce, "The power's on!" That's how the actors knew the right moment to cheer that it was over.

After one such cheer, it really was over. Not just the take-the song.

They had done it. They had made the day.

Jon jumped into a swarm of dancers. (Ever see a baseball player hit a walk-off home run, then leap onto home plate into the waiting arms of his cheering teammates? That's what this jump looked like.) People were clapping and shouting and hugging and crying. Alice thought the whole thing was a miracle.

"You know when you see people at a concert cry, and you're like, 'I would never do that'?" asks costume designer Mitchell Travers. "That's what I did." He thinks it's the most sheer human energy he has ever been close to.

Anthony Ramos, in the middle of the crowd, launched into a speech. He can't remember his exact words. He hadn't planned what he was going to say-he hadn't planned to speak at all. He just felt that something needed to be said.

"I might have said, today we made history," he recalls. "This was for our ancestors who didn't get the opportunity to do this-who were fighting to have a chance to do what we just did. It was for love of the culture. It was for our kids, who look like us, to be able to see themselves on the big screen, to see us singing about our pride. Some s--- like that."

Somewhere in the crowd stood Dascha Polanco, cheering with the rest. She was sweaty, tired, tear-streaked-and beginning to feel the spirit move.

"I looked down and saw that concrete floor," she says, "and I saw those fire escapes up there, and I was like, 'New York.' "

She began a chant. It was slow and pitched low: "N-e-e-e-e-w York, N-e-e-e-e-w York." In seconds, the whole crowd took it up. "N-e-e-e-e-w York! N-e-e-e-e-w York!"

They were pointing to the sky. They were dancing.

"N-e-e-e-e-w York! N-e-e-e-e-w York!"

"It wasn't like chanting, 'Oh, I love New York,' " Anthony says later-meaning it wasn't a casual thing someone would casually say. "It was"-he drops his voice an octave and leans in-"I motherf---ing love New York. I'm proud to be from New York. I'm proud to be Latino from New York. That was the chant."

Lin, on his fire escape, was overwhelmed. Quiara, in the courtyard, guessed that people could hear them all chanting for blocks around. "It was the sound of joy and survival," she says. "And the sound of people who were really proud to be artists in community together-all our stories braided and interwoven at that one moment."

The long months of preparation had yielded the thing that movie people dream of creating: the burst of real emotion, the flash of genuine spontaneity. Some of it infuses what you see in the finished version of the song, but some of it can't be recovered now. It's an experience only for the people who got to be part of that impromptu celebration, the carnaval that followed "Carnaval."

That long day and its joyous finale capture, in miniature form, a lot of the Heights experience-what's powerful about it, what's rare. Instead of expecting little from the actors it featured, Heights demanded everything-not just what they could do, but who they were and where they came from. By fusing them with dozens of other artists making the same commitment, it gave them the feeling that Lin had wanted so badly for himself when he started writing the show: a sense of belonging, of being part of a group of people working toward a goal they all hold dear. That's why Anthony, looking back on filming "Carnaval," says, "That was one of the greatest days of my life. Period. If I never do another movie again, I did this."

"Something that arises in 'Carnaval' is a feeling of, 'There's a place for us,' " says Quiara. "But the place is not one that says, 'Oh, I definitely fit in' or 'I definitely don't.' It holds those questions. It allows those questions to exist."

Those questions, she has come to see, are universal.

"People are like, 'What is my place in the world?' That question is actually part of your place in the world," she says. "There's something about In the Heights. It takes such a burden off to hear, 'Yeah, there's a place for you. Here it is.'"

#in the heights #ith movie #in the heights - the movie #spoilers #ith spoilers #sorry - super long post #long post #but I needed the whole text here because it's fucking BEAUTIFUL #and I don't want it to vanish!!!#carnival del barrio

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whack-ed · 4 years

Text

Between (Fred Weasley x Slytherin Reader) - Part 2

PART 1

Synopsis: Y/N Y/L/N never quite understood why all these things always happen to her. Nobody understood why she was put in Slytherin. But in her fifth year at Hogwarts, many things were cleared up. Your parents, your friends and also, that one should not be named, all these things explained the why. Her blood was stained, but she could not disagree more with the philosophies that made it like this. Between blood and love. Y/N had to make a choice.

Warnings: angsty; flirty.

Reader: Female

Words Count: 2.6k

Author's Notes: I'm sorry for taking so long to post this chapter, now I promise I'll try to post a new one every Wednesday. And of course, if you want to be taged in the next chapter, just reblog this! Also, get a little inspiration from The Riot by @ickle-ronniekins, a amazing imagine from a amazing writer.

Finally the vacation was over, Y/N could be one of the few witches from that school who was happy to return to Hogwarts. The girl couldn't stand to spend another day at her home. Her parents had been getting more and more rigid since the Malfoys' visit, what Narcissa said made them think about how they were raising their daughter. And overnight, Y/N was forbidden to talk about her friends who were not pureblood, and along with this rule came some amendments, which included not being able to put pictures of them in her room, or send letters. Family dinners became a must, and at every dinner, there was always a topic about blood responsibilities and how important it was. The girl had been so irritated by her parents' attitudes that even Cedric's death prevented her from starting discussions with them. There were several during the weeks that passed until classes returned.

Y/N will never tidy up her stuff as much as she does now. The girl angrily stuffed her things into the suitcase. The reason was a comment from his cousin about Muggle-borns and how a pureblood wizard could have the courage to marry one. It seemed to Y/N that the frequency of commentary on this sort of thing had increased near her. She put her green scarf inside the suitcase, and then closed it. She had just finished packing all her things, she was ready to leave her home as soon as possible. Only Brownie was missing, her dark brown owl. The girl chose this name because she found the word play between the color of her owl and the food funny, since good, if one thing her owl liked to do was eat. Then Y/N went down the stairs towards the owlery at the bottom of her house, near the greenhouse.

"Where are you going?" Y/N heard her older cousin, Margot, calling. The girl had brown eyes and long, dark blonde hair, all in a very thin and very tall body, and now she was in her seventh year at Hogwarts, Slytherin too. Y/N always thought that her cousin was a bastard daughter of her uncle Hanz. Considering that his uncle had brown hair and his wife, Amelia, was a redhead, but he always preferred not to comment on the matter. "Going to feed the muggles that I hide from you in the basement" Y/N replied sarcastically without even looking at her cousin and went on her way to the owlery. As it was beginning to get dark, any light that was on was easily noticeable, so Y/N couldn't help seeing the stove lights on. The only person who went to that place was Grandma Harriet. And without thinking twice, he changed his course a little and entered the greenhouse. The place had a high rounded glass roof and followed a straight corridor, also made of glass, for at least 20 meters.

- Grandmother? - Y/N asked curiously entering the greenhouse.

- Close to the aconite, honey - A voice came from the bottom of the greenhouse.

Y/N walked to the place where her grandmother kept the aconite. Grandma Harriet was a very superstitious lady, in her granddaughter's opinion, she read The Quibbler a lot. So inside the greenhouse, she had plants to fight any kind of threats, from a huge craving for pumpkin juice, to a dangerous werewolf.

- Grandma, the only werewolf I've ever seen was not exactly what you could call bad people. - Y/N said when the grandmother goes to prune the seedlings of aconite (plant that leaves a tame werewolf).

- Worry is never too much, when will you understand that, Y/N? - Grandma replied without taking her eyes off the plant with a half smile on her face.

Y/N didn't answer anything, just crossed her arms and laughed through her nose.

- You know my love, I noticed that you are more impatient than usual lately - The grandmother said finally looking at her granddaughter.

- Yeah, I believe I am more out of patience than usual - Y/N replied sitting on one of the wooden stools nearby.

- Can you tell me why?

- Isn't it obvious, Grandma? Look how my parents are acting! As if having no muggle in the family makes us better than others! As if muggles were disgusting people! I don't understand, I don't agree, and I'm very, very angry! Damn it, Grandma! One of my best friends was born muggle! - Y/N calmed down and took a breath before speaking. - I'm not like our family, Grandma ... Right? I'm not, right? - She took a deep breath again - I know I'm not, but ... I was put in the Slytherin ... What does that mean?!

Grandma Harriet smiled sweetly, she was, until then, the only Hufflepuff of the family, since the first of her at Hogwarts, when the first Y/L/N was drawn in a house that was not a Slytherin, they practically aborted the girl of the family.

- A very wise man once told me that it is our choices that reveal who we really are, much more than our qualities. You know Y/N, you were drawn in the Slytherin, not because of the blood, but because you are selfish, a little manipulative, you go over everyone to get what you want and you can be quite cold.

- Thank you very much for the part that touches me. - Y/N replied sarcastically.

- Did I say sarcastic? - The two laughed - But you are also ambitious, you are not afraid to take risks, you are a born leader, and we know very well that you have a certain appreciation for breaking the rules. You are not bad, my love, you are by far the most admirable person in this family. You know what your faults are, and knowing that, you choose to go against your own nature, because you know that it is not always the best thing to do. This shows me how amazing you are and you couldn't be in another house.

Y/N couldn't hide the smile that went from ear to ear. That was why Grandma Harriet was the most knowledgeable person in this family.

***

Y/N had been on platform 9 3/4 for a while. She always arrived 20 minutes in advance, she thought it was safer, she didn't want to risk missing the train and not being able to go to school. Then, passing by the station wall, she saw the scene that she loved so much, parents saying goodbye to their children, several owl cages and cats passing by people's legs, first years with sparkles in their eyes. The first year was the part that she liked most of all, it is no wonder that Y/N was a Slytherin monitor. In the sea of black cloaks she managed to spot a short girl with armed hair, she knew exactly who she was. And she didn't think twice before running towards her friend.

- Hermione! - Y/N just screamed out of everyone there.

Hermione looked back to see her friend running with a huge smile on her face. He was happy to see that Y/N had not died during the holidays, as she simply stopped responding to her owls.

- Y/N! Where have you been? Didn't you receive my letters anymore? - Hermione said hugging her friend.

- Oh Mione, you have no idea how things are at home, my parents are still going to kill me smothered - She laughed letting go of her friend.

- Wow, Y/N, is it that bad?

- You have no idea.

The two had continued to talk while searching for the cabin where Harry and Ron were. The boys had come in earlier to get a good cabin. The two found them and sat down together, Y/N on Harry's side and Hermione on Ron's side, facing each other. The trip started as usual, Hermione talking about the new books, Harry very quiet, probably due to the events of last year and Ron? He stuffed himself with chocolate frogs. Y/N was listening to her friend while drinking a pumpkin juice that her grandmother had given her before leaving. It was all very common, until a couple of red-haired boys hurried down the hall and locked themselves in the cabin of the four.

- What is this?! - Ron said very angry because the knocking of the twins on the floor made him drop his chocolates.

- We threw a stink bomb in the cabin of some Slytherin boys - said George.

- And they are not very happy with the result - Completed Fred, now looking at Y/N, well, she was a Slytherin - No offense.

- I'm not offended, most of them deserve it - The girl laughed when she saw 3 huge slytherin boys very angry pass through the corridor.

- You are perfect, you know? - Fred completed smiling at the girl.

"I know," Y/N replied with a wink. Everyone felt something strange in the cabin, and it definitely wasn't the stink of the twins' bomb.

- Did you hear the rumors about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? - Said Hermione.

- All I know is that the Ministry has been boiling after Dumbledore since ... - George started to say but did not want to be inconvenient with Harry or Y/N.

- Okay, you can tell what happened, everyone already knows the truth - Harry replied George somewhat dryly.

- Well, I heard that the ministry is going to send someone inside to Hogwarts this time. - Hermione concluded.

- I really hope not, Fudge is not what we can call a sensible person, he just denies the facts! - Y/N replied.

- I agree with you, Y/N, but I don't think Dumbledore would let anyone like that in - Ron replied, placing the last chocolate frog inside.

- That is not in his reach, Ron, as much as he is director, he still reports to the Ministry.

Sometimes Y/N was impressed about how much her friend knew. Not that what she said is absurd, but she speaks so naturally ... The girl was left wondering how breakfast conversations should be at her friend's house.

***

The rest of the way was as usual, unfortunately they had to split up when it was time to sit at the tables. Y/N then sat at the Slytherin table, alone, and in less than 5 minutes a blond boy and his entire troupe sat next to Y/N. The selection started, Y/N was happy to receive the new Slytherin students, especially one girl in particular who reminded her very much of herself. She had Y/H/C hair and Y/H/Cut, the only thing that differentiated Y/N from the girl, were the green eyes that the little one had, Y/N's eyes were Y/E/C, pulled from her mother. The two would easily pass for sisters. The ceremony followed, and it turns out that Hermione was right, Dumbledore introduced the new member of the teaching staff, a short, fat lady dressed in pink, who they discovered was Dolores Umbridge. She worked for the Ministry of Magic. Y/N was not much with the woman's face, she had a bad feeling about her.

