#this one has at least 32 so far and i NEED to finish planning the last part

[originalaccountname]

tiny guy in a BLANKET NEST wearing a T-SHIRT

#non-rebloggable you'll get the whole deal later #text blurred because i'm taking it out of context but you can have fun trying to guess who is saying what #ok i just checked and the tiny dazai angst had 37 panels #this one has at least 32 so far and i NEED to finish planning the last part #i need this to be done i've been on and off it for too long #apparently i talk sometimes

[ivorivet]

I need to put more stuff over here! I've got a short WIP thread about this project over on my Twitter, but the long and the short of it is that I do big fiber arts projects better if I have a goal in mind, and the goal of this one is to get good enough at handspinning and weaving drafts that I can reproduce some of the fabric used to make the Lothlorien cloaks from Lord of the Rings. This is some Gotland wool yarn I finished plying tonight (not very well as it's still pretty unbalanced, but I wanted to free up bobbins more than I cared about a perfectly balanced yarn). I'm not expecting to do a 1:1 reproduction because I'm just not that good, but here's the rough plan:

- The Lothlorien pattern is a shadow weave variant made of alternating gray and white yarna. It's a REALLY cool color-and-weave optical illusion, where both warp and weft threads alternate between dark and light, and subtle skips in the pattern create either vertical or horizontal bars. I still haven't made a weaving draft that I like, but messing around with weaving software has been very useful in helping me learn what leads to what with shadow weave. My big unknown rn is how many shafts are needed to reproduce the pattern.

- For the gray yarn, Stansborough Wool used their own proprietary sheep breed developed in New Zealand. You can't buy unspun roving from them anymore, so I picked Gotland wool instead which is apparently the origin breed for Stansborough's variant.

- For the white yarn, I'm using a 33% merino 66% alpaca blend that I have no other reason for choosing other than that's what the fiber content on a Stansborough scarf I bought said, so I went with it. So far it's been a little bastard to spin and I much prefer the Gotland. I still haven't mastered spinning high twist singles for long periods of time without my hands cramping up, and the longer Gotland fibers don't need as much twist to stay together.

- I know weaving yarn is typically used as singles, but since the fabric made by Stansborough seems to use a 2-ply and I enjoy my yarn not acting like it's haunted, I decided to also go with a 2-ply for this project. I'm spinning both yarns as skinny as I can with a worsted draft, but I'm not physically capable of drafting out yarn as fine as what was used in the Stansborough fabric. I think their stuff is around 30 wpi and I'm clocking in around 20-25 wpi for my finished yarn.

- One sticking point to this project that I don't have quite figured out is the loom I'll use. The cloaks are half circles which requires a fairly wide fabric, and my Ashford table loom maxes out at 32". Up until recently that left me considering a couple options: 1) do some weird doubleweave bullshit to double the effective width of my loom at the cost of cutting the number of shafts I get to use in half, 2) rent time with a bigger loom at a local weaving studio and pray to god I spin enough yarn before I start so I don't run out halfway through, or 3) ctfo and be content with reproducing the fabric at a skinnier width even if I don't make a cloak out of it.

I'll be throwing up random bits of progress here as I make it, but I'm fully expecting this project is at least 1-2 years away from having a lot to show for itself.

#cosplayblogging #hand spinning #spinning #gotland #weaving #lord of the rings

[sun-in-retrograde]

Outer Planet Energies for Week of 21 August to 28 August

A lot of the big aspects from so far in the Venus retrograde ended with the new moon and there's a few new aspects that will be lasting a while. So, a quiet week, but an interesting one in the dwarf planets!

Sedna 0 Gemini 32 to 0 Gemini 33

This is a Martian kind of week! We have a Mars opposition with Neptune, then a trine with Pluto. It’s a week of dissipation and challenge. The threat of addiction and the strength of willpower. But also, from Wednesday there’s a square between Mars in Virgo and Sedna in Gemini that comes in just as the Neptune opposition starts to ebb away.

What I often find with particularly challenging transits is that by the time they hit their apex a sort of natural immunity builds up to them. So, for instance, if a Mars Neptune transit has me indulging in addictions and intrusive thoughts, by the time its power starts to wax I’m already finished with my packet of cigarettes and able to sleep through sheer exhaustion. And that’s where the Sedna-Mars square comes in. Mars is in a problem solving mood, but Sedna just wants a space to complain. 

