#the money thing... look. he stated his price. someone had to agree to pay him that amount. they could have said 'no sir that's fucked up'

[widevibratobitch]

Thanks for your post explaining the situation surrounding Mariusz quitting his job! You write: "As someone who lives in Wrocław and is a student at its Music Academy I can only tell you - he was... not much liked, to put it lightly, by the Big People". By all means, he was a celebrated opera singer in Europe and the USA. What made them dislike him so much?

oh goodness gracious, i really cant say, why would you even ask me that! im the last person who'd engage in such shameless gossiping!

sike lol

i never heard anyone say he was not a great artist. no one doubted that. people only questioned whether he was the right guy for the job, only having experience as a singer, a perfomer, no matter how renowned. or rather, the main issue was - how much, having no experience in the position he now occupied, he was earning. because that really was an insane (and i mean. INSANE) amount of money.

Ołdakowska getting the job of the director was also a pretty controversial thing, so automatically, people who weren't in favour of her winning, didn't also like Kwiecień since she was the one who chose him for the job.

then there was the issue of the changes Mariusz wanted to make. he was in favour of promoting young, new singers and hiring big names for guest performances, ergo, many of the singers who had already been hired full-time for years by the opera house in Wrocław stopped getting big roles etc. no roles - no money (or rather, very little money, the bare minimum actually). this, coupled with the amount Kwiecień was earning... well.

he and Ołdakowska also promised Big Things but sadly they both got the jobs in the beginning of 2020 and we all know what happened then, not much could actually be done when the entire world was more or less paralysed by the pandemic.

and yeah, that's more or less it. id say, tl;dr in the end it's always all about money. and some personal beef he may or may not have had with some people, i really can't say cause that's all i know.

#please remember that in the end we're all just sipping tea and gossiping here. i say what i know what ive heard. #but do take into account that i generally tend to Not Know Shit on many topics so. yknow. dont take my word for godsent truth #no matter how tempting it is 😇 having said that. #i personally know some young singers who worked with him and never heard them say a bad word about him #but then again #being a nice person doesnt magically erase other things that you fucked up #i stated my personal opinion on the issue with the changes he made that not everyone welcomed in the previous post #so i wont say a thing about that here #the money thing... look. he stated his price. someone had to agree to pay him that amount. they could have said 'no sir that's fucked up' #but they didnt. they hired him for that amount and it's not like. illegal or sth. the morality of it is a different thing altogether. #and ngl i am biased because ive been a huge fan of mariusz since i can remember. #but the truth is - i know if the same thing was done by eg n*trebko or someone i dont like id absolutely drag their ass through dirt #and say it's a scandal so. #thankfully its not my job to have an opinion about him as a person. all i know and care about is that he is an amazing artist. #a spectacular actor. a decent baritone. and it is to him that i owe a huge part of why i fell in love with opera in the first place so #there you have it #mariusz kwiecień #opera tag #gossips uwu

[3archangelsaints]

I'm actually dying and living for the idea that Simon Riley is such a hard worker for you. Being a soldier doesn't pay much, but considering how frugal he is, and how often he's overseas, he has money. Not rich, but with your income too, you could have what you wanted. You wanted to move to have a house, garden and all. Massive house. A few dogs. Marriage. He'd let you decorate how you wanted but he kept you in check, knowing sometimes you got overwhelmed with choices.

Luckily, his squad mates, who'd become family to you were there to be useful, who'd helped reduce renovation prices, ironically Price was in charge of delegation and keeping to the budget. The house was furnished and then painted. It was painted within a week, a light beige and brown undertones, you strictly stated no pure white as you said it was depressing. Clinical. Not homey. They all agreed.

Soon you were on Simon's shoulders, wrapping yellow led lights around the roof cover on the deck leading to the massive garden. Gaz and Soap were in charge of the music. You loved having everyone around for renovations because it made it an experience, made memories.

Price was finishing up on the phone to someone, someone you didn't know but it wasn't out of the ordinary. They were going to go on a mission soon. You paused and then you smiled. Feeling content.

After everything was done, you'd sat down and had takeout with everyone. And then there was a knock on the door, your head turning.

Price is up and at the door, in comes Laswell. Kate. Holding a drycleaning bag and you see your siblings and parents and friends walk in. You look confused. Dropping the food to greet then. Bewildered.

Then your niece snatches some food from your plate so you hug her from behind and lift her up as she laughs and pushes you off, complaining she's too mature.

And next thing you know Simon is on his knees. Handing you a simple band. "Will you marry me?" He knows its a yes, but he knows you'd love the on one knee thing, technically, he'd proposed with a promise ring, so he knew.

Next thing you know, you're being pushed into your room, into a wedding gown you'd shown Gaz and Soap one time when Simon had been deployed on a solo mission. You get married at the courthouse and had an intimate celebration in the garden at dark.

It was everything you wanted. Giggles and laughter as Simon's eyes never leave you, watching you keenly as you giggle and cheer in celebration. It's a shame he'd gotten married in his gear, but he was being deployed and had to leave by 5 am, they all did. You loved it. It was part of him, gear and all and his seargents and captain. And Kate. Bless her.

And soon you were saying bye to them all, Simon kissed you and then they were gone. Out the door and he took your heart with him. Kate came up and hugged you. She was like a mum to you. You hugged her back tightly, and she helped you set up sleeping situations for your friends and family. There were 2 guest bedrooms and a study, and the attic had space enough for all your friends.

Laswell helped you out the dress and take off your makeup, she'd undid your hair, brushing it for you and it was soothing. Like a kid being cared for. You went to bed in shorts and an old hoodie of Simon's. Laswell cuddled you to sleep, you didn't want to be alone and she knew that.

She saw the wound in your heart as they left. She was packing the open wound with gauze, it was painful, but right now, her doting was stopping the bleed.

I should actually do a long fanfic or even series of this cause I love the idea.

#call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare #cod ghost #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #laswell cod #kate laswell #laswell mw2 #call of duty laswell #cod gaz #cod soap #cod mw2 #cod #ghost cod #cod mw3 #ghost mw2 #mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #john price #captain price #cod price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #cod fanfic #cod fandom

[buckybeardreams]

The Auction part 2

Part 1

I actually didn't think I was gonna expand on this, but here we are lol

@starksvinyls @starkly @winterspiderpurrs @spidyirony @mrstarksbaby

Peter told himself it didn't matter, told himself crying over it would be pathetic. He'd been regretting agreeing to fill in for MJ from the start, and he'd been certain he'd either walk away completely humiliated because no one bid on him, or he'd end up on some date with a creepy old guy who wanted more than he was paying for.

MJ had promised it was just a date, that he didn't have to do anything but sit there and look pretty. She'd convinced him with "It's for a good cause!"

He'd been stupid to let her sway him, but then, against all odds, he got bid on, and it turned into a bit of a bidding war, to his astonishment, ending only when Tony Stark lifted his paddle and more than doubled the price of the bid with a flat half a million.

Peter was shocked, to put it mildly, and he'd only had roughly half an hour to pull himself together before he was being ushered out to greet his date.

And by then, shock had turned into what could only be described as fangirl rambling because Peter had never dreamed he'd be able to talk to his idol, the man he'd been looking up to because he was a world class engineer, owner of Stark Industries, the company currently leading the way in sustainable energy—not to mention, the same man Peter had been jacking off to since middle school.

So yeah, he was nervous and excited, and damn near vibrating out of his skin because Tony smiled at him and offered him his hand to shake— of course, Peter had stupidly slipped his hand into his and held it before blushing when he realized that wasn't Mr. Stark's intention.

Tony had just cleared his throat and carefully extracted his hand, and Peter had taken the opportunity to fill the ensuing silence with his excited-nervous rambling.

Then all his hopes and dreams had been shattered, and he'd left feeling so utterly stupid for thinking for even a second that a man like Tony Stark would look twice at him, would want him.

He showed back up at the apartment, looking absolutely miserable, and MJ, nose red from wiping at it, extracted herself from her nest of blankets on the couch to pull him into a hug.

"Oh, Petey, I'm so sorry," MJ said, sounding nazely but truly sympathetic.

This was all her fault for making him go after all.

In her defense, she honestly believed he'd be a hit.

She knew Peter struggled with self-confidence, knew he didn't think he was a catch, but he was so freaking cute, and if he wasn't a fan of cock and she wasn't a fan of pussy, she totally would have dated him.

She had been so confident that he'd be bidded on, reassuring him that it'd be fine, and now she felt awful about it, because the last thing Peter needed was to be publicly rejected by a whole room full of people.

"It's okay," Peter said, even though he couldn't manage a smile. "We knew it was a slim chance."

MJ shook her head, even in her sick state feeling the need to be protective.

"All of those people are idiots if they can't see how perfect you are!" MJ insisted, her face twisted up all stubborn.

Peter sighed.

He knew what she assumed had happened and wasn't going to correct her, because it was even worse to admit the truth.

He felt so fucking stupid, thinking that Tony Stark had looked at him and thought he was someone worth taking out on a date.

He still didn't really understand why he'd bid on him at all. He said he did it to save him, but why would he spend that kind of money just to keep someone else from getting a date with him? It didn't make any sense, but Peter didn't want to dwell on it. Besides, Tony was so rich, maybe it wasn't that big of a deal, maybe it was the billionaire equivalent to tossing change in someone's cup.

"I don't wanna talk about it. Can we just eat ice cream and watch Project Runway reruns? Please?" Peter pleaded.

MJ sighed, nodding.

"Yeah, but I should probably pass on the ice cream. I'm not sure I can stomach it."

"I'll heat you up some more soup."

"Thanks, boo, you're the best."

"Always."

MJ squeezed his hand.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't think this would happen."

Peter shook his head, giving her a strained smile.

"It's okay."

It wasn't okay, and they both knew it.

#starker #ironspider

[itsamejin]

easy || jungkook angst/fluff

Summary: Date you, win a bet, get his rent paid off. Sounds promising enough, right? Jungkook should’ve known that his ambitions would end in disaster, but even if he did, that still wouldn’t have stopped him from pursuing you.

Warning: cursing, crude humor, fuckboy talk

Genre: college!au, fuckboy!au, bet!trope, angst, fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Premise: In which Jungkook accepts a bet from Taehyung to date the first girl that walks into the lecture hall and realizes that he bit off more than he could chew when starts to catch feelings. Now, he has to suffer the consequences of being an idiot.

Commission Request: @altus-gens​

Word Count: 9,203 words

—

It's not like Jungkook planned to be one of the most sought after person in Yonsei University, but it somehow turned out to be that way. Truthfully, he basks in it, loves that so many people idolize him for doing the bare minimum. He was handsome after all and had a level of charm that surpassed the need to have a good personality. 

He got into such a prestigious school through an athletic scholarship for Taekwondo, managed to convince his professors to pass him when he put in minimal effort, and there was no shortage of girls to call when he was feeling lonely for a night. He was the stereotypical 'it' boy on campus and maybe if he was a little bit smarter, he'd have a better choice of friends than the six idiots he always hangs around with.

"How about this," Taehyung starts, gum in his mouth, "the first girl who walks in, you have to successfully get in her pants."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. They were in a damn lecture hall and yet Taehyung had no shame bringing up sex. Typical.

“This again, bro?” Hoseok sighed. “Aren’t you sick of bribing us to do weird shit for you?”

Taehyung smirked.

“Not at all, actually.”

"For how much?" Namjoon cut in, probably curious for the price point Taehyung would arrange this time. He was fired from his job just a week ago and could really use the money. "I'll do it if it’s enough to pay for my rent this month."

Taehyung scoffs, although knowing full well he could pay for all of the boys’ tuitions combined if he wanted to. He was the resident rich bachelor on campus after all.

"I'll pay it for a full year and your utility bills too if you're really down," Taehyung flaunts. "You just gotta have proof you actually managed to do it."

"Dude that's gross," Seokjin chimes in, "No one wants to send you proof of us doing it with a random girl."

Taehyung shakes his head.

"No, no, no," he says, clicking his tongue. "I phrased it incorrectly. I’m not a fucking pervert."

“You got us fooled,” Jimin mutters. 

Taehyung leans in closer to the six boys and even Jungkook finds himself getting intrigued. Admittedly, he was a little curious considering he hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. He could really use having some extra cash for food without worrying about rent.

"You have to date the girl for like three months," Taehyung says seriously, "and I'll consider that as enough proof that you managed to actually do it since I know you guys are too horny to wait any longer than that to fuck."

They all look at Taehyung in disgust, Jimin even opting to hit him in the back of the head for being so vulgar. To be fair, they were all thinking of accepting Taehyung's bet regardless. It's not like they were new to leading girls on anyway.

"You gotta pay me more than that to fuck just any girl," Yoongi says, yawning in the process. He seemed the least likely to take up Taehyung's offer, but he was still game depending on the person.

"Then how would you feel," Taehyung starts, "if I told you guys that I could get you priority registration for next quarter."

The boys, even the ones who weren't interested, were now listening to Taehyung's every word.

"You mean," Hoseok gulps, "I could finally get that fucking Organic Chemistry class I need to get out of this hell hole?!"

Taehyung shrugs, an ominous smile on his face.

"Just the perk of having parents who have connections," Taehyung replies. “I’ll only accept one of you guys to do it though. I don’t wanna have you all fucking the same girl- that’d be weird.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what’s weird about this,” he grumbles.

“So are you guys in or not?” Taehyung asks, his patience growing thin.

He lays back on his chair, a smoldering look on his face when they all nod. They were desperate for money after all.

"The next girl that walks in will be the subject of this bet and whoever calls dibs on her first will be the one to woo her,” he says with a stretch of his arms. “Good luck boys.”

They all turned to look at the door and Jungkook watches silently as guy after guy walks into the lecture hall. No girl yet. 

Jungkook was hoping, from the bottom of his heart, that no familiar faces would walk in. If he had to deal with a past fling, he’d have to back out immediately. He never dealt with exes very well.

The guys are at the edge of their seats, praying for a cute girl to walk through that didn’t already know about their horrible reputation. They were looking for an easy target, someone that could fall for their charms almost immediately.

And then, you walk in. You were clad in sweats with earphones on, rushing toward the front row seats of the lecture hall. You were chatting with your friends, yawning several times throughout your conversation with them. Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk. There was nothing special about you to point out, in fact, you were just like everyone else. Strangely enough, he found that the most intriguing part about you.

"Nope, nope, nope," Jimin shakes his head repeatedly. "Can't, won't, never will. Sorry, Tae."

They all stare at him in confusion.

"What the fuck, what's wrong with her?" Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Jimin faces away from you, not wanting to look at you any longer.

"No, nothing," there seems to be a blush forming on his face. He was hiding something.

“Bullshit,” Taehyung furrows his brows. “Bro, if she’s crazy and one of us gets our dick bitten off, we’re all blaming you, so spit it out.”

Jimin just sighs.

"She's been giving me Professor Kwon’s notes for the past few weeks,” he starts, much to the confusion of his friends. “Her name is [Y/N]. It'll be really mean if I go after her, especially since she and I are kind of friends. Plus, I really need to pass this class. I failed last quarter..."

The boys groan. Jimin was no fun.

"She's not my type so I don't think I could really get into it either," Seokjin states, no longer interested in the prize after Jimin’s confession. He’s been banking off of your notes from him too. 

"Aren’t we all old enough to know not to mess with people’s feelings?" Hoseok sighs.

They roll their eyes at Hoseok’s statement. Who was he trying to fool with the nice guy act? He probably fooled around with girls just as much as the other guys did.

"Yeah, I’m backing out," Yoongi agrees, "and she hates me so there's that."

They all look at him questioningly and he puts his hands up in the air from their gazes.

"What? I just realized who she’s talking to down there.”

He pointed at a girl discreetly, but no one seemed to recognize her.

“Her friend and I dated,” Yoongi continues, “and I broke up with her over text and blocked her without letting her respond. That whole friend group is pretty much pissed at me. I'd rather not have to deal with them again."

The guys look disapprovingly at him. Breaking up over text was harsh, but probably not the worst thing Yoongi has done to his exes.

"You're actually a piece of shit," Namjoon sighs. "I really do need my rent paid though..."

Jungkook nods in agreement. It's been almost impossible to balance Taekwondo practices, college papers, and working a part-time job all at once. If he could somehow find a way to quit his job for a while and get priority registration for classes, then he doesn't mind getting his hands a little dirty in the process. Plus, you were cute enough and he's sure you weren't too difficult to befriend as long as he doesn't mention Yoongi in any conversations.

"I'm in," Jungkook chides, finally saying something after such a long period of silence.

They all look at him with disbelief in their eyes. Jungkook was never the one to partake in Taehyung's bets. In fact, he was the one usually ridiculing them for participating. He must have been really desperate if he was willing to do it.

"I mean, it's all yours if you want," Namjoon replies, "I don't wanna turn it into a competition.”

“Don’t worry dude,” Jungkook fist bumps Namjoon, “I’ll quit my job and refer you for it.”

They nod at each other as if they were on the same wavelength. 

“I knew I could rely on you,” Namjoon says, faking tears from his eyes. The boys groan in response.

“Alright,” Taehyung claps his hands. “In exchange for providing me some mindless entertainment and going out with [Y/N], you will get your rent paid for the rest of the year and get early registration for next quarter. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I don’t know about this, guys...”

Jungkook doesn’t hear him and instead takes one last look at you. You catch him in the corner of your eye and you can’t help but feel flustered at his serious expression. 

“Should be easy enough,” he mutters to himself and turns his gaze back onto his friend.

“So we have a deal?” Taehyung asks.

He smirks, shaking the outreached hand Taehyung held out for him. He steals another glance at you and he finds you staring right back. He gives you a wink.

“Deal.”

—

Jungkook slid into the seat next to yours in the campus canteen, his eyes filled with determination. His posture was laid-back, but it was a little too obvious that he was trying to act like he didn’t care.

“Hi,” he greets you in a breathy tone- girls loved it when he spoke with his breathy tone.

“Hi?”

You’d been sensing that someone was staring at you during the lecture, but you thought that was just the paranoia that came from being near such an intimidating group of guys. Turns out, you should always trust your instincts.

Jungkook had a boyish grin on his face that made you want to smile back but also stare at him in disgust.

“I heard you help Jimin with Professor Kwon’s notes,” he whispers mischievously. “I’m struggling myself, actually...”

Not really, but you know. This was the easiest tactic to approach you- tackle your similarities. You nod understandingly at his words, not quite getting that he was flirting with you.

“Yeah I can send you the Google Drive folder,” you comply, taking your phone out. “But you can’t let Professor Kwon know or else he’ll flip out. He doesn’t want people to have the notes for some odd reason...”

You trail off but Jungkook just scoffs. You seemed clueless.

“That’s not what I necessarily meant,” he says, a little shy this time. “I need a tutor.”

You furrow your brows at him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to pay me for that,” you say seriously. The last time you offered to tutor someone for free, they ended up blaming you for their failing grade and screaming about it all over social media. You needed money to compensate for that emotional trauma. “Microeconomics is hard to teach.”

“Well thankfully I’m a good student,” Jungkook teases. You stare at him with a deadpan face.

“You wouldn’t need my help if you were a good student,” you say blankly, standing up from your seat. “My hourly rate is 20,000 Won. Take it or leave it.”

Jungkook’s eye twitched. He had to spend his money to get Taehyung’s money? Well, the payout would be worth it in the end anyway. He reaches out a hand to you.

“If you’d have me,” he says cheekily, looking up at you. You take his hand in yours and maybe for a second you felt your heart skip a beat, but that was soon over when you let go of him.

“You have sweaty hands,” you say straightforwardly. You wipe your hand on your shirt and he coughs awkwardly at how unresponsive you truly were. Didn’t Jimin say you were a nice person? 

You take your barely-touched lunch tray and walk away from his pensive figure.

“Wait, can I get your number?” he yells. You don’t look back.

“Alright, whatever,” he mumbles to himself. “I’ll just ask Jimin, I guess.”

Without even a second glance, you disappear from his sight. He sits back on his chair, heaving out a deep sigh. Sure, this wasn’t the first girl that didn’t care much for his advances, but you didn’t even crack a smile or anything. This is going to be harder than he thought...

—

“She hates me,” Jungkook whines to Seokjin as they walked down the university halls to their next shared class. “Yesterday, I went up to her to get her number and I left with a fucking debt. Does that make any sense?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have taken on the bet,” Seokjin yawned. “Namjoon would have wooed her with his poetry by now or some shit.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s interested in a dude who can’t even put on a hat without causing an earthquake.”

Seokjin smacked him on the back.

“At least he’d have the guts to say no to having a fucking tutor,” Seokjin replies. “You dug your own grave, man. Now roll around in it.”

“Do you want me to succeed or not?” 

“I want you to not be a fucking dumbass, Jungkook,” Seokjin sighs. “Do you really wanna make your reputation worse than it already is?”

Just as Jungkook was about to reply, he catches a glimpse of you walking farther ahead in the university courtyard. You were a bit far but he’s sure he could make it if he hurries. He smacks the binder he held in his right hand onto Seokjin’s chest.

“Yo, can you cover for me,” he asks hastily and Seokjin stares at him with a concerned gaze. He watches as Jungkook takes off his backpack and leaves it on the ground. Jungkook looked about ready to break out in a sprint.

“What the fuck, why?” Seokjin questions.

“Just tell the TA I’m out for a bit,” he says in response, already running ahead to catch up to you. “I’m winning this fucking bet or I’ll die trying.”

Jin stands still, mouth agape. Jungkook really left him with his backpack and binder just to talk to you. He shakes his head. ‘I need to make new friends,’ he thought to himself, picking up the discarded backpack and walking in the direction of the class Jungkook was planning to be late to.

You were walking with your earphones on, not noticing someone sprinting at you in record speed. You only turn your music off when Jungkook stops in front of you, his hands on his knees. He was panting heavily.

“Hey,” he says through deep breaths. You nod at him awkwardly.

“Why are you running?”

“I wanted to... catch up to you... and I thought... you were closer... but the run here... took... fucking... forever,” he says breathlessly. “Water. I need water.”

You take out a bottle from your tote bag hastily, handing it to him. He took it into his hands, grazing your fingers a bit. As he was about to start chugging it, you halted him.

“Waterfall,” you say curtly- you were still planning to drink out of it later after all. 

He nods in response, a drop of sweat cascading the side of his neck. After he was done, there was practically no water left anyway. ‘I’m gonna have to refill it myself,’ you thought begrudgingly. You stuff it back into your bag and wait until his breaths become more even.

“A bit out of shape, huh?”

He scoffs and gives you a glare, clearly offended.

“I actually have a Taekwondo scholarship, you know that? I just wasn’t warmed up and I’m naturally sweaty so it’s not like-”

You laugh a little.

“I’m joking,” you say, a smile adorning your face. He feels his face turn red and he can’t help but purse his lips out of embarrassment. Jeon Jungkook couldn’t take a fucking joke.

“O-oh,” he says shyly, avoiding your gaze. Why was he acting more like an idiot than usual? You hear the chiming bells of the university tower and stare at your phone to check the time.

“Don’t you have a class?” you ask him. His eyes widen and soon he was dashing off again. He turns around mid-run, jogging backward to face you.

“My number is 06-1313-9197,” he yells, loud enough for the other late students in the courtyard to hear. Most of them roll their eyes, knowing that Jungkook was flirting with another girl yet again. You’re embarrassed by the amount of attention he’s getting, but punch his number on your phone anyway.

“Text me,” he shouts. “I’ll always respond to you.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

—

"That’s wrong,” you say, reaching over to Jungkook’s notebook and marking a large ‘X’ on his paper. “You’re not supposed to apply that function for this problem...”

Jungkook stared at you with a tired face. He didn’t think he was too bad at the mathematical aspect of Microeconomics, but it seemed like it was your life’s mission to make him look like an idiot. Of course, you caught every mistake that he made- even the ones he made on purpose just to see if you were really paying attention to his work and not bamboozling him.

“My bad,” he mutters, copying down the same problem on a different sheet of paper. He didn’t even get a chance to make a move on you today- not like he could make any big developments in the campus library anyway.

“Is it like this?” he asks, tilting his notebook to face you. You take a hard look at it and nod.

“Yeah, just make sure you know the difference between these two formulas, or else you’ll mess up on the midterm,” you say thoughtfully.

This was your fourth or fifth tutoring session by now? Truth be told he wasn’t really counting. Each moment he spent with you kind of blended together and he didn’t quite know if that was a bad thing or not.

“You know you’re not even struggling,” you say, your nose buried deep in your textbook. “It’s not like you’re completely clueless like Jimin. It seems like you’re wasting money on stuff you already know.”

Jungkook laughs heartily, getting shushed by the people around him. He really was stupid, wasn’t he?

“Yeah, well, it was just an excuse to hang out with the pretty girl in class, you know?” he says as nonchalantly as he could. You stare at him for a second and he swears he feels his body freeze over. If looks could kill...

You just shook your head with a click of your tongue and got back to reading.

“The pretty girl in class is most definitely not me,” you grumble. “If you wanted, I could’ve given you Soobin’s number without all the added hassle of you trying to come talk to me-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jungkook stops you from saying anything else. He looked worriedly at your face. “I don’t even know who the hell Soobin is, why would I want her number?”

You look at him and finally, you chuckle. ‘She really does have a nice smile,’ Jungkook thought to himself. It would be nice if he could make you laugh more often and not just on rare occasions like this.

“You’re saying you don’t know Yoongi’s ex?” you tease slightly. You were finally letting your guard down with him and Jungkook smirked. One wall down, another million more to go.

“Bold of you to assume that I know any of Yoongi’s exes,” he says and you scoff. “He’s an asshole when it comes to dating.”

You roll your eyes.

“Isn’t that your whole friend group?”

He pouts. You knew of his reputation after all. Jungkook thought he could get away playing a nice boy act, but it didn't seem possible considering your knowledge of him. A little white lie couldn’t hurt in the end.

“Not me,” he replies. “I choose my relationships pretty carefully.”

You take a glance at him before jotting down a few more words in your notebook.

“Well,” you start off, a little shy to admit what you were about to say, “I guess we both have that in common.”

He tilts his head rather cutely out of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

You cough awkwardly, adjusting yourself on one of the library’s notoriously squeaky seats.

“I’ve never really had a boyfriend before,” you say quietly. His eyes bulge out from their sockets.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Like, you’ve never been on a date or what?”

“I have,” you say hesitantly. “I’ve been on a few but they just never led into anything serious. I was pretty focused on studying in high school so there weren’t really any opportunities to get involved with someone. Plus, the guys who pursued me weren’t very... attractive.”

Jungkook laughs loudly again, much to the dismay of the other students in the library. He liked that you didn’t beat around the bush- it was easier to talk to you that way.

“And me?” he asks teasingly, laying his head on his arm that was atop the desk. He looks up at you with that boyish grin of his that gave you small butterflies in your stomach. You stare back at him, but only for a second. You ignore his watchful gaze and continue to flip through your textbook, trying to find the passage you last read. He keeps his eyes locked on you and you just couldn’t resist.

“What about you?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“Am I attractive?” he replies as bluntly as he could. You stop your movements and he chuckles.

“You’re... cute,” you settle on that word. Cute. It was safe enough to not be misinterpreted too much. He sits up straight with a satisfied smirk. He takes his pen and draws a heart on the side of your notebook. He winks at you when you stare back at him, puzzled by his actions.

“You are too.”

—

“Tell me you’re lying,” Soobin whines disappointingly, shaking your shoulders. You were trying to eat lunch undisturbed in one of the campus cafes but your two friends seem hell-bent on making you suffer. “There’s no way you’re friends with Jungkook.”

You sigh, attempting to rid yourself of Soobin’s grasp but to no avail.

“He’s an asshole, [Y/N],” Gaeun sighs disappointingly. “I thought you were a feminist, why the fuck do you even tolerate him?”

You glare at her for a split second before going back to prying Soobin off you.

“Jungkook has no respect for women or himself. It shows in how many shitty friends he has,” Soobin chants, still clearly bitter that Yoongi dumped her.

You shake your head, rolling your shoulders back when she finally lets go of you.

“Jungkook’s not even as bad as you guys describe him,” you reply. “He’s actually been really sweet.”

The girls take a glance at each other and burst in a fit of laughter.

“You must be out of your damn mind,” Gaeun cries. You cower slightly at their words. It’s not like you said anything that controversial, did you?