At the Gryffindor table the feelings were the same, none of Y/N’s friends had liked the new teacher very much. But the thoughts of one of them were a little further away. Fred couldn't stop looking at Y/N, the two had been friends for years, ever since the girl entered Hogwarts, but this year, she had something different, she couldn't explain what it was.

- She will end up thinking that you will curse her if you continue to look at her like that, Fred - said George taking a piece of chicken.

- What? I ... Ah, I can't say, she is different this year, George - He finally answered stopping to face the girl and putting food on his plate.

- Yeah, she’s beautiful.

- Yeah ...She is, but that's not it yet. She looks ... distant. We have to do something, brother.

When dinner was over, Y/N was ready to escort her group of first year students to the common room. Leaving the room and heading towards the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was located, Y/N was guiding the newcomers when Fred and George stopped her halfway.

- Darling, we have something for you - Fred said with a huge smile on his face.

- I think you will have to deliver me later, I'm kind of busy here - Said the girl pointing to the various little faces in front of her.

- How could I not notice before! George, we are facing customers right here - Fred smiled at the children in front of him.

- You are certain, my dear brother.

That said, the twins made as much propaganda as they could about their magic and different sweets, the children heard in wonder about the sweets that the boys talked about. Y/N has always admired how the twins had this gift, of making anything look enchanted. They spoke with passion.

- And I swear, it leaves you with pears to skip class! - George finished saying while Y/N waited.

- Can I take them to the common room now? - Y/N said impatient, or at least trying to pretend her best impatient face.

- Now ... You can, we'll give you your gift later. - George said. - Come on, Fred?

- Come on, George - Fred replied. - Ah, I almost forgot! - The redhead said and went to Y/N and kissed her on the cheek. - See you tomorrow, love.

Y/N was a little unresponsive, not what she felt when Fred gave her a simple kiss bye. The children giggled and some whispered things that Y/N couldn't understand. After the beautiful propagation of the Weasley twins, the girl finally took the children to the common room, and told them the password. Entering, the girl watched the faces of the children, it was always incredible to see her reaction when she saw that the windows looked out on the lake. He showed her where the female and male dorms were, and finally sat down in front of the fireplace, her job as a prefect was over.

“A lot of mess?” Y/N heard a familiar voice sit beside her on the couch.

- Not as much as I would like. - she replied, looking into Draco's beautiful gray eyes. - But the most beloved twins at this school did their advertising, and now the first year boys are dying to eat the gum that never ends.

Draco frowned, he didn't like the twins.

- I know you don't like them, Draco, but I do, they are amazing and very talented people - The girl continued to say looking at the friend beside her.

- They think Muggles are like us, Y/N! - Draco said impatiently without looking directly at his friend, stood up. - That's not how your parents raised you! You better than anyone should understand this! - The boy said and left his friend very angry and disappeared from view.

Y/N didn't understand, didn't understand why Draco was so submissive to his parents. The fact that the boy didn't argue with them, even when he didn't agree, drove her crazy. But no one, not even Draco Malfoy, spoke to her like that. The girl didn't wait twice and went up to her dorm, probably angrier than her friend. He lay in bed in anger that night. Who does he think he was to speak that way? Spoiled boy ... Fred would never do such a thing. Wait ...Fred? Since when did she compare Draco to Fred?.

***

@nebulablakemurphy @kpopgirlbtssvt @idontknowwhatthisisfam @janieavalos

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addysonsophia · 4 years

Text

Pressed Coffee

Pairing: Johnny x Reader (gender-neutral terms were used, but I had a fem!reader in mind when writing this).

Genre: Fluff, angst, some suggestive situations (not really).

Word Count: 9.1K

Summary: This is difficult to explain. I had to write this for a college lit class following the form of David Levithan’s Lover’s Dictionary, which twists the “normal” way of defining words. Told through the lens of a man we learn about his relationship, the reader doesn’t know the sequence of the events that are taking place before our very eyes, through the words that he has chosen to define with tableaus of his love life. I did this with Johnny, and I think I did a good job. Wow, this was a bad summary. Let’s try: How coffee can lead to a beautiful romance. Yeah that’s ok.

Warnings: None, some angst near the end.

Caffeine n.

I was late, like always.

I woke up a whole hour later than normal, and that caused me to do a speed-run version of my morning routine. Good thing I shower at night—a great time saver. I left my apartment in twenty minutes; as I stepped out the door the noises of the morning surrounded me: cars bumper to bumper through the city making their way to work: morning joggers with their dogs and strollers zooming past the seemingly frozen vehicles; birds swooping down from the sky to the land, hopping, and hoping for some food.

I quicken my pace as I head to the subway station on 48th Street; my shoes just a tiny bit too tight today, barely allowing me to keep my speed. Closer, I get to the orange sign, the faster time moves, never letting me get ahead, leaving me two steps behind. Down the stairs with a quick hop in my step, and a swipe of my subway card, I wait on the platform for my train. I looked to my watch, then to the board above the tunnel—the train was seven minutes way.

“Crap.” Was what I said out loud but, in my head, I was breaking down. It takes a lot to make me stressed but being late was suspect number one. Being late, is like a mortal sin that has been ingrained into my psyche from a young age: all my after-school activities in high school emphasized how important being on time was. “If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late. If you’re late, you’re dead.” That is what many band teachers, drama directors, and coaches have said to me. In college, there were consequences to being late, the beginning of practices would be spent running for every person not there (if they didn’t inform the coach that they would be late), then when the offender would arrive, they would run. Being on time shows that you are respectful, aware of other people and their time that they are giving up to also be there.

With the rising levels of stress, I shot my boss a quick text:

“I’m running a bit late. I’ll be in soon. Would you like me to pick anything up for you?”

A minute later, she responded with:

“That’s fine, you don’t have tons of work like normal. Can you get me a coffee? You know my order ;)” A sigh of relief fell from my mouth at the message, and the growing squealing sounds from the tunnel. I send back a thumbs up and slip my phone back into my pocket.

The wind of the underground picks up as a silver train flew by, slowly coming to a halt. As the doors open, people being to push their way into their spots—I take mine towards the front of the car, another hand joining the many others on the rail overhead. Swaying back and forth, the lights flicker above me as the air conditioning blows; a baby sits on their parents’ lap in front of me with the biggest smile on their chubby face. A small wave is all it takes to grab the baby’s attention, smiling back, I make a funny face at them, and now they’re bubbling with the cutest laughter. They reach out to take my hand, their ravioli sized fist wraps around my pointer finger, and the last of my stress melts away with this little angel in front of me. The parent, also has a smile on their face, appeased with the behavior of their child—any form of travel with a baby is hard, so I try and make it a little easier for them.

Sadly, my stop was up, and I waved bye to my new friend. I stepped off the train and headed up the stairs to 110th street. I already knew what coffee shop I was going to: there is a small café down the block from my office that has the best drinks and snacks—which was prefect because I had to skip breakfast. Hauling ass through the streets towards Papaya Acres Café, I mentally prepared my order.

“One large, caramel swirl ice coffee, two and two liquid sugar; one medium hot coffee with regular cream and sugar; and a croissant with butter, warmed.” The bell chimed as I pulled the glass door open and was immediately bathed in the scent of coffee and sweets. I inched forwards in line towards the cash register, when I made it, I recited my order perfectly, paid, then waited at the pick-up counter. The bell above the door twinkling when more customers came in, the melodic music coming from the speakers, and the whining from the espresso machine. I pulled my phone out to kill time before my order was ready, I opened Twitter and started scrolling through my feed.

“Dude, you can’t just, like, look at someone like that and not expect to get punched in the face.”

“I didn’t mean too! There was a-a-I don’t even remember, but she didn’t have to punch me.” What did this guy do? I know that I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it, I had to listen in.

“I don’t know, I saw your face, and I would have punched it too if you were looking at me like that.” The man, that was facing me, had brown hair that was styled away from his face, leaving his brown eyes on display—they were light and full of mischief. He wore a grey sweatshirt that looked comfy as hell, and he had a smile stretched across his face.

“Well, he seems nice.” I whisper to myself, my lips dancing into a smile. I turned my back to them, deciding it better to not listen in anymore.

“I don’t know any—”

“Miss, here’s your order.” Two coffees sat in a carrying tray and a bag—hopefully containing my croissant—in between the drinks.

“Thank you, have a great day.” My smile grew as I picked up my order. Turning back to the door, I began texting my boss that I was on my way. I made it a few steps when my hands were knocked towards me.

He was early, like always.

Frustrated adj.

Today, out of any day, today was the day that I was going to cry in public. Now, I never usually cry, not at movies (sometimes I do, I’m not heartless), not at sad songs, not when I’m stressed, and definitely not in public. But this just broke the dam.

There I stood, in the middle of a coffee shop, with both boiling and freezing coffee down the front of my white sweater—well, my now, brown sweater—and cute black pants. The clear plastic cup sat crushed next to the paper cup, the rest of the hot coffee melting the ice on the floor. A pair of faded, black converse faced my black shoes. Tears begin to pool in my eyes, the tiled floor becoming blurry, hands clasp my shoulders and my head snaps up.

“Are you okay?” Deep brown eyes stare back at mine. The tears being to race down my face.

“Yeah.” I nod slowly.

“Then why are you crying?” A soft hand comes to my cheek, his thumb brushes a tear away. After that I just completely broke down, like big ugly sobs, snot—everything. His hands shift, moving from my face and shoulder to caressing my head and holding my back.

“I woke up late, then my train was late, but my boss said it was fine and wanted me to get her a coffee, and then I split it all over me. But this is the fifth time I’ve been late this month, and my supervisor said that if I was late one more time, I have to meet with her.” With a heaving chest and choked sobs, I managed to explain my short morning. Sinking further, I wrapped my arms around the kind man and just let it out. I probably shouldn’t have done that, but he was so warm, and I was so tired—sometimes you just need a hug.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.” He whispered into my hair, a hand running up and down my back. Slowly, I began to calm down, savoring the hug for a few more moments before I pulled away. I looked at his grey sweatshirt and saw dark marks from where my face was and the remnants of the coffee.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry that I got tears and snot on your sweatshirt.” Dabbing at my tears to dry my face, I turned away, getting mascara on my sleeve—the sweater was already ruined so it couldn’t get any worse. I pulled myself from his arms sighing, I bent down to grab my phone (thankful undamaged) and texted my boss what happened. I turned to the counter to reorder, and the worker already has my order ready.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” I begin to pull my wallet out to pay, but she was just shaking her head at me.

“After what I just saw, you are fine. Don’t worry about it.” Her smile was kind. I went back up to the counter and put a couple of bills in the tip jar.

“Thank you so much.” I turn back around and see the man still standing were I left him.

“Hi, my name is Johnny. Can we start over again?”

Gilded adj.

Being with Johnny was like being in a world of sunlight. Everything was filled with loud laughs, quiet whispers, longing glances, quick kisses, and loving touches. Of course, there were arguments and disagreements, we were a normal couple in a not so normal world. His job is demanding, long hours and weeks spent with the only kinds of communication are texts and FaceTime calls. At first, this arrangement was strange: dates spent at hole in the wall restaurants in a back-corner way from the other patrons; dinner and movies—at home; late (like 1 a.m.) walks in the park, and food from convenient stores. It was easy to get used to, and I get why it had to be that way. When your boyfriend is part of a world-known group, you can’t really go outside in broad daylight and be seen together—it would most likely ruin his career, and some of the fans go too far.

I rolled over, a mess of blankets and sheet caught between us, and I just look at him. The sun streamed in through the curtains, filling the room with a warm glow. His hair turning a rich golden brown, the light doesn’t stop there, bathing his skin a shimmering yellow. The sight making me gasp, because in that moment, he looked ethereal—in that moment I knew I loved him.

Soft breathes fell in the space between, I moved my hand and started tracing his face. Thick eyebrows, long lashes, strong nose, full lips, sharp jaw; this man looked like he was carved from the Gods themselves, and he was all mine.

He groaned when I stopped my movements; arms moving, coming to pull me closer to his chest.

“Morning.” Eyes still closed.

“Morning.” Eyes opened, the brown catching the light and turned gold. I leaned in and placed a quick kiss to his lips, then tried to get up. But he wasn’t budging.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He raised himself up on one arm, holding me with the other.