These are both natural responses to a hard time but they can be mutually frustrating. Mars sees in Sedna an energy that refuses to be helped. All Sedna wants to do is complain and think over things. What Mars doesn’t see is that Gemini is mutable and Sedna is doing the work to find a solution. Complaining about it and thinking things through is the whole of the work, it just takes a while. Mars Virgo can’t solve the problems Sedna helps us work though. By the same note - if your problem is that you keep tripping over something, no amount of emotional analysis is better than the good old fashioned Martian impulse to move the thing. 

It might be hard to find the right tool for the right task this week but there’s also an opportunity there. Sometimes we spend years working on the emotional and traumatic undercurrents of a task when we need to clean our rooms. Sometimes the reason we’re upset by not having clean socks is more important than cleaning the socks. This square might give us opportunities to switch up tools a bit. 

Gonggong 5 Pisces 11 to 5 Pisces 07

The Saturn Gonggong Conjunction is started in April and will end in September and will return December 2023 to February 2024. A big result of the conjunction at least in the UK was a wet summer where plans were cancelled. A lasting effect may be the Antarctic’s shockingly bad year - the Antarctic ice sheets have had their worst year ever, substantially worse than the previous worst year ever of 2022. I know we expect this kind of news but you have to understand sea ice changes slow. The Arctic’s worst year is still 2012. 

Of course, you kind of have to ask, worst for who? I'm not trying to justify climate change, it's bad. But one impact of a hotter Antarctic is cooler temperatures elsewhere, which may if we're lucky reduce the strain on other system for a while. It’s complex and we’re doing astrology, not climate change. My reason for mentioning this is that Gonggong and Saturn in Pisces can also bring emotional flooding which is again not pleasant but can release energies we can use elsewhere. For instance, if climate change shocks and appalls you this week, that might encourage you to campaign against it politically in some way.

Haumea 29 Libra 12 to 29 Libra 17

Haumea and Pluto are in similar spaces. They’ve both had an experimental period in a new sign and are now hanging out in the old sign for a bit longer before going into a new sign full time. Pluto is preparing to enter Aquarius, where it spent the age of revolution and social transformation at the end of the 18th century. Haumea is entering Scorpio for the first time since the mid 18th century where it ruled over an expansion in global trade and industry that led to worsening conditions for the working classes, global war, and a massive expansion in the institution of slavery. 

Haumea in Scorpio feels oceanic to me because the source of Haumea’s egg-like shape and the weird expansion of the planet is thought to be in part connected to an ancient global subsurface ocean. Haumea in Scorpio feels like it’s offering global expansion to Pluto Aquarius’ interest in what’s off and beyond Earth. 

Haumea and Pluto are going to be squared for a long time, the aspect appears at points between 2018 to 2034. That’s with a 3 degree orb. With a more generous orb of 10 degrees - Haumea is squared with Pluto from 2010 and through the whole of the Pluto Aquarius period. From an environmental point of view, this feels like the crisis of living in a society that constitutes personal growth in terms of expansion with an awareness that the planet is not all there is and is, in fact, finite.

This strikes me as really different to Pluto Capricorn and Haumea Libra. Haumea Libra knows what happens when internal pressures for expansion are disbalanced - eruptions and calamity! Pluto Capricorn knows that the world is a hard place and appreciates work and harshness to survive in it. It feels to me like the clash between the need for self care and the fear of poverty. 

Eris 25 Aries 10 to 25 Aries 08

The North Node is coming to a conjunction with Eris. This is the first conjunction like this since 2005 and as Eris is in retrograde it will be very close for a very long time. It will go exact at the end of November after weeks of being dramatically close. I use a 3 degree orb and by that measure the conjunction ends on 1 January 2024.

The Eris conjunction offers a chance to hold your own with your desires, trined Lilith in Leo, there’s power behind expressing yourself. It feels like a time when people will want to show up as themselves and maybe won’t be able to compromise on what that looks like. That sounds empowering, it doesn’t necessarily sound harmonious.

#dwarf planet astrology #asteroid astrology #astrology #eris astrology #sedna

[horseshoe-bay-ledger]

Bleeding Hearts — VIII

Part 8: The Essence of a Bleeding Heart

(Part 7 | The Whole Thing)

It was three words that began to unravel Ace.

“Nancy hasn’t responded,” Nick said not bothering with pleasantries when Ace swung open his apartment door.

Ace looked fully alert despite the lateness of the hour.