Soobin slaps Gaeun on the shoulder when she realizes how your face had soured. It wasn’t right to judge you for your choice of friends so harshly, no matter how horrid said person was.

“As long as it doesn’t go past friends,” she says soothingly, but that only made you feel worse.

“Why?” you ask a little hesitantly. “Does Jungkook sleep around?”

Gaeun nods, a worrying glimpse in her eyes.

“He's not exactly the type to kiss and stay...”

You nod understandingly. You weren’t too clueless to believe Jungkook when he said he was “careful” on who he dated. As long as you knew the boundaries that came with being his tutor, everything should be fine... right?

“Don’t worry guys,” you say with determination. “I’m not the type to get played-”

“Of course you are!” Gaeun sighed. “Guys gravitate towards girls like you who lack experience. Jungkook’s a fucking weirdo, of course, he’s gonna try and-”

“[Y/N]!” a shout from across the cafe screams. That distracted you from the various insults Gaeun was spewing from her mouth. You get that she was being critical of Jungkook, but did she have to speak ill of you too?

You look around and catch Jungkook waving frantically at you. He stops at your table and takes a mere glance at your friends before setting his focus on you. 

“Do you have time to help me out today? One of the papers for my writing class-”

“You tutor him in writing now, too?!” Soobin exclaimed, mouth agape. “[Y/N], what the fuck.”

You try to ignore your friend’s overreaction, a little disheartened when Jungkook looked hurt at their words. He had started to shy away from them as if he didn’t feel welcomed.

“Nevermind, I’ll just ask you later-”

“Actually,” you say standing up. “I’m free now.”

The two girls look back and forth between you and Jungkook, noticing the stars in your eyes when you looked at him. They did not like the thought of you two together at all.

“But [Y/N]-” 

You ignored their words and start to walk away, hoping Jungkook would come catch up to you. You didn’t quite know why their insistence on him being a bad person had made your blood boil. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of his flirtatious tendencies, but hearing from your friends that you shouldn’t pursue a guy that you liked-

You stopped in your tracks and feel heat climb up your face. Like.

No way you admitted that just now. There’s no possible way you actually like-

“Hey, wait up,” Jungkook pants, his hand touching your shoulder. “Why do you walk so fast for-”

He sees your shocked face and turns you towards him, his hands on your shoulder similar to how Soobin had shaken you just earlier. Except this time, it felt comforting. It made your whole body feel warm as if you were coated with a weighted blanket. Was he always this gorgeous?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, inspecting your face closely. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“N-nothing,” you swipe his hands away and rush out the door of the cafe. He smirks at how flustered you look, maybe he did have an effect on you after all.

Jungkook takes a last glimpse at the two girls who sat in their seats, staring at him disapprovingly. He raised an eyebrow at them and shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans, following after you. ‘They’ll try to get in the way,’ Jungkook thought to himself, ‘but they’re already too late.’

The girls clenched their fist out of annoyance. He was definitely trying to get on their nerves.

“There’s something strange about what’s happening,” Gaeun mutters.

“They’re up to something,” Soobin agrees. “I don’t trust him at all.”

—

It’s been a week since you last spoke to your friends, not really wanting to read the messages they bombarded you with about how you should stay for away from Jungkook. It was hard to take any of their advice seriously when they were just badmouthing him without reason. They based all their opinions on him from rumors around the school and Soobin always felt the need to compare him to Yoongi even though they both had very different personalities. Well, at least to you they seemed very different.

Frankly, you were sick of their nagging and just turned off notifications from that group chat altogether. Instead of sitting next to them during Microeconomics, you opted to sit with Jungkook in the back of the lecture hall instead of at the front with them. Jungkook had abandoned his own rowdy friend group to sit with you and flashed them quick smirks and winks whenever they’d stare at him. 

Slowly, Jungkook had started to become a constant in your day to day life. You walked to class with him, ate with him, played video games with him. It was sort of strange how used to you were of his presence, like you had known him your whole life. Jungkook snaps you out of your thoughts when he starts humming a little tune.

He draws a heart in the corner of your notes- which you find he has a habit of doing whenever he wanted to say something stupid.

“I don’t get what he’s saying,” he pouts cutely. “It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language.”

You shake your head, not paying him any mind.

“Well maybe if you actually paid attention,” you mutter softly. He scoots closer to you and you feel yourself stiffen.

“But you’re tutoring me later on anyway,” he says teasingly. “I get more bang for my buck if I know less.”

“Bang for my buck,” you scoff. “Who even says that anymore?”

He points at himself nonchalantly and you can’t help but crack a smile as you continue to focus on the professor’s words. You don’t even cower under his gaze like you usually do when he stares at you with those puppy dog eyes.

“What do you want?” you ask, finally caving when Professor Kwon adjusted something in his PowerPoint slides. He smiles.

“I want to hold your hand,” Jungkook replies and you could feel your palms clam up. His flirtatious comments increased as time passed and you didn’t really quite know whether he was just teasing you or if he was genuinely interested in you. You weren’t very good at taking a hint.

“I’m writing right now...” you reply, slightly skipping a beat in your note-taking. He really was the ultimate distraction, wasn’t he?

Jungkook pouts sadly, but you can tell an idea pops up in his mind when his eyes start to glimmer. He sits his hand on your thigh and you jolt back from the touch of his hand on the material of your jeans. He pulls away slightly, scared that he had made you uncomfortable.

“I just want to put my arm around you,” he asks innocently. “Are you okay with that?”

You calm yourself down and nod. For goodness sake, you weren’t a child- why did a hand on your thigh make you so nervous for?!

“Yeah,” you say, a little more confident despite your nerves. “Go ahead.”

He smiles softly at you and connects his hand to your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. It was comforting, not at all meant to be more than just a public display of affection. He finds himself getting lost in the lecture along with you, his hand playing with a loose thread on your shirt through it all. He didn’t even look at his friends who were teasing him on the other side of the class or your own friends shooting daggers into his being.

At that moment, it was you, him, and Professor Kwon giving out a lecture that had half of the students already asleep. He smiled at how diligently you worked and how your breath would quicken when Professor Kwon switched the slides without a warning. It was the little idiosyncrasies like this that caught his attention, the kind of things that made him wonder where you’d been all his life.

The smile on Jungkook’s face disappeared when he came to that realization.

Fuck.

—

Jungkook rolls around the grass while you sit on the picnic blanket you two had set up. Midterms were over and grades would soon be announced. He wanted a much-needed distraction from the monotony of constant studying and you had suggested a small picnic in a nearby park. Of course, he agreed. 

“We’re free,” he groans. “Finally free.”

Jungkook stares hungrily at the assortment of food you had laid out for the two of you. He tries to reach a hand out to grab a bottle of lemonade but ultimately fails in the end. You giggle at his silliness, popping a grape in your mouth.

“You’re welcome by the way,” you say jokingly. “Don’t think you could’ve done it without me.”

He sits up to face you, bowing deeply as if you were a traditional empress.

“Thank you,” he says, imitating a Joseon accent. He was watching far too many historical dramas recently.

“You’re embarrassing me,” you say, attempting to straighten him out. “Sit up.”

He complies, only after a few pulls from you, with a toothy grin on his face.

“Seriously, I don’t think I could have gone through the first few weeks of Professor Kwon’s class without your notes,” he sighs, opening his mouth to signal that he wanted to be fed. You roll your eyes but placed a grape between his teeth anyway.

“You have hands, you should know how to use them,” you mumble shyly.

You move to take another grape for yourself, but he grabs your wrist before you could. He intertwines his fingers into yours.

“Why should I when my hands are holding yours~,” he says in a sing-song voice. It made you want to throw up at how cheesy he was, but you couldn’t help but laugh along as he cringed at his own words. When was it so normal for him to hold your hands like this?

“You can’t go one sentence without flirting, can you?” you sigh, feigning annoyance.

“Not when it comes to you,” he replies, but you could feel sincerity laced between his laughter. “I can’t resist flirting when it makes you all giggly like this.”

You purse your lips to prevent yourself from smiling too brightly. Jungkook and you were somewhat past the point of being just friends by now, but you were too much of a coward to label what you had with him. What if there was a chance that he was just leading you on?

Jungkook saw your furrowed brows. He rubbed circles on your hands with his thumbs to ease you.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly, about to let go.

“No-” you say a little too quickly, clasping him closer to you. Your faces were inches apart now, much nearer than they were before.

“D-don’t,” you attempt to say but you’re tongue tangled as you looked at his lips. He certainly does have nice lips...

“Don’t what?” he asks in a lowly voice. You start to look around you- anywhere that wasn’t him. The park was relatively empty but it still felt embarrassing to say anything too loud.

“D-don’t let me go,” you say, your eyes on the picnic blanket rather than on him. His gaze was too intense to look at. Jungkook feels his heart clench. You were cute, too cute. 

He shouldn’t be feeling this attached to you, but he couldn’t help it. Everything you did, every word that came out of your mouth- it had him wanting more from you than he could possibly handle. It was dangerous to feel this way.

“Why don’t you want me to let you go?” he asks nervously. He too was anxious for the answer. If you were to confess to Jungkook right now, he’d get the first part of the bet done, but there’d be no turning back after your confession. He would have to lie to you from now on. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, chanting to himself that it’s okay to like you for a little while, just as long as he doesn’t get too attached in the end. He needed the money, he really did.

“Because,” you start off with a sigh, staring at him now with glossy eyes. “I like you.”

Jungkook feels like he could do ten backflips in one go and it wouldn’t even drain him of energy. The smile on his face was huge, his eyes curling into that half-moon shape that made you swoon. 

Jungkook was relieved and if the boys asked, it was because he’d only have to date you for three months. He’d die before he’d admit to them that he caught feelings because Taehyung, as generous as he was with his bets, would never give Jungkook the money unless he cleanly broke up with you. It was one of his unspoken rules.

“I like you too.”

You smile at him and he can’t help but pull you close, his lips hovering over yours.

“Can I?”

You nod.

His lips graze yours slightly but he pushes a bit closer when he feels you lean into his touch. He kisses you again, and again, and again, but you pull away when his tongue had started to prod at your lips. Your face was flushed,  embarrassed to be doing this in such a public place.

“Maybe later?” you say, panting slightly. He gives you a cheeky grin and nods.

“At my place?” he asks with a wink.

You hesitate, letting go of his arms, twiddling with your fingers. You wanted to set clear labels on what your relationship was. You didn't want to accidentally get caught up in a friends-with-benefits situation and be all shocked when Jungkook ends up breaking your heart.

“So we’re dating now, right?” you ask cautiously, looking at him with a worried glint in your eyes. 

Jungkook’s mouth opens to speak but no words come out. He thinks a little harder about the whole situation... He was getting good grades, spending some quality time with a girl he’s clearly attracted to, and having his rent paid off all in one? He was killing three birds with one stone. It shouldn’t be too big of a problem to catch feelings for now, right? It’s not like any of his relationships lasted longer than a couple of months anyway.

He nods, cupping your face lightly.

“Yeah,” he hesitates. “We’re dating.”

Jungkook wasn’t aware, as he gives you another light peck, that it wasn’t possible to have his cake and eat it too.

—

It happens naturally. You coming in and out of his apartment that he shared with his friends, you tangling your legs with his underneath the sheets of his bed. It was hard to imagine a life where you didn’t wake up with him by your side. You were so wrapped up in his touch, so wrapped up in the sweet words he would whisper into your ears, that you spent most of your time with him. 

You weren’t really up to date with your friends anymore and he didn’t really hang out with his either. Jungkook shared an apartment with Seokjin and Hoseok, and so the only contact he had with the other boys was when they visited those two. He should’ve known to take you back home when all the boys bombarded into his living room, where you sat with him watching TV. 

“The lovebirds are at it again,” Taehyung coos, a mysterious glint in his eyes. “The honeymoon stage hasn’t passed quite yet, has it?”

Jungkook chucks one of the sofa’s throw pillows at his friend, obviously annoyed. What the fuck did Taehyung think he was doing?

“Quit it,” he mutters. You were sitting next to Jungkook, his arm around your shoulder protectively

“Why?” Yoongi yawns. “Anyone can see how incredibly in love you two are.”

You didn’t quite like the smirk he gave the two of you. This didn’t feel like regular teasing... it felt like he knew something that you weren't aware of. It made you curl your toes out of fear.

“Guys,” Jimin says calmly. “Stop it.”

The boys shrug their shoulders as if they said nothing wrong.

“We’re just pointing out how cute they are together,” Taehyung noted, “It’s not like we’re lying to her or anything-”

“Yeah, or leading her on or anything like that-”

“I think I should go,” you say hurriedly, uncomfortable at how tense the atmosphere was. Jungkook was clenching his fists, about ready to start a fight any second. Knowing his strength, you didn’t want anyone to walk around with a bruised eye because you couldn’t handle a few jokes- if that’s what Taehyung and Yoongi think they’re making. Harmless jokes.

“I’ll take you home,” Jungkook announces, standing up with you. Namjoon pulls him down back on the couch.

“Let someone else take her,” he says sternly. “We need to talk.”

Jungkook was about to protest until you spoke up.

“I can get home by myself just fine.”

“Hoseok and I can take you,” Seokjin insists, pulling the unassuming man up with him. “We don’t mind.”

Hoseok gives you a lopsided smile and you return an equally awkward one.

“Okay, that’s settled,” you say, clapping your hands. You walk over to Jungkook. “I’ll text you later okay?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and kissing it lightly. Yoongi scoffs and Taehyung glares at Jungkook. The dirty glances they were giving each other... You didn’t like it at all.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

—

The walk to your apartment was unnecessarily awkward, Hoseok and Seokjin were talking too much and you talked too little. You tried to respond to their every quip, but you weren’t in the mood for chatting after that whole mess.

“You okay, [Y/N]?” Hoseok asks worriedly. “Don’t think too much about what those idiots said back there, they’re like that all the time.”

You nod, keeping your eyes on the ground. There was something chipping away at the back of your mind, something you wanted to get out of your chest.

“Would you say Jungkook and Yoongi act similarly?” you hesitate to say, “like with relationships?”

The two boys exchanged nervous glances at each other.

“Well, it depends,” Seokjin starts, choosing his words specifically. “What about relationships specifically?”

“Does he...,” you start off, not knowing the right phrase without sounding too harsh, “play around with girls? Like how Yoongi played around with Soobin?”

Hoseok looked at you with a raised brow.

“Who’s Soobin?” he asks before getting punched in the arm by Seokjin. “What the fuck bro!”

Seokjin clears his throat.

“What Hoseok meant to say,” he starts, glaring at his friend a little too harshly, “is that Yoongi never really introduces us to his girlfriends. You, on the other hand, are one of the few girls Jungkook actually took the time to invite over.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok chimes in. “He’s not exactly the most chivalrous, but he wouldn’t ghost someone like Yoongi did.”

Somehow their words weren’t enough to satisfy you. There was still something off in the conversation that transpired between the three boys- as if they were all keeping something from you. You stopped abruptly in front of your apartment complex, finally making eye-contact with the two boys.

“Do you think...” you start, a slight quiver in your voice, “that Jungkook is cheating on me?”

The two boys let out a deep breath that you didn’t even notice they were holding and laughed joyously together. They cackled as if what you said was the funniest thing they had ever heard in their life. Seokjin wipes a stray tear from his eye.

“Y-you think Jungkook’s cheating on you?!”

You nod, a little embarrassed at their reaction. Hoseok shakes his head, sighing out of his laughter.

“Trust me,” Hoseok starts, his breath evening out. “Jungkook would never cheat on you.”

You start to giggle along with them until a serious look suddenly takes over Seokjin’s features. He faces you fully.

“But listen [Y/N],” he starts. “If Jungkook hurts you, just know that he does love you. Like, undeniably. He does.”

“And we’re not just saying that as his friends either,” Hoseok continues. “We know how he’s like and we can tell that he really does like you.”

You smile at the two, feeling a small sense of comfort at their words.

“Thank you, guys. I mean it.”

They pat you on the back.

“Anything for Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

—

You walk through the campus cafeteria, eyes searching for a free table that you can sit alone in. Jungkook had Taekwondo practice so there would be no lovey-dovey feeding time with him. 

He’s been a lot tenser since the living room incident (which was already a week ago) and it seemed like he got more agitated as the days passed. Not towards you directly, but he’d always mutter slight insults whenever Yoongi or Taehyung passed by. It made you worried that you had done something to possibly drive a wrench into their relationship without even knowing it.

‘Whatever,’ you thought, ‘I’ll talk about it with him when he comes over later.’

You aren’t able to find a seat, though, when you feel dainty fingers wrap around  your elbow to pull you back lightly.

“[Y/N],” Gaeun says in a low voice. “We need to talk.”

It wasn’t like you had been ignoring them deliberately, though that was definitely the case at the start. You just couldn’t find the time to really hang out with them as much as you used to since you were with Jungkook most of the time. It was like that too when Gaeun and Soobin were in relationships, so you never really felt bad about doing it yourself.

“Yeah sure. I miss you guys,” you smile at her, but she doesn’t return it back.

“Come with me.”

Gaeun leads you to a table near the back of the room, where Soobin was sat up against the wall with her own tray of food. You sit down in front of her and Gaeun takes the seat next to Soobin.

“Good, you’re here,” Soobin says, apprehension laced in her voice. “We need to talk about Jungkook.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not this again-”

“[Y/N],” Gaeun warns. “Listen.”

You keep quiet, a little intimidated of how scary their expressions were.

“It’s all a bet,” Soobin says sternly.

You furrow your brows at her. She tends to speak vaguely when you needed her to be specific the most.

“What?”

“It’s a bet, [Y/N],” Gaeun repeats for her. “Jungkook’s only dating you because Taehyung said he’d pay his rent off if he did.”

You clench your fist on the table. How could they sit there and spew lies so easily?

“What are you guys-”

“Those dicks do this all the time,” Soobin rambles. “They play stupid games with girls just to fucking break their hearts later on and-”

“I don’t believe you,” you say confidently. “Jungkook would never do that to me. Besides-”

Gaeun didn’t even wait until you stopped talking to play a recording on her phone. The voices were familiar enough to recognize.

“So you’re telling me that Jungkook’s just fucking around with [Y/N] because he wants priority registration? You have to be fucking joking...”

You could tell from the sound of the person’s voice that it was Soobin. It sounded like she was putting on her clothes.

“Of course not. He’s doing it for priority registration and his rent getting paid for the rest of the year. I’m not joking when I say Tae goes big with his bets. He likes to flex his money on us like that.”

Your jaw drops at the sound of the man’s voice. It was Yoongi. You were sure of it.

“And you guys don’t feel bad? Like at all?”

“Why should we? Jungkook’s planning to break up with her next week anyway so she doesn’t catch feelings for too long. It’s not like they were gonna last past the three-month deal...”

Gaeun paused the recording when she sees you bite your lip so harshly that blood starts to surface. This didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel real.

“I hooked up with him last weekend,” Soobin admits, shame written all over her face. “He was spewing stuff about Jungkook spending all his time with you and not really hanging out with the boys like he used to.”

“You still hook up with Yoongi? After all he did to you?” you ask, not meaning to come off aggressive but undoubtedly did.

“Look,” Gauen starts, taking the heat off of Soobin. “She was just drunk and looking to have fun. I was with her that night and I was talking to Namjoon. He...”

Gaeun trailed off, but you were sick of it. Sick of being kept in the dark from something you should’ve known all along.

“What?”

“H-he told me that all the boys were getting tired of him playing around with you,” she says, twiddling with her fingers. “He’s supposed to break up with you today. Some of the guys think he’s just prolonging it to fuck with you and they’re getting really annoyed-”

You bite back the tears threatening to spill over any minute now.

“Hoseok and Seokjin told me to trust Jungkook. They said he wouldn’t hurt me-”

“Did they also tell you that their rent gets paid too if Jungkook pulled through with the bet?” Soobin replies angrily. “Because they live together, don’t they?”

You open your mouth but no sound comes out- just a small whimper. Your lips start to quiver and you bite your lip again to calm yourself down. When you had collected your thoughts, you glared up at the two girls.

“And you didn’t tell me this earlier?”

Soobin scoffed.

“You were fucking ignoring us too, how were we supposed to tell you?”

“Still it wouldn’t have killed you to-”

“Don’t take your anger out on us,” Gaeun warns, her finger pointing at you. “Jungkook is the one to blame. We told you from the start that he was bad news.”

You pursed your lips and Gaeun put her finger down, feeling guilty that she lashed out on you when obviously you were just processing the information.

“Hey, I’m sorry-”

“Why me?” you ask with teary eyes. “What did I even do to them to deserve this?” 

They glance over at each other for a long while before Soobin breaks the silence. You had the right to know, but at the same time, they knew it would break you.

“It’s a sick game that they play where they just choose someone randomly...” Soobin starts off gently handing off the next few words to Gaeun, “and you were just the first girl to walk into Professor Kwon’s lecture hall. He thought you’d be...”

“Easy,” Soobin finished.

Just as they predicted, you had burst out in tears.

—

Jungkook opens the door to your apartment, using the spare key you had given him a month earlier since he tended to visit often. It was more convenient that way. 

He was freshly out of his Taekwondo garb, still sweaty, but otherwise clean from taking a shower at the campus gym. He found it strange at how dark the room was, but he knew you were on the couch from the noticeable lump of a blanket on it.

All Jungkook wanted was to cuddle with you and fall asleep in your arms after such a harrowing day. Lord knows he needs your warmth right now.

He smiled as he made his way towards you, but stops in his tracks when you sit up from where you laid. He couldn’t quite see you in the darkness so he walked to the light switch to turn the lights on. His heart broke at the sight of you.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy from all the crying. You looked a mess and his blood boiled at the thought of someone hurting you. 

“What happened?” he asked, rushing over to you and cupping your face in his hands. You push him away.

“You don’t have to act anymore,” you say softly. “I can handle it.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows.

“What are you talking about-”

“I get that you really need the money,” you say through bated breaths, “I get that financially, it would have really helped, but did you really have to hurt me to do that?”

Jungkook’s breathing stopped. Everything was happening too quickly, his world crashing down when you uttered those words. He knew what this meant, knew that now you would see past his lies. Jungkook couldn’t have you finding out this way. 

He kneeled in front of you, attempting to wipe away the tears from your eyes but you push him off.

“[Y/N] no-”

“It could’ve been anyone,” you whimper, trying to look up at the ceiling to prevent any more tears from falling down. “Anyone could’ve walked through that door and you would’ve been okay with it.”

“That’s not true-” he interjects but you stop him.

“A-and you flirted with me all the time ‘cause you knew that I wasn’t used to it,” you say, your voice quivering. “You took advantage of me.”

Jungkook shakes his head rapidly, eyes pleading for you to let him speak. It hurt seeing you refuse to even look at him, to have your eyes so filled with sadness because of what he did to you. He fucked up, he fucked up so bad.

“No, you have to listen-”

“They told me not to trust you,” you whimper somberly. “They told me and I didn’t believe them because I... I was delusional or something. I thought that someone like you could actually like someone like me-”

His heart broke. It wasn’t you that didn’t deserve him. It was him. All him.

“Please don’t say that-”

“Did you come here to seal the deal? To finally break up with me?” you ask sadly. “Are you happy you’ll get the classes you want next quarter, Jungkook?”

He clenches his teeth. Jungkook knows you’re mad, knows you have a right to be, but it feels like he’s being cornered by you. Why won’t you give him the chance to speak?

“[Y/N], no,” he says sternly, “You have to trust me when I say that it went past just a bet. I like you. Genuinely, I like you.”

There was no point in lying any longer. You deserved to know the truth, but he needed you to know all of it- not just the information your friends cherry-picked to fit their narrative. He tried to speak again, but you wouldn’t let him.

“How could you,” you whimper. “How could someone be so cruel?”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words. He should’ve seen this coming. How could he delude himself into thinking he’d be okay if you find out- that he’d be fine seeing you heartbroken? He was disgusted with himself.

“I’m sorry [Y/N],” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your vision getting blurry from the tears. He clasps your hands in his, knowing that it used to soothe you whenever you felt worried over something, but you just wailed harder at his touch. He didn’t know what to do, he didn't even know where to start.

“Stop pretending like you care,” you cry. “Please. It hurts.”

“It was a bet,” he admits and he breaths through the words to prevent himself from getting too emotional, “but I promise that my feelings are genuine. You have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” you ask crudely.

You stare at him, slowing your breaths to ease the crying. There was a certain emptiness in your gaze and it scared him. It was awfully frightening having you looking at him with a certain animosity that was not there before. Like he was a stranger.

“I can’t do that anymore, Jungkook,” you say softly, “because I hate you.”

—

A/N: Gasp A double update?! Say it isn’t so... I had so much fun writing this!!! Probably one of my favorite fics I’ve written in a while because I love this trope. How do y’all feel about Jungkook? Forgive or forget? Let me know!! Thank you @altus-gens​ for requesting this story, I hope you like it :)

Please leave any comment, critiques, or just random thoughts about my story! I’m planning my murder mystery series rn and I’m so excited (I might... do an album giveaway along with it...) I really love the direction I’m taking this blog in and I hope you guys are excited for the stories to come~~ 

buy me a coffee?

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts scenario #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #bts imagines #jungkook magine #angst #fluff #kpop angst #kpop fluff #bangtan boys #bts #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #kook #bts jungkook #bangtan angst #bangtan fluff #yoongi imagines #bangtan scenarios

[thetravelerwrites]

Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine​​! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Troll #WoW Troll #World of Warcraft Troll

[brownsugar-dreams]

Do you have any tips for being a spoiled gf or how to be one, and get as much money as you can

The spoiled gf route can get you a lot more over time. I think the most important thing is to remember that when it comes to dating, most older men that prefer a “spoiled gf” don’t want to be seen as a SD. They want the fantasy that you need to create for them. They don’t want the relationship to seem transactional but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ask for what you deserve.

Keep your femininity. If you’d like for him to pay for your upkeep, (and you should) pose yourself as a woman who likes to be kept. If he’s not into giving a formal monthly allowance, you can still pose it as such in a less harsh way. For example if he wants to take you out to dinner. You can tell him “I always love going out and being shown off on your arms. You know I like to keep myself looking my best. Can you send me $xxxx to prepare for our date? Lookin forward to it 😘” Try and make him excited about the date. Tease, talk about how you can’t wait to see him, etc.

It’s also important to “show don’t tell” when dealing with men that prefer a spoiled gf. You don’t need to state that you’re a kept woman. You need to hint at it in mysterious ways. “I love when a man makes things happen ☺️” something along those lines of stroking his ego when asking for something you want. He will see you’re a certain type of prized and high value woman by your actions. So look and dress the part when on dates. Keep the fantasy going and he will find you irresistible.

Since this isn’t an arrangement and there’s nothing agreed upon for what you will be receiving from him, you need to make sure that you are getting what you want once you have established a relationship with him. The key into the spoiled gf route is to make him think you’re very much interested and into him first and foremost and his money second.

During the first few dates, feel him out and take notice. Where did he suggest to take you? Order a bottle of wine. Did he cringe or suggest something cheaper? Did he complain about the bill after your date?

Do not have sex with him. You really want to hold off for as long as you can. You should definitely tease him with kisses, sexual talk, and even a little groping but only as a reward. After he’s spent some money on you, you need to acknowledge and reward him somehow so that he keeps doing it. In the beginning (3-4 dates) is when you vet and prime him. If he’s cheap move on to someone else.

Phone or video sex is a great way to ask and get what you want immediately. I would start off describing a dream I had about him. Then go into detail about what I was wearing. When you feel you’ve been seductive enough (just a few short minutes usually does the trick) to get him started, break the fantasy. Say that you can’t get into it right now because now you’re thinking about how you don’t own that dress. You’d really like to own it and you saw something like it online. If he doesn’t ask how much, just keep saying how it would hug your curves and you’d love something new to wear for him for the next date. When he asks how much, tell him with confidence. I usually don’t say an amount less than $1k but you can say whatever makes sense in your world. If he complains about the price or acts astonished, don’t be rattled. You need to keep confident. Play dumb and say “I don’t understand, is that a lot for you?” He won’t want to look cheap and will fix his tone immediately if he’s worth your time. If he doesn’t or keeps complaining, make an excuse to get off the phone and end the call. If he agrees to sending the money, then great. You can resume phone/video sex if you’d like. If you don’t want to then you can steer the convo in another direction but do make sure to stroke his ego a few times before getting off the phone. This has always always worked for me. It’s important to note not to try this until a relationship has been established already. At least after 2-3 dates. Don’t be afraid to ask. Closed mouths don’t get fed!