“Bathroom.” He shook his head, I moved away again. Then he lifted himself up, arms coming to either side of me, only to lay himself on top of me, effectively stopping any attempts to start the day.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His lips tickled my neck as he spoke. I sighed out and began to run my hands through his hair, and his breathing slowed. Shortly after, the snores started, and there was no way I was getting up for about an hour. I wrapped my arms around him and started to fall back to sleep.

Perfect, it was perfect.

Hostile adj.

It was a rare date night out, and I was brimming with excitement. Tonight, we went to our favorite restaurant then headed for a movie at my place. On the walk back to my apartment, something felt off. Footsteps and whispering followed every step of our own. I pulled my face mask higher up on my face as I looked around—to not cause suspicion. With a glance behind us, I saw a group of girls, and my heart sank. This was it; this is where the relationship ended; they were going to find out and tell everyone.

See when you date a celebrity, there are rules because there are consequences. The fans of most groups are wonderful, the kindest people you will ever meet, but then there are a few that are not. These fans think that they are entitled to the artist: they stalk them; find their phone number, and call them constantly; they send death threats to anyone who gets close to their favorite artist—or worse to the artist themselves. To say I was scared would be an understatement.

“John, there’s a group of girls behind us. They’ve been following us for a while.” I lean my head on his shoulder to not cause alarm.

“John? Wha—Oh. Ok. Ah, let me think.” He became serious: eyebrows furrowed under his black cap; lips pursed behind his face mask. I don’t know how they found us; we were so careful.

Steps grew closer, and I could hear some of what they were feverishly whispering about.

“Do you think it’s him?”

“It has to be. I mean, look at him.”

“If it is him, who is that?”

“I don’t know, but I think if I can get close enough I can—” With that they dared more steps, for every two we took, they took three. This was getting serious.

“Ok, after we reach this corner, we are going to enter that store—see it? The bookstore? —then we are going to walk around inside until they follow us in, then after a few seconds we are going to leave, then make a break for it down the block. Sound like a plan?” It was a stupid plan, but it was the only one we had right now.

“I guess, this better work.” My grip tightens on is arm, trying to ground myself in the situation.

“Wait!” One of the girl’s screech behind me, I slightly turn my head to hear better.

“—said that she spotted him on 1st and 3rd Street. Let’s go.” They all crossed the street and headed in down the block—away from us.

“I think we are going to have to stop with the dates outside for a little while.” With a sigh, he nodded.

Lend v.

It was a cool day, in October, and I forgot my jacket. Walking through the streets at night would have been fine if it were summer, but it wasn’t. I had been in such a hurry to get out of the apartment to meet up with him, that I just completely forgot to grab the jacket sitting on the hook by the door. I didn’t notice until I had made it to the restaurant.

“Did you walk all the way here without a jacket?” I scooched my chair closer to the table, grabbing my glass to sip some water.

“Uh, I forgot it to grab it when I left.” A chuckle falls from his mouth, his eyes curving to crescent moons, then he reached across the table to take my hand, his larger one encompassing my own.

“You’re a freakin’ loser.” An often-used term of endearment. Eyes rolling, I squeezed his warm hand.

“Takes one to know one.” His face breaks into a wide smile.

The waiter came to take our order, and when he left, we just sat in each other’s gaze, content with the moment. The food came, bites were shared, and when the bill was paid, he offered to walk me home.

With the moon rising higher in the sky, the temperatures dropped. Lights from shops, apartments, and streetlights created a world of color, drenching us in greens, blues, reds, and yellows. A gust of wind came from behind us, and in a moment of silence after—he dropped his jacket onto my shoulders. I laughed.

“Thank you.” I looked at his profile, a strand of hair fell into his eyes, and he just left it. Lips were curved into a small smile—proud of the smoothness of the execution; a black turtleneck was the only thing shielding him from the weather, and from the looks of it, he was winning.

“Always. Can’t have you freezing on me.”

“I’m not going to freeze, Johnny.”

“Not when I’m here, duh.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m lucky you’re mine.” Not only was my body warm, but my face was too.

He was smooth.

Loneliness adj.

He was gone. Days had turned into weeks, and the bed had grown cold as nights were spent hoping for his return. Time seemed to move slower without him by my side; the sun and it’s jovial rays never seem to set, and when they do the moon and its frigid compassion surround me in an endless longing for the light. I know that I shouldn’t be acting like this, but he was my world.

I made my way to the kitchen, the cold floors numbing my bare feet. The blanket wrapped over my frame providing little warmth. The rising sun casted an orange glow in the room. I slowly set my mug into the sink, washing the rings of coffee from the inside wall, my movements becoming sluggish as the world caught up with me.

The lock beeps from the front door, gradually opening. Shuffling could be heard in the entryway: keys being placed on their hook, bags being set down, shoes being kicked onto the rug, and jackets being placed on the rack. Water running down the drain was the only thing that filled my ears—deaf, I was to the footsteps drawing closer. Mug in one hand and scrubber brush in the other, I gazed to the beginning of the day: lights flicking on room by room in the building across from me, people making their way of from their homes, cars starting to head towards their destination. Vibrations come from behind me as warm hands snake around my blanket, hands turning into arms and a chest pressed into my back. It does not shake me from my trace, still I gazed out the window—until warm lips press onto the top of my head. By the time I had set down the mug and scrubber, I was turned around, facing him. As I looked into his eyes, my own began filling with tears. Like the play button had been pressed, my hands shot out to grab his arms, pulling him closer.

“You’re back?” uncertainty filling the room.

“I’m back.”

My world had returned. He pulled me from the sink, taking one of my hands and his other sliding to my back, he begun to sway. There we stood, dancing in the kitchen at 6 in the morning—revolving around each other, for we were the centers of our universe.

Nervous adj.

The energy in the venue was high, everything was buzzing: the lights, the speaker, the crowd, and my heart. This was the first time that I saw Johnny’s group in person, I’ve seen concert videos, fan-cams, and their online concerts, but never in real life. He has been on tour for two months—which is a long time to only talk through FaceTime and texts, but it was well worth the wait. I managed to get tickets to their last show, shortly after followed plane tickets and a hotel reservation.

The beginning of my day was spent sleeping in to get rid of the jet lag, once I was up and ready, I headed to the venue; the concert may start at 8 p.m., but you also have to get there early so you can get fan-made stuff and merch. I arrived at 4 p.m., and began to wait, making friends along the way, excitedly talking with them about the members, songs, moments, and theories for the next comeback.

I made it to my seat, light stick, and fan banner in hand as I pulled my phone out to text him good luck—as I did for every concert. I went on Twitter to see that the concert was trending, a smile on my lips as I liked the groups’ pre-concert posts. The fan sitting next to me saw my fan banner.

“Ooh, you like Johnny?” Their eyes sparkling in the bright fluorescent lights overhead.

“Yeah, as much as I love them all, he’s my favorite. Who’s you’re favorite?”

“Haechan, he’s so cute. But I also love all of them members too.” After that we got more friendly, names were swapped, and then we started talking about everything about the group. As time for the concert began grew closer the more my heart began to race, my palms became sweaty, and my stomach was in knots. Soon the lights dimmed, and the crowd thrummed with energy, light sticks turning on and the space changed into a green ocean.

The screens on the stage flickered to life, beginning the VCR introduction. The lights flashed and there he was in all his glory, standing before me. The music played and the members came to life, moving as one before the crowd.

But he always stood out to me.

Smitten v.

He had seen me during the concert and had someone come get me when it finished. Going through some ‘STAFF ONLY’ doors, and many turns later, I was in the dressing room waiting for the guys to finish going over the concert.

Sitting, on my phone, still going through the concert tag on Twitter, I heard them coming from a mile away with their excited yells and laughs. The door opens and they all flood into the room, the sound following them in. He was the last one, of course. Eyes scanning the room, going from person to person trying to find something, someone—me.

When our eyes met, it was as if the world going on around us had melted away, it was only him and me. It was perfect. Slowly, I rose from my seat and started to make my way to him, he was pushing through the people blocking us. When we got to the middle, he slowly, but surely, wrapped his arms around me. It was warm and whole, and I accepted it—eagerly. I buried my face into his chest—slightly heaving from the two-hour long concert, the sweat was felt on my cheek— and I smiled into it.

“Hi, I missed you.” Quiet, we were, afraid that this moment could end in the next breath.

“I missed you too.” He kissed the top of my head, then rested his cheek there, I wanted him to stay there forever. But our reunion was stopped when the others joined in on the hug—turning into a dog-pile. I let it happen for a little while, but then it started to get hot, and they were all sweaty—so, so sweaty.

“Guys…I can’t breathe anymore.”

“You let Johnny hug you, so why can’t we.” Mark said from somewhere from the outside of the pile.

“Because he’s my boyfriend, and ya’ll are gross and sweaty.” I squirm in Johnny’s arms, but none of them budged. “I’m going to die in here, aren’t I?” I whisper.

“Probably, but at least I’ll die with you.” He whispers back.

“No, you’re not, you Giraffe. You get fresh air and everything, while I’m down here in the depths of gross boy stank.” I resorted to whining, I’m not proud but I needed out of my prison.

“Guys, you heard them, give ‘em some space. They’re right, you do stink.” He started pushing them away, chuckling.

“Is that better, Baby?” He brushed my hair out of my face when I looked up at him.

“Yes, Handsome. I can only handle one stinky boy right now.” His hug became crushing as he lifted me a few inches off the ground that left me squealing.

“Stinky?!” Eyes wide. “I’m stinky?” He asked, voice raising a few decibels.

“Big time.” Then, my life flashed before my eyes as he starts to rub his head all over my face. Gagging, I push his nasty ass away from me, but with his grip around me, he wasn’t going anywhere. A hidden smile on my face turns into a frown when he lifts his head up to look at me.

“You’re gross. I don’t want to hug you anymore.” I push again, but that only encourages him. His hands shift from my back to my sides, then he starts to wiggle them over the covered skin.

“Stop it! No, Johnny! Stop!” Forced laughs escaped as tears start to run down my face.

“Then, take it back! Say you want to hug me!” He wasn’t letting up, if anything, he was picking up the pace.

“Never! I told you that I don’t want to hug stinky boys!” My chest began to rise and fall at a rapid speed, air rushed into my lungs only for it to be ripped back out. There was no end in sight as one of his hands grasped my side to stop me from trying to twist out of his attack.

“I’m not stopping until you say it AND give me a kiss!” A huge smile and crescent eyes are all I saw as he brought his face closer to mine, smile slinking into a smirk. “Be good, and listen, Baby.” Time to bring in the big guns.

“Jaehyun! Help me! Please!” I whip my head around to not only look for my hopeful savior, but to hide my flushed cheeks from his comment. As fast as I called his name, two more arms wrapped around me, and pulled me from Johnny’s ruthless hold. I push off from Jaehyun; finally, away from the constant contact, I slowed my breathing down. Smoothing my hair down and running my sweaty hands down the front of my jeans, I stood up straight and looked at Johnny.

“That was mean.” Lips: full on pout mode, Eyes: puppy dog mode engaged, Arms: crossed over one another. I was the picture-perfect example of how to get an apology. With his jaw dropped and eyes wide, Johnny was the perfect example of forming an apology.

“Mean?! You said that you didn’t want to hug me anymore!” True.

“But I was just joking. You didn’t have to rub your sweaty head on me, then tickle me.” Jaw snapped close, and eyes turning into soft brown ones, we were at a standstill. The others were lightly laughing at the scene going on in front of them, one seen many times before, but always with a different victor.

“You hurt my feelings.” One step closer.

“You hurt my nose and lungs” One step.

“You were mean.” One step.

“You were meaner.” Last step. We met in another hug; the winner was obvious.

“God, they’re so whipped for each other.” Mark whisper to Jaehyun with an eye roll.

Telephone n.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

“I think it is, Johnny. I love you so much more than you love me. You fill up, like, 54% of my heart.” With a slight nod, I won this time.

“Only 54%? Are you loving other people on the side?” A dramatic gasp and a flared hand placed on his chest caused me to laugh.

“Of course, Loser. The rest of the boys take up about 6%, My mom has 10%, Ms. Jenkins and her cat has 7%, and I have the other 23% saved for a rainy day.” My cheeks began to hurt from smiling so much; one thing that I love about him is that no matter what, he can always make me smile.

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret, Baby.” I slightly leaned forward, even though it did little to minimize the actual distance between us. My breath caught, as I strained my ears to hear him as he whispered.