Nick knew very well how he was feeling at this moment. Feelings—this feeling—didn’t magically go away just because the other person didn’t share them the same way. 

Although he’d watched Nancy and Ace for a while now and he wasn’t sure ‘unreciprocated’ was an accurate description of their relationship. 

Regardless, it was very clear from just the look on Ace’s face as Nick told him the news—or ‘no news’—his heart belonged with Nancy completely and utterly. And she was in trouble. 

“I knew we should’ve forced Bess to go with her,” he said immediately. “Dammit. She’s too convincing for her own good. How did we ever let her leave by herself?”

Ace could say that again.

“You would’ve had to handcuff her to something, or someone, to stop her,” Nick pointed out, trying to rationalise.

Ace looked like he was retrospectively and genuinely considering that as an option.

They had all known that Nancy couldn’t be babysat forever. Not if she had anything to say about it.

And she had. 

Of course she’d convinced them she’d be fine by herself that night. That she wanted her own bed to sleep in, time to herself, a change of clothes. And time away from being constantly monitored.

Bess had done some astrological calculations and was fairly certain the barrier breaking ritual couldn’t happen until midnight on Sunday anyway.

And so they had let her go home by herself. Well, they didn’t get in her way at least. 

Instead they had set up a regular check in system to appease the concerns of the rest of the group. Every three hours. A different emoji in response to a designated word in an overly complicated system Nick and Ace had come up with.

They had almost made it through a whole day.

But they had prepared for this. 

Sort of.

However prepared you could be with less than a day’s notice and no concrete idea of what needed to be done. But Bess had been working on it all day.

“Bess must have been wrong about the timing or something,” Nick said.

“How long has it been?” Ace asked.

“Maybe 20 minutes,” Nick replied. “Let me check the time stamp.”

Ace ran his fingers through his hair as he sent an urgent text to Bess. 

“Oh no, sorry,” Nick said, “32 minutes. I sent ‘painting’, and still no bee in response. I tried calling a few times but she hasn’t answered.”

Ace’s phone had barely began to ring when he answered it. 

Nick could only hear one side of the conversation but the panic setting into Ace’s words was obvious. 

“Bess?”

“Yeah, yeah, 32 minutes.”

“No I’m not tracking it that closely, it’s time stamped on Nick’s phone”

“It’s too long.”

“She promised. She meant it. And it was the last one of the night.”

“How far away are you?”

“Do you still think you could do what we discussed? With the transfer?”

“We’ve got to locate her first”

“Yeah, it’s our best bet. Still might need to divide and conquer.”

Nick left Ace to his conversation as he too tried to actively do something about the situation. 

He put out his own phone, reaching out to a couple of people to see if that had seen Nancy and tried calling her phone a couple more times without success. 

“Ace,” Nick said after a little while, dragging his attention. “Gunderson said he’d seen Nancy’s car headed west on Gartner Road. That’s going toward—”

“Icarus Hall,” Ace finished. “Do you think it was her driving or the Nancy imposter?”

“Don’t know. Either possibility is bad news. Wouldn’t put it past our Nancy—she’s not one to be overly cautious in the self-preservation department.”

Ace sighed in agreement and put his phone on speaker.

“Bess, Nancy’s headed to Icarus Hall.”

“And why on this godforsaken Earth would she be doing that,” George bit out, frustration and concern clear in her voice. This hadn’t been the plan. “Also I’m here too.”

“Noted. Whether it’s of her own volition or not is unclear,” Ace clarified.

“And if it was, we’re not sure why,” Nick said. “But she’s heading straight into danger again. Alone.”

He silently cursed at her in frustration.

“That sounds like our Nancy alright,” George said. “How do we know she’s heading to Icarus Hall?”

“Educated guess. Gunderson saw her car heading in that direction just before seven,” Nick said, double checking the message

“But that was over four hours ago,” Bess commented. “Has she missed any other check-ins or just the last one?”

“Just the last one.”

“So she’d have been at Icarus Hall longer than the time she wasn’t sending messages, which means…”

“She deliberately went there alone and something’s happened since then.”

“And she delivered her heart right to where it needs to be taken from her,” George said. “Jesus, Nancy.”

“Are you at the Historical Society still?” Ace said, already pulling on his jacket.

“Yeah we think we might have a solution. Or a reversion ritual we can try.”

“Good, we’ll pick you up on the way. Hold tight,” Nick said, hanging up Ace’s phone for him. 