These are a few pointers I have found to be successful when going the spoiled gf route. If you’d like a more in depth and detailed step by step breakdown, subscribe to my website! 😉

Good luck, with love 💕

#black heaux #black sugar baby #brown sugar baby #heaux tips #heauxlife #spoiled heaux #sugar baby advice #sugar baby blog #sugar baby tips #sugar bowl #spoiled girlfriend #spoiled gf #heaux advice #high class heaux #sugar heaux #sugar lifestyle #sugar life #sugar dating #brown sugar

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (1/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,513

Warnings: fake dating au, mention to past abusive relationship

A/N: im so EXCITED to start posting this series lmk what yall think!!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

He couldn’t quite think of a word to describe the restaurant.

The deep tones of maroon on the walls contrasting against the clean, stark-white tablecloths, tablecloths that have been so deeply washed, soaked in bleach and radiating chemical residue beneath plates of fancy and over-priced dishes for people who have too much money than they know what do with.

Ratatouille is the special for tonight, priced at $32. Side dishes extra, of course.

The overly simple decor on the walls with lighting so dim you’d think they forgot to pay the electric bill, all in the name of minimalism and an art form you just wouldn’t understand.

Bucky has news for them, though. Minimalism won’t get rid of their depression and anxiety, and a $30 plate of vegetables won’t bring you happiness.

His collar feels tight around his neck, even though the first two buttons on his shirt are undone. The longer he stands around waiting for Sam, the more ridiculous he feels. He’s sweating suddenly, and all he wants to do is leave, go back to his apartment, to Alpine, and take off this stupid monkey suit of an outfit.

Where r u?

Should be sitting pretty at a table already. Wearing a cute lil red dress. maybe blue, not sure.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky mumbles under his breath after reading Sam’s text.

It’s Bucky’s fault at this point. Not only is this not the first time Sam has done this to him, set him up on a blind date and tell him it's him he’s meeting and not a girl, but it’s not the second either. Sam has done this three times, and this is going to be the fourth. How do you let this happen to you four times?

It’s not a surprise either when the date goes horribly all three times, either. The girls are always nice and always beautiful, but Bucky’s in such a sour mood by the time he reaches the table that it’s a failure from the start.

That’s a good word to describe the restaurant. Sour.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a table under Sam. Or maybe Bucky.” He approaches the hostess, praying that whoever Sam has set him up with isn’t here and that they stood him up.

“Ah, yes, your date has been waiting.” She tells him, and he tries not to roll his eyes.

The walk through the restaurant to the table makes him feel more ridiculous than when he was waiting. He feels all eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl, even though when he glances around, everyone has their eyes on their own date; their date that probably wasn’t sprung up on them by a man who dresses up like a bird for a living.

Careful not to trip over his own feet in the dark room, the only lights being small bulbs on a thin string from the high ceiling, he sees a table that’s probably for him.

The only table with one person sitting alone, he spots you looking down at your phone with a slight frown on your face. Sam was right on his first guess, you’re wearing a deep red dress, thin straps over your shoulders and he can see through underneath the table that it flows down to your calf. Nude heels adorn your feet as they are crossed at the ankle, and he can’t help but feel a little bad.

Just because he thinks minimalism and expensive meals are stupid doesn’t mean that other people don’t enjoy them.

“Hi, uh, sorry I’m a little late.” He greets as he takes his seat.

You look up from your phone and give him a closed-lip smile, an unspoken way of saying it’s alright, but he’s seen that tight smile on too many girls before to know that, no, it’s not really alright.

“I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” He asks, hoping that the sooner he starts the conversation, the sooner he can get the fuck out of here. Respectfully.

As far as introductions go, this has definitely been the most awkward. Neither of you know what to say. Not that he’s about to go around giving Sam advice about setting him up with people, because he certainly wouldn’t want Sam to take that as him asking him to try again, but he couldn’t have set him up with someone worse.

It’s painfully awkward, and he feels himself sweating again, blushing from slight embarrassment at this disaster of a date.

The waiter hasn’t even brought out the bread yet.

He can’t do this.

“Listen,” He begins after a few minutes of silence and the two of them awkwardly glancing around the room, as though the avant-garde art pieces are the most interesting thing either of them have ever seen.

“I’m sorry if I don’t seem like I want to be here, it’s because I don’t. And it’s got nothing to do with you, it’s just that Sam told me I was meeting him here because he thinks he knows best when it comes to setting me up on dates even though I’ve told him countless times that -”

He stops when he realizes you’re laughing. Giggles escaping from behind your manicured hand that’s attempting to cover your mouth, he can’t believe you’re laughing at him. As if the date couldn’t get worse.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you.” You tell him, the most you’ve spoken the entire night, only really telling him your name and a few one-word answers a while ago.

“It’s just that I don’t want to be here, either. And Sam also told me I was meeting him here, not a date. And I thought that was funny.”

That bastard, Bucky thinks. But he appreciates that it’s the situation you find funny, and not him. He’s never had a date laugh at him before, and as tough as he is, he can’t lie and say it wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

He opens his mouth to say something but another man in an equally ridiculous monkey suit such as his own approaches the table, a basket of bread in hand.

He can’t help but notice how small the breads are and the fact that the butter is individually wrapped in those small tinfoils - not even The Cheesecake Factory does that, they bring butter in a tiny dish - but he doesn’t say anything.

At least now he has something to do with his hands.

The two of you both pick at the bread in your hands, and while the tension is somewhat eased at the table with the confession that neither of you want to be there, it’s still silent and awkward, as neither of you have spoken again.

Bucky doesn’t know what causes him to say it, maybe it's the obligation he feels to keep the conversation going and fill the silence, maybe his mind just insists on making the evening worse, because apparently that’s possible.

“My best friend died. Recently. And Sam’s been setting me up on these dumb dates to take my mind off it.” He says, and he sees out of the corner of his eye your hands pause around the bread and your head lifts slightly to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same.

“Sam was a little better about it at first, using distracting me as a way to distract himself while we both grieve. But he’s got the whole Captain America thing, helping his sister, working with Torres; he got over it a little quicker than I did and… expected me to get over it, too.”

He’s afraid to meet your eyes. He’s not sure why he just told you that, or why he felt like he owed you an explanation in the first place. He doesn’t even know you! What does he care if the date is awkward? He could leave now and never see you again and not feel bad about, and yet he sits here, sacrificing his own comfort in order to attempt to salvage the evening by being honest? Is honesty even what you want?

“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me. If we’re sharing tragic backstories, I mean.” You reply, looking down at your own bread now that Bucky’s head has snapped up to look at you, a humorless smile on your face.

“Had to move states, change my name, the whole nine yards. And while I wasn’t grieving a best friend, I was grieving… myself. My old life. And Sam doesn’t just distract himself by setting you up on dates, he’s been doing that with me, too. And, so, I kind of get what you mean, when you say that other people get over it and expect you to be okay, too.”

Another pause of silence, but the awkwardness is gone now.

“How many times have you heard the phrase, The grieving process is not -”

“Linear? Too many times. If I had a dollar for everytime I heard that, I’d probably have enough money to afford a plate at this place.” You finish for him, a disgusted look on your face. Almost the same look he had on his face when he entered the restaurant.

He laughs, though. The first time he’s laughed tonight.

“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter interrupts again, small booklet in hand, and thick French accent in the air. Of course, the waiters here are French, how is he even surprised?

“Do you mind if we have a few more minutes with the menu?” Bucky replies, not receiving much of an answer as the waiter looks him up and down, gives him a curt nod, and leaves the table once more.

“Listen, I don’t know about you, but this place looks like… I don’t even know, but it just looks sad, and I know a pretty good pizza place a few blocks away. If you don’t mind walking. Or continuing this date as friends?” He squints as he finishes his question, hoping you won’t take it as him playing hard to get, and actually want to be friends and absolutely nothing more.

“You had me at pizza.”

With the bread from the restaurant in hand and his jacket around your shivering shoulders, the two of you make your way down the sidewalk, stomachs rumbling at the thought of cheap, greasy, slices of pizza.

Sitting among people in their pajamas and otherwise casual clothing, it’s safe to say the two of you are the best-dressed people in the joint. Bucky tells you this and you laugh again, agreeing. Slice after slice goes down easily, much easier than any plate at that stupid clownhouse of a restaurant.

The conversation is easier, too. It’s almost like it was so bad before because of the suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant, The Fork, a stupid name for a stupid place.

What was that word he said before? Oh, yeah. The restaurant was sour. The pizza place, though, run by two older, heavier men with ungroomed mustaches and dark pit stains, is much less sour.

“I surprisingly had a good time tonight. I’m really glad we both came to an understanding of not wanting to date due to our individual unresolved trauma and issues, that we should probably be in therapy for.” You tell him, after thanking him for paying the six dollars both your copious amounts of pizza slices cost.

“I did, too. I’m just glad we didn’t have to stay at that dumb restaurant, I mean what was Sam even thinking with that place?” He rubs his fingers over his eyes in lasting disbelief. He’ll never let Sam live that place down.

“Speaking of Sam,” You start, stepping out of the pizza place as Bucky holds the door open for you, “Would you mind telling him that the date went well?”

“I mean, technically it did, didn’t it?”

“It did. But if we tell him that we left with a newfound friendship rather than sore legs and sex hair, he’s just going to keep setting us up on more shitty dates. I mean he’s great, but he does a better job at being Captain America than he does at being Cupid.”

“Agreed. He’ll just keep setting us up with people until we end up dating one of his picks, regardless of friendships made along the way. He’s too competitive, he doesn’t see friendship as a success, only a boyfriend or girlfriend.” Bucky admits.

“So… if he asks, we’ll just say we’re going to go on another date? And then whenever we hang out, we’ll just -”

“Be extremely and explicitly clear about it to him.” Bucky finishes.

They smile at each other satisfied, satisfied knowing they’re finally going to outsmart the bird man, they’re finally going to be done with shitty, last-minute blind dates that they never wanted to go on in the first place.

“Do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, my friend’s on her way to get me now.”

“I’ll wait with you then.”

Cheesy flirting ensues as the two of you joke about fake dating, competing to see who can think of the worst pick up line. Bucky feels a bit embarrassed that he probably would’ve used a few of these a few decades ago when he was a fresh, young man, but he doesn’t dare mention that to you. No need to give you more ammunition to use against him, and especially no need to risk you mentioning it to Sam.

Your least favorite, and evidently his favorite, is If happiness starts with “H,” why does mine start with “U”?

He laughs as you dramatically gag on the sidewalk, almost not noticing the car pulling up to the two of you.

“This is me. Oh, here’s your jacket by the way.” You move to take it off from atop your shoulders but he stops you.

“Hold onto it for me. And also, mention to Sam that you’re holding onto it for me.” He winks.

“Will do. Boyfriend.”

“Drive safe. Girlfriend.” He opens the passenger door for you, greeting your friend briefly, and offering a hand out to help you sit inside, closing the door after you’ve clicked your seatbelt.

He watches the rear lights grow smaller and smaller as you disappear down the street, and he begins walking back to where you two came from. His bike is still parked at the restaurant, after all.

That was probably the best date - not a date, friend date - he’s ever been on, and by far Sam’s greatest success yet, even if it’s not the romantic relationship he probably intended.

It was nice to talk to someone without the pressures of impressing them, the intrusive thoughts questioning their deeper motives or what it is exactly they want out of a date with him. He tried engaging in the whole hookup-one-night-stand culture once, and didn’t like it at all.

Not to mention, he’ll never have to go on one of Sam’s set-up dates again! And he didn’t even need to get a girlfriend to do so!

The night couldn’t have ended better, and he can’t wait to tell Sam all about it.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #marvel

[trilliastra]

a series of firsts

[5 first times + 1. Shinwoo x Taekyung. A light on me fic.]

-

1. 

“What is this?”

“Flowers.” Taekyung states, matter-of-factly. Shinwoo rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but he can feel his ears turning red as he watches Taekyung’s lips turn up into a smirk.

Taekyung likes teasing, Shinwoo has come to realise. He likes pointing out the redness of Shinwoo’s ears, remembering his inability to hold a proper conversation when they first met, leaning in for a quick kiss when Shinwoo least expects.

It’s infuriating and adorable and Shinwoo wishes he could tease him back, but all his thoughts leave his mind when Taekyung smiles, batting his eyelashes sweetly as if he did nothing wrong. It’s a problem.

“What for?” Shinwoo asks, looking at the potted plant in his hands. He doesn’t know what kind they are, never really paid attention to flowers before, but knowing his boyfriend, they probably hold some obscure (or cute) meaning.

“Our anniversary.” Taekyung explains.

Shinwoo almost drops the plant, surprise and panic growing inside him. 

“One month.” Taekyung adds.

Oh, oh no.

He remembered it, of course. Shinwoo has been counting the days, the weeks since they first got together. He put a heart on his calendar, marking the day forever, and now, every morning when he wakes up, the first thing he sees is the calendar on his wall, the red heart smiling at him. It’s a good way to wake up.

“I -” he falters. Damn it, he can feel his ears getting hot, “your present, I-”

“You didn’t remember it, did you?” It’s not really a question and Taekyung reaches out to touch Shinwoo’s ears fondly.

“I did!” Shinwoo argues, “I always remember, I put it on my calendar just in case -” Shit, he notices Taekyung’s eyes widening at the confession and Shinwoo looks around, swallowing heavily. Is he a bad boyfriend for thinking about running away?

“Really?” Taekyung smiles, not that teasing smirk, but a gentle smile, sweet, fond. Shinwoo has noticed that he only smiles like that when they are together. 

“I -”

“It’s okay.” Taekyung interrupts his apology with a quick kiss on his cheek. “I didn’t really expect you to buy me something.”

“But you did!”

“It’s my mom’s.” Taekyung confesses. “I didn’t think I had to buy anything but then Namgoong texted me and I panicked.”

Shinwoo blinks. “Oh.” He feels even dumber now, because he got the exact same text from Namgoong and the only thing that crossed his mind was ‘I’m gonna walk Taekyung home today’.

“Oh.” He repeats, gathers his strength to ask, “I guess we should talk about this, right?”

Taekyung frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been in a relationship before, is this - is this something we want to do? Monthly gifts?”

Taekyung’s expression goes pensive and he shrugs. “Isn’t that what people do?” His boyfriend gives back. Shinwoo gets distracted by the way he bites his lip, blushes when Taekyung notices and snaps his fingers in front of his eyes. “Shinwoo.”

He clears his throat, looks away. “I - yeah, some people, I guess. But, do we want to do it? Because,” he shrugs back, “it’s sweet, but -”

“It’s a lot of work.” Taekyung completes and Shinwoo sighs, relieved. “I couldn’t even think about that to give you now, I can’t imagine doing it every month.”

“And the money.” Shinwo adds, smiling when Taekyung nods, resolute.

“Once a year is enough, right?”

“And birthdays.” Shinwoo adds after a minute.

“That sounds fair.” Taekyung agrees, smiling, and Shinwoo kisses him to seal the deal.

-

“You should take this back to your mom.” Shinwoo says after a, admittedly, long time. Well, it’s not like Taekyung wasn’t kissing him back.

Taekyung hums in agreement, cheeks pink and mouth red from all the kissing. 

They get lost in each other sometimes, Shinwoo hopes this feeling won’t ever go away.

“Soon?” Shinwoo asks.

“Soon.” Taekyung agrees, already pulling him back in for another kiss.

-

2. 

Taekyung isn’t at the student council room when Shinwoo arrives after his math class. He closes the door back again immediately, running towards the exit.

He thought they could talk after school, but Taekyung is still avoiding him. Shinwoo was dreading this moment as much as he was anticipating it, but he realized that being without Taekyung is so much worse than apologizing for a mistake.

It was their first fight.

He was stressed with his school work and he had a fight with his mother yesterday morning, his mood was sour and Taekyung ended up paying the price. Shit, he was so stupid.

“Can you leave me alone?” He had said, already regretting the words the moment he said them. He meant it, though, and Taekyung knew it as well, he always does.

Sometimes, when things are hard and he is feeling particularly bad with himself, when his self-deprecating thoughts invade his mind and he can’t push them away, he just wants to be left alone to deal with it by himself, to curse his choices, his abilities, his brain.

He snapped at Daon once, when his friend tried to cheer him up, and almost made Namgoong cry when his friend heard Shinwoo call himself a useless piece of shit. They worked it out, Daon patting his back when he apologized and Namgoong making him promise not to say anything like that ever again, but Taekyung - Taekyung doesn’t deserve someone like him. 

He was waiting for the moment Taekyung would notice he’s not good enough to be with him, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon. His boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) at least deserves an explanation.

‘It’s not your fault’, he wants to say, ‘it’s me, I’m the idiot’.

“Shinwoo.” Namgoong follows him outside. “Taekyung is looking for you.” He pulls him by the arm, practically dragging Shinwoo back into the school building and leading him towards one of the empty classrooms.

“He is?”

“Duh.” Namgoong says, shaking his head. “He is worried.”

“He is?” Shinwoo asks again, dumbly.

Namgoong sighs, frustrated, and lets go of his arm. “Remember what I told you the last time?” Shinwoo frowns. “I said I was going to smother you with kisses and hugs until you believe you are worthy of love. But that was when you didn’t have a boyfriend.” He shoves Shinwoo inside a room. “He’s gonna do that now.” He says, punching his shoulder - hard - and closing the door in front of Shinwoo.

When he turns around, surprised and confused, he sees Taekyung waiting for him.

-

“I’m sorry.” They say at the same time and Shinwoo falters, heart skipping a beat. There it is - the end, three months and five days after the first time Taekyung took his hand, called him his boyfriend and accepted the goodbye kiss in front of his apartment.

Three months and five days and Shinwoo will be alone again. He knew it was going to happen, knew it was inevitable and yet the pain is stronger than anything he’s ever felt.

Taekyung stalks towards him, determined, as Shinwoo takes a step back, slamming his back against the door. He could run, he thinks, eyeing the exit, but suddenly Taekyung is right there, hands on both his cheeks, eyes shining with a fire so bright that it scares Shinwoo.

“Why do you look like this?” Taekyung asks, turning his back from one side to the other, leaning closer as he seems to be inspecting Shinwoo’s face. “Are you sick?” He stops. “Your ears aren’t red either, what’s wrong with you?”

Shinwoo blinks once, twice, three times before he gathers the courage to ask. “Why did you apologize?”

It’s Taekyung’s turn to blink confusedly. “Because! You were upset and wanted to be left alone and I didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

“But -” Shinwoo feels the cracks in his heart mending, the fear that once consumed him being replaced by hope, “I yelled at you. And you’ve been avoiding me since yesterday, you - why are you not breaking up with me?”

“What?” Taekyung tilts his head to the side, lets his hands fall. “I was giving you space! Isn’t that what you wanted?” He blinks, brings his hands to his hair. “Ah, I’m so confused!” He then turns to Shinwoo, points a finger at his face. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” Shinwoo answers immediately. “I thought you did! I mean, you should! Because I yelled at you!”

Taekyung sighs again, turns around and starts pacing around the room. He whispers to himself, words that Shinwoo can’t hear or understand, before he schools his face into something less confused and more annoyed, turning to Shinwoo again. “I have no idea what’s happening,” he confesses, taking Shinwoo’s hand and pulling him to the nearest chair. He forces Shinwoo to sit down, hands on his shoulders and then sits on the chair opposite him, face determined. “Explain.”

The earnest look on his face, the eagerness to understand Shinwoo, to solve this misunderstanding, it’s enough to make Shinwoo nod and start talking, ears burning red with shame and fear, but when the tears start streaming down his face Taekyung wipes them for him, and somehow Shinwoo knows that they will work it out.

Three months and five days and one fight later, Shinwoo finally breaks.

-

3.

“You can tell me if you need to be alone.” Taekyung whispers in Shinwoo’s ear as they hug. Taekyung walked Shinwoo home this time, the reversal of roles made Shinwoo feel cherished as if all he needed was someone to take care of him for once. “And you can tell me when you don’t want to be alone.”

“I will.” Shinwoo promises, tightening his hold on Taekyung’s shirt. It’s late and his parents have texted him many times, but he doesn’t want to let go. Ever.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

Taekyung pulls back, but Shinwoo doesn’t have time to mourn the loss of heat before his boyfriend is squeezing his cheeks with both hands, smiling fondly. “I love you.” He confesses.

Shinwoo thought he was all out of tears for tonight, but the words make his eyes water again. “Not fair.” He mumbles, sniffing pitifully, chest so full of love he feels like he’s going to explode in a million pieces. Taekyung laughs softly, his own eyes filling up with tears. “I was going to say it first.”

“It was my turn.” He teases, sneaking in a quick kiss. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Shinwoo sniffs, squeezing his hand. When Taekyung turns around, he calls him back. “I love you, too, you know?”

Taekyung laughs, loud and carefree. “I know.”

- 

4.

They are alone in Shinwoo’s room, his parents gone for the weekend. It’s not the first time Taekyung stays over, but the air is heavier now, the tension building up since he closed the door behind them.

He thought about this, Taekyung in his bed, smiling at him teasingly, hands sliding down his back, under his shirt, inside his pants-

“Do you-” Shinwoo forces himself to say, “do you want to eat something? I could-”

Taekyung shakes his head, shy in a way Shinwoo has never seen before. Taekyung likes to tease, he is playful and honest and straight-forward, rarely timid in front of his friends. “Okay.” Taekyung says, looking down at his own hands as if they are the most interesting in the world. Shinwoo sighs.

“Hey,” he kneels in front of his boyfriend, “we don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Taekyung confesses, cheeks a delightful shade of pink. “But I- I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know either.” Shinwoo says. “Never been in a relationship before, remember?”

“Yeah, but-” Taekyung looks up, blushing harder when their eyes meet, “you never - with anyone?”

Shinwoo shakes his head. No one has ever made him feel like this, no one will ever make him feel like this. There is only Taekyung.

“Oh.” Taekyung whispers, shoulders relaxing. “So you don’t know what you’re doing either.”

Shinwoo huffs out an embarrassed laugh. “No.” He reaches out for Taekyung’s hands, but stops before they touch, waits for Taekyung’s permission. When his boyfriend nods, he takes his hands, brings them closer and presses a kiss on each palm. “We can stop any time, you just have to say it.”

Taekyung nods. “You too.”

Shinwoo smiles and stands up, pulling Taekyung with him. “Let’s eat first.”

His boyfriend smiles and follows.

-

It’s hot and messy and they laugh for a long time when Shinwoo’s first attempt to open Taekyung’s pants fails. Taekyung blushes when Shinwoo kisses his neck, chest and lower, but he doesn’t tell him to stop, only moans softly and then louder when Shinwoo touches him.

When he’s taking out his shirt, Taekyung doesn’t look away, lets out a huff of frustration when Shinwoo slows down, fumbling to open his own pants. “Too slow.” His boyfriend whines, hands touching his chest and trying to pull him closer again. Shinwoo gasps when their bodies touch, skin to skin, as they kiss deeply.

They’ve touched each other before, in Taekyung’s room, but it was rushed and messy because they knew Taekyung’s mother could come home any time. Shinwoo loved listening to Taekyung, watching his face when he’s close, laughing together after they crashed on the bed, holding hands and enjoying each other in the afterglow.

But this is different, it’s new and weird and amazing all at the same time. Shinwoo is gentle, careful in his touches, even when he feels Taekyung’s nails scratching his back, even when his boyfriend asks for more, he tries to make it last.

They will have other opportunities to try different things, to discover what they like and don’t like, but they will never have their first time again.

“Shinwoo.” Taekyung moans when he comes with Shinwoo’s lips on his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin.

“I love you.” Shinwoo whispers when he comes, holding Taekyung tightly and wishing they could stay like this forever.

-

5.

Taekyung looks like his mom, Shinwoo notices. They have the same eyes, their noses looking a bit similar as well. That does nothing to ease Shinwoo’s nerves though, because her cutting glance is as intimidating as Taekyung’s when he is annoyed.

“Shinwoo,” she says, assessing. When he nods, bowing again, she narrows her eyes at him, “Taekyung’s boyfriend.”

Taekyung visibly squirms from his place next to her, as if he wants to join Shinwoo but doesn’t dare move away from his mother. 

“Yes.” Shinwoo nods again, eyes going from Taekyung to his mother and then back to Taekyung. Taekyung’s father is still nowhere to be seen, Shinwoo doesn’t know if that’s a good thing. He doesn’t think he will be able to handle another meeting. “Noh Shinwoo.” He clears his throat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Uh-huh.” She says, calmly, as if this is just another day at the mall and not the most awkward moment of Shinwoo’s life.

“Mom,” Taekyung calls, “stop, he is going to pass out.” Shinwoo touches his ear, he can bet they are as red as a tomato.

“Alright.” She sighs, then opens her arms, smiling brightly and pulls Shinwoo into a hug. “Hello.” She says, voice soft and cheery and Shinwoo really feels like he’s going to pass out.

-

They had talked about this, Shinwoo wanted to meet Taekyung’s parents, he really did! But it never worked out as they planned, work emergencies, family problems, once Taekyung’s mother burned dinner and they had to cancel because she would not dare ‘serve burned food to my son’s boyfriend’.

So, months passed, close to a year and though Taekyung met Shinwoo’s parents on multiple occasions, Shinwoo ended up never meeting Taekyung’s.

Until today, when Shinwoo is shopping for Taekyung’s birthday. His luck, really.

“Is that for Taekyung’s birthday?” She asks, eyeing the bag Shinwoo has tried to keep hidden from his boyfriend. Taekyung left them alone while he went to the bathroom and Shinwoo has been trying really hard not to run away. 

“Uh, yeah.” He looks around, lowers his voice. “It’s a drawing kit, he said he wants to try drawing again.”

“Ah, yes, he told me.” Her eyes soften and she smiles at him again. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

Shinwoo clears his throat, embarrassed. Her smile widens when she notices his red ears. “Ah, thank you. I- I try.”

“I hope Taekyung is a good boyfriend, too.”

“Yes.” Shinwoo rushes to say and his voice comes out louder than he expects. “Yes,” he closes his eyes, counting to five in his mind, “he is.”

“Good.” She says. She’s still smiling, Shinwoo notices, but her eyes are somewhat sad and, with a heavy heart, Shinwoo notices that she’s mourning.

“He- he is great, the greatest person I’ve ever met.” He confesses. Taekyung’s mother blinks, surprised. “It’s- it’s because of you that I got to meet someone so special,” he takes a deep breath, “thank you.”

When Taekyung comes back from the bathroom, he takes a look at his mother’s red eyes, Shinwoo’s red ears and gives them both a curious look. “What?”

“Nothing.” His mother answers, wiping away her tears. “I’m just really happy you found each other.”

-

+1.

“Why are you crying?” Shinwoo asks as Taekyung sniffs against his chest. “We will still see each other.”

“Not everyday.” Taekyung answers, pulling back and slapping Shinwoo’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t forget me.”

Impossible, he doesn’t say, but Taekyung knows, they’ve talked about this. And it’s not like he isn’t scared either, going to university, meeting new people, learning new things. It is scary. But he trust Taekyung’s feelings, he trusts his own heart.

They will be okay.

“I love you.” He says again, will keep repeating it every day, every year so that Taekyung won’t ever forget or doubt how much he is loved and cherished.

“I love you, too.” Taekyung answers back easily.

#light on me #shinwoo x taekyung #taekyung x shinwoo #my fic #hi hello it me

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight: If Only You Had Compassion

Prompt Creator: @summerssixecho

The bad blood between humans and ghosts was going to come to a head eventually, and when it did everyone was going to get hurt.

Danny sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and leans back against the wall; staring at the news disbelievingly.

They had lost.

Lost the entire goddamn case. Because the American government had officially decided: Ghosts were not sentient. Ghosts were not beings. Ghosts did not have rights. And ghosts were a threat to the country. Meaning any and all instances of ghosts and anything -excluding weapons or other items used to combat, control, or harm ghosts- were illegal to exist, possess, or help.

Danny, they, had gone about this the human way. Had been respectful. And nice. And friendly. And it didn’t fucking work. They extended a hand and got fucking bit.

And of course, anyone who had been fighting for ghosts and their rights and safety were the first ones to come under fire and scrutiny. And with nearly all of Amity Park being on that list, it was no surprise the G.I.W. were coming here and banging on doors at record speed.