“I love you, 3000.” My face dropped, a chuckle bubbled out, turning into a laugh, then into a cackle, and finally, I was in bed with tears streaming down my face and I couldn’t catch my breath. Once I finally calm down, I looked at him with a serious face.

“You are the love of my life.”

“And you are the love of mine.”

“I miss you.” Sigh.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“You’ll always come back, right? Back home? Back to me?”

“Always.”

That night, neither one of us hung up, content to still in a comfortable silence until he fell asleep. Then I soon followed, the sound of his breathing lulling me to sleep with one word on my mind.

Always.

Voyage n.

I watched the sun sink beneath the tall buildings. The sky had been graying all day and with the dark clouds rolling in, all the signs pointed to a storm.

But there was going to be more than one storm tonight.

Hours over the stove, wasted as the meal sits in the oven waiting to be eaten. Slowly, they lose their heat, mine steadily rose. The cars filter through the street below, reds, blues, blacks, but not the car I was waiting for. The rain falling on the street, coloring it dark; the hum of electricity fresh in the air as a flash of lightening lit up my face in the window. I looked around my dark apartment and felt empty. With a huff, I head to the bathroom, limbs stiff from sitting folded up on the couch, waiting. I looked at the mirror, sighed, turned, and left. Walking through the dark apartment, I heard thunder booming overhead, followed by a crack of lightening, brightening the room for a second, before being shrouded again.

Four times. Now, five times, he had missed our date. There was no text, no call, no note. Nothing, there was nothing.

There was one thing: loneness.

There were two things: loneness and anger. Two things that don’t work well together. One eats at the mind, and the other eats at the soul.

Hours passed, and I was still alone, sitting on the couch. Still waiting. That’s what this relationship was, waiting: waiting up for him to come back after practice, waiting for him to come home after months of being away, waiting for him to show up to dates, waiting for love. That was the hardest part, the love. Being away from each other as often as we are, you don’t feel loved—I don’t feel loved. Nights spent lying in bed waiting for him to hold me. Days spent waiting for any sign of life on his end. And the in between spent always waiting.

It was a moonless night because of the storm, still pounding away. They say thunderstorms are caused by the Greek God, Zeus, king of the sky, when he’s angry. How I shared his rage tonight. How I wanted to scream at him, but no sound came out. Nothing came out. The door beeped, then opened; shoes kicked to the floor, and keys hung up on the rack. A sigh fell from the doorway. I looked at my watch, the glow threw shadows around the living room as it read: 11:23 p.m. Steps heard, a light clicked on, a name is called—my name. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

My named echoed through the apartment, he wondered into the living room—light still off.

“Baby, what are you doing sitting in the dark?” A chuckle falls from his lips, a sigh from mine.

“Waiting.” My mouth too dry to put power behind it, so it came out as a whisper.

“What?” He made his way closer to me, only halfway to the couch I was curled on.

“Waiting.” It was a little louder this time.

“Honey, speak up. You’re whispering.” He was almost in front of me know, I could smell his sweat mixing with his deodorant.

“WAITING! I SAID I WAS WAITING FOR YOU!” A crash of thunder boomed in time with my declaration. He stood, staring at me like I had grown another head.

“I’m sorry.” With my chest heaving, I pulled myself off the couch, making my way to leave the room to cool down. I passed him and he grabbed my arm, halting me. I turned to face him, his eyes moving quickly over me—searching for the reason of my outburst. A crack of lightening spilt the sky and lit his brown eyes that were wide with worry.

“W-What’s wrong? What happened, Angel?” He grasped my hands and held them in between us. I scoffed, head shaking. Did he really forget? Something so important—a date—and he doesn’t even know what he did wrong? I let it go the first few times, but this—this tipped the scales.

“You forgot.” I spoke, words filled with a venom that I could feel the burning at my tongue and throat, itching to get out. I stared at our connected hands, frustration filling me up, I could see it collect in the corner of my eyes. The wind started to slam against the windows, as another clap of thunder sounded.

“Oh, Sweetheart. I am so sorry. I got hel—”

“You got held up at practice.” I laughed, because of course he did. He always did. I was beginning to feel hot; I dropped his hands and crossed mine. He reached out for me, but I stepped away—needing space.

“Darling—”

“Stop with the nicknames, Johnny! Stop trying to defuse the situation!” I paced around the living room—still in the dark—trying to ease the anger. Johnny walked away to turn the light on; the room bathed in a hue of gold. He was wearing those sweatpants that fit him just right, and a black long sleeve; a tired look on his face, but his eyes were guarded—trying to read my fire-filled ones.

“There is no situation, I don’t see why it is such a big deal if I miss a date.” Annoyed—that’s what he was, he was annoyed with me. But the feelings I had, were worse.

“Oh? So, that’s how you feel about it? You don’t care about our dates? The only thing you seem to care about is work.” My back was turned, I didn’t want him to see me cry.

“Are you fucking kidding me? The only—Wow. What is wrong with you?!” The level of his voice was rising—so was mine.

“What’s wrong with me?! You have missed five dates, Johnny!” I turned around in time to see his eyes rolling. “No calls, no text, no heads up! I would have been fine, but I stood for hours over the stove cooking your favorite meal! I had set the table all nice, I got your favorite wine, your favorite candles, and your favorite music! But you just didn’t show up—too busy dancing with your friends—leaving me alone!” Hands thrown up in the air, I moved into a corner of the room.

“Do you want to know what you sound like right now? You sound like a brat.” The word being spat out of his mouth. “You think I’m just singing and dancing all day?! I am working my ass off to make people happy! I work all day, and I just want to come home and sleep!” There it was, the guilt, beginning to build in my gut. “You knew what you signed up for going into this relationship, you knew that things weren’t going to be easy! But here you are, whining like a little bitch because I missed some dates!” The storm outside matched the storm inside, the loud rage was inescapable.

“What did you just call me? A Bitch? I—Ok.” I ran my hands through my hair, I was boiling now, nothing was going to stop the war he just laid out. “I do know what I signed up for! But when you’re in a relationship, things go both ways, Johnny! I don’t think you recognize that! When was the last time you planned a date? When was the last time you went out of your way to do something nice? When was the last time you showed me you cared? I don’t remember, and after all of this, I doubt you do.”

“Are we serious arguing over this?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“We are seriously fighting over a date?! A DATE?!”

“ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!” The windows rattled from the thunderous boom. The storm or the shout? That is something that will be unknown for the rest of time.

“What is this really about? Are you jealous? Are you jealous at the fact that I do something I love? Are you jealous because you work a meaningless desk job?” My mouth dropped. One of my biggest regrets was not pursuing what I wanted to in college, I did what my parents wanted and that was shared in secret with him. Late night talks, quiet whispers so no one in the world could hear our confessions.

“I can’t believe that’s what you think this is about! I know you love your job! I love seeing you happy because of it! I-I just can’t keep this up.” Tiredness just rolled over me as I was sitting down on the couch, and holding my head in my hands. The storm still raging outside.

“This?” He sneered.

“This! You! Coming here late every time you stay over! Dates spent here, your place, or some random restaurant at 10 at night! Not seeing you for weeks at a time! You’re never here anymore, Johnny! There’s always some excuse as to why you can’t come over. And sometimes there’s nothing at all!” The rain on the windows matched the tears on my face. “I’M SO LONELY, AND YOU DON’T EVEN CARE!” My chest heaves for a different reason as sobs echoed through the apartment. I spared a glance at him, the anger was gone, replaced with realization and sadness. His hands shook, eyes searching around the room, mouth slightly open, trying to find something—anything—to say. But the damage was done.

An eternity had passed, but only mere minutes had. One question weighed on my mine. One that needed to be said. One that could change everything.

“Do you even want this anymore?” My eyes shut, waiting for his response. But none came. When I opened them, he was standing in the doorway, mouth open, eyes frantic. With a sigh, I rose from the couch and headed to the door. I walked by him and when he didn’t say anything, I scoffed. I slipped my shoes on and unlocked the door.

“Wh-Where are you going?” He sounded so small. My baby—no, not anymore. He may not have answered the question, but his silence did.

“I don’t know.” It was like I took a backseat to the situation and I was now only watching it.

“When are you coming back?” Opening the door was the easiest and hardest thing I had done all night.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” I hummed in response, slipping out the door.

I don’t know how long I walked for, but the moment I had stepped outside, I was soaked by the rain and guilt. It wasn’t cold though; it was surprisingly warm. I had shut my phone off after Johnny had left his 6th voicemail. I want to be alone, but my thoughts kept me company. The mind likes to bring up memories, I found, after a something like this. Mornings spent waking up to breakfast in bed with a loving kiss in between bites, soft pouts led to a forkful of food, and warm gazes fueled breakfast being forgotten for a little while. Beautiful flowers placed on my desk at work, with a dorky note attached to it; doorbells rang with deliveries of even more flowers when he was gone for months at a time. Date nights that came to an end with a slow dance in the living room as music circled us from some random playlist on his phone in his pocket, after a while, hands, and lips begin to wander, one pulling the other down the hall to the bedroom. Late nights shared in bed, hair slighted messed, hands tracing shapes onto skin, lips moving in hushed whispers, and eyes full of love. Sleepless, nightmare filled nights, glasses of water at my beckoned call, hugs were endless, and a soft voice always lulling me back to sleep.

As I sat on the curb of some random street, crying, these memories showed me that he did care. Love is shown and spoken in different ways, and I was so focused on the verbal, rather than the actions. God, I was so stupid. Last week, he had made me lunch for work, he even took the time to cut the fruits into hearts.

I raised my head up and looked towards the sky, rain hitting me in the face. I sighed, then reached into my pocket, and tried to turn on my phone, but a black screen stared back at me. This night couldn’t possibly even get worse. So, I stood up and tried to find a street sign to figure out where in the hell I was. I spotted one above a bookstore and figured that I was about a 30-minute walk away from my apartment. From the love of my life. Walking in soaking wet clothes and shoes in the rain is very much uncomfortable, but it had to be done to get back to my life.

Street after street I grew closer, after some wrong turns and a very nice lady who gave me directions, I was almost home. As I waited at a crosswalk, I heard something being called from across the street. But I ignored it, it was most likely nothing, just a random noise from the city. When the light changed, I heard it again, this time sounding like my name, growing louder. I made it across the street when I heard it clearly, this time I looked to where the sound was coming from. Combing the streets, I saw brown hair, a black long-sleeve, and track pants that fit just right. I started down the sidewalk, tears forming in my eyes, and a smile on my face. His back was to me when I met him, so I ran into him at full force engulfing him in a hug, starting to sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was dumb and I know you love me.” He turned in my arms and wrapped his own around me. I looked up, his hair was wet, and his shirt was soaked. Tears fall down his face, his eyes sparkling. I raised a hand to his cheek, he pressed into the warmth, and I wiped away a tear, only for it to be replaced by the rain.

“I’m so, so sorry, Johnny.” He took my hand and kissed my palm. “I-I was being selfish and I didn’t see all that you did for me. Can you forgive me?”

“Always, Baby. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t loved, because I love you so much, and my heart broke when you said that.” He dropped his head into my neck as his shoulders shook with tears, his hands gripping the back of my shirt like I was going to disappear from his hold. “I let you down, you didn’t feel loved when all you were doing was giving me love. I wasn’t doing-I wasn’t being enough for you. I’m sorry.” He broke down, he’s sobs echoing into the night. We stayed like that, in the rain, until he started to hiccup, my hands soothing up and down his back when he calmed down. I took his face back into my hands and raised him so he could face me.

“Look at me, Handsome. Please look at me.” When he opened his eyes, they were sparkling and red. I brushed his wet hair out of his face and put a smile on mine.

“Johnny, you are enough for me. Mornings with breakfast in bed, surprise flowers when you’re away, lunches when your home, dances in the living room. You show me your love, and I appreciate everything you do for me.” I reach up to place kisses all over his face, making sure to cover every inch, I wanted him to feel my love.

Here we stood, in the rain, in the middle of the city, staring into each other’s eyes. His hand raises up to hold my face, and I hold my breath. He leans in, slowly I close the gap. I melt into him; his lips were soft against mine—there was no rush. We broke apart, with rain falling onto us, I break away from his arms, grabbed his hand and walked towards the apartment. In the light of the city, hand in hand, we felt the love for each other again—in that moment he became my everything, and I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Wander v.

The night was full of life during the walk we took in through the city. Lights glowing, shinning onto his beautiful face; with our hands entwined we made our way to some unknown destination. Papaya Acres Café. I laughed as I saw the café.