What’s worse? Danny had been the loudest voice. Of course he had. He had to be. He was fighting for his own goddamn rights after all; not that the government or his family knew that. But it wasn’t just that. No.

Danny Phantom was King. THE High King. This was something he had to deal with, had to handle. And well... the cards hadn’t landed in his favour. In their favour.

But that wasn’t the end of it, because on top of it, his parents couldn’t understand what he was doing, to the point that Danny had to just get out of that house.

Technically he was homeless now, but well, being a ghost rather negated that. He had a whole dimension if need be and could get by just goddamn fine on the streets.

In the end, Danny had lost pretty well all his respect and love for his parents. They had become the enemy too and he just couldn’t afford room to old sentimentality and dwelling on ‘what could have been’ if they had been better people and parents.

At least Danny had listened to his gut and firmly ordered all the ghosts back into the Infinite Realm. He didn’t have to worry about any full ghosts getting captured, tortured, dissected, and destroyed.

Elle was safely with the residents of the Far Frozen too, so no worries there.

And Vlad... Vlad could look after himself. Last he heard the man fully intended to blow up his entire mansion and lab should the case fall through, purely to stop the G.I.W. from getting their hands on anything. Money only went so far in protecting yourself and your assets after all. Danny didn’t doubt the man’s willingness to do it either.

So that just left Danny. The one who was really the most at risk. He was damn near the face of the case, of the campaign. He was a minor still, limiting his rights even further. His ‘parents’ were hunters, hunters that idolised the G.I.W. and worked with them gladly and eagerly.

And he was a true halfa. Exactly half and half. He couldn’t even hide himself from the Fenton’s janky scanners, hiding wasn’t an option.

But then again, hiding had never even been an option for him. Hiding wasn’t Phantom’s thing, wasn’t the Kings thing. For now though? He lays low. He watches. And he waits. Waits for the Observants to finally back him proper. For FrightKnight to rally and ready. And finally for ClockWork to give him that melancholic face that says there is no other option.

Because Danny played this like a human. Because Danny gave humanity a chance. Because Danny wanted to have faith in people. Because Danny had hoped his goddamn half-beating heart out.

Because Danny was scared. Because he was still a kid. Because he shouldn’t have to pick one or the other. Because he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.

Well now there wasn’t much of a choice. He picked ghosts the day he took that crown. The day he agreed to apprentice under ClockWork instead of the Fenton’s. The day Danny Fenton became just a fabricated mask for Danny Phantom to hide behind.

And now everyone was going to have to play their part. Fulfil their role. Dance out repeating history on the world’s stage. Everyone was going to have to pay a price.

Because when you take away someone’s rights in your own eyes, then they take away yours in theirs.

Because when the government decides someone doesn’t get to exist, and then every other government falls in line because the military powerhouse that is America has decided, then that someone is going to thrash and bite and scream to get to exist.

That’s how its always been.

Survival of the fittest.

And humans? Humans weren’t the fittest by miles.

Because humanity had been given coexistence on a paper. Had been given peace on a paper. And had drawn weapons and scalpels and hate instead.

And for that, this means war.

And not just a skirmish or dispute. No. An all-out bloody war. A massive war. A war beyond anyone’s wildest imaginations or worst dreams.

Because what humanity didn’t know is there were laws that existed. Laws that already governed dead and mortal interaction and travel between the realms. The Oaths and Seals. Older than most of the Ancients and predating nearly all mortal life in the universe.

And one of those Seals states simply that any being of death or life could traverse between Realms freely without harm, threat, or unwilling containment from ruling bodies or any species as a whole.

To say ghosts couldn't exist here. It was such a direct blatant violation. There was no way around that. There really wasn’t. If it wasn’t acted on then it could be overlooked as someone making stupid laws and ignored. But that just wasn’t the case. Wouldn’t be. In that sense it was both blessing and curse that Amity would be targeted first. He had a chance to stop them. To hedge them at the gates.

To cut the Gordian knot.

To meet them at the doors to his lair and tell them what awaited them should they choose to pass. Should they choose to continue a damned and forsaken path.

It would mean revealing himself. Would mean ending the lies and double life. It would mean definitively and finally choosing a side. Choosing ghosts. But it was what had to be.

And if they choose to cross him?

Then it’s game over.

Because Amity was Phantom’s lair. The High Ghost Kings land. His people. His subjects. His. It would be treason. Would be a crime against the High Crown. Against not only the Seals but the Kings Decrees and the Law Of Ages as well. There would be no going back.

The punishment was death. Was absolute subjugation. Was the end of humanity's reign upon the earth.

Because in the eyes of the universe, humanity would have forfeited the right to stand as equals to the dead. They would become lesser and treated as such. Any human who refused to kneel and bow to the Infinite Realm, to him, would be summarily cut down and disposed of.

He didn’t want this. He truly didn’t.

But it wasn’t his choice to make.

It was humanities. The G.I.W.’s.

Danny had very little faith.

But at least he could try. He was a determined bastard to a fault. Even when he should probably give up. When it was probably a lost cause.

This was hopeless now. He knew it. But he had to try and when that failed... then he’ll fight. He’ll fight with a frown and tears screaming down his face. But he’ll damn well fight.

Because that’s who he is. What he is. Because if he doesn’t do this for the ghosts then he’ll do it for the humans he protects.

For Sam and Tucker, both nearly halfas themselves due to UnderGrowth and a past life lived.

For Star, Paulina, Dale, Brittney, Kwan, Ashley, Emilie, Todd, James, Dash, Mikey, Nathan, Rosalia, Jasper, and Carrie, so horribly contaminated by Spectra’s and Bertrand’s experiments.

For Jazz, who’s opinions and field of study made her a ‘threat to humanity’ all the same.

For Valerie, who’s nanobot suit ran on ectoplasm that she could never be separated from without her death.

For Lancer, and Trent, and Remi, and Testlauf, and Ishiyama, who all just knew too much.

For every citizen of his home, his lair. Because the G.I.W. would wipe them all out.

Because he was King.

It does not matter how a king cries nor mourns nor wishes things could be different. Because a king sees his people free before he grasps his own. Because a king knows his people safe before he dares relax. Because a king does not belong to himself but to the people he rules. Because they are the kings children dear and he must see them well. Because it is his duty to do what they can not and pay every price. Because a king can never fall unjustly. Because he is their hopes and dreams.

And though he cries and begs and weeps, his blade hand must stay steady and his sword must strike swift without mercy. Even if he wants to run, every friend and family dear he must be willing to sacrifice if the need arises. Even if that leaves him alone and in pain.

Because that is the cost of the crown.

And now Danny has to pay his dues.

Has to see himself a conqueror to the human world he once protected with everything in him.

He doesn’t want this but this is what the world has given him and he must walk with it.

Into a future that may be filled with hurt and pain. That’ll make him hate every breath he takes or the things he’s seen. Or maybe something beautiful will grow from the ashes. One can only hope.

He sighs and stands. What must be, must be. Running a messy hand through his hair and shaking a spray can. He may as well tag the place where he found things changed before he goes.

Goes to wait on the road.

Wait for the men in white suits to make their arrival.

Wait for the end result of the pain the mortal government chose to wrought.

Wait for Danny Fenton’s ending.

The spray cans psssshh is oddly loud. It hurts his ears.

The FrightKnight meets him outside the alleyway. He nods and Danny nods back. It is done. His army awaits him.

He wishes it didn’t.

He knows the humans have armies of their own. Awaiting retaliation or strike back perhaps. But those armies won’t see war. They won’t do battle or struggle to win. This won’t be two forces meeting to oppose each other. No. It will be more akin to an exterminator coming in with his toxic fumes and spraying down annihilation.

The Dread Army stood four billion strong.

That wasn’t a force humanity could face.

And the Dread were truly non-sentient. Casualties on their side was not of issue or concern. And should humanity somehow persevere and fight back. Then there would be so many more ghostly armies ready and waiting for his regretful and pain-filled command.

He senses the pulse from the Observants, sent out through the Infinite Realm’s ectoplasm and across the threshold of life and death.

They approve. And inside, he weeps.

He traces his fingers on the bricks, walls, and trash cans. Everyone is tucked inside. They know what’s coming as much as he does, just not what comes after. They see this as their end. Danny does too, but for different reasons.

He knows Sam, Tucker, Valerie, and Jazz are all hovering over the extractions waiting for his signal. Waiting to pull his lair into the Infinite Realm. Waiting to save them and leave him behind.

Amity will always be home. But it just won’t be the same. Not for him. He won’t be able to just be another citizen in their eyes or to them anymore. And his friends, they’ll have to look at him knowing that he’s was ultimately directly responsible for the demise of at least thirty percent of humanity.

And he’ll have to get used to that being reflected back at him in the mirror. And refusing to look at all was a weakness he couldn’t allow himself to have.

Stopping at the fountain, its waters reflecting gears and cogs and swaying necks of clocks. As it always had since everything began. As if the water was counting down to the end itself. Only Danny knew that was more fact than fiction.

Water flows like time after all. And no matter what it must continue on. For the sake of life. For the sake of growth. For the sake of time itself continuing on. For the sake of everything.

Danny sits on the edge and it is not his own reflection that greets him, a small mercy, but ClockWork’s.

They look old and tired and worn. Aged by the faults of humanity's actions and inactions. Aged by the weathering storm that is change and its cruelties. But above all else, aged by what they know must be and what they must ask of him.

All is as it should be.

And isn’t that an awful thing.

Danny can only look to the sky tinted faintly green and nod, carrying on his way. Changing everything with every step he takes. Aching more with each breath he takes. And becoming more king than hero with every inch the city limit grows closer.

A hero can fall and rise a king.

But is still a fall all the same.

Because a king does not do what is right. He does not do what is good. What is just. What is kind. He does what he must. Decides what is best.

Humanity decided what was best and lost the bet. They gambled against death.

But death...

Death always wins in the end.

It’s the house we all must rest on. It is the debt collector at the end of every tax season. It is our last breath or a snap of the neck at the end of the noose of our own creation. It is the bullet in the gun that we forged ourselves. It is the black screen left after the credits roll, only ghosts going home.

It was always going to be this way.

What will his ‘parents’ do. Will they die. Will they live. Will they force their way back to the mortal world and seek to strike him down. Will the town or ghosts see them hanged as an example. Will they accept reality and learn. He doesn’t know. In a way he doesn’t want to.

Regardless the town’s edge approaches and he finds himself standing on the precipice of everything he has ever known, everyone he has ever loved, every place that has ever housed him.

And now he steps forward to leave it behind. Says goodbye with resounding footsteps. Mourns the loss as the G.I.W.’s armoured vehicles and containment trucks drive toward him.

Toward death.

He wished they’d stop. Turn back. Change their minds. But knows they won’t.

Ignorance would be bliss.

The most decorated vehicle stops barely feet from him. The officer inside hoping out with a smirk that Danny hates down to the bottom of his guts.

“Well how nice for the worst of them to come greet us. What. Here to turn yourself in for your disgusting crimes against humanity“.

Danny honestly doesn’t care about their words. Not how they’re said nor what is said nor who says them.

It’s meaningless.

Danny shakes his head disappointedly, “I tried. I really tried. So sorry about this. But you leave me no choice”.

The man squints at him. Not that it matters.

Danny looks up at the sky, if he didn’t know better he’d say the clouds were swirling all centred around him and waiting for him to do as he must. As the crown commands. Sighing, “I don’t know why humans must make things so hard for themselves”, and lets his human form melt away without any flashy light show. Green energy pulsing out of his feet and shooting skyward like flaming arrows lighting up the funerary ship seeing a fallen warrior off.

The reaction is immediate. They open fire on him, pausing only when every single high anti-ecto round merely bounces of his green shield; the town behind him shimmering green before vanishing like wet oil wiped off canvas.

Danny shakes his head, “that isn’t how this is going to be. Sorry”, and takes one single step forward. Voice bellowing and sturdy though he feels like shaking apart into sand, “the American government, on behalf of the entirety of the human race, has designated that the ghost species is no longer allowed amongst them or on earth. As such, they, alongside the rest of humanity, have broken the True Kept Equivalent Co-Existence Fault Line Seal of the Exterial law of the Realms. Your options are as follows: revoke your illegal actions and halt your approach or continue on as you are knowing that your actions are an act of war and punishable by the immediate annihilation of thirty percent of humanity followed by the forced subjugation of your entire species. Furthermore, any actions of violence or harm taken against Amity Park, her citizens, or Daniel James Janus Fenton Phantom, will count as an act of treason and war against the High Ghost Sovereign, king of the entirety of the Infinite Realm; and is punishable by immediate death and I do mean your death”.

He stands there and stares. Waits for a response. The men take their time, but eventually...

One of them fires.

“There’s your ‘answer’, you lying ectoplasmic scum”.

Danny bats away the weapon, not even bothering with a shield. They would need nukes if they wanted to so much as scratch him.

He had all the Infinite Realm’s ectoplasm at his fingertips after all. And it sings to be used. To defend its lands and king. To strike down those who must be, for the prosperity and safety of its people.

And Danny gives it that.

He must after all. It is his place.

With merely a flick of his fingers the Dread Army make their debut. Some are here, some are elsewhere. But where ever they may be they bring down destruction and chaos and punishment.

You may think Danny wrong for placing all this on one man’s response, but in truth he, as Phantom, had informed every government of this reality already.

The decision was already made. The choice already set in stone.

He just thought that maybe...

Maybe.

These men before him would have some heart. Some soul. Some sense. Some compassion.

And choose to say no. And refuse to follow orders.

He would rather team up with humanity to stage a coup d’état against their respective governments than what has to transpire now.

The FrightKnight appears and gores the man who dared to fire at Phantom knowing the consequences of doing so. Danny forces himself to watch the man fall, knowing his orders and words and actions were as much the sword that killed him as the one his High Dread Knight wields.

The FrightKnight turns back to him and he knows there is sorrow in his helmeted eyes, for he knows his Knight knows he is not a hardened man nor a man at all.

Just a child with too much weight. Too much hope. Too much asked of him. Too much power at his fingertips. And too much of both life and death.

“Go”.

Danny does as he’s told, as he’s asked. Thankful to have even an ounce of personal responsibility lifted off his shoulders.

Humanity was never going down a good path. Never doing the right thing.

Damning the water they drank with oil and plastics.

Damning the air they breathed with tar and fumes.

Damning the earth that fed them with pavement and poisons.

Damning their fellow neighbouring mortal species with overhunting and stolen lands.

It was only a matter of time before they damned themselves with their ego and actions.

Nothing can survive if it burns every bridge around it.

Especially if the bridge it sets its sights on to burn is the bridge with death.

For only nothing lies where death can not be.

End.

Prompt: After a fierce legal battle to end experimentation on ectoplasmic entities, it's determined that, no, ghosts can't have any rights in the human world and possessing ghostly artifacts, materials, or organisms is illegal. With the GIW enforcing the new laws, starting with Amity Park, how will Danny avoid scrutiny?

#Danny Phantom #phandom #phic phight #phic phight 21 #phic phight 2021 #danny #angst #hurt no comfort #war #giw fucking things up #humanity fucking things up #ghost king danny #drastic action #amity's danny's lair #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker #little more mature one here #murder #gothmoth #thetribalmoth

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 7: finish strong

previous || m.list || playlist

pairing: college hockey player!mark x college figure skater!reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing

author’s note: it’s finally here, the final chapter :’) I’m both sad and relieved as this is my longest written work ever. huge shout out to my beta readers @skiimmiilk and @writing-frog for sticking with me and making this story SO much better. also, please watch this clip which is the choreography being performed in this chapter. I own none of it or the song it is being performed to! with a full heart, I hope you enjoy chapter 7, finish strong (copyright morkleemelon, all rights reserved)

Soft clusters of snowflakes drift all around, brushed up from their pine-tree-seats, swirling a playful circle around the couple sitting by the lake side before settling in their hair. The early morning cold doesn’t seem to bother them as they sit still, mitten in mitten. It’s picturesque, pristine.

You don’t have to be able to see yourself to know this.

“We should head down to warm up soon,” Mark whispers, cozying into your side.

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder, feeling the stray snowflakes melt against your cheek. The two of you had come out to your favorite spot to calm your pre-competition nerves, agreeing to stay until the sun reached the tip of the frosted trees. Undoubtedly, from any angle you so choose to look from, that point has been far surpassed and the happy sun beams gold upon the winter landscape.

Bob Ross would have loved this.

“We should,” you agree reluctantly. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Mark shudders at the cold feeling of your lips on his skin. He crinkles his reddened nose, but doesn’t move to stop your second, your third.

Laughter carries across the frozen expanse as the two of you race back to his car.

One hand on the wheel and the other in yours, Mark does his best to strike up different conversations to distract you. You squeeze his hand in appreciation - if anything, he’s the one who should be more nervous for tonight, being a first time performer and a hockey player and all.

You guess it does make sense since he’s used to being in the spotlight all the time, especially from having biweekly games in front of similar crowds. You weren’t exactly a stranger to being in the spotlight either, but the winter festival at Seoul University tends to be a huge commotion, gathering crowds from all around the city. Families, children, recent graduates to senior alumni all come to fill the campus to the brim and there’s no doubt you’ll have quite the audience to impress.

But it’s thanks to Mark that you have fortunately developed a healthy sense of self-confidence, perhaps even enough to convince yourself that there’s a fifty percent chance your performance will go without catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll finish the routine without breaking your face in front of 15,000 people.

You managed to sneak a look at the competition sign-ups earlier, and unsurprisingly, are the only participant who will be competing with a non-figure skating partner.

Nonetheless, you study your boyfriend’s face unbeknownst to him. The eyes you grew to love so much, trained on the road in front of him. The slope of his nose and the way it connects to his pouty lips, everything, all the way down to the natural determination rooted in his soul makes you have faith in him despite the disadvantaged odds.

Night after night, practice session after practice session, you worked your butts off to perfect the pair skate choreography the best you could.

After the night that Hillary and her accomplice, Seojung, were caught and sent to jail, the two of you had several deep talks, ultimately vowing to keep no more secrets from each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, you agreed that the other would want to know.

Your relationship flourished as you were no longer held back by your anxieties. Public dates, hockey games, sleeping over at each others’ dorms, you let yourself fall one hundred percent into happiness, unfazed by the rest of the world.

Like a dream, the rest of your life slowly fell into place too.

Yuna is doing a lot better. She’s abandoned the crutches, opting to power walk around in only the boot and cast. Ten follows her around like a puppy, carrying her bag and her crutches in case she ever wants them. You’re so proud of her and you’re really glad she has someone like Ten around to dote on her. Every girl should have a simp.

Lisa and Hope were not happy (to say the least) that they did not get to join the gang at ‘the police station party’. Their words, not yours. Lisa threatened to go to the Seoul Police Department to throw hands with Hillary only to find out the two Lovelee’s presidents have been moved elsewhere, to a more isolated confinement, for ‘bad behavior’.

Not my problem.

The court date approached quickly and the jury ruled the two girls would spend their lives in prison without bail. Additionally, the school dean, more afraid of a lawsuit than anything like student lives, abolished the Lovelees fanclub and updated school policy to criminalize such stalking behavior. The eight of you celebrated the amazing news with lots of champagne (without salt this time) and whilst incredibly tipsy, Jeno told Lisa that he liked her.

You don’t want to get into how loud the screaming was in the suite as Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him. The most efficient thing to do is to reveal what all of you received afterwards: four noise complaints.

Mark pulls into the athletic center lot before you know it. He senses your persisting nervousness and turns towards you, enveloping your other hand in his larger ones.

“You are,” he states, shaking your joined hands up and down with every word, “the most beautiful, wonderful, talented woman I’ve ever met”.

You flush in embarrassment, dropping your gaze, but Mark dips his face down to keep eye-contact. He looks so goofy and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says through a smile, “nobody else here deserves to win more than you do. You made our choreography all by yourself and even taught me, a guy who can’t make eggs, how to figure skate. We’ll do our very best, y/n, so whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you and I love you very much”.

An ‘aw’ draws from your lips and you lean forward to press them sweetly against his.

People walk past your parked car, but you don’t pay them any notice.

Actually-

“Mark, I think we really have to go warm up”. You motion to the other skaters entering the open stadium doors.

Grabbing all of your gear, the two of you rush inside to start warming up.

“There are eight pairs and we’re going fifth,” you report to Mark, checking the performance schedule expertly.

“Uh, okay. Yes… is that good?”.

“It’s whatever. We just need to show the audience everything we have,” you say while smushing his cheeks in between your palms.

“Okay”. His voice comes out adorably from his face being sandwiched in your hands.

Other skaters look on judgmentally, but you stare calmly back until they look away. The music from the routine of the current skaters on the ice ends.

“Calling pair five, Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal. Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal,” the overhead announcer repeats.

“That’s us”. You take a deep breath and grab Mark’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you skate out from the benches onto the ice.

It’s only a rehearsal, so only a few people, coaches and other skaters, were watching. Even so, you blink nervously as you run through the routine in your head.

“Are you ready?,” Mark questions with a smile, pulling you into the starting position. Your heart races against your chest, but you take a deep breath to calm it down. After everything you’ve been through, this is not the hill you’ll die on.

“I’m ready”. You nod to the staff members and the familiar tune fills the stadium.

It’s a song that Mark picked out himself. It’s ‘his contribution’ to the group project as he joked when you were contemplating your music choice. Playing the simple song on his phone, one earbud for you and the other for him, he explained that it says everything that he feels for you. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“Twenty minutes and you’re up, group five! Please be on stand-by,” a staff member peeps her head into the locker room as you touch up your hair and makeup.

All around you, skaters bustle around, frantically stitching last-minute sequins back on their dresses or brushing on copious amounts of blush, surely to stand out to even those seated in the back row.

Pair four is about to go out on the ice, meaning you’ll be out there before you know it.

Mark is in the men’s locker room, of course. He must feel odd being the only one there right now. You texted him asking if he needed help with his costume, but he insisted he’d handle it just fine. It’s more you worrying than anything.

Taking your hundredth yoga breath of the day, you peer into your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your long, dark hair is half-up and half-down - loose enough to flow with your skating, but also pinned back so you don’t completely choke on it. Natural makeup adorns your eyes and lips. It’s a much different look than what’d you’d usually go for when skating, but after a lot of careful consideration, it would be much more meaningful both to the performance and to you to go out like this.

Your dress is a stunning royal red. After Uncle Joe told your parents about the competition, they all chipped in to buy it for you to wear tonight. You insisted that it was okay, that it was far too expensive and you could just wear your old one especially since money is so tight, but they wouldn’t let you get another word in.

So now it’s on your body with the price tag cut off. You trace a finger over the intricate sequins of the bodice down to the flowy silk skirt. Trusty white skates already laced up, it’s time to go out and meet Mark.

You start to make your way into the hall.

“Hey y/n, you’re getting a call,” one of the other skaters calls out.

Stopping in your tracks, you hop awkwardly back in your skates, thanking her as you grab your phone from her outstretched hand.

It’s a Facetime call from Yuna.

You pick it up, the screen skipping a few times as the signal struggles to connect.

“y/n!”. Metallic voices on the other side come out distorted and the images are no higher quality than 240p at best, but you recognize instantly that your closest friends are all there sitting in the bleachers.

“y/n, you look so beautiful! Are you next?,” Lisa calls over the other voices.

“No, there’s someone going now, but Mark and I will be right after,” you reply, a smile blooming across your face.

“Markos! Markos! Markos!,” the boys start chanting, evicting laughter from your chest.

“y/n your parents are here too! And Uncle Joe”. The camera pans around, revealing the blurry faces of said loved ones.

“No way! Mom? Dad? Joe?,” you gasp, “how’d you come all the way out here?”.

“Honey!,” your mother greets, beaming at the camera, “of course we came! You worked so hard, your friends have been telling me all about it!”

“And we want to meet this Mark boy too,” your father adds.

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You’re a good one, kiddo,” Joe chimes in, “and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing something spectacular tonight. From the skating I’ve seen so far, you won’t have much trouble at all getting that prize-”

“Joe!,” you hush, “I’m still in the locker room! Don’t say that!”.

Looking around nervously, thankfully nobody seems to have heard Uncle Joe’s criticism.

“Listen everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, it means the world to me. We’ll definitely talk after, but for now, I really gotta go”.

“Okay babe, just wanted to let you know we’re all rooting for you!”. Yuna pulls the camera back to reveal everyone cheering and waving to you. Your heart tingles with butterflies at the gesture. “You’re gonna kill it tonight! Love you!”.

Relaying your affections back, you hang up the call and head out into the hall.

It’s dark. All the lights have been turned off for the sake of the icy stage to stand out more. The curtain less windows provide almost no illumination due to the winter evening nature.

Through the wall, you can hear roaring applause greeting the fourth pair of skaters as they enter the ice. The whole university and more must be here by the sound of it.

“y/n”. Mark’s voice guides your eyes to your right. Squinting through the dark, his familiar form approaches out of the shadows.

“Mark,” you greet back quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

Even in this lighting, your breath draws thin at his appearance. His blonde hair is slicked back instead of tousled in a cute fringe like you’re used to. It’s nothing crazy, but it somehow changes his vibe completely. Your hand feels at his billowy white shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.

“Okay, keep looking at me like this and we’re not making it out there,” Mark mumbles under his breath, smirking slightly as a few stagehands pass by.

You remove your hand only to smack him in the same spot.

“Shut up”

“You love me”

“Yeah, and?”

His familiar giggles tickle your ears.

“Are you Mark and y/n? Pair five?,” a staff member interrupts.

“Oh, yes, that’s us”

“Please head down this way to be on standby. When it’s your time to enter, there will be someone at the gate to usher you in”

“Okay, thank you”. Slipping your hand into Mark’s, the two of you hobble in the direction of the rink entrance. It’s nerve-wracking, but the feeling is so easy to ignore when you’re together with him.

The music of the current performance becomes suddenly louder as you open the door to enter the main part of the stadium. From where you stand (in a random corner by the bleachers), thousands of audience members fill the stands.

The pair on the ice dance together playfully to their energetic piece. Your two teammates, you recognize.

“They’re really good,” you breathe, watching them spin oh-so-synchronously together without missing a beat.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be good too,” Mark states matter-of-factly. You look up at him to meet his gaze, giving his hand a small squeeze in agreement. “And now is as good a time as ever to tell you that I was- and I’m not shitting you- I was standing right here when I saw you for the first time”.

“What?”. You look around at the dark underside of the rink bleachers. The best two adjectives to use for a place like this are ‘dank’ and ‘gross’.

“Yes, I know. Fall of last year, you were practicing at night and I came to do drills. I saw you here and… that was it for me. I dropped my bag and you turned towards me so I completely panicked. I ran away and couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out for a whole year. That’s the truth”.

Mark’s expression is oh so cutely shy and it makes you curl your toes in your skates.

“You complete loser,” you gush over the music, “You should have stayed, asked me out right then and there. Then we would’ve had an extra year together”.

“You’re right,” Mark groans into his hands jokingly. He spreads his fingers to peer through their gap. “But what’s one year of forever, right?”.

“What’s one year of forever,” you echo.

Applause erupts from above you as the skaters finish their routine. The announcer goes over the rules for voting once more, sending them off as they exit the ice.

“Group five, you’re on next. When they announce your names, you’re gonna go through this gate here and when you’re ready, they’re gonna start the music. Any concerns?,” the staff member directs.

“No, thank you,” the two of you shake your heads.

“Okay, this is it,” you state. It’s unclear if it’s directed to yourself or for Mark. In all honesty, it’s to the world.

“This is just one thing, y/n. It’s just one of the many things we’re gonna do together. Let’s just do it how we always do”

He’s always right.

“And now, please welcome our next skaters, sophomore, y/n and her partner, junior, Mark Lee!’.

In the matter of seconds, you’re out of the dark and hit with blinding spotlights from every direction.

Your own thoughts drown out as unseen crowds past the light roar animatedly at your arrival. Raising your arms in the air, hand still laced with Mark’s, the two of you circle around the ice to greet the audience.

“Holy shit, I didn’t get a good look earlier, but y/n, this dress…” Mark remarks, eyes glued on your figure.

“I look beautiful,” you confirm confidently as you stop naturally in the center of the ice. “Are you ready?”.

It’s always like this, rapid fire. As nervous as you are, it's time to go.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the junior hockey captain moves into the starting position.

“I’m always ready for you”

And just like that, the soft strumming of guitar chords overcome the audience ruckus and all you can see is the man in front of you.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Your bodies move on autopilot, muscle memory from countless nights of practice amounting to the flawless execution of your first lift. His hands are strong against your body and you put your full trust in him to catch you every time. The crowd could be screaming right now and you wouldn’t hear it, only focusing on how much the lyrics of this song mean to you.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

You dance in unison, your bodies so familiar with each other. Jumping easily into his arms, you know he can see the love in your eyes as he holds on to balance you by your waist. Hair billowing in the breeze created by your movement, Mark improvises to tuck it back behind your ear.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

And somehow, by the luckiest of stars, he wants to spend the rest of his with you too.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

The song winds down and you express every ounce of romance you have for everyone to see. The two of you aren’t aware, but everyone in the stadium is silent with awe.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

Completely in a trance, the world fades back into your awareness as you kneel down across from each other, out of breath. Mark’s eyes sparkle like stars under the lights and he brings you in for a kiss. You’re exhausted, but you stand and melt into his hug, hardly noticing the standing ovations from all around.

Roses, plushies, and paper planes come raining down. You pull away beaming, heart bursting with joy. Hand-in-hand, you take a bow, waving to the crowd as you catch your breath.

“y/n, you were so amazing,” Mark exemplifies as the two of you exit the ice. Everything passed by so fast. Months of hard work and roller coaster emotions accumulated to the last five minutes, over before you knew it.

“Me? Look at you, mister hockey. I’m so amazed at you,” you commend.

As you enter the hall again, you are met with congratulations and praise from teammates and Mark’s many admirers. Although the Lovelee’s may have been banished already, the crowd of cooing girls never went away.

“You were so good, Mark”

“Yeah, totally, Mark. That was so hot”

Your day was far too great for you to be annoyed at their blunt flirtatious attempts (despite your obvious presence by his side). Before Mark could muster out a flustered ‘thank you’, you decide to rip off the band aid.

“He says thank you!”

With no intention of hearing their replies, you lead him further down to where your friends told you they’d be to meet you.

“y/n”. Coach Tanya makes herself known.

“Coach!”. You bow to her.

Much to your surprise, when you come up, the older woman pulls you into a firm hug. Your shock is apparent at the warm gesture and you hesitate before hugging her back. Never has she ever expressed anything more than terse compliments to you before. This is like drinking ice water on a hot day.

“That was absolutely excellent, y/n,” Tanya pulls away to shake hands with your boyfriend, “and you, Mark is it? You were wonderful for a beginner”.

“Thank you ma’am”. He nods politely.

“But y/n,” your coach turns back to you, “I am stunned at your artistry. The emotion, the technique, you’re one of my best. How would you like to go to nationals in the spring?”.

Your hand shoots up to cover your gaping mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod vigorously to confirm your obvious answer to Tanya’s question.

“No way!” Yuna’s voice sounds from behind your coach’s figure. The blonde emerges shortly after, followed quickly by the rest of the gang. The boys waste no time in tackling Mark with congratulations and sharp jabs at his ‘dumbass’ hairstyle.

“You’re here!”. You wrap your best friend in an excited hug. “Coach is sending me to nationals!”. Lisa and Hope join in squealing as the four of you hop up and down at the news.

Tanya chuckles at the scene, “Yes, indeed. And it looks like you’re getting a lot better, Yuna. That’s a relief”.

“I don’t care what the doctor says, I’m gonna make sure I’m on the ice again one day,” Yuna attests.

Coach Tanya leaves you to celebrate as your parents and Uncle Joe come bearing flowers. Many pictures and one uncomfortable interrogation from your parents for Mark later, you get changed and go out to enjoy the rest of the winter festival with your friends.

The results of the competition are to be announced at the end of the night and you elect to not worry about the outcome. What you’ve earned from this journey is more than money could buy. Anything that happens after… happens. You’ll always find a way to make it through and have a great time doing it too.

All bundled up, you hop around the food trucks lining the city streets. Every restaurant in Seoul seemingly sent all their best foods for the festival: spicy rice cakes and burgers to lava cakes and hot cocoa. Live music creates a perfect ambiance to take away all the tension from the day.

The night sky is pitch black, but the whole city campus bustles with life. You swear you’ve seen this exact scenery in a Hallmark Christmas movie - all the cars and buildings wear their fluffy white snow caps, the sparkle of fairy lights in trees reflecting off their glass windows. Nobody cut the cameras because it’s pure magic.

“Guys they’re having fireworks on the roof of the science building. We can watch them announce the competition winners from there too, let’s go!,” Haechan pleads with a mouth full of steaming fish cakes.

“What do you say, you want to?,” Mark asks you, brushing a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Sounds great,” you smile. Fireworks are always a win.

You weave your way through the crowded street together, heading up the hidden stairwell only students would know to reach the designated rooftop. The whole time you can’t help but let your eyes linger on Jeno and Lisa’s interlocked fingers. The sight sure brings a smirk to your face, but man are you not used to it.

Mark notices your fixed gaze, following it to the odd couple’s joined hands. Snickering, he nudges you to stop staring.

“Sorry, it’s just so… unexpected,” you whisper to him as you head towards the rooftop railing to overlook the campus.

“I know, I didn’t see it coming either,” Mark agrees, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you moon over the breathtaking city line. Your breath makes clouds in the cold, winter air, but you feel warm as ever inside.

Out in the horizon, each blinking, twinkling light is a person living their life. Thousands of stories all at once, blissfully unique and their own. They’re different colors and intensities, some are from windows and some from cars. Overhead, an airplane soars on by. In reality, they’re moving at an incredible speed. But from where you admire, the little red wing lights inch on by, slow to leave your sight.

The world is full, so full. What looks like a tiny red light is a plane full of people and what must look like a speck of gold to them is the whole city of Seoul gathered together. Everything is different when you understand perspective, you realize, and it becomes so much more meaningful.

“Hey, I think that’s the dean! He’s gonna announce the winners of the skating competition!,” Hope taps you excitedly from your other side.

“Oh my god it’s happening”. You grab her hand and shake it around.

Mark’s grip tightens around you as the Seoul University dean steps in front of a podium set up in the school yard. A crowd gathers around, excited whispers travelling all the way up to your rooftop perch. The microphone screeches with feedback causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.

“Sounds like Haechan’s singing voice,” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I heard that!,” the younger boy retorts indignantly. You bite back your laughter as the dean begins to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out this cold night to celebrate what Seoul University is about: unity and…,”

“Blah blah blah - tell us who won!,” Yuna whisper-yells, exasperated.

“You’re so hot when you’re bratty,” Ten coos.

“I know”.

This couple I swear. I’m trying to be nervous, but I can’t even do that when I’m laughing.

“... first annual skating competition here at Seoul University. Our students not only excel in academics, but hold a variety of astounding talents as you folks may have seen tonight at the University rink. Each student did a phenomenal job preparing for this competition, so let’s give a round of applause for all the skaters who performed tonight and the staff who made it happen!”

You clap your hands together nervously, bouncing slightly at the knee to fight the cold.

“One pair, by your vote, will be winning a grand prize of ten thousand dollars for their exceptional performance. After I announce the winners, we will wrap up the night with our famous annual firework show!”.

The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly.

“Without further ado, by popular vote, the winners of the first annual Seoul University skating competition are…,” the dean slits open a closed envelope, unfurling the contained page with excruciating tardiness. Pausing for dramatic effect, the excitement builds in the air, “y/n and Mark Lee!”.

Your names ring triumphantly through the whole city as you’re immediately crushed by seven hugs. The festival-goers roar in congratulations and you can’t hold back the tears of joy that spring into your eyes. Jumping up and down, your friends surround you in a cocoon of screaming and yelling.

Mark snatches you up, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. Pressing a frenzy of kisses all over your face, you squeal in disbelief as he sets you down.

“You did it!,” he yells, sandwiching your cheeks between his hands.

“No, WE did it!,” you yell back, jumping up and hugging him close. Your friends waste no time to shuffle into a group hug, enveloping you like a love-flavored bao.

“y/n! No fucking way! Actually, we all saw it coming,” Yuna smacks your butt as an I-told-you-so gesture. You don’t even mind right now.

“I can’t believe it,” you cry into Mark’s fuzzy, black coat, “I can’t believe it. I- this means I can come back to school next semester”.

“Hell fucking yeah you can,” Haechan whoops.

The freezing air is knocked out of your body as a firework cracks across the sky, the booming sound resonating deep in your bones. Everyone’s attention is turned towards the brilliant shower of purples and pinks as they light up the darkened sky.

Mark sets you down, swiping his sleeves carefully over your cheeks to catch your fallen tears.

“My baby, always crying,” he jokes softly. You breathe out a short laugh as you sniff down your running nose. “But they’re happy tears, right?”.

“The happiest,” you nod, resting your ear to his chest as the two of you marvel at the shimmering sky. An especially big firework sets off, smaller ones following all around, drawing awed gasps from all who see.

“I love you,” you mumble.

“I love you too,” Mark hushes into your hair.

“I love this. I love today. I love this school. I love Yuna. I love Hope. I love Lisa. I love Jeno and Haechan. I love my parents and Uncle Joe. I love Coach Tanya and I love skating”.

You pause your rapid-fire declaration as you turn to face him. In his eyes, you can see the whole firework show.

“I love these fireworks and I love everyone who came to see us skate. I loved meeting you all those months ago by the basketball courts and I loved getting hit on at Yangyang’s party so we had our almost-first kiss by the lake”. You choke back a happy sob as you continue.

Mark has his eyes closed with a wide smile spread across his lips as he recollects the memories.

“I love going to church with you and I love when you pick me up from work. I love how you always zip up my jacket without asking and how you never wake me up early in the mornings because you know how much I hate it. You’re always there for me, Mark Lee”.

Fresh tears dribble down your chin and although he remains in pensive silence, shining streaks adorn his face too. You don’t notice it, but your friends have stepped back to let you have a private moment.

“Oh, y/n”. Mark’s voice comes out thick, swallowing back tears. His hand caresses at your face and it’s ever so warm. Moments pass before he’s able to continue. “Always”.

And you don’t need a fairy tale narrator to tell you that his promise is true for you to believe it with your whole heart. You’re here with him, fireworks all around, and it’s as true as the plane in the sky and the lights in the horizon.

You’re surrounded by friends, new and old, and most importantly, friends who are here to stick around.

You were wrong in the beginning: this wasn’t a story about how two souls come together.

It wasn’t only two, you see. It was you and Mark and all your friends and the professors you say ‘thank you’ to after class and the man who sells you green tea in the morning. It’s your parents and Uncle Joe and the stranger girl who fell in love with your skating tonight, sure to beg her parents for a pair of skates. The first of many.

It’s all of them and so much more.

And god, you’re so in love with who they’ve shaped you to be.

#czennet #neowritingsnet #kdiarynet #nctcreations #ultkpop #neohours #dreamwritersnet #mark lee #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct mark #kpop #nct fluff #mark lee x you #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n #nct x y/n #nct x reader #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #mark lee fanfiction #mark lee fanfic #nct au #nct series #kpop series

[7ven-devils]

A really long overanlysis of minecraft servers.

This will be my only warning, this shit is really long.

I promised this to @ivi-prism 2 weeks ago (hi, i am Svetla) but university said no and then i feel my notes were incomplete so i have to do more research.

So let's talk about anarchism and capitalism. As a future political scientist, really bugs me how the fandom and some content creators (im looking at you techno) misinterpret both theories.

Yeah this will be a overanalysis about the political, social and economic system of two minecraft servers. Why? Cause i like analysis things like this and finally i can solved what is the system of hermitcraft and thats make me happy.

Things to consider:

First im not native english speaker and im lazy so im not often write or talk in english so my typos can make Doc really proud.

Second i don't watch Dsmp i only know things about the server by the animatics, the constant information wich pop up here on tumblr, the crossover fanfics and the tiny vods that youtube insist play when i have activate automatic reproduction.

Third i tried to simplified this much as i can because this analysis i maded talking with my friends (also political scientists) and a former professor, so it got quite technical while i was writing it.

And finally don't take this seriously, I'm not trying to insult anyone, I only started this because the hermitfandom started saying that hermitcraft was capitalist and then everyone started comparing the Dsmp with hermitcraft saying anarchism vs capitalism, that's why the dsmp entered into this analysis.

Guys, seriously chaos isn't anarchism and "sucefully economic" isn't capitalism, even paid with "money" (diamonds in this case) isnt necessary capitalism.

First, mini glossary:

I understand a server like a Society/State (country) with Mr Weber definition. In really vague words a State is anyone that has a territory and has legal control of violence (the laws, no the abuse of authority).

I understand the private property as the hermits bases and/or shops (i suppose only base in dsmp? Idk)

I understand the mass production as the farms and resources.

Capitalism is a economic, politic and social theory, wich it considers private property essential and tends to monopolize the resources 'cause this it also considered private property.

Anarchy means "without government" it has its origin in the Ancient Greece. And Anarchism theory is just a society free from any political authority, but respecting the liberties of the others.

A Failed State is which one lose control of the legal violence, and can't provide the peace, essential human rights and the basics for a normal lifestyle to its people.

I think thats all the bored shit (i hope so). Now the interesting shit.

Why hermitcraft isnt capitalist?

Short answer, their idea of private property is not the same as capitalism has.

Long answer, even if they have their own stuff, they had a really strong sense of community and dont really care if someone take things from them.

We can see this in the beginning of season when Iskall take some mini blocks from Etho and he didn't really care (yeah, iskall "paid" him, but later i will explain this) or the multiple times Grian "borrow" things from Iskall and Mumbo in season 6 or Scar in season 7, the team ZIT constantly take things from each other and i can go on and on with examples, but the point here is this couldn't happen if they had a capitalist society because this would break the "private" part of private property and mass production.

Basically their friendship made so strong their sense of community that they are basically inmune to capitalism, Uncle Marx would be proud of them (not really, but would be funny). So they are communist? Nope, communist don't believe in private property and the hermits does.

But you just said-? I said they dont has the SAME idea of private property as capitalism does. They still have their bases, farms and shops, but for them their private property isnt sacred like in a capitalism system would be.

They're respect each other things because they appreciated the effort and values the time the person puts on their buildings and not only because doesn't belongs to them (and obviously cause theyre frends, but shush, this is a overanalysis, the obvious things doesn't have place here) i mean even for the shenanigans they are really polite and try to cause the least damage possible not because is not of them but because they valued the person.

Basically the famous honor code of hermitcraft.

What about the economic system and the shopping district?

Lets talk about the elephant in the room.

If Hermitcraft isnt a capitalist system, why they have a economic system based in diamonds?

Well, despite the exchange based in money for resources or services is a principal characteristic of capitalism, it isnt exclusive of that theory.

The money is a social consensus, cause barter has becomes obsolete and gold isnt cheap or infinite to use as payment. And basically, this is why we use money on this days (if you want to know the history of money ask to your trusted historian or Wikipedia).

What does this remind us? Yep, diamonds and iou's are a consensus too. When the 1.16 came out some hermits tried to change to netherite as payment and didn't suit, so they ignored it and continued with their current payment system.

And as much as Mr Smith likes to say that this is how the free market (and his stupid invisible hand) works, capitalism needs the monopoly of resources and people who works to pay for those resources.

But in Hermitcraft nobody really controlled the resources, anyone can go and collect their materials or made a farm. They just decided don't do it and go and buy it, because they save the time to go and collect for themselves, in other words they paid for the time.

Various hermits say they saved so much time go and buy the materials instead to collect themself or trade with the villagers (cause theyre the worst and all of us know it) thats why the barge and lookie lookie at my bookie are so profitable.

The shopping district it wasn't a thing before season 4, i dont really sure how it worked before, because i started watch in season six and sadly i have a boring adult life to saw the old seasons, but i assume it works in the same way that the trades the hermits does between them to accord a discount or a collab, and speak directly with the interested hermit or directly take it and pays what's considered it was fair, like iskall did with etho.

Like i said all what's happen in hermitcraft is a consensus, even the shopping district.

So yeah, that isnt a thing that would happen in a capitalism system, probably you would be dead, because "how are you dare to entered to my property", or in the jail, "because thats not yours".

So, what is hermitcraft?

For the surprise from much of you, Hermitcraft has an anarchist system.

What?! But their server is so peaceful, they don't steal from each other, they doesn't griefing, hows that possible?!

Well, the anarchism isn't really a violent political theory, at least in its beginning, actually anarchism is one of the most peaceful theories i studied, thats why i dont really thing it will worked in our society, but work in a server of 24 friends. Its too idealist.

I don't really study all of the thoughts corrents of anarchism because they are a lot. But the one we are interested is one of original thought corrent, The Mutualism, this in contrast with their cousin Communism doesn't believes the private property was something bad and considered like one of the rights from the individual, but different as capitalism because like i said before it wasn't sacred and communal things will exist to help others to start or recover.

Proudhon, one of it intellectuals, considered not paid for the work of the other it was a form to violate their liberties and feel horrofied with Marx when he said we have to abolish the private property.

The mutualists believes that each person should possess a means of production, either individually or collectively, and the products obtained would be trade in the market for the amount equivalent of their work.

This sound familiar, isnt it? Hermitcraft works in this way.

The thing with anarchism is they don't believes in a government over the people. And the hermits doesn't have one, yeah there's Scar being the mayor, but he isnt have a power over the rest and only is in charge of the "cowmercial district" even aquatown isn't part of his jurisdiction, his function is more of organization, like when we put a friend in charge to organizing part of a roadtrip.

It's the same with Xisuma figure, we all put him in a position of the admin of hermitcraft, but the truth is he isnt the only one with admin commands (but apparently some or all of them losed their admin status, at least in one of the last tango's streams, he hasnt it anymore) and various hermits said that he is more like an ambassador of them in the legal things of the server.

The hermits take all of they decisions in group and in the majority of things all of them needs to be agreed with the decision or they simple doesn't do it. And this is a characteristic of the mutualism because for them anyone are over the other.

And if you aren't already bored at this point and you put attention to what i wrote of the concept of private property in the mutualism, you would see it is practically the way hermitcraft works. They make their bases and farms, recolect resources and sell what they don't will use, buy mostly to save time and paid for the price what they considered fair. Yeah i know sometimes they do some farm specifically for one shop, but this is more "yeah, this is my thing" (Tango and Iron; Ren and wood) or a division of activities "if you do that, i do this".

The perfect utopia.

What about the Dsmp?

If you do it to here, congratulations.

So what about the Dsmp, i entered here because i want to read of them and the only thing i read was about hermitcraft.

Well, the Dsmp only entered in the equation because much of you said they were an anarchist server, but i see it more like a "failed state" and when i was talked with an exprofessor he agreed with me.

I know the term of failed state is controversial and is almost obsolete, but is the best way to describe the server and stop said it is anarchist.

So why failed state and not an anarchist state? Because they have a government (or apparently multiples) a failed one, but is there, if it were an anarchist server wouldn't have one.

Usually the failed states are known for being violent and volatile places in which ones their governments can't provides the basics to their people to live, normally are places with ethnics conflicts, civil wars, authoritarian governments or states in wars. The most common examples are Haití, Somalia or Syria.

And i am sure you can see the similarities with the Dsmp, so yeah, theyre chaotic but not anarchist.

The wars ruined the stability from the server, have a multiple sides and a megalomaniac for admin, but the goverment still there and they are fighting for the power wich wouldn't happen if the server were anarchist because anarchism don't believe the power should be possess for someone.

The server simply is failed state wich struggles under a violent fight for power.

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

If you read this far, you're a hero and had my gratitude for read my useless thoughts. Maybe some day i do it other overanalysis of this servers. I hope you enjoyed and dont confused so much.

Thanks for read.

And if there are some angry economist with me for "misrepresent" the capitalist i am completely open to a debate, my only condition is it would be in chilean spanish ;)

#hc x dsmp #hermitcraft #dream smp #mcytblr #long post #reaaaally long #estupido sobreanalisis de cosas que no necesitan una segunda lectura #this post is edited cause apparently it author doesnt know how to use tumblr eve if she's here since 2010

[moonlightserenadeeznutz]

Top Surgery

Oneshot about (trans) Remus Lupin getting top surgery. Bit of wolfstar as well.

Disclaimer: To all my trans boys/trans masc people reading this. You are no less trans, nor are you no less male/masculine if you decide against top surgery, or if you don’t/can’t get top surgery. This goes for bottom surgery, binding, hormones, etc. Your body doesn’t define your gender, nor does what you decide to do with it. <3 ~ Remus wasn’t allowed to get top surgery until he was seventeen. Well... “top surgery” was the muggle name for it. In the wizarding world, a simple spell would do the trick. But there was a law in the wizarding world stating that parts of the body weren’t allowed to be removed from an underage wizard or witch unless said body part was detrimental to the child’s life, say, an unfixable limb, or a gangrenous leg. And despite Remus’ adamance that his chest was a detriment, specifically to his mental health, (when would the wizarding world take mental health seriously? He regularly thought to himself), the law disagreed. So he had to wait until he was of age.

In the meantime, he simply wore a shirt with a binding charm put upon it, which did the trick to make his chest look flat with his clothes on, but he was desperate to just be able to take his shirt off, in the hot weather or in bed. He forwent ever swimming in the lake with his friends because he couldn’t swim with his binder on, but he didn’t want his chest to be noticeable. So he had to sit by the edge of the lake instead, his feet dipped in and his friends splashing at him from within the water.

Another problem Remus faced was that, even when he did turn seventeen, he had no idea where to go to get top surgery. He lived in 1970s Britain. There were simply no resources, muggle or wizarding, and he didn’t have the money anyway. And Madam Pomfrey couldn’t do it. She was a school nurse, she wasn’t allowed to perform procedures. She could only give out potions and fix up bones. Procedures were for St Mungos. And St Mungos didn’t have top surgery as an option.

The days leading up to Remus’s seventeenth birthday made him rather depressed. He’d soon be of age, but it wouldn’t make any difference. He was stuck. Stuck in the wrong body, and there was nothing he could do.

Of course, he had been on hormones since second year, or at least the wizarding version of hormones, which was just a transfiguration potion, and luckily for him, it wasn’t against wizarding law as long as he had his parents’ permission, which he did. And the potion had changed his body considerably. His voice deepened, he had facial hair and he tried hard to work out so he had abs and muscles, which he knew wasn’t exactly necessary, and he didn’t go overboard, but really he was just trying to offset the dysphoria he got from his chest by making the rest of him look as masculine as possible.

He was in a similar situation with bottom dysphoria, but at least he was able to hide it. Getting surgery for that wasn’t as pressing as his chest, and because of the potion he at least didn’t have to worry about his periods anymore.

Compared to Remus’s misery before his seventeenth birthday, Sirius, James and Peter were clearly happy about something, but they wouldn’t tell him what it was, even when he threatened to hex them; a threat he regularly used but never went through with, so it didn’t do much to get them to talk.

But he soon found out what they were whispering about on the day of his seventeenth. Sirius handed him an envelope, unlabelled, and said “It’s from all of us.”

“You know, for two rich people, you guys can be real cheapskates.” They just continued smiling expectantly until Remus opened up the envelope and looked inside.

There wasn’t a card like he was expecting, but some sort of advertisement, or pamphlet. He read through it, and his eyebrows knitted together as he read further down the page. The ad was for a wizarding clinic, specifically aimed at trans wizards and witches. It was set up by a guy named Gray Jacobson, who was a trained Healer, and trans himself, and offered all different kinds of things, including top surgery.

“I... don’t get it?” Said Remus eventually, pushing down any hope that was making its way up through his body.

“What’s not to get?” Exclaimed Sirius, no longer containing his excitement. “It’s a secret clinic, away from the ministry and St Mungos and shit, and surgery is affordable. Free even, if you really can’t pay. But don’t worry about that, because we all chipped in-” he was talking a mile a minute.

“Woah, woah, slow down, Padfoot,” interrupted Remus. ““How do you know this clinic is trustworthy.”

“If we didn’t think it was trustworthy, mate, we wouldn’t have shown it to you,” said James. “We’ve been researching it for months, Sirius and I even visited it last half term. The guy, Gray, is really nice. He told us all about it. He can tell you as well. The procedure for getting rid of your chest is so easy. Takes a few minutes, then you have to take a potion every night for a week until you’re all healed up. But then it’s done! No more chest!”

“No more binding!” Grinned Sirius. No more chest. No more binding. God it sounded brilliant. Too good to be true.

“Really?” Was all Remus could manage.

~ Half term was already upon them, so Remus and his friends were able to visit the clinic the next day. And James and Sirius had been right, Gray was very nice. And Remus loved meeting someone else like him. He’d never met another trans man before, and Gray gave him hope for his future. The man seemed happy, content. Remus wanted that.

It didn’t take long for Remus to view the place as perfectly legit, even with his usual paranoid, distrusting self. And according to Gray, the spell really did only take a few minutes, even if he did have to be placed under a sleeping charm while it happened, and he wouldn’t be able to see his chest until a week later. That didn’t bother him at all. What was a week after six years of waiting?

He booked the next appointment for the following Monday, and he really couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this excited. When he left the clinic, Sirius immediately hugged him, and James joined in, until Remus couldn’t even move under their combined weight.

~ The day of the appointment, Remus was nervous. Excited, but nervous. His friends had all agreed that it would be a little overwhelming if they all came with him, so it was decided that Sirius was to be the one to accompany Remus. He was Remus’s boyfriend after all, and besides, wild centaurs couldn’t stop Sirius from being there to support his best friend.

Remus didn’t know what to wear, and he couldn’t help but feel very self conscious at exposing his chest, even for a few minutes. But it was the price he had to pay, and he chose a button up shirt and jeans. Nothing special.

“Here’s the sleeping potion,” said Gray, handing Remus a bottle of silvery liquid. “You’ll be asleep in a matter of minutes, and then awake in another matter of minutes. The only difference is, when you wake up, there’ll sure be a huge weight off your chest.” Sirius snorted from behind the man, and even Remus grinned at the stupid joke. It was definitely something his friends would say.

They were in the clinic now; they’d arrived around twenty minutes ago, and hadn’t needed to wait that long. Sirius held Remus’s hand the entire time, though he seemed to be more nervous than Remus was. Remus was nervous, but the nearer the surgery came to actually happening, the more impatient he felt. He wanted this to be over with, so he could finally feel like himself.

Remus uncapped the potion and drunk it down in one, and within seconds he started to feel light headed and drowsy. Gray helped him to lie back on the bed that he was sitting on, and the last thing he saw before falling asleep was Sirius giving him a very cheesy double thumbs up.

Somehow, within only a few minutes, his brain managed to conjure up what felt like hours of dreaming, although it was so nonsensical that Remus couldn’t make heads nor tails off it, and by the time he’d woken up, he couldn’t remember anything.

It took him some time to come round properly, drowsy as he was, but when the fog from his head finally cleared, he immediately looked down at his chest.

It was wrapped up in bandages, but one thing was certain: his chest was flat.

He ran his hand across the bandages. Yup. Absolutely flat. He almost started crying right then and there.

“Hello, love,” greeted Sirius, seeing that Remus was now awake. Remus stared up at him.

“It’s flat,” he croaked. Sirius grinned.

“It sure is.” Gray walked over to them. He’d been tinkering around with some vials, and he handed one to Remus.

“Take a sip of this every night for a week, it will help your chest to heal fully. Then you can remove the bandages. And if you need anything else, any help, or you have any questions, you know where I am.”

“Thank you.” Remus hoped the man could see just how grateful he was, as he was unable to form full sentences for the moment, the affects of the sleeping potion still lingering. But Gray let him and Sirius go on their way, and like last time with James, Sirius waited until they were out of the clinic, this time using the floo network in the clinic’s fireplace to take them home to their tiny apartment, to throw his arms around Remus. This was it for Remus, and he couldn’t stop himself from breaking down in tears. Good tear of course. Happy tears. If this was what he was like now, he’d be a wreck after a week.

And if Remus was impatient before, he certainly was now. Sirius had to constantly stop him from trying to unwind his bandages early.

“Keep doing that and I will personally pin you to the ground,” Sirius warned.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“In this instance it is solely a threat.”

“Fine.”

After what felt like years, the week was finally drawing to a close. And James, Lily and Peter arrived to see the big reveal. It was an audience that made Remus feel a little self conscious, but a part of him didn’t want them to miss this.