“Do you remember that day? The one where we met? I was a mess; I was surprised that you even had the balls to ask me out on a date after I rubbed my snot into your sweatshirt.” In the moment, it was probably one of the most embarrassing times of my life. Now, it is a funny memory that gets laughs when we tell people how we met.

“Of course, I did! It’s not every day you bump into an angel and make them cry, so I had to do something to make you smile again.” His hand squeezed mine as we entered the café, the bell chimed as he held the door open.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” A curtsy.

“The pleasure is mine, my lady.” A bow. Followed by giggles.

“Welcome to Papaya Acres. What can I get for you?”

“Handsome, I’m going to the bathroom. Order for me?” With a nod, I turned and went into the bathroom. Soft jazz played through the green tiled room as I entered a stall. I wrung my hands into a paper towel and headed back into the café. Johnny was sitting at a table near the pick-up counter. My chaired squeaked when I pulled it back; wincing, I sat down.

“I missed you.” His lips pouted, face sitting in his hands, eyes soft.

“I was gone for like three minutes, Loser.” I laughed out.

“I always miss you when you aren’t around.” I pulled one of his hands from his face and held it in my own, comparing the size difference. I hummed as I laced our fingers together.

“I missed you too.” A playful smile appeared on my lips.

“Here is your order.” I looked over and saw three cups? Huh, that’s weird. Maybe Johnny wanted to try a new drink or something.

“Thank you. Have a good night.” He got up to pick up the drink tray, and I waited for him in the middle of the café. My hand got cold when he passed me my drink—I drink iced coffee, no matter the seasons—and his were now full with his two drinks. Putting my drink near his face, he took a sip from the yellow straw, humming in delight when he pulled away.

“You got two drinks? What kind did you get?” When he told me, neither of which was something that I was going to try; when one of us orders something, the other automatically gets to have a taste of it, it’s a rule we made after many meals were pouted over because no one would share.

Walking through the park down the street from the café, arms bumping as our laughs reverberated on the trees and buildings around us.

“My dad knew I liked beans. So, he was like playing with beans. Then he dropped it, and then he dropped a rock. And then it slid, and then hot water started falling. And then, coffee.”

“You actually think I believe that? Johnny, I’m not Mark.” I chuckled.

“Hey, don’t be mean to Mark.” He chuckled back. He walked over to a trash can and tossed mine and the cup he had been nursing away, leaving the untouched cup in his grasp. He, now having a free hand, connected in the middle, brought our clasped hands to his face and placed a gentle kiss on my knuckles, his fingers running over my ring finger—something he had only started doing recently, but I paid no mind. I looked at his face, and he wore a serious expression—his thinking face: eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” My free hand brushing away some hair that had fallen into his eyes. He sighed; a small smile played on his lips.

“I was thinking about how it would look if you had a ring right here.” He pressed on my ring finger. I laughed with a smile. He looked at me with wide eyes; I looked at the cup in his hand, he was shaking.

“Johnny? Honey, you’re shaking. Are you ok?” My hands cupping his face now, I searched for the reason for his sudden nerves. His eyes snap to mine as he takes my hands off his face, and he steps away. My heart is now in my throat, as my mind races to find out what was causing his anxiety. My hand, acting on its own, reaches out for him, but he only laughs with his head down.

“You are truly something different, you know? You are the reason I get out of bed now; there are days when I don’t want to go to work, days were I just want to give up, but then there you are with your cute little texts, cheering me on, notes left from the last time you were at the dorm. When practice runs long and I can’t give anymore, you pop into my head, and then I remember that tonight you are waiting for me to come home—so I push ten times harder.” He cleared his throat, and shook the cup in his hands, a dull rattle followed. He swallowed. “I know it isn’t easy being in a relationship with me, the dates, the secrecy, but you are always there.” He brought his hand up to push away hair that wasn’t there. “God, this is hard.” He whispered, his hand moving to run down his face.

“What’s hard?” He looks at me. He shook the cup again; the same rattle came from within it.

“I want you to be there.”

“What? I’m right here, Baby.” Now it was my turn to furrow my brows—in confusion.

“I want you to be with me. For as long as you’ll let me. I want to grow old with you; have kids, have a family—maybe a dog. I want to dance with you in our home when we have gray hair and wrinkles.” I get it now. He chuckles. “You are so beautiful, and I just want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to make breakfast with you, I want to go grocery shopping with you, I want to do puzzles with you—”

“I hate puzzles, Loser.”

“That’s beside the point, don’t interrupt—it’s rude. Where was I?” The rattle started again.

“You were listing things you wanted to do with me.”

“Oh, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I want to sit with you in the living room and just spend the day reading, I want to take you out and have photoshoots that I can post for everyone to see. I want you, Baby. I’ve never wanted anything so much.” I smile and move to close the distance.

“Johnny Suh, are you asking me to marry you?” A rattle.

“Well, duh. But now you ruined it.” He whined.

“I didn’t ruin anything. Now, go ahead and ask me. Should I practice my surprised face first? Hold on, I need to warm up.” I started pulling faces with different sound effects and hand motions. He let out a long whine and stamped his feet a little.

“Stop,” He drug out, “This is serious.” I cleared my throat, wiped my hands on my legs, and pushed my hair out of my face.

“Of course,” Serious face, “Continue.”

“I love you with my whole heart, you never stop running through my mind, you are magnetic. And I can’t help but to be draw to you.” He popped the lid on the coffee cup and stuck his hand in, pulling something into his fist. Then he got down on one knee. “My love. Will you marry me?”

Remember when I said I don’t cry in public? Not only has this man made me a liar not once, or twice, but now three times. I guess, you could say that I wanted to make him sweat a little bit.

“Let me see…” I tapped a finger on my chin as I began to walk around him. Adding to the act, I hummed and muttered, nodding, and shaking my head. When I got in front of him, I covered his hands in mine and stared into his eyes.

“Of course.” I whispered. He jumped up, picked me up and spun me around. When he set me down, he took my hand and slipped the ring onto my finger. He kissed the ring, then me. There we were, in the park at 10 p.m., with our love in the air.

“I love you.” Were the words we whispered for the rest of our lives.

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Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought!

I could possibly be interested in writing more of these if you guys like, doesn’t matter the length, member, or group. Just send in a word or words, member/group, and if you want it angsty or fluffly!

Thank you again!

#nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct johnny imagines #nct 127 johnny imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #johnny imagines #johnny suh imagines #johnny seo imagines

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caffeinated-moonchild · 3 years

Text

tracks [kim taehyung]

writer: yellow hippo

genre: short story, fan fiction, slice of life

synopsis:

1 train ride. 2 struggling souls. 3 things - Realizations. Friendship. New journey. Where would their last stop be?

character/s: kim taehyung [ace], jade [oc]

story:

• 𝓘 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂 •

It was just one Sunday when we met. You were sitting there, staring out the window as the buildings pass us by. It was so serene. It was as if you were at peace. I had my own smile then as I stood in front of you. I couldn't hide my fondness of how you looked. So calm. I wish I was too. For moment, at least, I was. Thanks to you.

"Have a seat, miss." Your deep and husky tone brought me out of my trance. I stared at you, paling as I realized i must've looked dumb with a smile on. "Oh! Uhm. Thanks." I stuttered back as I sat in your place, my head down, eyes on your shoes. I couldn't raise my head up, still shy and stunned. Also because my anxiety started to creep back in as people stared when I sat. It was too much. Why is sitting down such a big deal? Should it be? What's wrong with me? But then I hear you again and everything just melts inside me. Your laugh was so cute. It made the smile creep back up my face. My eyes still trained on your feet, I noticed how they kept on moving. You might be having a hard time balancing? The train ride is not a smooth one especially now that the trail kept making zigzags. "Have a seat, mister." I patted the now empty space beside me, hoping that you would take the seat beside mine. You smiled down at me as you occupied the seat. Your smile is so blinding. It leaves me breathless. How can one train ride make you smile? Is it the view? Is it the fact that it's a Sunday, families buzzing on the ride as they make small talk of their one-day vacation? How I wish I could smile genuinely like you.

• 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗶𝘁, 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂. •

It was so embarrassing how I kept missing my balance. Her eyes were always on my feet. I feel like I'm being judged. Is it too obvious that this was my first train ride ever? I must look so pathetic.

"Are you okay?" The girl asked me after some moments of silence between us. I laughed awkwardly, my sweaty palms hidden behind my neck.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Obvious?" Her eyes, my favorite shade of green that I can't put a name on, stare at me. Question marks all over her face.

"Yeah. Obvious that this was my first train ride?" My voice so low, not wanting anyone else to hear me.

"Oh, it is?" She covers her mouth as she giggles quietly. "Don't worry. It's our secret then."

She smiles so sweetly. No judgement in her voice and eyes. Why couldn't I have met her sooner? Why now when everything is-

"Hey? Don't think too much about it. Everyone has their own first experience on train rides. I did too."

Warm. So warm. The sun from the window feels so warm as she talks about her first train ride when she was in high school. She was fun to talk to. No awkward silence once she remembers another story in the middle of her current one.

"So, where's your stop?" She takes a breath as she finishes her story.

"No where. I mean-" I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped me. Her face when was priceless. And she even dare ask if I was homeless or if I ran away. She was willing to take me in, a total stranger, in her home.

Why did I have to meet her? Why just now? The year has what? More than 300 days and I had to meet her at the most unconventional time of my life.

I told her how I just wanted a look at the city from a different view since my hotel window, although better than any paintings in my hotel room, was getting too repetitive for me. Always the same view of the same city. I told her how suffocated I felt even if I was free to leave anytime. I told her how I wanted to have my windows change views every time I wake up.

"I hate routines." The train arrived at it's next stop. People come and go. "So, your stop?" I added quietly, my eyes passing by her own green ones before coming back to the train windows.

"I get down at the last station. That's where my school is. Just a few minutes of walking after this long ride."

"Last station it is, then."

• '𝓒𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝓮.•

"Last station it is, then."

A joyrider. Must have all the time in the world. Nothing but views to think of.

"A photographer?" I asked the man as I spot his camera bag.

"Hmm. You could say so, yeah, I guess?" Again, I am met with a serene smile.

A click and a flash caught me off guard. My eyes see green spots for a moment as I try to blink away the blurriness.

"Sorry about that." He chuckles as he puts his camera away.

"You shouldn't have done that. Nothing worth to see here." I gesture over my face, my palms sweating as I try to laugh my anxiety away. Not here Not now. Not even after the people has moved on from the quick flash of light from our seat. Not ever, please.

"Hey. Are you ok, miss? I'm really sorry. I just wanted a candid shot of you because-"

"Yes, I'm ok. Just not used with cameras and all. Those things hate me that they almost always break after having me as their target."

"How come? Well, I think my camera likes you. Not broken at all. See?" He takes out his camera and offers it to me.

He shows me the photo he took of me, as well as his hotel room window view. He showed me a picture of him with his dog. A picture of him and his older brothers. Pictures of other places he's been to. Beautiful. Everything he took a picture of was beautiful. Even the one he took of me. I looked normal. I looked surprised, but happy. Like I had no worries aside from the butt sore I would get from sitting down from this long train ride.

He took his camera back. He stared down at it on his lap, his serene smile never leaving his lips as my candid shot reflects on the screen. I can't help but smile as well. I laughed lightly. At least someone appreciates me even in an unconventional way.

• 𝗜𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 '𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿. •

Another stop up ahead and we fell in the most comfortable silence I have ever felt. My eyes shift to the books on her lap and some paper peaking in the middle pages of the book. Interesting. Mythology?

"Which program are you in?" I pointed towards her stack of books on her lap as I asked her.

"Literature student. And film. I'm actually taking two majors-" A sigh and a content smile on her face. "-got in both programs for being a scholar since I was younger."

"Whoa. You must be smart then. Congrats!" I offered her my hand and can't help but chuckle at how tiny her hands are. Tiny and soft. So fragile.

"What's so funny?" Her nose is scrunched up as she hits my shoulders lightly.

"Ah nothing. Your hands. They're just so small. So delicate like some kind of petal. If you squeeze too much, it might break."

She opens her hands and stretches her fingers, massaging them, a small pout on her lips.

"They'll grow longer you'll see."

"Wanna bet?" I asked, smirking her way. "Once you've written a book or published any kind of film, I should be one of the first few to see the finished product. Call?"

Her face falls and takes a deep breath.

"That might not happen anytime, mister. I might die of old age even before doing anything out of my dreams." She looks down her shoes and I noticed a tear drop on her book.

Looking at her slumped shoulders, I could not help myself from rubbing circles on her, hoping it could somehow calm her down. But her shoulders shiver even more now, hiccups irregularly escaping her every breath.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry about this. God what's gotten into me. Must be because I only got a few hours of sleep. So many papers due this month. Professors bombarding us with papers before letting us actually breathe for the summer."