They were all crammed into the bathroom, the only place in the apartment that had a mirror. Rather than cutting off the bandages with magic, immediately revealing his chest, he opted for unwinding them by hand. His nervousness had returned to replace his impatience and he wanted to take it slowly.

As the last bandages fell away, he started into the mirror, and his friends cheered beside him. His chest was completely flat, and it looked exactly how he wanted it to look. It was a chest that could be shown off. A chest he could take a shirt off of and go swimming with. Finally. He never had to wear his binder again. He’d never smiled this much in his life, and it only faltered as he tried not to once again start crying. He failed. Sirius went over to kiss him, and soon all his friends were hugging him.

And the first thing he did when half term ended and lessons at Hogwarts were let out for lunchtime, was take his shirt off, and go swimming in the lake with his friends.

#trans remus #ftm remus lupin #remus lupin #wolfstar #top surgery #gender dysphoria #chest dysphoria #harry potter #sirius x remus #remus lupin oneshot

[j-wont-stop]

The Scarred (Chapter Five)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Five)

Word Count - 2156

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - Panic attack, murder, cussing

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

The vase fell from her hands, the shattering glass echoing through the hall. Penelope’s mind grew petrified as she stared at the card sitting in the mess of glass, water and flowers. She fell back against her door frame, her breathing sharp and fast as she began to hyperventilate. She gripped onto the front of her bra to pull it away from her chest, looking for any kind of relief, any way to find space for her to breathe properly. Yet it did nothing. She knew she was making a scene, and she wanted so badly to hide away in her apartment. But what about the mess? She asked herself amid the chaos. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the ambience around her.

“’Scuse me-?” Penelope shot straight up, eye frantically darting towards the new voice. A tall, slim man stood before her, hands held out in front of him as an offering of peace. “Apologies, I didn’ mean to alarm ye. Are ye alrigh’?” His bright eyes held a gentleness in them, the same as his voice. It was soothing in a way she had never before experienced. It was hardly able to calm her, however, in her panicked state. “Righ’, dumb question…” He mumbled to himself, glancing between Penelope and her welcome mat. “I’ll clean this up righ’ quick fer ye, tha’ alrigh’?” She gave the smallest nod, letting go of her bra to wipe the tears from her face as he disappeared.

She closed her eye, grounding in an attempt to compose herself. Never had she broken down in front of a stranger. And never had she felt more humiliated by it. Her eye snapped back open when she heard the sound of a plastic bag, eyeing the man warily as he walked back to start picking up the glass shards. He noticed how her breathing had only slightly improved, but it was progress.

“Why are you helping me?” The sound of her voice caught him off guard as he continued picking up the pieces.

“Juss doin’ my duty.”

“In Gotham?” The man sighed and looked up at her from where he was crouched on the floor.

“‘Ard as it is to believe, miss, not erryone in this city is a crook.” It wasn’t until then that she noticed his thick accent. It was a surprise to her, however one she greatly accepted. She felt childish for it, but she was excited as it was her first time meeting someone with one. “Ye wann’ keep this?” He asked, holding the Joker card between his index and middle fingers. She hesitated before reaching to grab it. “Now, I’m not all tha’ superstitious,” He stood up with a huff. “But if tha’ is a genuine Joker card, I’d watch out if I were ye. Yer either really lucky, er ‘bout to be really dead.” He noticed the growing fright in her eyes. “Or! Some guy is juss actin’ the maggot and playin’ wit’ ye.”

“People were scared enough to impersonate Batman, I don’t think they’d dare to impersonate The Joker himself.”

“Then pray yer juss really lucky.” He spoke in a softer tone. He began to tie the bag as she continued to carefully watch him. “I don’t believe I’ve caught yer name yet?”

“Penelope.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Bishop.”

“Penelope?” The name left his lips in curiosity. “Tha’s a new one.” Her eye shifted to the ground. “Bu’ it’s refreshin’.” The man offered her a friendly smile, but her expression remained constant. “Liam Garson. Juss moved in couple a doors down.” He pointed off to his left.

“Why?” He threw her a confused look. “I mean, why Gotham?”

“Oh!” Liam chuckled. “Well, why not? Barely any restrictions with the mob and cops runnin’ ‘round lie’ chickens wit’ their ’eds cut off. Sure, muggers an’ the lie’ crawl abou’, but tha’s the price ye pay fer freedom, righ’?” He contained himself from beaming when she gave the ghost of a smile.

“Well, I see where your morals lie, Mr. Garson.”

“Liam.” He jested. “An’ I may lack some, but I’m better off than over ‘alf the boyos ‘ere.”

“’Boyos’?” Penelope gave a small chuckle.

“Males, juveniles, youngins.” She nodded in understanding. “Well, I’ll let ye be. Juss wanted to check on ye and make sure ye were alrigh’.” He started to back away. “If ye need anythin’, I’m in 329.” With a final salute, he disappeared into his own apartment. Penelope slowly turned around to head into her own, closing her door softly.

She looked down at the card caught in her nimble fingers. She couldn’t help the jolt that rushed through her body when she realized that if it was his card, he knew where she was. He knew who she was. She was somebody to him and she wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified. It made her start to question her own morals. Any other person wouldn’t even think to be flattered, so why would she?

He was a murderer, a psychopath who wanted nothing more than to watch the city burn. And yet she had half a mind to consider being flattered. Really lucky or really dead. Why would she be dead? Had she angered someone without her knowing?

She froze.

“The boss.” She whispered to herself in realization. The bald man worked for The Joker. Which meant he knew where she worked. How much else did he know? Who all knew? How many people were following her? Question after question ran through her head and it was almost unbearable. She didn’t know what she even did to be on his radar in the first place.

“-patrolling the streets trying to trace his whereabouts for the time being, but so far-“ The news anchor’s voice hummed softly from her TV and she practically ran over to it, snatching the remote from the coffee table to turn up the volume.

“Well, John, I think it’s safe to say that The Joker’s escape is truly devastating for the people of Gotham. Not only in the sense that he has escaped, but it gives the chance for other criminals to wreak havoc on the city knowing that Batman will once again be busy with him.” The woman on the other line spoke. Penelope scoffed at her words.

“Way to give them ideas.” She mumbled to herself with a wide eye.

“Let’s just hope that Batman is able to do what he does best, and fast. Cause-“ Penelope switched the TV off, having heard enough of it. It upset her that the city was putting their faith in a masked man, that none of them had the nerve to do something themselves. That they couldn’t even rely on their own first responders. That she couldn’t rely on first responders.

She began to peel off her bandages, dragging her feet towards her bathroom. So much had happened in only a week and it all started to catch up to her, her head starting to pound from it all. The note. The glass. The bald man offering her a large sum of money for just a vase of flowers, finding out he worked for The Joker, finding out The Joker had been tracking her for who knows how long.

Penelope reached into her medicine cabinet for pain killers, deciding on taking two with a glass of water. Finally she laid down on her bed, snuggling up to her great fuzzy blanket with her eyes closed in an attempt to fall asleep. She briefly thought about telling Emma, but if she truly was dealing with The Joker, she wanted her involved as little as possible. For her safety. She thought to herself in reassurance before sleep took over.

———————————————————————

The sounds of rushing water and seagulls filled the air around her, the occasional pair of footsteps passing by that she grew wary of from time to time. The sun began to disappear in the horizon, painting the sky with breathtaking shades of pink and orange on the rare cloudless evening. Music played softly from her phone that sat on one side of her, her dinner left half eaten on the other. Her short legs dangled lightly over the ledge as she watched from the pier. It was almost tradition on warmer nights, seeing it as a rarity. It would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the littered concrete and occasional plastic bag that floated by as a reminder of where she was. Along with the gun that clicked from behind her.

“I’d say just jump and save me the work, but then I wouldn’t get your money.” A gruff voice spoke. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare turn her head or flinch a finger. Her heart rate picked up, stomach churning. “Well?” The man urged, losing patience.

“I-I don’t have any.”

“How’d you get that nice dinner, then, huh?”

“Been saving up for it.” A lie. The man just chuckled.

“Alright. How about you get off of there, put your hands up, and then face me. Slow.”

“I-I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t raise my hands.” She told him as she awkwardly turned around on the ledge.

“Alright, enough talking-“ The man halted, red quickly seeping through his jacket. Blood dribbled down his chin. She watched in horror as he collapsed.

“I agree.” Penelope looked up to see the man who had helped her the day before. He walked around the mugger towards her, bloodied switchblade in hand. When he saw her flinch he slowed his pace, tucking away the weapon to make her more comfortable.

“Y-you just-“ She spoke frantically, pointing towards the now dead body with a shaky hand.

“Killed a man?” She nodded quickly. He tilted his head dismissively. “Aye. The bastard ‘ad it comin’.” She shied away from him as he took a seat next to her, arms folded. “Relax, miss. I juss saved yer life, did I not?” He looked over at her to see her chewing on her cheek.

“Why?”

“‘Why’ what? Why did I do it-?”

“Yes.” He hesitated for a moment.

“Why not?” The man shrugged. “Was either he killed you or I killed ‘im, an’ I wouldn’t dare let such a beautiful woman go to waste lie’ tha’.” Penelope scrunched her nose and scoffed.

“Beautiful woman…” She mumbled to herself. “If you think I’m easily won over by flattery, you’re wrong.”

“With all due respect, miss, I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout fer meself.” The brunette noticed her eye take on a more gentle stare. He sighed, scratching at his beard.

“Why’re you here?” She asked, rubbing her left arm.

“I could ask ye the same question.” Penelope looked at him quizzically.

“Dinner.” Liam nodded.

“Was on a walk. ‘Eard the ruckus. Came to see what was ‘appenin’.”

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Aye. It sure is. A damn good one, if I do say so meself.” Silence fell between the two of them, however it was peaceful. Penelope quite enjoyed it. “If ye don’t mind me askin’,” Liam broke in. “What do ye plan on doin’ wit’ this Joker business? Assumin’ it’s not too late already. I mean, ‘ave ye told anybody?” She shook her head, focusing on her breathing.

“I haven’t.” Penelope swallowed as Liam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Ye ‘aven’t? Well, why not? Not even the cops?”

“What’ll they do?” She finally looked up at him. “What will they do? You’re the one that was saying yesterday that they’re all running around like chickens with their heads cut off.“ She began to rant, everything starting to catch up to her. Her eye began to glisten as it watered over. “And if they can’t help me, who can? Certainly not Batman!“ She spit the masked man’s name with venom. “They couldn’t even keep him behind bars to keep the city safe! Why the hell would they care to keep The Joker from coming for just a single person, a nobody, from coming for me-!”

“Miss!” Liam held onto her shoulders, keeping her steady. In a moment of desperation, she clung to him, and once again she caught him off guard as she started to break down for the second time. He began to gently stroke her back and sighed. “Ye’ve been dealing wit’ this a while now, ‘aven’t ye?” He spoke just above a whisper and he felt a shift in her head, a confirmation. A van sat in the distance, tinted windows making it impossible to see through. It was cracked enough for him to see who was in it and he made eye contact with a pair of almost pure black eyes, giving them a faint nod.

#ledger joker x oc #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #heath ledger x oc #heath ledger x reader #heath ledger #the joker x oc #the joker x reader #the joker #joker x oc #joker x reader #joker #batman #the dark knight #fan fiction #dc

[thelostmadrigals]

⌛🫓🦋🔥≻|| Price We Pay For Family  ||≺🔥🦋🫓⌛

Chapter 4: Camila

Camila was by no means a completely innocent woman when it came to the fate of life. She had stolen a few things, mostly fruit, and skimmed a little money from her eldest brother when things had gotten tight at the lodge when he thought as a family member, he did not need to pay for food or the room he stayed in. Her father had allowed it but an unpaying extra mouth to feed was an unwanted strain.

She had taken what she had needed and kept a close eye on those she served. Most were honest customers and so, she knew their ticks and habits better than those hiding something.

A hooded man with a little girl was not enough to be suspicious but she knew the ticks of someone who was nervous and hiding something. A Tio with a Sobrina was not uncommon either with lost and broken families.

It was his inexperience that waved the red warning flags in her mind as she had served them breakfast. No mistake of course of the clear bond between them, that this wasn’t just a stranger to pick up a random child and told her to keep up a story. Perhaps they were Tio and Sobrina. Kidnappings happened more commonly between family members than strangers.

But why?

Camila though put the price up purposely to include the horse’s hospitality, those who had been here long enough knew it was free but newcomers didn’t know that. It just showed her what she needed to know; he had very little money if he was that worried about it. It only verified this was not a long-term idea he had boiling. Grab some money, grab the child sort of vibe to it.

Camila watched as Madrigal led his Sobrina away, the girl so bubby and bouncy as they walked that the man was having difficulty keeping her on a straight path. It almost made her smile.

“What’s with you and the newcomer?” A voice gruffed as she set down the pile of paperwork down on the table behind the walls, private from the rest of the lodge

Camelia didn’t look up though her father sat down. “Mild concerns, nothing more.” She did need more information before she’d get the police involved if it came to that.

Her father was a tall, big man with long brown hair pulled from his tanned face, a thick moustache concealed a lot of his mouth, his eyes twinkling softly as he pulled her work from her and set it in front of him.

“Concerns?” He peered at the latest receipt. “You’re charging him with horse fees, Hija”

Camila reached forwards, plucking the paper from his fingers. “Just getting his reaction, Papa.”

“Why?”

Camila stalled for a moment, lips pursing together.

“Let me guess, part of your concerns?” Papa questioned, “He doesn’t look malicious.”

That, Camila, could agree with. Madrigal was an attractive twig under that ruana with too many tells. She was curious.

“I’m just…concerned with how and why he had his Sobrina, let alone in their state of financial affairs and… long-distance travel.” She admitted, “She’s too happy to have just lost her parents.”

Her papa’s head tilted after a moment before he frowned, “You don’t know his situation, Hija.”

“I know, but—“

“and you should not jump the gun on it either. If you’re so concerned, get to know him.” Papa rose to his feet, “and don’t charge him for the horse.” He added, pointing to the receipt, reaching for his hand, “Alejandro’s coming around later, I want you around”

“Pa..” Camila groaned, last thing she wanted was dinner with her pompous, freeloading brother.

Her papa left her to it, leaving the 35-year-old quietly fuming.

--

The return of the newcomer had been something of a wanted distraction. With her papa minding the bar, her second eldest brother Jandro, in the kitchen, Camila took the opportunity to the guest stables with a pouch of grains and feed.

Since the introduction of vehicles, like cars, buses, and trucks, horses weren’t as common in the busier side of the city. Most places now no longer had the stables for them to make space for parking lots. Trams and tam lines were being incorporated in the city centre, this time with electricity. At least here, on the edge, she didn’t have to worry about getting hit by one. She did prefer horses and animals.

There were only two other horses to fill, checking their water and making notes to organize the cleanout for Papa.

She caught sight of the green, hourglass edge of a ruana.

“Oh, there you are.” The opportunity was right there. Alone, and private. There was very little room for him to run if he tried but something told her he wasn’t the type; she was a small woman and thus, little threat. He didn’t need to know about her right hook.

She didn’t hold onto the sigh she heard as she entered the little cubicle, watching a somewhat forced smile as she tipped a cup load of grains into the bucket.

“I hope I am not intruding, Senor.” Camila started to be polite.

Madrigal shook his head, though seemed more focused on the animal than her.

“No, I’m just…seeing to my horse.”

Her eyes flickered to his grip on the brush, not fully incorrect but she knew he was exerting unneeded pressure so she reached forwards to correct him.

“Your horse?” Camila echoed, “you look like a guy out of depth in dealing with both child and animal with barely enough money to go by. You think I can't read between the lines here?”

If he was panicking, he was doing it surprisingly well to hide it though there was an odd distance in his eyes that felt…off, for a second, she almost through she saw a greenish glow around his pupils.

Madrigal hummed, hazily turning to his stolen pet

“What happened to her parents?” Being direct this time but this time he didn’t seem to hear her. “Did you take her from her parents?” her concern rose but for a different reason as she noticed his hands shaking, and breath coming out raggedly. What had happened for his health to drop?

Camila stepped forwards

“I..” he seemed to find it hard to speak, almost rasping “…her.. mother let.. let me..” then he seemed to sway unsteadily on the stop; the paleness that leached over his skin became partially stark but it was his eyes that had her heart thumping.

An eerily green glow seemed to emanate from his irises but there was a clear sense he was not all there with her; something was happening to him. Camila didn’t understand but… she knew she had to help. Was this why he was here?

His knees dropped and by instinct, she grabbed him and guided him down, away from the horse mess.

“Senor Madrigal?” She reached up, grasping his face but again, there was little pulling him back but sand from nearby seemed to flitter in towards his hands, forming a smooth glass tablet that made him groan out… then in a heartbeat, the glow was gone and Madrigal slumped.

Her heart thundered in her throat, pushing up through his fast breathing before he seemed to snap back into reality, awareness and alarm sinking into his face but he collapsed into a full state of unconsciousness into her arms.

“Madrigal?”

Papa huffed as he waited, her hands almost shaking to put the key in the lock before the room opened.

“Tio Bruno?” The sweet child voice asked before an alarmed gasp echoed as she noticed their entry; it had taken a lot to convince her papa to take him to his room than call an ambulance, most in part of the guy’s inability to pay for medical care but she had a serious doubt they could find anything wrong.

Since when would the doctor buy a story that involves glowing eyes and mysterious tablets?

She just told her papa he fainted over something but she felt some desire to know, to understand. She couldn’t understand what the tablet was about but she could see the picture. The sweet Sobrina older, holding onto a child…it was curious.

There had to be a story.

“Is he okay?”

Papa paused as he dropped the unconscious man onto the bed, eyeing the 5-year old before he looked to Camila.

“He’s just fainted,” she smiled, “thank you, papa. Do you mind if I stay, make sure they’re alright?” nodding to the child as well, noting the pieces of fabric and thread everywhere; clearly not sure if she should be left with scissors as well…. And well, this was also a good opportunity to not have to be with Alejandro and get a good story. Three birds under one stone

Papa’s eyes flickered between her, the little girl then Madrigal before reluctantly nodding.

“If he’s not up and awake in the next eight hours, I’m calling the authorities.”

“He just needs a sleep.” Mirabel pipped up, clambering up into the bed, and toddled over to her tio’s side, “He does that.”

Camila watched her papa leave before she sighed out, pulling out the green tablet from under her burgundy cardigan and held it up.

“So, until he wakes up, Mirabel. Mind if I ask a few questions?”

Bruno’s head felt like lead as he came back to his body, vaguely feeling a warmth under his skin and softness under his body though he vaguely began to hear soft talking but the memories of what had happened resurfaced quickly, his eyes snapping open to low light though he felt an inward sense of panic; he had had a vision…. In front of a stranger. In a public place.

He had to leave. Take Mirabel and…just leave before they send him somewhere and have Mirabel shipped back to miserable mountains.

“That sounds amazing. Is it just roses?”

“No, she can grow like… other plants.” Mirabel spoke happily, “But they’re so pretty and beautiful. Abuela wants more roses and flowers so she doesn’t do it as often.”

“Oh, I bet they are.” The woman chuckled, “But, where’s the fun in just roses.”

Bruno sat up, his breath holding as he half expected a wardroom but… instead, he was in his lodge room.

In front, Camila Rodrigues and Mirabel were sitting at the little table, a plate of food between them and his jade tablet popped up against the wall.

Mirabel noticed him first before her face lit up, grabbing some of the Arepas from the plate and began her journey to him.

“Tio Bruno! Have some food!”

Camila stayed seated though he took the offered food, taking a quiet moment in confusion to eat which felt remarkably nice by the third swallow.

“What’s going on?” He asked, feeling that was a safe question to ask.

Camila’s lip cracked a fraction. “Your Sobrina was telling me about Encanto and the family.”

Bruno’s eyes widened before his gaze turned to Mirabel who looked at him all innocently, eating another Arepa.

“And… and er, what did she.. what did she say exactly?”

“Enough to explain this,” nodding to the tablet, “and that you’ve told her staying there meant she had a bad thing happen in her future.”

“You believe her”

Camila laughed at that, rising to her feet with the plate, holding it out to him. “You made a glass panel right in front of my eye with a picture in it and your eyes looked like a lantern behind green glass. Make me have to go a little on faith here.”

Bruno stared at her, surprised. “You’re not even going to… question me? Call police on me… send me away?”

Camila hummed then shrugged, “I will with the first one, I have a ton of questions but… you’ve been unconscious for six hours and…well, I suppose not in a fit state to explain everything. So, I could do with an extra set of hands while I work, especially with the stables if you haven’t got a job already… plenty of time to answer them.”

Bruno still stared, then nodded because… he hadn’t yet been thrown out, and… he needed to support Mirabel. He could handle the questions for her. He just had to hope he could trust Camila with his past and secrets... if he could get Mirabel on the same age, then it'd be estupendo.

#mirabel madrigal #🦋≻|| ᵐᶤʳᵃᵖᵒˢᵃ ( mirabel ) #⌛🫓🦋🔥≻|| ʷᵒʳᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵘᶰ ( fanfics ) #bruno madrigal #⌛≻|| ᵃ ᵍˡᶤᵐᵖˢ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ ( bruno ) #⌛🫓🦋🔥≻|| ᵃʷᵃᶤᵗᶤᶰᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵐᶤʳᵃᶜˡᵉ ( queue )

[cherryblossomtease]

In The Fairest Season ~ Part 2

18+only

warnings summary masterlist

~JUNE~

The first time you sing for the Baron you haven’t even met him yet. In fact, you have no idea that he is in the audience.

Your solo, the lone aria not sung by Serena, the lead vocalist who will never let anyone forget it, opens the second act and it is your chance to show the world, or at least the city, that you are meant for greater things.

You give the song everything you have. Living it, breathing it, exhaling it out across that stage until the audience is moved to tears. You can’t see them for the lights, but you can feel it.

Follow that, you think as you glide offstage, passing the undeserving diva who strong armed her way to top billing. You don’t like to fight amongst your own kind, but if she suddenly lost her ability to speak you wouldn’t be sad about it.

Curtain call confirms your intuition. You are pulled front and center by your cast-mates and their own applause is drown out by the roar of the crowd.

The people love you.

Accepting your praise with a truly humble heart, you curtsy under a wave of roses. All the while, one man sits watching from a private box.

He is the last to stand. Not because he disagrees with the ovation, but because he’s been rendered immobile since the moment you opened your mouth.

You didn’t know it then and neither of you would be certain right away, but it is clear to any who see the way he looks at the aspiring songbird dipping low as she thanks the audience with tears in her eyes— Baron Helmut Zemo is already falling in love with you.

While finding out as much as he can about you is easy for a man like the Baron, your only knowledge of him is gained the same way as most outside of the elite circles— through rumors and whispers— and those tell the tale of a powerful man who has gained the love and devotion of his fellow soldiers and countrymen while at war with an enemy state. Though some say his tactics were less than honorable…

Either way their war was too distant, both in time and setting to matter to anyone here, but it changed the Sokovian people forever, reshaping the land and claiming so many lives.

Zemo’s wife and child among them.

You’d heard the story in passing and found it heartbreaking but hadn’t felt the need to think of it again until today, thanks in large part to the kindness of Colonel Nicholas Fury and his wife, the Lady Valentina a former Countess through marriage with a taste for danger. It comes as little surprise to those in the know that the Colonel, or his Lady wife would know someone like the Baron, who happens to be a former Colonel himself, though there are many secrets kept about their history and just how such a friendship was made.

Today however, none of it matters as the Colonel and Lady Valentina are holding a lovely benefit for the local children’s home, and while it is a reason to show off their mysterious guest, as the Baron will be staying with the pair for the season, you’d agreed to entertain long before rumors of this Baron began to make the rounds. The Colonel pays prices most girls won’t see after a month of work, and with nothing expected from you but your voice at its best and your personality front and center to charm the upper class, this is the sort of performance you look forward to.

Accompanied by piano in the grand solarium, the performance is by your own standards a very good one; Understated, gentle on the ear, but, as is evidence by the looks on the faces of the Lords and Ladies in attendance, no less impactful.

“Haunting” Is what you’re told by those who greet you afterwards and you wear that word like a badge of honor over your heart as you mingle.

It is between sets while standing at the piano that you feel the lightest touch on your shoulder.

Fingertips, brushing your bare skin with a hesitancy but such longing that your attention is grabbed instantly.

You’ve been touched like this before, but this is different—you turn around feeling curiosity instead of dread.

You aren’t quite sure how long it takes you to speak. Maybe it’s seconds, perhaps some minutes or more before you find your words, the point is, time feels irrelevant.

His gaze is as bold as the sun and you are held there, left to feel the trails of heat along your skin in the wake of it—up your arms, across your shoulders and neck, your lips— you’ve never had a man look at you this way before and not felt the urgent need to run. Instead, you take a step forward.

“Madame. Allow me to introduce his Lordship, Baron Helmut Zemo.” The Colonel announces.

With a slow bow of your head you lower into a small curtsey to show respect for the man above your station. Your eyes lift to meet his as you rise up and watch his mouth curl into a hint of a smile.

“Madame y/n” He exhales when he says your name as though he is relieved to know it and you feel the little hairs on the back of your neck rise as if he’s whispered in your ear. “It is an honor.”

You smile and thank him “The honor is of course mine, my Lord Baron.”

“After today I’ve had the privilege of watching you perform twice now. But I was beginning to fear I might never meet you in the flesh.”

Something about his choice of words makes you feel warm all over. “It seems the stars have aligned and brought us together after all.” You say with a genuine smile.

He gives a hint of a laugh and glances at Fury. “Yes a, Man shaped constellation” He teases making the Colonel grin.

“Forgive me Barron Zemo,” You say a little timid. “I hope I don’t embarrass you or myself by speaking freely, but… your accent? Please, tell me the name of your country. I’ve heard it said before but can quite recall.” You’re unable to hold back your curiosity and the way he forms words has you eager to know more.

“Ah.” He flashes a quick smile. “Well, you see I am only here to visit my friend as you know.” He says glancing at Fury. “A summer abroad. A summer away…” You catch a hint of sadness but he presses on. “I am from Sokovia. A small country but there is none that can compare to its beauty.”

“Sokovia?” You say it slowly “Yes, in passing I’ve heard it said but I am ashamed to say I could not point to it on a map. Though I’m sure it’s as beautiful as the tone you take when speaking of it.” You pause to look him in the eye. “I can hear the love you hold for your homeland in your voice Baron.” You are being polite but the truth is, you are struck by it. He has a sort of rasping tenor that comes out in a hesitant whisper, as though he wants to say more but fears saying too much.

I can take it, you think and find yourself drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as you study his. He has a wonderfully wide mouth and the way his lips move when he speaks is hypnotic.

“I will never hide my love for my country. Not after everything we have been through.” He says.

You smile reading between the lines. “I see that. And while I’m only a singer who has had her travel limited.” You admit. “I hope to perform across the world. Tell me the best Sokovian stage Baron and perhaps I will stand on it one day.” You say, aware of how eager you sound but know that it’s the truth.

The Colonel laughs like all wealthy men do when they hear the dreams of women, but the Baron does not. No, he looks at you as though you’ve just spoken your deepest desires aloud and he feels blessed to have heard them.

“One day, yes. Perhaps you will.” He says and you hope he doesn’t notice how your breath catches in your throat, but the way his eyes fix on yours makes you feel seen.

The three of you fall silent and you’re very aware of Colonel Fury watching the two of you. You see his coy smile from the corner of your eye and its clear that he thinks the Baron will have you down to your stockings by the days end, but nothing is further from the truth.

Baron Zemo doesn’t try to take your dress off, not even when you wander inside and into the library alone with him. Instead he listens to you tell stories about the parts of your life that are easy to share and with what seems to be genuine interest.

You tell him about your mother who was a singer before you, though she never made it to the big stage. You still send money home to her and your sweet father who is too sick to work but still manages to paint when he’s feeling up to it.

“So you are the product of true love.” He says and while there is an edge to his voice, he is not trying to tease. You feel him watching you touch the spines of the many books along the shelves in the dimly lit room.

“Why do you say that?” You ask, your back still to him.

“A singer and an artist who marry do it for no other reason.” He says, confident in his statement. You can hear the smile in his voice and your own grows across your face. Coming from anyone else this would be an insult. Coming from him, it turns your ordinary origins into something romantic.

“Love, with the hope of fame and money.” You correct with a smirk and find him over your shoulder.

He is standing in the light of the large south facing window and you have no choice but to turn and face him. It’s nearly unfair that any man should be so beautiful.