I offer her my handkerchief as she starts rubbing her at her eyes angrily.

"Eyeliner-" She points at her lids. "I might get this dirty."

"Nah. You might need it for later as well. Like you said. Summer. We can't have you sweating. I need my subject all fresh and pretty." I put the handkerchief just on top of her books and look down at our shoes instead, humming quietly as she wipes her tears away.

"This is nothing. I am nothing. I won't be able to agree with the bet even if I wanted to."

"Hey. It's ok. You're ok. It might be a long train ride-" I chuckle as her eyes crinkle from giggling. "-but you'll be something. You are already something. No. Someone. A someone worth the wait at the end of the ride. You'll make it something. I trust that. At least have my trust when you feel like nothing, alright?" I point at my handkerchief as I pat her head.

'You are already being something by not running away from your dreams. You already are making something. A progress that I crave for myself.'

The train chugs on as we roll back to another silence.

• 𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓽? •

I kept my stare down, afraid of the judging eyes all around me - beside me - if I look back up. I look like a panda. Or worse, a clown. Great. I just ruined my make up. I have no time to retouch since I have reporting on my first class. What a reporter. A clown. An ugly clown who has nothing on her once the 'train ride' ends. It was always nothing.

Fighting for what I want has always been useless. I just made myself into the nothing that I am and will always be. Why did I even bother accepting the scholarship program? I won't be the writer that I want to be nor the film director that I always dream of being. I'll crash in an office job after graduation just to earn for a living. Who am I kidding. My dreams can't feed my family. I'm so selfish for wanting this when I won't be anything by then.

I can't bring myself to look up. He's something at least. He's traveling everywhere and taking the places he's visited with him.

"You're the something between us, mister." My head still down, but I saw him turn away from the window and towards me. A hum. But why does it sound so hopeless? So lost? My eyes veer away from my shoes to his. Black leather shoes. So shiny. Reminds me of his eyes.

"Something. Huh." He stands as I feel someone else take his place beside. Did I scare him Off? Only then did I look up and see him standing in front of me, he smiles down at the old lady now in his place. I smile at the lady as well as she nods and smiles towards us both.

"I might be something to someone, but I'm nothing to myself." He sighs, his smile turning melancholy as I stare up. I was about to contradict him but he surprises me as he suddenly kneels from where he stands. I avoid his eyes by looking behind me. A slight rain has made the window all blurry to see outside. I feel a sudden tug on my shoes and I look down at him.

"I'm running away from everything and making myself fall into nothing. But you? You're running into something. You might feel like it's nothing, but the fact that you're running towards something. Well. That's something. Something from the nothing like me who runs away from everything." He whispers low, only for my ears to hear.

He stands back up as I stare down at my shoes, knots tied perfectly in place, not knowing of what to make of what he just said.

• 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗼𝗻. •

It's been silent for the past stops now. Both of us stuck with our own thoughts. But it's not awkward nor uncomfortable. Just a little heavy on the heart because just one more stop and it's the end of the track. What more is there to talk about? She said so herself that there won't be any betting. Her dreams and mine all getting further away as the train chugs forward. At least she fought somehow. I just ran and hid for as long as I can. But this has to end. Every ride has to end.

"So." She cleared her throat as the final announcement for her stop is heard over the speakers. "This is my stop, mister?"

"Ace Wilson. And please, drop the 'mister'. I graduated just a few months ago. Not as old as you think." I chuckled as I held my hands towards her, offering help her with the books.

"Jade Myers. Or just Jade. Thanks." She smiled as she put a book on my waiting palms. "Are you sure I'm not messing your schedule?" She smiles up at me, her height reaching just above my shoulders. What a tiny thing and yet she is fighting a battle. Winner or not, it's the effort that counts, right?

"Schedule? What schedule? Like I said. I'm just running away from everything. Might as well take a break from all that before I run further. There's no rush for me."

She leads the way. The road, or rather the gravel path, making scrunching noises every stomp of our foot. It was enough noise to cover the silence we've wrapped our self into.

• 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓓𝓸 •

(click for song inspiration of this story)

I look up at him, my eyes squinting close because of the sun, as we near my school gates.

Just a name and his little stories. That's all there is to him. Questions he will leave though. Questions that I will be facing after losing my fight.

Will he start his own battles when I end mine? Would his run bring him somewhere? Would I meet him again someday when I start running away, or 'if' I run away? Will I stop where he is if I do run? What then? Why stop?

I may know his name, but he will remain a stranger to me.

"Thanks again, Ace." I grab my book from him as I wave goodbye, entering the school gate. He stands there, his serene smile back from when I first saw him. Back from where we started.

Strangers, with only names.

• 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝘆? •

I wish I rode a different train cart. Or maybe I should've never rode a train in the first place. I could've ridden a plane and flew back to where people were waiting for me. I could've stayed home and not get lost. I could've continued fighting even if I see myself losing. At least I fought and lost with no regrets. There is harm in trying, but there is also knowledge. Knowing that you fought though you knew your fate is a win in itself. You at least fought. Your fall would not be in vain.

Why did I have to meet Jade in the most inconvenient time. She left me with regrets. But also a new found determination to fight. I will keep running. But this time, I will run towards my dream. I'll fight if I have to.

• 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹𝓼 𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶.•

The thought of just running away keeps climbing up my 'to-do list' once I graduate. Should I really just run from the reality my family wants to thrust upon me and go for what I want instead? Yes. Yes I do want to run. I want to be what I want to be. I want to continue being selfish. I want to keep fighting. Is the fight and the run worth all that I'll leave behind?

My heels clack on the corridor as I run to my first class. Looking like a clown for my smudged make up, but who the fuck cares? I've decided to fight. The smudge got nothing on the blood I will shed for my win. I can always wipe it all away.

A serene smile left my own lips as I dug his handkerchief out of my pocket. Yes, I can always wipe away the blood shed and run.

I want to feel the wind on my face and fingertips. I want the shiver of excitement. I want to feel. I want to be free.

And I will be, because I'm running away.

I open the door to the classroom and I know that my run has begun. No turning back. The whistle started the race.

I'm running away.

• 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻? •

Strangers.

Having different tracks, but the ride would end at the same station. Not once but twice would their fates collide. But for now one train is moving onward and the other stops at a station. But they will again meet at the end of the track.

For now, they are simply Jade Myers and Ace Wilson.

#bts fic #bts scenarios #bts v #bts taehyung #kpop #like strangers #AJ Mitchell song fic #bts x original character #bts x oc #v x oc #taehyung x oc #original character #bts fan fiction #slice of life #short story #bts ff

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trissmarrygoals · 3 years

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the train room

Here is my secret Santa gift for @knightryder24! I hope you like it, my mom is a librarian so of course I had to jump on that idea. This was written for @thewitchersecretsanta, thank you so much for getting this together. This will be posted on AO3 at some point, so check it out there as well

Warnings: None

The library is quiet at this time of day. If Geralt is being honest, the library is quiet most times of the day, but he chooses not to dwell on that. Sure, they have some of the lowest patronage in the system, but they’re also in a dying town with no open businesses aside from the bank.

The quiet seeps into every part of the building, seeming to infect his staff and volunteers. He’s put Dara, his daughter Ciri’s friend and a reliable volunteer despite being fourteen, to work pulling holds, and Priscilla and Triss are busy at their computers, probably not doing work. He doesn’t blame them. He isn’t really doing anything either, just watching over his little library.

He’s been director here for five months, and it hasn’t been easy. To survive, the library needs to change, and this small Kaedweni town is nothing if not reluctant to change. He’s the only one of his staff who currently has a masters, although Triss is putting herself through library school. “Someone should be coming about the train room today.”

He spins around. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Triss leave her desk and come up behind him. “Hmm.”

The train room is one of his projects - or it’s going to be, once he’s buttered the board up enough. Which might take a while, considering he’s socially awkward and prone to underspeaking, but he’ll make it work. He suspects Calanthe, the frankly terrifying head of the board, thinks of him as crazy in an amusing way, which is a start.

“You won’t have to do anything besides unlocking the back for them,” Triss assures him. “It’ll probably be Letho, you’ve met him before.”

He appreciates Triss - saying that she keeps him mostly sane at this job wouldn’t be an exaggeration - but he hates the feeling of being handled. “It’ll be fine, whoever it is.” She just grins in response.

“Do you know where the key is?”

He doesn’t.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting from a firefighter, but it’s definitely not a man his own age in a blue cable knit sweater that brings out his eyes. The kid looks like all of Geralt’s friends from library school, mashed into one. Geralt always felt out of place at library school.

He introduces himself as Jaskier. He’s bright and bubbly and Geralt isn’t sure entirely how to handle him. Because he doesn’t just take the key from Geralt, oh no. He clearly wants to talk.

“I heard you’re trying to move our train room!” He says cheerily. Geralt’s stomach sinks. He didn’t realize the firefighters had heard about that. He can’t afford to alienate them. Jaskier must realize, because he laughs. “Don’t worry, I think it’s a good idea. Don’t tell the other firefighters I said that, though.” Geralt relaxes a little, but not all the way. He rarely relaxes all the way these days. Or maybe ever.

“Do you want to come in?” Jaskier asks with a bright smile that makes something in Geralt do a flip. “I can give you the official tour.”

“I’ve been in there.” Geralt pointedly doesn’t bring up the time he was in there alone and one of the train whistles went off because it was definitely nothing and hadn’t scared him at all. He does watch Jaskier go in, though. Not like that, the way people joke about watching people walk away, because Geralt is wildly asexual and doesn’t really get the whole butt thing. But he appreciates the silhouette of Jaskier in the dark room, the way he moves, the lines of his body. He’s a beautiful thing.

And suddenly, Geralt knows he’s fucked.

The train room opens after Thanksgiving. Suddenly, Geralt’s little library is flooded with people, none of whom are here for books. He tries not to be bitter, but as much as he worries about their circulation numbers, he finds he prefers the library quiet. He likes having it to himself.

There are always firefighters watching the door, welcoming people in. Geralt’s pretty sure they bro around in the back - the previous director told him tales of them using a grill in the train room, but he’s not sure if there’s truth to it.

He definitely doesn’t hang around to see if he can see Jaskier. Not at all, not even a little bit, even though Triss definitely notices. She keeps giving him Looks, which Geralt ignores because nothing is going on.

Except every time Jaskier is there, he always seems to make a point to talk to Geralt. He’s happy and chipper, but Geralt tries not to read anything into it. Why would someone like Jaskier be interested in a dour library director?

"You have a daughter, right?" Jaskier asks one day. "You should bring her by!"

Geralt almost points out that Ciri is fourteen and likely to consider a train room little kid stuff (not to mention that she's heard Geralt ranting about it for the past few months) when Jaskier says, "I'd love to meet her!"

It would, Geralt thinks, probably be good for the library director to be seen engaging in a town tradition, especially since most residents seem to consider him very much an outsider. Yeah. He'll drag Ciri along, and maybe Yennefer, for the image. Or maybe not Yennefer - when they go out in public people tend to make assumptions, and he doesn't want - he doesn't want <i>the town</i> getting the wrong idea.

"We'll be there," he says gruffly, before returning to the shelter of the circulation desk.

They go the next weekend. Ciri is less resistant than expected, mostly because she sees it as an opportunity to engage in her favorite holiday pastime, forcing her dad to engage in "festive" activities and then laughing at him. In a stunning display of hypocrisy, she also mocks him for the rare times he gets too into the season's spirit (he and his brothers admittedly get intense about tree selection). Teenagers. You can't win.

They pull up at the library in Yennefer’s Prius (Geralt’s truck has, yet again, broken down) and Ciri doesn’t wait for him before throwing open the car door and running for the library steps. The line of people has snaked out the door, and Geralt shudders at how much heating is going to cost this month.

Standing in line is never pleasant, but Geralt and Ciri have a time honored tradition of games to play while doing so - quietly deciding which of their linemates are secretly monsters. Before long, they’re through the big glass doors, standing in the warm lobby. Ciri takes her mittens off and shoves them in her coat pocket.

There’s hot chocolate set up in the corner, and Geralt is surprised to see a few people looking through the permanent book sale as they wait. Without really meaning to, he strains to see Jaskier, but the hallway is blocked with people in bulky coats.

Ciri sees him looking. “Expecting someone? Scoping out the competition?” She’s been thoroughly filled in on Geralt’s plans of conquest.

“Yeah, sure.” He tells her, distracted. One of the mittens is falling out of her coat pocket, so he takes it out and puts it in the opposite pocket. She pouts.

“Don’t dad at me in public!”

“But we’re in public, and I’m your dad,” he tells her, deadpan, and she groans.

There’s a soft chuckle from behind them, and Geralt turns to see Jaskier. He’s wearing a jauntily bent santa hat and a cable sweater with trains on the front, and Geralt gets the sudden and deep urge to hug him.

“Hi, Geralt,” he says, sounding strangely breathless. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

“It’s uh. It’s good for the library,” Geralt says, and fuck. If he’s falling over his words like this that means it’s worse than he thought. Luckily, Jaskier doesn’t call him out on it and turns to Ciri instead.

“You must be Cirilla.”

“Ciri,” she says, sticking out her hand for a firm handshake, the way Yennefer taught her.

“Ciri,” he agrees. “Thanks for coming with your dad today.”

“Oh, I couldn’t let him go on his own,” Ciri says with a sly grin. “He gets lonely.”

“I’m right here,” Geralt grumbles, but they ignore him, moving towards the train room and chatting like they’re old friends.

The train room, Geralt will admit, is a lot more impressive when it’s all set up and the lights are on. All the firefighters he sees give him cheery smiles, so he must not be too on their bad side. That or they’re all very good actors.

Christmas comes and goes. Geralt and Ciri spend the morning together, before heading to Vesemir and his husband Ellis’ house for dinner. Yennefer joins them, and at Geralt’s invitation, Triss drops in. Geralt has a sneaking suspicion the two of them hit it off.

It doesn’t snow on Christmas, but it snows the day Geralt goes back to the library. As a part time employee, he got a slightly better holiday deal than most of his employees. To his surprise, the little building seems to echo without the throngs of people.

It doesn’t change his mind about wanting that space, though.

But he does miss something, and it doesn’t take him a long time to realize it’s Jaskier. As he shovels yet more snow off the library stairs and ramp, he finds himself thinking about their talks when the train room had been open. As he weeds in the stacks, he thinks about the easy way he’d conversed with Ciri. As he searches desperately in the circ desk for the book drop key, he thinks of how Jaskier would smile at the story.

Triss and Yennefer go to see a movie together. Triss, for reasons Geralt doesn’t want to think about, avoids telling him the details, but Yennefer suddenly starts volunteering at the library.

The thing is that Geralt could find Jaskier. If he wanted to be wildly unethical, he could look up his phone number in the system, but that thought barely crosses his mind before he dismisses it. But he could ask around. He doesn’t think Jaskier would mind if he asked the fire chief to pass along a message. He doesn’t, though, for a multitude of reasons, all of which boil down to the fact that Jaskier deserves a better relationship than Geralt can give him.

When it comes down to it, Geralt’s good at people, but he’s not good at relationships. He’s not even really good at friendships outside of Yenn (and Borch, and Zoltan, and Milva, and maybe Triss). When he’s hurt, he emotionally pillbugs - pulls all the soft parts inside, leaving only the shell. He’s working on it, but it’s still his go to reaction.

So he doesn’t do anything, and when he lets himself daydream at all, he thinks about next Christmas.

Jaskier shows up on a Wednesday. It’s late January, and the snow has all melted except for dirty gray lumps where the plows piled it up. Geralt is in his office, head full of book orders, and Triss knocks on the door. “Someone’s here to see you,” She says.

Jaskier is standing behind her, looking nervous. “Is it okay if I come in the office?”

“Yeah,” Geralt says, slightly stunned.

“So I was thinking,” Jaskier says. “About your idea about the train room.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And I want to help you with it.”

Geralt looks at him, taking him all in. Then he says, “I think. I think we should go to the Poppy for lunch this weekend. To talk about the train room.”

Jaskier grins. “Just to talk about the train room?”

“Maybe not just that,” Geralt says, smiling back.

#the witcher #geraskier #witcher secret santa

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agataroman · 3 years

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One Moment Changes Everything (Part 3)

A/N: Hi guys, last part of my horrible fanfic :D enjoy

Pairing: Jackson (GOT7) x Reader

This waking up was the worst I had…. Everything was hurting, even if I haven’t done any activity. My head hurt from all the crying I have done the previous night. It just hurt so much!

But why? I met him once (twice). Would I like him more than just a fan? Why does this have to be so complicated. I sighed. It’s always so complicated.

Well. I got nothing to do really. I stayed whole day inside of the hotel room. I didn’t have mood to go out. All the time I was thinking about him. Should have I done something more? Will I meet him again? Who knows. We may have exchanged our number, but How long would that last.

Wait a minute. Did I say exchange numbers? Right, we did! How could I forget something like THAT!!! To some it may seem weird and baffling, but… I decided that I will go study in Korea. Maybe we can meet there and who knows. Maybe. A wish, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t try it.

That’s it, I decided. I will change my life. Who knows, maybe for better. Wish me luck.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been a year. Hard year, I can tell you. Graduation, learning korean and calling Jackson every free minute I had. Plus the time difference, it was almost unimaginable. But somehow we managed it. And what’s the best, I am finally here, in South Korea. Nobody knows I am here. Haha! I didn’t tell Jackson I will be coming so he doesn’t know.

As I was coming from bus stop to a place where I will stay I saw a big crowd. They were all fans. And I even knew whose. They had green and were chanting GOT7’s name. They probably were shooting their new video clip for their new album. So I went closer. It will be surprise for them. I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud. Some closest girls looked at me like I was crazy. And maybe I was. I was after all madly in love with Jackson.

Yes that’s right. I finally admit it. I am hopelessly in love with the man. I figured it only few weeks I was home from America. I was always afraid something happened when he didn’t call on schedule. I missed his voice. I missed HIM. I missed the other boys too, but Jackson the most.

I came around the group of girls so I could see my boys. Like I said, they were shooting some new MV. But something was wrong. I could tell from everyone’s tense shoulders.

,,Excuse me,” I said to the girl next to me (in korean of course), ,,what is happening?” She looked at me a little weird, looked at my suitcase and back at me.

,,The main actress in the video didn’t arrive and they are trying to find some replacement. We all hope they will pick someone from us, because they appear they really need it.” I nodded at her a thanked her.

So that’s why they look a little nervous. I wanted to call out on them a encourige them but my shout wouldn’t be heard through the fans’ noise. Jackson suddenly turned and looked at me. His eyes widenned and quickly said something to the director (I think so) and started towards me.

When he came, all the fans where around me in that very moment. He didn’t speak or anything, just took my suitcase and my hand, and was hurrying back.

,,She can do it.” I looked at him with confusion. The director looked at me from head to toe and back. I bowed a little. It would be impolite not to.

,,You know her?” He asked the boys who came closer and some of them waved at me. Jackson just nodded.

,,Excuse me, but what is going on?”

,,Well you see miss, we are in trouble here. Actress caught terrible flu and we can’t find replacement. Unfortunetaly we can’t reshedule this filming as we don’t have enough time. Would you be willing to act in the new MV? We would show the script first of course, so you would know what you would be acting and then you can decide.” I thought for a little while. I wanted to help the boys, but I was afraid what other fans would be thinking, when they would find out who I am (that the boys know me). After a minute I decided.

,,Alright. You don’t even need to show me script. I will help the boys with anything.”

“Really?” The director asked surprised.

,,That would be a big help. Thank you.”

,,It’s not a problem at all,” I reassured him. I turned towards the boys and smiled at them. Everyone had big grins on their face. The make-up artist then took me away to prepare me and I didn’t have time to speak to the group.

After an hour I was prepared, going through the script of what I would be doing. It wasn’t hard, it will be anly watching the boys, sometimes smiling. Basically in the MV I am the boys’ best friend and I am madly in love with Jackson, as main figure of this video. The song was about slowly falling in love with your best friend so you can imagine how it would look like.

It took several hours to shoot but luckily we made it in time. It wasn’t exactly that hard. I am madly in love with Jackson and good friend with the rest that it wasn’t a problem to shoot the MV.

,,Hey, you were great,” said Mark, the first one to change from the shooting clothes.

,,No I wasn’t. I just didn’t pretend anything, that’s all.” Mark was the only one I told about my feelings towards Jackson. I was the closest with him after Jackson. Maybe because we are so similar.

,,No it wasn’t that. You really are great in acting.” I just smiled at him.

,,Thank you.”

,,He is right, you know,” said Jinyoung who came to us.

,,See? Even the actor agrees with me,” said Mark. All three of us laughed at that comment. Others came to us.

,,What’s so funny?” asked Jackson.

,,Nothing,” I tried to say with poker face. He frowned and closed the distance between us. I bowed backwards a little bit, blushed a lot and looked away. Guys, little help here, I said inside my head. But the boys just looked at us with smirks. Oh, how I wanted to kill them at that moment. I coughted a little and stepped back from Jackson.

,,Well boys, I need to get to my dorms. I am already late as it is so I will get going.

,,Wait, we will take you there,” said leade JB. I tried to refuse, but Jackson once again took my hand and dragged me towards their car.

,,Why do you always drag me somewhere?” I asked Jackosn trying not to laugh.

,,What, you don’t want to?” He pretended to be hurt. Well, you won’t fool me Jackson. I know more than you know.

I smirked at him.

,,That is according to what we would be doing.” He just stared at me and I burst laughing with others. Jackson joined after few seconds. The car stopped. I could see several people outside, but hopefully they won’t come closer.

,,Thanks guys for the ride.”

,,Anytime.” ,,Have fun.” ,,Be careful.” ,,Call us if anything happens.” ,,Byebye.” Everyone spoke at the same time. I smiled and got out of the car. I turned at them.

,,Will you have time tomorrow? You know, you would show me Seoul a little bit.”

,,You should stay in the campus and try to make friends,” said Youngjae.

,,Don’t worry, I will be making friends when the school starts.”

,,If you would need anything, just call and we will come,” said Bambam. He was concerned for me.

,,Don’t worry, Yugyeom already wrote that to me.”

,,I sure did. Don’t worry.” I smiled at their concern. I saw it in their eyes.

,,Hey, don’t worry. I will be fine. So, do you have time?”

,,Unfortunately no. We need to record the song,” JB told me.

,,We won’t have time this week at all. Two weeks basically. We need to train and everything, you know.”

,,It’s okay,” I told them.

,,Well you go home, sleep o lot and when the comeback will be through a little, we can meet.” I tried to close the door but Jackson got out of the car and closed the door behind him.

,,Jackson, what are you doing?” I whispered. The people in front the dorm luckily disappeared somewhere so we were the only one there (plus the car).

,,I told JYP about you.”

,,What about me?” I looked up confused. He looked uncertain about something.

,,Well. Almost everything?” Was that a question or statement?

,,Why?” I needed to know. Hope sprand inside me because whenever I asked Mark about Jackson, Mark smirked and told me, that I was the only thing Jackson talked about all the time.

Jackson looked more uncertain than before.

,,You see. I- I- God, why is so hard?” I have never seen Jackson like this. He couldn’t find words, he was nervous, like really nervous and he was scratching the back of his neck while looking to the ground.

,,You what? Don’t worry, you can say anything to me.” He looked up and stared in my eyes. Everything faded away. It was only me and Jackson. I definitely stopped breathing, I was afraid my legs would give away. Jackson broke the spell by looking towards the ground again.

,,Hm. Nevermind. Have fun and be careful in the dorms.” He started to turn back but I decided differently. I stopped being me. My feelings were trying to destroy me unless I won’t release them. I grabbed him by his T-shirt and brought his lips to mine. I was faintly aware of the boys in the car cheering.

I felt Jackson’s shock. When he didn’t move, I lost confidence and broke the kiss. I looked don’t close to tears.

,,I am sorry, I sh-“ I didn’t have chance to finish. Jackson grabbed my face and kissed me. I closed my eyes and responded. I could fell his smile in the kiss and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I broke away from him and tried to catch my breath.

,,Wow,” I didn’t have enough oxygen to speak more. He put our foreheads together.

,,This is I told JYP about. I want to anounce to everyone I have a girlfriend tomorrow.” I kissed him quickly.

,,How did you know I would agree to it?” Jackson looked a bit embarresed.

,,I heard you talk to Mark once.” I looked up shocked.

,,You knew?! Why haven’t you told me anything!?” I hit him in the arm.

,,I wanted to do it personaly.” I kissed him on cheek.

,,Thank you.”

,,For what?” He asked.

,,For being you,” I smiled at him. I turned and went towards the dorms. I turned to Jackson to see him wainting still outside the car.