You’d noticed the way the other women in attendance looked at him in his exquisite jacket and vest, looking the very picture of fashionable victorian masculinity; and done without effort it would seem. Just his natural air of confidence. Honestly you’re convinced Zemo could make a workhouse uniform look like the kings cape.

What would those women do now, you wonder. With his brown hair looking almost black in the library shadows, so thick and pretty as it falls in his eyes in lovely contrast to his fair skin.

As the clouds part and a strong band of light breaks through the windows casting a warm glow over the man, you smile imagining the socialites batting their lashes and dipping into quaint curtsies to attract him, but it seems none can manage to take his eyes from you…

They would all say it’s because you’re a stage whore, a woman of ill repute with the gift of song. But they are wrong. They always are.

“Tell me Baron Zemo, how long did you say you’ll be staying” You ask crossing the room to step into the sun with him.

He looks down at you and you notice for the first time the flecks of gold in his eyes. “I must return at the end of August.”

“Oh.” You look away. It’s already June.

His body language changes a bit, like someone has splashed cold water over him and he goes stiff. Quickly as if desperate to do so, he takes hold of your hand which startles you as much as it excites you. You try not to let him see the way he’s made your own body respond but your heart threatens to leap from your chest.

“Would it be forward of me to ask you to join our small party for dinner this coming Saturday?”

Your eyes dart up finding such hope in his. “Not at all. So long as you understand what it is you’re asking?” You hate to turn the mood, it was so nice, but this needs to be said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well dinner with a performer of course. I suppose it could be seen as the Colonel’s kindness… but Baron please don’t tell me you’re so naive to the ways of the country you summer in.”

He gives you a curious frown “I forget where I am often. Your ways here will always be a little strange. You see in Sokovia, to possess a gift such as yours would see you walk among the people who look down on you here. We lift those better than ourselves up in my country.”

You feel light headed at the idea. Imagine being seen as important for what you are born with, and not for what you are born into. “It sounds wonderful.” You say, fully aware of how soft your voice is when you’re standing so close to him.

Him, this man you do not know. You pull your hand free from his.

Taking a step back you give a small curtsy. “I must go back, we have a few more songs to perform, but thank you for the walk, and for the invitation. I look forward to it!”

He smiles politely and offers to escort you, but you know better. No need ruining his reputation or starting rumors about your own.

You go back to the solarium and take up your place next to the piano and proceed to sing the heartbreaking aria that can decimate even the strongest of defenses.

Your eyes scan the room as you sing, finding hapless victims to serenade until finally you land on the Barron standing behind the rows of chairs.

The man is stricken by your words of love and loss and you think perhaps you could have warned him about your song.

When you find him again, it is an accident.

You’d gone off looking for your pianist when you find the Baron standing alone in the garden just off the parlor.

You almost speak but notice the way he stands there without moving. He is looking down at a bush of flowers; large white Lillies.

You brace against the doorframe and lean in to watch him for a moment before you realize… he raises his hand and wipes a tear before slipping it back into his pocket.

Tears over flowers? No. Not flowers, and then you understand. The war you know nothing of, took everything from him.

You feel guilty. Of all the songs you had to sing you chose the one that could break a healthy heart, what had it done to this shattered thing probably held together by nothing more than string and sheer determination.

Your own ached for him and you’d never longed to hold anything or anyone so much in your life, but you did not know him yet and quietly slipped back inside.

Your last interaction with the Baron that afternoon had been no more than a sweet goodbye, but your thoughts are preoccupied with him over the week.

You find your self thinking of the way he’d touched your shoulder while you dress for your performances, and onstage when you shut your eyes you see his looking back at you, golden in the sun.

When Saturday comes around, you ignore the teasing of your best friend Brigitte who watches the way you’re fussing over your hair and pinching your cheeks after dressing in the small apartment you share with her over the theatre. Thankfully no one keeps watch over the costumes and so you wear the pale yellow dress from last years production that you think looks best against your skin.

Brigitte asks if he’s proposed yet just to set you off, but only because she’s never seen you nervous, but then she’s never seen you so excited over a man. Presumably because none has ever managed to hold your attention for so long.

The carriage arrives to pick you up and you try desperately not to be won over by the fact that he’s sent his own.

You know that it is his.

You run your hand along the silk lined walls, inhaling deeply, picking up the faintest scent of his cologne as you sink into the seat. Your smile grows wide with no one there to see as the driver sitting high above steers the horses through the city streets, the light jostle inside keeping you alert as you imagine the Baron standing at the threshold of the estate waiting for you. It begins to feel wonderfully indecent to be surrounded by him so intimately.

And what would it feel like if he really did hold  you close? Would it feel this warm and safe? Would you rest in his arms as you do his carriage, rushing past the world feeling untouchable?

Your eyes close for a moment; you are lost in a sea of daydreams until a wheel hits a large hole that jolts you back to reality.  Eyes going wide, you quickly blow out the tension built up in your chest through your lips and shake you head trying not to smile.  The man has held your hand one time old girl. Calm down!

You are still flushed and breathing hard when you arrive. When you see Baron Zemo waiting for you in the hall of the estate, in his dinner jacket and tie, you feel as though he knows every indecent thought you had on that incredible ride through town. If he does however, the Baron does not humiliate you, only showers you with complements on your appearance tonight.

And though the night is perfection, dinner in the city would not be dinner without a scandal. And so it goes that yours is candlelit and ripe for the pamphlets.

Colonel and Lady treat you as their guest of honor, though it is the Baron who attracts the attention of the others in attendance.

As he escorts you to the dining room, Baron Zemo dares to whisper in your ear. “If I could have entertained you and you alone, I would have made it so. But this is —not allowed —on these foreign shores.” He says and you see the way his dark gaze fixes ahead. You aren’t sure if it is Lord or Lady who earns his contempt but all you can do is hold back your laughter.

“It’s perfectly fine. The rules are there for them, so long as I am in their world I will play along. To be perfectly honest Baron… ” You look up at him in the door way and he lays his hand over yours, resting in the crook of his elbow. “This is exquisite.” You say. He smiles looking a little relieved and you notice that he’s been watching your lips as you speak and you feel yourself blush.

That however is not the moment to cause the scandal. Nor does it come from the Baron expressing his rather progressive views which he offers up like a complement to the soup course. It comes when he asks your opinion and you, shock of all shocks, give it.

The Lady Hawthorn who is also in attendance tries to cut you off, but the Baron hushes her and urges you to go on.

With him backing you, you find yourself feeling quite free to express your desire to see all people treated equally, and end your monologue by announcing that you know such a utopia could never exist so long as the wealthy are pleased and the poor too overworked to notice. This sends the Lady over the edge and Fury into a fit of laughter.

Only Baron Zemo hears the truth and he looks at you through the deep yellow glow of candlelight with pride.

Unfortunately that, is not what they print.

Rising star flies too close to the sun

“What a ridiculous thing to say” You huff carrying an armful of gowns over to the mirror in the little dressing area of your apartment.

“Maybe, but you’ll sing to a packed house tonight” Brigitte grins as she lounges on the settee in the middle of the small but colorfully decorated room. “The audience loves a spectacle.” Her French accent makes everything sound cute but it is nothing short of annoying in the moment.

“It’s hardly a spectacle Brigitte. Just bored, sad, empty headed people with nothing better to do than twist your well thought out words and opinions. My, well thought out words and opinions.” You speak with conviction while trying to ignore the sinking sense of embarrassment as you hold each dress up over your underclothes, one at a time. You are angry of course, those damned pamphlets are nothing more than a way for them to openly indulge in gossip and cruelty about you and your kind. Granted you’re not above reading them from time to time and this isn’t the first experience you’ve had with being a feature (poor Lord Quinn. He did fall in love so easily) but this is the first time that you care.

“You’re quite the radical aren’t you.” Brigitte says sitting up and sipping her tonic.

“Yes, a woman with an opinion, how will the world move on.” You roll your eyes and sling the yellow dress aside.

“Those aren’t costumes.” Brigitte says suspiciously and sits up on her knees, her arms hanging over the back of the sofa.

You look at her in the mirror and sigh. “No. I can’t keep borrowing them and besides, these aren’t for the stage.”

She’s waiting but you hesitate. “Tell me! Who are they for? It’s him right? Your Baron.”

“He isn’t mine.” You scold. “But yes, Baron Zemo has asked me to accompany him to the festival tomorrow night, and…” You pause glancing at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve said yes.”

“Of course you have, silly girl.” Brigitte giggles and gets up, coming over to you. She stands at your back, her long elegant fingers resting on your shoulders. She presses her cheek to yours and you feel the swell of love for your oldest friend rise.

The two of you have been through so much together. From escaping the cruel and often times corporal punishment of St. Augustine’s school for girls, to the deadly grasp of the streets. You’d been fighting along side one another until you both managed to sing your way onto the stage.

While Brigitte is technically better, you’re the one who sings with heart and that small edge is why your likeness will hang from the posts and not hers, but she is your friend in all things and as you gain notoriety, you have every intention of bringing her right along with you.

“I don’t know why I think anything will come of it. He’s a Baron for goodness sake.” You say scrunching your nose up at the lavender dress.

Brigitte is waiting, knowing you’ll answer your own suspicions.

“But, he looks at me and it’s as though these barriers don’t exist. I might as well be the daughter of a Duke when he smiles.”

“In his eyes, perhaps you are.” She says kindly. “Now, put those dresses away, you’ll wear my white one and look nothing less than angelic tomorrow. Tonight, you’ll sing like one and win your place in the Barons heart for good.”

As fate would have it, Baron Zemo was not at the performance last night. It means nothing though, that much is clear. He is as taken with you as you almost allow yourself to be with him. It is a dangerous game you play, one that could see you broken by the end of summer, but it is so hard to stay away…

You stroll causally behind The Colonel and Lady Fury through the park grounds along the pea gravel paths lit by paper lanterns with sparks flying from swirling machines and flames that shoot up from small bonfires.

Brigitte and your friend Eloise are bringing up the rear, but it feels as though there isn’t another soul alive. Just you and him and the beautiful menagerie that surrounds you.

The festival is one you’ve heard of but never attended and you’re almost happy you never have because as far as firsts go this one is magic.

A show of sight and sound engages every sense. There are acrobats, jugglers, stilt walkers and sword swallowers. You smell the food being sold from small carts and hear the music of the far off bandstand. You have a hard time not running around like a child as you point and shriek at the shocking, and squeal with delight at the fun. Each beautiful display of oddities and wonder that seem to never phase the Baron amaze you, though he does take great joy in watching your reaction.

When a fire breather spits yellow flames in your path, you jump back with a scream grabbing Zemo’s arm which makes him laugh.

You’re suddenly aware of how jovial his voice can be and when you look up, he smiles like you’ve never seen before and closes his hand over yours.

You think he might let go, but instead he begins to walk again, happy to keep you close.

You take in the sights on either side of the lawn, until it all begins to feel like a dream. Perhaps it was the champagne you had on arrival…

“Thank you my Lord, I’ll never forget this night.” You say under the cover of a trellis dripping with wisteria just outside of the wonderful chaos.

“It has been quite the show” He says looking back at the distant festivities before settling on you again. He quickly takes off his black topper, his hair falling into his eyes. “Unlike anything I’ve ever seen” He says looking at you with such an intensity that you can not hold the eye contact. You smile and look away spotting a servant with a large tray of champagne stacked like a pyramid of glowing gold.

Baron Zemo sees how you look at it and waves him over, taking two glasses from the top giving one to you, and raising his glass in salute.

“What do we drink to?” You ask.

Zemo thinks while looking into your eyes. Finally he raises the glass a little higher. “To the continuation of our friendship.”

You feel your cheeks flush and your mouth go a little dry. To declare a friendship between you is something you almost wish he wouldn’t say, but, it’s already been done. Still, what future can there truly be, you wonder looking up at this man who, had you been born into a wealthy family would have been yours weeks ago. But then, something about the Baron tells you not to fixate on what could have been, and to always expect the unexpected.

The sound of your glasses clinking is drown out by the boom of fireworks in the distance.

You tip your glass and drink. The champagne is sweet and cold and bubbly. You swallow with a smile only to shut your eyes when he strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, his thumb daring to glide across your bottom lip.

You inhale the moment and open your eyes to find his wanting, but not here. Not yet.

“To our future.” You say, needing him to know that you wish to push forward.

The Baron nods and takes another drink, watching you do the same over his glass. “I must insist on seeing you again, you understand?” He asks as he finishes.

“Yes of course.” You say. “I have one week, and then the show continues.” You tell him feeling sorry for it. It’s not easy to balance a life on and off the stage, in fact you’ve never really had too before, but for him you will try.

“A week.” He says it with finality. “Then let us have this week as our own.”

The next few days are a whirlwind of unforgettable moments. You are convinced any other man would be trying to impress you with his knowledge and access to things privy only to someone of his status, but with the Baron it feels as though he simply enjoys sharing his world.

From a private showing of the Kings’ collection of antiquities, to a small garden reading by one of your favorite authors who Baron Zemo happens to know personally, you spend your time together as near equals, exchanging ideas and thoughts as easily as you would with your oldest friends. It surprises you to find it so easy to speak to a man you’re only just starting to know.

Perhaps that is because he never once reminds you of the gap between your status. You are cautious to believe anything a man of such wealth says, but when the Baron speaks he seems to do so truthfully, and when he listens, he does so without judgement.

“How is it my Lord, that you seem to rise above the constraints of society while moving through it so elegantly?” You ask as he escorts you home to the theatre one evening.

You are arm in arm, the lamps are lit and the air has a certain joie de vivre that radiates from the passersby. You smile and nod hello to a couple before looking up at the Baron’s handsome profile. He walks in silence for a while and you know him well enough by now to understand that he is just thinking before speaking, which is something you greatly admire.

“I hope my manner is not offensive.” He says with a deep frown. “I simply wish to be as honest with you as possible. To pretend that I see you as someone unworthy of my attention would be a lie.”

You turn your face to hide your giddy smile but he stops walking, your hand slipping from his coat.

Confused, you spin to face him. “Baron? What is it?”

“Do not hide.” He says in all seriousness. “Your face, it’s so expressive. There is such an openness in the way you show your emotion and I fear someone has told you to keep it hidden?” He asks and you avert your eyes instinctively but quickly look back up at him.

Feeling sure, you confess. “When my parents were too poor to keep me, I was sent to Augustines as I’ve mentioned. It was there I was taught that to show joy is a sin. To cry is a sin, to be angry is a sin. Frustration, even a simple smile, all sins. Everything beautiful about who we are as living creatures must be suppressed” You say, still bitter.

The Baron scoffs shaking his head. “Nothing is a sin when you stop believing that there is someone to sin against. Your smile is a gift mala ptica, a glimpse at your pure heart, just as your tears are an expression of the pain you feel inside. People can be very cruel, and I am sorry you were ever told such lies.” He says and you see that it truly hurts him to picture you as a child, scolded for what comes naturally. “Please, do not feel as though you ever need to hide either from me. If I am the reason you smile, then I consider myself to be a fortunate man.” He pauses, looking at you as people pass by. “Conversely If I ever make you cry, well, the pain of hurting you will be my deserved punishment.” He says and though you stand apart on the dark sidewalk, you feel the warmth of his affection reach out and close its arms around you, holding you close enough that you can hear the drumming of his heart.

The week ends with a picnic, just a small luncheon taken outside with all the delightful indulgence of the spoiled upperclass.

You sit at the edge of a large blanket, covered by a spread of fruit and cheese and bread. There are biscuits and cakes, small sandwiches and of course tea— and what looks to be chopped pheasant being carried out by a young servant all the way from the house. You are thankful for the shade of the ancient tree you sit under with the women; Lady Valentina, her neighbor, who has brought her daughter-in-law, and their two cousins, all of you laughing as the men play a lazy but entertaining game of rugby in their shirts, their jackets thrown down in the grass.

You applaud for the Baron and Lord Wessex the neighbor’s son who has come home for a quick visit with his wife. They make a great team, and though the Baron insists he’s too old for sport—which he is most certainly not— he is fast and strong and shows just a glimpse of the man he must have been during the war.

“He cuts quite the figure.” One of the cousins says to the other with a wicked little grin.

You eye her prim face, almost jealous but the energy would be wasted. You know who he smiles at as he crosses the lawn.

“Yes, but I hear he’s engaged.” Says the other

“Oh? To who? Certainly not to anyone here.” Lady Valentina says sipping from her cup.

You are silent as you watch these women who you know in name only. You don’t know their hearts, but you guess them to be as cold as the pheasant.

“No. A Sokovian Duchess I believe.” The cousin says and you stare at her.

“Then why on earth is he here?” The daughter-in-law asks.

“Must not be a very happy engagement.” The cousin says, her tittering laughter joined by the others.

You smile but set your tea down and look over, watching Baron Zemo toss the large ball across the lawn to his partner. He trots backwards and calls something out, clapping a few times before stopping and resting his hands on his knees. As though he can sense your eyes on him, he looks over from his bent position, that lock of hair fallen out of place.

He told you just a day or so ago to never hide your feelings from him, and so you don’t. Honestly, given what you’ve just heard, you couldn’t if you tried.

You can only imagine how you must look because he stands upright, rakes his hair back with his fingers and stares at you, his own face long, his jaw tight.

He knows something has happened. Immediately the Baron calls for a break in the game.

You look away eyeing the women. “Please, excuse me. I believe my legs are going a little numb.” You shrug, feigning a smile at the ladies and quickly get up, brushing your skirts and walking off.

“Poor circulation from all that time standing onstage.” You hear one of them say.

“And lying on her back” Another whispers loudly to the shocked laughter of the others.

The insult stings, more so than it normally would, and you shut your eyes as you march off towards the house ready to leave.

Of course they think you’re just here playing the whore to the rakish Baron. Why you ever thought they would accept you as their own or that he would be better than the rest is beyond you.

But what truly shames you, is that you believe their gossip, even after spending time with him. And why shouldn’t you? Isn’t this what men do? Lie? Especially to women of your profession.

It’s when you’ve reached the manicured part of the lawn that you realize you’re hardly breathing and that your heart feels like it’s been run through with one of the picnic bread knives. You clutch your chest, angry at the pain as the tears that well in your eyes burn, and you curse yourself for letting him have such an effect on you at all.

“Wait.”

You gasp, startled by his voice vibrating deep in your own chest as he has come up on you by surprise; his body so close to yours you feel his breath along your neck as he takes you by the arms and pulls you into the shaded privacy of the garden trees before you can protest.

He turns you around and the look on his face is a mix of curiosity and worry, to which you find yourself surprisingly angry. “What’s happened? What have they said to you?” He asks.

“What’s wrong Baron? Are you worried that I’ve found out?” You ask and move to wipe your eyes, but you let him see, just as he’s insisted.

“Found out? mala ptica, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?”

He just stares down and you realize you’ve never seen him confused before. “Baron? What do you think they said?”

“Some insult? A way to make you feel inferior as seems to be their casual form of amusement.” He says clearly very angry and possibly ready to march back and defend you.

You feel your anger falter. This is unexpected and you shake your head. Now you’re the one confused. “No. Baron… I—I’m afraid I’ve made something of a fool of myself if you truly have no fear of any secret being found out?” Your voice rises as you question it.

“You are not a fool y/n” He says with a hint of irritation in his voice.

You look down, steadying yourself before looking back up into his eyes. “I never expected anything from you, you know? Your friendship has been nothing short of wonderful, but I fear that in getting to know you, I’ve found it impossible not to let my romantic heart lead the way. But what can we expect from a product of love.” You toss your hands up flashing a sardonic smile.

The Baron steps forward and your eyes close reflexively when he lays his palm to your cheek. “What have you heard? Tell me.”

“That you are engaged.” You answer not wanting to prolong it. “To a Sokovian Duchess no less.”

He smiles, looks off then back down at you and you hope he never stops the gentle, rhythmic stroking of your face. “I was, and it was a mistake. I broke it off before I doomed us both to a loveless marriage.”

“I was under the assumption that people of your wealth marry to acquire more of it.”

“You assume wrong.” He says even closer “It is beneficial, but, should I ever marry again, it will be for nothing less than a love to repair what is left of my heart.”

You’re breathing faster. He is so close. It seems to happen so quickly. One moment you’re ready to leave, angry and hating that you’ve even come, embarrassed that you’ve been swayed by a Lords influence. And the next you’re standing in his shadow gazing up into his eyes…

“May I kiss you?” He asks in a way that would be very hard to refuse.

“You may” You whisper. His fingers inch along to the back of your head, his other hand pulls you in by the waist until his hips are pressed against you and his lips part; the heat of his skin so warm from running touching you before his mouth does.

It is the force and passion of his kiss that surprises you. Not overly aggressive or unwanted, it is unexpected, as though he has been longing to do this as badly as you have and now, he can not let another second pass without tasting more of you.

His tongue on your own is warm and soft as he gently enters your mouth and it is not the demure touch of society but of two people who feel a great many things, not the least of which is an urgency to do more.

The Baron pulls away, your lips leaving his slowly. You look at your hands resting on his chest over his white shirt. His cravat is a little askew letting you see a hint of skin and the shimmer of a very thin necklace that makes your stomach flutter. Your eyes flit up to meet his as he exhales very slowly.

“Thank you mala ptica” He says and kisses your forehead and you think there are many reasons for him to say this, but for now you let it be, though something else has always made you wonder…

“What does that mean?” You ask curious, eyes closed

He leans back to see your face. “What?”

“Mala… mala ti..”

“Mala ptica” He says with an amused smile. “It means—little bird actually.”

You scrunch your nose wondering why this is what he’s taken too calling you and he chuckles a little with a sigh. “Your voice is like the song of a bird, a thing of natural beauty. Forgive me for having been so familiar. It—slipped out.” He says simply.

You grin, you can’t help it and close your hands to fists in his shirt and pull him down kissing him again.

It is hard and fast but he is a most willing partner.

When you let the Baron go, you bite at the corner of your lip feeling such an urge to go down to the cool grass with him here and now, understanding why everyone seems so preoccupied by it, but the truth is no man has had you and you refuse to be the woman they expect you to be. You will not succumb, not even for a Baron, not even for this one. But he will challenge you to no end.

He smooths his hands over your face and sighs. “What now hmm?”

You mimic his movements smoothing the wrinkles you’ve caused in his shirt. “I can not go back. I don’t belong here.” You tell him.

He takes hold of your hand on his chest and holds it there. “No, I don’t believe I do either. Not today.”

“My next run begins in two days, I won’t have time to go on so many adventures with you.” You smile.

Zemo pulls your hand down but does not let go. “Then I will wait until you are free to enjoy the rest of the season with me.”

“Will you?”

“Of course.”

“It’s almost over my Lord, you’re going home at the end of summer.”

“Yes,” He says and tilts his head to find your eyes. You look at him and smile wide. “But perhaps I might persuade you to come with me.”

#baron zemo x you #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo au #baron zemo fanfiction #victorian au #victorian era #mcu au #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #zemo fanfic #zemo x you #zemo in love #Baron Zemo romance because thats what we want

[getcooler]

Three Heartbreaks & a Rose

Kim Seungmin (Skz) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, some crackheadery

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: mentions of a car crash, of hospitals; some crying; unnecessary jealousy caused by lack of communication

FLOWER STORE!AU where Seungmin is an annoying regular at your flower store but he sort of grows on you, eventually. 

A/N: Sorry for not uploading more often :( But this is an extra long fic by our standards so maybe it’ll make up for it. Originally, this was part of a larger series of different fic based all around this business street and you might find mentions of it in the fic, but I’m not sure I’ll ever write the other members’ parts :( Nevertheless, enjoy and maybe maybe maybe leave some feedback somewhere :)

“Hello, I’m— Oh, it’s you again.”

It took you less than two seconds to identify the clear distaste in Seungmin’s voice as he walked into the store. 

The tone of his voice made you roll your eyes, “Yes, it’s me again. Like every Saturday for the past 3 years.”

“And yet nothing ever seems to change,” he sighed, face void of any emotion. In a leisurely pace, he made his way over to the counter of your grandmother’s flower store and asked, “What do you guys have here this week? Anything pretty or are all the flowers here as tired-looking as you?”

“I’ve got some daisies fresh from the garden across the street,” you offered with a glare in your eyes, but he scrunched his nose in distaste. 

He mumbled, “Too lazy.”

“Lazy?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It would seem very lazy of me to take daisies to the home of the elderly.”

In all the years of him coming here, you had never once heard what he was planning on doing with the flowers. Every Saturday he came in, bought a giant box (yes, a literal box) of flowers and left after bickering with you for five minutes or more. Somehow this was the first time you found out that he’s taking the flowers to the house of the elderly.

“Okay, so what type of flowers would you like to buy?” you prompted him while silently begging any deity that he wouldn’t start a fight out of it.

Seungmin looked around, seeming to think for a moment or two before speaking, “I want something bright but not too over the top.”

“Something simple?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, agreeing with you just this once, “Maybe something that would remind the elderly of their home gardens? That kind of feel.”

You chuckled as you pushed yourself to your feet behind the counter, “You seem to be pretty clear on your decision.”

“Not really,” he sighed. “What do you have to offer?”

“Well, it is early autumn,” you pointed out while walking through the store, pretending to think and ponder. “It’s the perfect time to buy asters.”

“Asters?” he frowned in confusion.

You nodded without hesitation before lifting up a vase full of fresh asters, “They grow in most gardens and they look very pretty and colourful yet simple.”

“You do have a point,” he nodded slowly, eyeing the flowers in your hands. “I’ll take fifteen.”

“Great choice,” you said out of habit and Seungmin couldn’t help but snort as he reached for his wallet.

As you picked out some prettier and fresher looking asters, you cheerfully told him his total. 

“Do you have to be so chirpy all the time?” he groaned as he pushed his card into the terminal. “You sound like a cartoon character. It’s going to scare away your customers.”

Without much thinking, you shushed him and handed him the receipt with a fake smile, “Please do come again.”

“Do yourself a favour and stop applying for customer service jobs,” he joked with a teasing smile before picking up the flowers and walking out, “I’ll see you next Saturday!”

“I hope not!” you called after him while cleaning the counter of fallen petals. 

Just a week later, he walked in once again. This time he was dressed in a patterned button-up shirt and had his hair styled neatly, which was very unlike his usual attire which consisted of a random t-shirt and a baseball cap. He offered a smile as he walked in, “Do you ever get a weekend off?”

“As long as you keep buying flowers every Saturday – no,” you answered with a sigh before putting on your best smile. “How can I help you on this fine day?”

He looked around, just like every previous time, and spoke, “I need three roses and some more flowers.”

“Which colour?” you asked while walking past him towards the rose display.

“What’s the colour of happiness?” he thought out loud and you grumbled underneath your breath. He had the dumb tendency to act like an idiot just to make you speak more. You absolutely despised because it gave him several reasons to pick a fight.

“I believe pink roses are said to represent happiness,” you told him through gritted teeth as you opened the display’s door. 

Seungmin smiled brightly behind you, “I’ll take the pink ones then.”

“Which shade of pink? Peach, bubblegum, rouge, watermelon?” you asked him, fully intending to offer him the best client service despite being annoyed by his presence.

“I mean pink,” Seungmin replied without much thought. A small frown had appeared on his face, “Also, I’m pretty sure at least three of those pink shades are actually food and-”

“So, peach?” you interrupted him delightfully.

Seungmin sighed and shrugged. “Just pink will do.”

“Whatever you prefer,” you sighed and handed him three of the pinkest roses. “How about these?”

He eyed the roses, twirling the bouquet in hand for a second before nodding, “These will do perfectly. Now for my other flowers.”

“Asters? Peonies? Poppies?”

“I was thinking something more,” he hummed in thought before deciding, “extravagant?”

“What the hell is happening in that home of elderly today?” you asked him with a raised eyebrow. 

Your handsome customer spoke, “One of the older ladies there is turning 95 today. They’re having a little celebration.”

“That sounds lovely,” you replied in a rather monotone voice. “Would carnations do the trick?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned. “I’d like twenty, please.”

You couldn’t help but sigh. Did Seungmin have any idea how heavy twenty carnations were?

“I’ll pay you well today,” he laughed at your reaction. “I promise I won’t even nag you if you give me back the wrong change.”

“You’re paying in cash today?” you were surprised.

“Yeah,” he nodded with a nervous chuckle, “Lost my card when I crashed my bike on Wednesday.”

“Ouch.”

Another week passed. You expected him to come to buy flowers on Saturday but as the clock ticked on, you didn’t catch sight of him.

All-day you waited for him to come. There was not a single joke, not a single order of an outrageous number of peonies.  There was simply nothing.

The only customer you got all day was the new music store owner from down the street (Chan was his name, you believed). Even someone as new and unfamiliar as he noticed your sullen mood and expectant glances out the window.

The young curly-haired business owner chuckled and spoke softly, “I’m sure he’ll come. Maybe something just came up.”

“What if something bad happened?” You sighed as you wrapped Chan’s red roses in an old newspaper. “What if he never comes by again?”

“He will,” Chan told you without hesitation as he handed you the money. “Keep the change.”

He left the store and you didn’t see another human walk into the store all day. A sense of worry went through you as closed the store that evening. 

You didn’t see Seungmin until Monday. 

Focused on re-arranging the lily display, you barely noticed him enter. Truth be told, you didn’t even recognize him until he handed you the money.

Dressed in his school uniform and his face all serious and sad, he was nearly impossible to recognize. 

He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look at you. 

Seungmin merely walked into the store, picked up a bouquet and handed you the money before walking out. 

The next day he came in again, this time dressed in a large hoodie and his baseball cap low on his face. You couldn’t believe how much of a mess he looked. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked as you calculated the price of the three gerberas he had picked out.

Seungmin hummed in response, but it didn’t sound like him at all. It was almost like a part of him had gone missing. A part of essential to his being. Once again he walked out without saying a word.

The same thing happened the day after.

“If you want to talk about it,” you spoke hesitantly on Wednesday when he still continued ignoring you, “I’m always here ready to listen.”

To your surprise, when you handed him back the change, you heard a sniffle. Though his head was still hanging low and his cap hid most of it, you could tell that he had begun crying. 

Within seconds his sniffles turned into sobs and he leaned against the counter to stay standing. In shock, your eyes widened and for a moment you doubted what to do. 

However, when he reached out his hand to you and whispered “Can I take up that offer now?”, you couldn’t help but walk around the counter and pull him into a tight hug. Instinctively, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and let his fingers tangle in your shirt as you wrapped your arms around him and let him cry. 

Your grandmother, having heard the crying, walked out from the backroom and gasped in surprise. Holding her hands over her heart, she motioned for you to lead Seungmin to the back, whispering, “I’ll take over your shift. Offer him some tea.”

Gratefully, you led Seungmin to the break room and let him continue crying. When he stopped crying, only half an hour had passed. To you, it felt like much longer. It felt like he had been crying for days, your shirt wet with his tears and your own eyes burning sympathetically. 

Suddenly, Seungmin let go of you, as though realizing what he had done. Rapidly —roughly even— he started wiping his face with the back of his hand. He seemed embarrassed about his emotional state, about his willingness to cry on the shoulder of the one person he annoyed every week.

“It’s okay,” you whispered and it was like the valve of his heart had given in and all emotions came flooding out. There was no stopping them. 

Without another second of hesitation, Seungmin pulled you back into his arms, resting his head on your shoulder and relishing in the words of comfort you whispered in his ear. 

And just like that your heart broke for the first time, in unison with his.

“It’s my mother,” he whispered weakly as your grip on his hoodie tightened. “She’s in hospital. Has been for the past week.”

“What happened?” you asked hesitantly, afraid of triggering more tears. 

Seungmin sighed deeply and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his crying to cease, “She was caught in a car crash and she hasn’t woken up still.”

“That’s why you’ve been buying flowers so often,” you realized and he nodded. 

He mumbled, “I want her to wake up to the prettiest sight so she could smile again. I really miss her smile.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered again as another set of tears began running down his cheeks. “I’m sure she appreciates it. But she wouldn’t want you to cry.”

“Will you come with me?” he asked in a weak voice after a moment of silence. “To see my mother?”

To say you were surprised at his request would be a major understatement. You were beyond baffled and so you asked, “Why?”

“I don’t want to go alone,” he whispered. “It’s too difficult.”

“I’ll go with you. As long as you wish,” you sighed into his hair as he hummed in appreciation, his tears slowly drying. 

That day you walked with him, flowers in hand as you entered his mother’s room. There she lied and at the sight, you felt Seungmin’s hand grip yours tightly. He let out a barely audible whimper of despair before walking up to her and beginning to quietly tell her about his day. 

You stood in the doorway, watching him and offering him encouraging smiles whenever he seemed to falter. He seemed too fragile, so gentle compared to the Seungmin who came in every Saturday. This was a side of him you never knew existed. 

After an hour of talking and even singing a bit, Seungmin finally pushed himself to his feet and walked back to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. He whispered, “Thank you for coming along.”

It repeated for the whole week: every day he came in, bought some flowers and took your hand so you would accompany him to the hospital. In that week, the two of you grew close. You guessed crying with someone really brought people closer. It definitely was the case for you and Seungmin.

The sadness and exhaustion in his eyes slowly began to fade, being replaced with hope and appreciation. 

Finally, on Friday, he practically waltzed in, a large smile on his face and his eyes shining with happiness. You could barely react when he ran over to you and picked you up to spin you as his arms remained around your waist. A delighted giggle left his lips as he spoke, “She woke up. She woke up this morning.”

“She did?” you asked, sharing his excitement. 

Seungmin nodded enthusiastically, excited to tears as he hugged you tight and sighed in relief, “She’s going to be fine.”

When he came in next Saturday, it wasn’t for his mother. 

“Good day,” he cheered as you walked into the store, dressed in a black t-shirt and a jacket. The weather was getting harsher and his clothing style was proof of that. 

You hummed in response before focusing back on your crossword, “What would you like today?”

“I’ll have a look around if you don’t mind,” he chuckled, not wanting to bother you when you were so focused on another task. Partly because he cared, but mostly because he recalled a painful experience from the last time he attempted to tear you away from a crossword (let’s just say, he learnt exactly how painful a rolled-up crossword collection could be in the hands of an angry florist). 

“Be my guest.”

At that, he began humming without a second of hesitation. He was in a good mood and he tended to display that by singing and today’s song just so happened to be “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast. You rolled your eyes at the realization. 

After some minutes of consideration, he opted for sunflowers. He picked out ten of those and made his way over to the register. He spoke quietly, as not to startle you, “I’ll have these, please.”

You looked up from your crossword and offered a smile. “Sunflowers. My favourite.”

“You like sunflowers?” He raised his eyebrows but you snorted. 

“Kind of,” you replied, “but it’s more of an automatic response now. Gotta encourage those customers somehow.”

Seungmin laughed at your honest response. “Do I look like I need more encouragement?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “ten seems kind of a weak number for you.”

He laughed at that and reached out to flick your forehead gently. “I’m already spending half of my weekly pocket money on flowers. How much more do you need?”

“I’m just saying,” you teased him as you wrapped the sunflowers in a newspaper. “Anything else, oh dear customer of mine?”

“A hug would be nice,” he seemed sheepish to admit.

You were taken aback but not one to protest. If there was anything you learnt about Seungmin the week before, it’s that he loved a good hug or twenty. Not only that but he gave incredible hugs.

You chuckled after a moment of thought before opening your arms wide to invite him to hug you. He gladly walked around the counter and wrapped his arms around you. He sighed in content, feeling safe and happy. 

“Oh, before I forget,” you pulled back from the hug. “We’re getting a shipment of cacti next tomorrow. Do you want one?”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Are you trying to bribe me with cactus right now?”

“We only get those shipments once a year. The nice ones are usually bought within three days of arriving,” you told him before mumbling quietly, “I’ve seen you look at the cacti before. Figured you’d like one.”

Seungmin chuckled before humming in appreciation. “Sure. If you’ll be kind enough to put one cactus to the side for me to pick up later, I’d be very happy.”

“All I’m asking in return is you’ll buy me lunch next Saturday.”

“Deal.” He didn’t even hesitate. “But I have to go now. Minhee invited me to her tea party.”

You snorted, “What a perfect young man.”

“Shush.”

You hated Mondays. For several, relatively obvious, reasons. 

This Monday though? This Monday you were looking forward to. Why? Because a new young florist would be joining the ranks of your tiny flower store.

You could barely contain your excitement and nervousness as a rather short yet athletic-looking young man dressed in all black walked into the store, holding in his hand a small paper and his phone. He looked up from the note to check the large banner above your head. 

“This has to be the place,” he mumbled to himself after checking it twice. Feeling your gaze on himself, the young man walked over and offered a smile, “Hi, I’m Seo Changbin. I believe I was hired?”

“(Y/n)!” you heard your grandmother’s voice from behind. “It’s the new florist! Show him around!”

Normally you would’ve grumbled a bit, not being a big fan of the store’s layout. However, this was a relatively handsome young man in front of you, waiting for a quick tour and instructions. A new co-worker. (New eye candy.) You couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

“Sure!” You smiled and began showing him around, telling him everything he needed to know. As you had predicted by his looks, he wasn’t big on flowers usually. But the job had a good salary and he had rent to pay and school to attend. 

It didn’t take long for the two of you to click. Within hours, the two of you were in perfect sync. 

“You’re pretty good at this,” you told him on Saturday morning as the two of you attempted to arrange a bride’s bouquet. It wasn’t uncommon for locals to order bouquets and flower arrangements from your store, seeing as you grandmother and you had managed to make a good impression on almost everyone (this doesn’t include the rival store’s owner). 

Changbin chuckled as he placed a pastel pink rose in the bouquet, doing so carefully as not to disturb your own work. He spoke, “You’re better than me though.”

“I’ve been doing this for years, Bin,” you told him while doing your damn best to not blush under his gaze. “If I wasn’t any good at this, I would’ve lost my job ages ago.”

“Still,” he continued, “this might just be the prettiest bouquet I’ve ever seen.”

“The roses from across the street are the secret ingredients,” you half-joked. “The gardener’s daughter has been sneaking in all types of roses from around the world. So we have a large variety of those, unlike some other places.”

“The pale blue ones are a nice touch,” he mumbled quietly and you couldn’t help but agree.

As he was about to say something else, the bell on the door rang. In walked Seungmin, once again dressed in a random t-shirt and a jacket. But this time he was missing his usual baseball cap.

“Seungmin,” you cheered, looking up from the bouquet, “What would you like today?”

“I think I have a cactus to pick up.” He smiled brightly before looking around. “I’d also like some lilies, please.”

You hummed before asking, “Which colour and how many?” 

“White and red?” Seungmin thought out loud and you nodded before patting Changbin on the shoulder. You teased the new florist, “Your time to shine, Bin.”

“White and red lilies?” Changbin didn’t miss a beat and walked around the counter as you walked to the back to get Seungmin’s cactus, one you had picked out to your best ability.

Seungmin seemed a bit surprised to see your new co-worker but if it bothered him, he didn’t voice it out loud. He didn’t have to. His eyes said it all. Still, the moment Changbin turned to him, Seungmin’s glare was replaced with another bright smile.

“Would you like anything else?” you asked as Seungmin and Changbin made their way back to the counter. 

“No, that’s all,” Seungmin replied, his eyes remaining on Changbin who kept sneaking quick glances at you. 

What was this feeling in his gut? Jealousy? No. Definitely not jealous. Seungmin didn’t get jealous. 

When he left the store and took one last look through the window, he saw you giving Changbin a back-hug and messing with his hair, a shy blush on Changbin’s face. It was decided. Seungmin was absolutely jealous. 

Every Saturday from then on, Seungmin found himself fuming with spite when he walked into the store and found you and your co-worker practically linked at the hip. 

You hadn’t noticed how close you and Changbin really were, seeing his hugs and teasing and occasional flirting as friendly. Seungmin, on the other hand, saw it as a threat to his very being. 

How dare a new guy hit on the florist he never knew he had a crush on?!

The following weekend, Seungmin didn’t come in with the usual enthusiasm or playful insults. He actually hesitated to enter. You know because you watched him stand outside the door for 10 minutes, biting his lip and fidgeting with the sleeves of his slightly too large of a varsity jacket. Even his gaze was hesitant as it wandered around the building.

Finally, you had enough.

You marched over to the door and all but threw it open. Without giving him even a second to think about it, you grabbed him by his sleeve and dragged him inside. “It’s raining outside, idiot.”

“Barely a drizzle,” he mumbled in response as he obediently followed you to the counter. “Hello to you too, by the way.”

“Hi. Nice to see you!” you spoke after letting out a short disbelieving scoff. “What would you like today?”

Instead of replying, Seungmin looked around the room. It was almost like he was looking for something. 

A minute passed before he turned back to you. The look in his eyes almost startled. He asked, “No loverboy today?”

“Loverboy?” You blinked.

He puffed out his cheeks and raised his hand to around his chin to indicate a height and spoke, “You know, the guy’s about this tall. Kind of looks like he should be working in a Hot Topic instead of a flower store. Always attached to you.”

“Oh!” you squeaked in surprise. “You mean Changbin? We’re just friends.”

Seungmin had the irresistible urge to roll his eyes. “And he’s not here today?”

“No. I trained him well so now he’s working shifts alone.” You leaned over the counter to pinch his cheek. “It’s just me today.”

“Great!” It was as though a switch had been flipped: Seungmin seemed oddly happy all of a sudden. He grinned and declared, “I’ll take some thirty of gerbera daisies.”

You sighed. Of course, he would place an order this large. “You know, my life would be much easier if you just placed your orders a few days ahead of time.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see your pretty face red in anger,” Seungmin replied easily and you were stunned. He had just called you pretty.

“If- If you say so,” you stuttered out and walked over to the gerberas. “Colour preferences?”

Seungmin hummed in thought. “Red and peach. Half and half.”

“You finally figured out that there are different shades to pink?” you teased him but began picking out the flowers. 

Seungmin merely chuckled at that and watched you. For a moment he wondered why he had been so hesitant about coming in. 

“So, are you going to pay or not?”

“What?” Only now did he realize he’d been lost in his thoughts. Your little giggle snapped him out of the daze and his face felt hot all of a sudden. “Right. Pay.”

You chuckled at that and asked, “Are you okay, Seungmin? You seem a bit distracted.”

“Don’t,” he warned half-heartedly as he handed you the money. 

“Do you have a crush on Changbin or something? You seem kind of upset that he’s not here,” you teased him and this time he scoffed. 

His glare settled on you but it wasn’t harsh. No, you could only read playfulness out from his gaze. “Sure, that’s why I come here every Saturday. To see your boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating!” you laughed and walked around the counter to throw your hand over his shoulder. Seungmin felt his heartbeat pick up as you rested your head against him while pushing the bouquet into his hand. “Besides, I prefer you to him any day.”

“Lies.”

“Are you calling me a liar, Kim Seungmin?” you gasped and punched his side gently. He laughed at that. 

Before he could reply, the door to the shop flew open and Changbin ran in. A wide smile on his face, the short man rushed over to you and pulled you into a tight hug, twirling your around the room after tearing you out of Seungmin’s grasp.

All hope and joy Seungmin had held in his heart for so long vanished in 5 seconds flat. He couldn’t help but glare at the two of you as you laughed in Changbin’s arms, the small man’s face hidden in the crook of your neck. He scoffed loudly and marched out, flowers in hand and heart burning with hatred. 

You could just stare after his retreating figure as he walked out, fuming with anger and distaste as Changbin squealed, “She said YES!”

Another week, another Saturday. You were in the flower store, sorting flowers when the door opened and Seungmin stepped in. The usual bounce was gone from his step and he solemnly made his way to the counter where you were seated. Without a single smile or a hum, he spoke, “I’ll have a box of yellow roses.”

“Not asking me for suggestions this time?” you wondered out loud but began fulfilling his order either way. 

You attempted to engage in small talk but he seemed to be having none of it. When you asked him a question, his only responses were quiet hums or shakes of his head. Not a single unnecessary word said.

You tried to shake it off. Maybe he was just having a bad day and was taking it out on you. Or perhaps he was trying not to take it out on you. But you couldn’t convince yourself. This just wasn’t like Seungmin at all and it bothered you. 

“Could you hurry up?” he spoke after a while. “I’m kind of in a hurry.” The harshness of his tone made you flinch in your spot but you forced yourself to continue to be hopeful.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t order a box of roses on such short notice,” you suggested teasingly. The chuckle at the end was meant as a sign of goodwill but Seungmin only seemed more irritated by it.

He grumbled something under his breath and leant back against the counter. A moment passed before he spoke, “I’m leaving.”

“I’m not even done with your order yet, Seungmin,” you scoffed at that. 

“No, you don’t get it.” He cursed quietly, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. Then he tried once again, “I’m leaving Korea.”

Your heart stopped. The two roses in your hand fell to the ground. “You’re what?”

“I signed up for an international student exchange program two weeks ago,” he spoke quite clearly but refused to look you in the eye. “I’m leaving for America in three days.”

“That’s kind of last-minute.” Shakily you picked up the fallen roses and continued sorting them.

Seungmin shrugged. “They had a free spot and I’d been considering it for a while. Figured I’d give it a go.”

“When will you be back?”

He didn’t answer. “Are you done with the roses yet?”

“Yeah,” you finally sighed and placed the box on the counter. 

He left after paying the total, never once looking back. Your heart grumbled as you realized - he never answered your question.

“(Y/n), did you order new gerberas?” Changbin’s voice broke you out of a daze. 

You looked around, feeling a bit disoriented as you tried to recall what he had just said. You couldn’t and Changbin could see it in your eyes. He sighed and walked over to you. 

Bitterly you stared at the couple ring in his hand. He had what you didn’t - the person he loved by his side. Despite the distaste radiating off you, Changbin pulled you into his arms and pressed a comforting kiss to your head. After all, as your self-appointed best friend of three months, he knew what was going on and could read you like the back of his hand.

You quietly grumbled and got lost in your thoughts again. In the months of not seeing Seungmin, you had come to three important realizations: 

ONE: you missed Seungmin’s visits to the flower store and his idiotic habit of buying a worrying amount of flowers with no warning.

TWO: you absolutely did not like the fact that Seungmin was in America and you couldn’t communicate with him.

THREE: you were ridiculously smitten with Kim Seungmin, the annoying flower store customer who had left you alone in Korea for the sake of a student exchange program.

“He’ll be back,” Changbin tried to comfort you but you merely scoffed. “I’m serious.”

“I doubt he’ll come back to the store when he returns to the country,” you mumbled. “He’ll have new friends, new habits.”

Changbin rested his head on yours and sighed. “If he cares for you as much as you care for him, he’ll come back and never let you out of his sight again.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then he’s obviously an idiot and I will personally beat him up for you.”

For the first time in what felt like months, you let out a laugh and Changbin couldn’t help but smile upon hearing the sound.

In the six months of not seeing Seungmin, you had made friends with new business owners and staff on the block. The Ninth Street had become a very popular business sight thanks to the advertising that Changbin and Jisung, a boy from the record store down the street, had done over the months as a project for their marketing course in university.

Not a single day went by lonely. Every time you started to feel even a bit of boredom, a familiar face would walk in. Today it was Hyunjin from the photo developing shop at the very end of the street. 

His tall model-like figure was not difficult to recognize even in the heavy rain pouring down from the sky. A wide smile appeared on his face as he walked in and greeted you. “Thought you’d be lonely on this rainy day.”

“You know me too well, Hwang Hyunjin,” you laughed and turned on the kettle placed under the counter. “Tea?”

“Yes!” he agreed immediately and enthusiastically. “I wanted to bring cookies but I thought the rain might soak them too much.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got a stash right here,” you proudly declared and pulled a bowl of your grandmother’s chocolate chip cookies out of a drawer. “Eat up.”

Hyunjin stared at you in awe. “I love you.”

“Keep that love talk for your girlfriend.” He scoffed at the mention. “How is she anyway?”

“Annoying as always,” he pointed out. “How many times do I have to tell her that I don’t want to model for her to understand that?”

You shrugged.

“Speaking of girlfriends,” Hyunjin’s eyes suddenly lit up in mischief. “Why aren’t you?”

Not quite understanding, you stared at him in question.

“I mean,” he choked and coughed on a cookie, “why aren’t you dating anyone? Are you not interested in anyone?”

“Not really.”

Hyunjin scoffed once again. “Lies. There are like 7 different, incredibly good looking guys working on this street all year round and you’re trying to tell me you’re not attracted to any of us?”

“Don’t half of you have girlfriends?”

“I get that Chan is a big guy but not even he is big and intimidating enough to make up half of us,” Hyunjin glared at you. “And I’m still single and so is everyone else on this block.”

You offered him a pointed look and he quickly corrected himself, “Alright, so maybe Changbin is in a dedicated relationship and maybe Jisung sort of kind of has a girlfriend but other than that we’re all single.” When you continued looking at him with that look, he finally sighed, “And maybe Minho’s off the market too. Geesh, just tell me.”

“There is this one guy,” you mumbled and Hyunjin’s ears immediately perked up. 

Looking almost like a puppy who’s caught sight of a treat in his owner’s hand, Hyunjin asked, “Who? Tell me. Tell me!”

“You need to stop that,” you blinked. “It’s annoying.”

“Just tell me who you like,” he whined and stretched out his arm to flick your forehead. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Your cheeks heated up as you spoke, “There’s this one guy but he went away and I haven’t seen him since.”

The kettle clicked to let you know that the tea water was ready. Without much thought, you poured water in both your and Hyunjin’s designated mugs (which only existed courtesy of Felix who thought that everyone working on Ninth Street should be friends and exchange gifts - he got everyone personalized coffee mugs). 

Enjoyable silence filled the store as the two of you waited for your tea to get ready. Hyunjin twirled the tea bag in his mug and suddenly asked, “Is it Seungmin?”

You almost spilt the contents of your mug. “How did you-?”

“Chan is not exactly the best at keeping secrets,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Maybe you should keep that in mind for future reference. Write it on a note somewhere.”

“I’ll keep that in mind from now on,” you grumbled and wiped down the counter. “But it’s not a big deal. He’s not coming back for a while.”

Hyunjin snorted. “He just came back to Korea last night. Jisung said so.”

“Jisung is friends with Seungmin?”

“They’re classmates,” he replied and lifted his mug to his lips to get a taste of the tea. He scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Gosh, this is awful.”

“You forgot the sugar, idiot.”

Seungmin felt like the weight of his feelings was trying to push him down, right into his grave six feet under. His heart was heavy and his head was filled with 20 different ways to speak to you.

During the long walk to the flower store, he came to the conclusion that he should just try to be himself. Sure, it had been 6 months but there’s no way everything had changed so much that he could no longer just be himself. 

When he turned to Ninth Street, he was surprised at the number of people walking around. In the past, the street had been almost empty on weekends. He had found comfort in walking down the somewhat abandoned street and ordering a box of roses from you. The thought of you not having anything better to do was what had kept him from feeling guilt about placing such large orders on short notice.

How could he ever ask for a box of yellow roses now when the street was filled with hundreds of curious people.

“Seungmin!” Jeongin’s familiar voice sounded. “You’re back!”

“Yeah,” he laughed somewhat awkwardly. “Got back just two days ago. Slept all through yesterday.”

Jeongin hummed in understanding. “Maybe you should’ve rested today too. You look kind of exhausted.”

“Thank you for pointing that out,” Seungmin couldn’t stop himself from saying and Jeongin merely laughed at that. “Sorry. Old habits.” He cleared his throat and looked around. “What happened here? It’s so lively all of a sudden.”

“Ah, Jisung and Changbin had a marketing project for uni and they decided to advertise the Ninth Street as an ideal hub for small businesses. It worked wonders,” Jeongin told him happily. “Now not a single day goes by quietly. There are so many customers and new people. It’s incredible.”

Seungmin had only one question. “Does the flower store still exist?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin smiled. “(Y/n), her grandmother and Changbin are all so busy these days. The store’s become so popular — everyone goes there nowadays.”

Bidding farewell, Seungmin smiled and walked to the flower store. The building was bigger than he remembered and the sign above the door seemed to shine brighter than six months ago, yet the place held an air of comfort and familiarity. With a sigh of relief, he entered.

True to Jeongin’s words, the shop had more customers than Seungmin could recall ever seeing in the place. There was a couple discussing flower arrangements for their weddings in the lily section, a young man choosing roses to buy for his significant other and two elderly women gushing over the quality of the gerberas that they were trying to buy for their grandchildren’s birthdays. 

Seungmin could barely recognize Changbin as he approached the counter. The short male still looked the same for the most part, but he had grown more muscular and the earlier vibe of ‘I’m only here to earn money’ had been replaced with an obvious genuine love for what he was doing. There was a wide smile on the man’s face as he handed a young lady her small potted cactus.

“Have a good day and visit us again!” he called after the lady as she left with a wide grin on her face. 

Changbin’s smile only slightly faded as he cleaned the counter. As he finished that, his eyes landed on Seungmin. He couldn’t help but grin and call out, “Yo, Kim Seungmin!”

“Seo Changbin,” Seungmin chuckled somewhat awkwardly. “I see you’re busy.”

“Jisung and I did such a good job on advertising this street that now we get no rest. I’m starting to regret that school project,” Changbin joked.

“How’s (Y/n)? Is she here today?” Seungmin asked. “I thought she worked all Saturdays.”

Changbin clicked his tongue. “She and I switched shifts after she found out that you were coming back. I think she’s upset with you.”

Seungmin bit back a curse. “Do you think I could get her to stop being upset with me?”

“I might have an idea,” Changbin smirked.

It was unusual to work on a Monday. Usually, you avoided this day in favour of sleeping in and maybe going to the theatre. However, your fear of seeing Seungmin again had made you switch shifts with Changbin (who had been more than glad to do so because he wanted an extra couple of hours of sleep before the emotionally draining advertising tactics class in the evening) and now you were suffering the consequences.

“Would you like a ribbon with the flowers? We could arrange it in a bow,” you suggested to the customer as he stood in front of the counter, looking somewhat dumbstruck. Your guess was the guy didn’t visit flower stores very often.

“I- Uh- Sure,” he finally decided and you smiled.

Fiddling with the velvet ribbons, you asked, “Should we do a light blue ribbon to match the flowers or a dark red one to contrast them? Red would also give off an air of passion and love while the blue would give more of an innocent and pure vibe. What do you think?”

The man blushed and mumbled, “The red one should be fine.”

You obediently wrapped his flowers and finished the transaction before smiling and waving him goodbye. The blushy man left and for the first time that day, the store was void of customers.

You sighed in relief but soon put on a smile again as the bell rang. Without a second thought, you turned from the computer screen to the door. Your smile faded.

“Hey there,” Seungmin’s familiar voice greeted you. There was a shy quirk to his lips and you couldn’t help but stop breathing for a second. Instead of delving further into a conversation, he strolled over to the counter as demanded, “I’d like your best red rose. One.”

“Right, of course,” you broke out the miniature daze that had hit you when he entered. “One red rose, coming right up.”

Seungmin watched you quietly before adding, “And maybe a welcome-back hug from my favourite florist?”

Without thinking, you replied, “Sorry, Changbin’s not working until Wednesday.”

Seungmin scoffed between giggles and you melted. He looked you straight in the eyes and spoke, “I meant you, silly. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you couldn’t help but whisper as he rounded the counter and pulled you into his arms. Despite not seeing him for six months, you couldn’t help but cuddle into him. His familiar scent just pulled you in and the familiar beat of his heart calmed you down until your heart matched its speed with his.

Seungmin only pulled back from the hug long enough to mumbled, “I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re back,” you whispered. It would not be a complete lie to say that you were surprised at how fast you were caving in. How was it possible to be this infatuated with a person even after this long?

“Let me make it up to you,” Seungmin suddenly decided and pulled away from you. He seemed almost frantic as he suggested, “Let me take you out on a date and make it up to you. For all these six months that I was an idiot.”

You blinked. “How do you even know if I like you back?”

“Changbin can’t lie to save his life,” he joked, “and I had a feeling. Nothing to do with your computer’s wallpaper.”

Your eyes widened. You had almost forgotten that you had set your wallpaper to a photo of Seungmin. The sudden memory made your heart and breathing stop for a second but Seungmin was quick to comfort you, “Don’t worry. You’re my screensaver too.” He rested his forehead against yours. “So, about that date?”

“What about that rose you came to get?”

Seungmin chuckled, reach out his hand, picked out a rose and placed it between the two of you, never once letting his forehead leave yours. 

In a low voice, he spoke, “It’s for you.”

You accepted it without a moment of hesitation.

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