I didn’t care anymore about anyone. I inhaled and shouted on top of my lungs:

,,I LOVE YOU JACKSON!!!” With that I turned and rushed to my room without seeing Jckson’s expression. Suddenly the life looked more colourful and I was the happiest girl on the world.

Jackson is mine.

A/N: Done. Well, had it on my pc for few years, but still. Bye!

Part 1

Part 2

#got7 jackson #got7 #jacksonxreader #xreader #kpop #love #friendship #fanfiction

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finleyjayne · 4 years

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You Should Care

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

1000 Follower Celebration for @justkending! Happy Birthday~ Thank you for being so welcoming to me. Also, like really hope this doesn’t disappoint.

Text Prompt: “Yeah, go write me a 1000 page essay on it, and maybe I’ll care.”

Warnings: swearing, mild angst.

Summary: You have had enough of Steve overlooking your advice when it comes to reconstruction after his many exploits with the Avengers because you are his girlfriend. So you come up with a plan, and, with Pepper Potts help, you are going to put a solution into place. Hopefully, you can convince him that you know what you’re doing.

There was a definite divide between Captain and Steve in your relationship. It was always there, and usually, there wasn't a problem. It's important to compartmentalize when it comes to personal and work matters, but sometimes... sometimes, you just wish that he would see you as more than just his girlfriend.

Honestly, you have credentials that shouldn't be taken for granted. You had worked in war zones as a medic and relief co-ordinator. This made it increasingly difficult to accept that your sweet and caring Steve wouldn't listen to you when you brought his attention to the increasing disregard for the citizens the Avengers try to protect.

Sometimes his tactics take no consideration to the refugees that will be displaced. People who never ask for the battles to be fought near their homes. They never wanted to be there. They want to live their lives, go to work, go home, spend time with friends. Captain, doesn't see that. He sees an objective and one way to get it done. Determined to do the right thing, even if it leaves the people there worse for wear.

The last time you brought it to his attention, there was nothing that could convince him that there needed to be something to help out after. Nothing that could keep him from doing what he could to take down the HYDRA base, screw the consequences. Even when it meant destroying one of the only schools in the area. He dared to have the gall to say, "well, I know that they need the help, but I don't know how you expect us to do anymore. There isn't anything that you can expect from us."

You couldn't take it anymore. If Captain America wouldn't change his tactics, you would change yours. After all, he did make a good point, there is only so much a single, lone soldier can do.

So here you are, walking up the front steps of Stark Enterprises to talk to not only Captain Rogers but also his team and CEO Virginia "Pepper" Potts. Taking a deep breath to force yourself to focus, you walk through the doors to start going through the heavy security of the tower. Finally, using the clearance that Steve had you get so that you could come to see him if, read when, he gets injured.

Now though, he doesn't know you're coming, you are on my own personal mission, and he will NOT be stopping you. He will not ignore you this time. There will be no shutting you out. You are going to make sure that no more innocent people will take the brunt of the Avengers' crime-fighting. There needs to be some type of clean up crew that comes in after the fact to give these people the medical, emotional, and technological help to reconstruct the people's lives after they are hit as collateral damage.

You already know what half of them are going to say. The outlook is bright in this going in your favor, but honestly, there are no reasonable excuses. They may save the world but, if they aren't careful, they may end up breaking it in the process. People are going to start revolting against their help. You want to prevent that, and this plan is just one step in that direction. They do good, but they need to be a little better at managing collateral damage. You know for a fact that the PR department of Stark tech has been up their asses about it. It's one of the main things Steve complains about after his rarely-talked-about missions.

Sighing, you walk into the elevator. "Hello, Future Mrs. Rogers, I take it you are here to see Mr. Rogers?"

"No, Jarvis, I am actually here for my meeting with Ms. Potts and the Team," you state, rolling my eyes at Tony's inability to call me my name, even through his AI. "Will you take me to floor 39? And don't let Captain Rogers know I am here, please."

"No problem, Miss. I will envoke Ice Out Capcicle Protocol 7."

Head held high, you give a slight nod. No time to dwell on the fact that Tony programmed a protocol to keep someone from running into Steve at the moment. You don't even know if you want to know why it needed to be coded.

Stepping off the elevator, you are met by the glorious visage that is Pepper Potts. From her perfectly-quaffed hair to the stylish yet functional clothing, her appearance practically screams I have authority, do as I say.

You give her a timid smile, "Ms. Potts, Thank you for seeing me today. I hope this meeting goes as well as you lead me to believe it would."

"{Y/N}, as I've told you before, call me Pepper. I read your proposal, and honestly, I have been looking for a fix to this problem ever since Tony came out with his alias as Iron Man. It's as if you could read my mind. Now, all we have to do is make the team aware."

Your smile grew more genuine, "Well then, we still have a whole battle in front of us. God only knows what the Captain will think when he knows that I've been working on this. He can be such an old man sometimes."

"Well, even if he complains, he knows full well that this is what you have been trained to do. That's more than he can say about his own beginning." Pepper says with a mischievous smirk.

"Well, let's get this battle underway, why don't we?" you answer, already looking forward to this presentation being over.

Going into the meeting room, you take your place at the head of the table, setting your briefcase down. "Jarvis, can you bring up the folder ARF onto the Holoscreen?"

"Of course, Miss." Was the prompt reply. Soon following, a set of photos, pie charts, graphs, and other little snippets projecting into the air above the table. "The team will be arriving in the next five minutes, along with Director Fury. Would you like anything else in the meantime?"

"Thank you, Jarvis. I don't think I need anything else." You say.

"Jarvis, is Tony's lab still on lockdown from this morning?" Pepper asked from her seat to the right. Her eyes still scanning over something on her StarkPad.

"Yes, Ms. Potts, he is on his way."

"Good." Right as she responds, the majority of the team comes in taking their preferred seats around the table. Their faces show a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and confusion at seeing me there.

Steeling my nerves as best you can, you stand going through the photos and graphs, ordering them for later reference and shrinking them so that they are out of the way until you need them. Chatter fills the room as their conversations continue. With a faint smile, you look up to watch Steve and Tony walk into the room, followed by a cantankerous Director Fury.

With one look, Steve smirks. "Hi, honey, I didn't expect you to visit today."

You smile, "Yeah, I have a meeting for that new project I've been working on." His eyes flash with confusion as he opens his mouth. Before he can speak, you cut him off, "Welcome, General Ross, it's good that you could make it. Now that everyone is here, we can start." Hopefully, Steve didn't ruin this.

"Thank you for having me, Ms. Potts said that you had a solution to some of our concerns?" His brow scrunches in concern as he folds his arms over his chest.

"Indeed, she has. {Y/N} has been a lifesaver with a new project that Stark Industries is undertaking to proactively increase the security of the world's opinions on the Avengers. It will also help with reconstruction after world catastrophes like the Invasion of New York, should something like that happen again." Pepper explains, "Not to mention, it will be a big help to the Avengers PR team."

You give Pepper a thankful smile before turning to start the meeting only to have my mouth filled with Tony's voice.

"Wait? Roger's Housewife is the Humanitarian Aide-specialist you've been talking to and raving about for the past month? Really?" Tony barks as you smirk, finding his eyes shine with intrigue as he looks you over.

"Tony, your misogyny is showing," Natasha probes with an eye-roll.

"But she..."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Mr. Stark. Anyway, as Ms. Potts was saying, I've noticed a negative trend, and I want to help." Flicking your hand, you shower the table with images of towns, both before and after Avengers' battles have taken place near, or in them. "The Avengers do essential work, but every time there is a battle or an operation, many innocent people are harmed or injured. People that don't have anything to do with the conflict. Some of those people will never be able to save themselves from the devastation that has been rained down around them. Between the buildings that have been crushed, the people who are injured, and the emotional and mental trauma that comes from not being safe in your own home, full economies have collapsed. As of right now, there is nothing in place to clean up after the Avengers take down whatever big bad comes out of the shadows."

Looking around, you see the director is following along with a skeptical look, Natasha is smirking like she already knew what you were going to say and approved. Clint is wholly zoned out; upon further inspection, you see his hearing aids on the table. Tony is glaring, probably thinking about his own solutions to the problem, while Rhodey is smiling in encouragement. Skimming over the rest, your eyes catch Steve's glower. Notably pissed at you for bringing this up in a more formal environment.

"That is where I come in. As some of you know, I used to be a wartime medic, and as Mr. Stark has previously stated, I am now a certified Humanitarian Aide Specialist. It used to be my job to take care of the people displaced by wars like those in the Middle East. In my time there, I have been able to help many people by rebuilding their little pieces of the world. I have put together a team of Medics, Contractors, Therapists, Teachers, Farmers, and others to go in after the Avengers to play clean up. To make it so that we don't cause more harm than good. To keep us as the good guys in people's eyes."

After you were done speaking, the room was silent. You met their eyes, keeping your breath even as you waited to be interrupted. After a few beats, you realized that they were all intently listening, even Steve looked like he was listening intently to your compromise.

You have to swallow the lump in your throat before speaking, "The first response team consists of Trauma Specialists with field medic experience lead by myself. Along with a crew of Hotshots and Firefighters. The secondary response depends on what is needed, all focusing on rebuilding affected infrastructures and betterment within the economies of these countries. They will be working with the respective governments to help not only restore but also improve upon what was lost. I recruited them from many places. Most of them are personal contacts from my time overseas and locally. All of them are cleared by both Jarvis' background check and SHEILD's screening. I don't know if this is going to work, but I cannot stand aside and let you devastate the lives of any more innocent people without at least trying to help."

Taking a deep breath, you look up into their faces. Their expressions were a mixed bag of emotions. Pepper was smiling at me encouragingly as the rest of the Avengers' faces seemed very accepting of this proposal, Rhodey, Natasha, and Tony looked the most impressed. Steve was glowering at a graph set hovering by his seat, trying to figure out exactly how bad he should feel for ignoring your expertise. Fury was the only one who seemed unsold on the benefits of this situation.

"And why exactly should I be interested in this, Ms. {Y/L/N}. From what you've said so far, none of this concerns SHIELD or the work that they do.

"Well sir, although they are an independent organization, they do tend to reflect on the world's view of America-"

"- I am a very busy man and don't have time for this. Write me a 1000 page essay on it, and maybe I'll care." Fury interrupted.

"One step ahead of you. Here is my thesis on defense by building infrastructure. A 1,297 word debrief on why you should give this your stamp of approval and help. And finally, A contract with stark enterprises to co-operate and co-fund ARF or the Avenger Relief Foundation. Already gone over by Agent Hill, all you have to do is sign it." You calmly reply, sliding him a folder of the stated documents on top of a bound copy of your thesis.

Fury glowers at you through his one healthy eye. "Well, I see you've done the leg work. I'll give it a once over and be back with you." He grumbles, grabbing the folder and leaving the thesis. "I don't have time for that." He calls over his shoulder on his way out the door.

"Well, whether or not fury gives his okay on this project, Stark Industries has already started preparations to pick up and implement the ideas you've presented to us, {Y/N}." Pepper states. "I look forward to working with you and can't wait to see your successes."

With that, everyone nodded, giving their congratulations and well wishes. Leaving just you and Steve, who is still enraptured in the data you had put together.

Unwilling to start this conversation, you walk around the conference table to pick up the thesis.

"I owe you an apology, {Y/N}," Steve stated.

You look at him through your lashes at the corner of your eye. "What exactly for, Captain?" you ask, busying yourself with your briefcase as he stood there looking apologetically at you.

"You were right, I just didn't want to listen. I didn't want you to be right because it would mean that for the last couple of years, I've been ignoring the people I've vowed to protect." He says, going back to looking at the images still being projected over the space. "I am sorry that I didn't listen to you when you told me that there were ways to change. I still don't really like the idea of you putting yourself into more danger, but I can see why we need this. I am proud of you for following your heart." Steve says, looking at you, earnestness filling his blue eyes.

"You did save them from the big bad, and sometimes it's harder to admit we are wrong than we would like it to be. I forgive you, but next time I say something, at least try to be open. I may act like your typical 50's Housewife, but I can assure you I will kick your ass. We are a team, I am here to help you, just as much as you are here for me." You tell him as you come over to him, brushing your arm down his arm sweetly.

" How did I get to be such a lucky man?" He asks, giving you a dopey grin.

"You didn't do anything. You are just Steve. Now that I know you aren't going to skin me alive for fighting this battle, do you wanna go out to lunch?" You blush, picking up your briefcase.

"Whatever you want, sugar. I gotta show the world how beautiful and smart my best girl is. I mean, she is going to save the world, one village at a time." Steve says, wrapping you in his giant arms.

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