He clasped his shoulder as they bustled out of his apartment

“She’ll be alright, Ace. Have faith in Bess she knows what she’s doing. We’ll fix this, we always do. And you know how tough Nancy is, she always finds a way.”

—

“Hiya Nancy,” the other Nancy said cheerfully. 

Nancy groggily blinked her eyes open, revealing the world sideways. 

The last thing she remembered was turning the key in the front door of her house or maybe it was the front door to Icarus Hall. She couldn’t seem to remember.

She tried to sit up but found herself competently bound and too dizzy to do so anyway.

“Let me help,” the other Nancy offered unkindly. 

She dragged Nancy up into a sitting position none too gently. With a huff Nancy was upright and leaning against a leg of her own desk.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” the other Nancy commented.

Nancy let out a humourless laugh as she considered the situation.

There was something sardonic in the fact it was Nancy’s heart now on the line. And that it would be herself that would rip it straight from her chest. 

Herself, as created by Temperance. 

But she wasn’t just going to accept that. She couldn’t.

“I saw the letter,” Nancy tried, her tongue feeling dry. “Temperance’s ‘message’ for you. You know Bess said Temperance spoke of how difficult it was to bring a person back from the dead. That it took energy—and lots of it. More than even she had.”

She unsuccessfully tried to arch her back as she spoke.

“So whatever it is you’re planning on doing to bring her back, I suspect that you probably won’t be making it through with your life. Or whatever it is you call your existence. Temperance loves like-for-like especially if there is an air of poetic irony to it—and visceral, familial bodily gore… Did she fill you in on those details? Doubt it. Probably left it to fine print—or worse, the unspoken implication.”

The other Nancy said nothing.

“Your existence was, and always has been, conditional. And limited. It doesn’t have to be,” Nancy pleaded. “She’s not here to control you anymore. Any of us.”

The other Nancy wasn’t interested in discussing this clearly, so she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she went straight for the heart.

“He melted under my touch, Nancy,” was what she said. She knew she meant Ace. “And the way he kisses you… it’s just, wow—simply transcendent.”

Temperance had warned her about Ace and blind spots but she didn’t care. It was a privilege to have him there. It was her strength, not her weakness. 

No matter how much hurt and pain it brought her and would continue to bring her, she would never give that up.

But that pain didn’t go away just because she had accepted it.

“I know,” she replied through gritted teeth, despite herself. “I remember.” 

“You remember? Had you two…”

“No. Not really. Your dear creator put me into an alternate timeline for a whole month so I wouldn’t destroy her.”

Why was she telling her any of this? She needed to stop giving her ammunition.

“Oh, ho, and you were with him there? So you know what it was like, then, being with him,” the other Nancy said, realisation dawning on her. “But he didn’t know what it was like to be with you.”

The other Nancy made a sarcastic clicking noise with her tongue.

Both Nancys looked at each other square in the eye. Looking exactly the same but entirely different.

“Well,” she said. “He does now.”

“We are not the same,” Nancy cut in.

“You think so, do you? Well, perhaps not entirely. Didn’t seem to matter much for Ace, though.”

“If you’re trying to break my heart before you take it, you’re too late.”

Nancy had reached the level of pain and heartache when it came to Ace that adding anymore was only infinitesimal in comparison.  

Unfortunately, because she was her, this Nancy knew the chinks in her armour.

“And you say Temperance can no longer control you,” the other Nancy commented. “Why didn’t you tell him in this reality?”

It was the very question, wasn’t it? 

From the outside she could see what it look liked. How incomprehensible, wayward and messy especially for someone with such a unique insight into Nancy’s brain, her emotions. But for Nancy, this other Nancy asking that question meant one thing: she existed outside of her. Separate. 

Not her. 

She tried not to let the metallic taste from the top of her mouth distract her, as the other Nancy kept prodding. 

“Were you scared he wouldn’t love you as much as you love him? Or that you were going to lose someone else you loved… again?”

“Ha,” Nancy responded instinctively without the slightest hint of humour, and the fullest extent of irony. The look Nancy shot her other self would’ve toppled anyone else in a second. 

There was a silence. 

Nancy tilted her head at her shadow self.

“Oh, of course. You don’t know,” the real Nancy added because she knew this version of herself well enough to know it would truly frustrate her to not fully understand something. 

The other Nancy didn’t even blink, just robotically kept probing trying to get to the bottom of this loose end.

“You may as well tell me, either your friends will ride in on their white horses like you’re hoping or I get your heart. And the rest of your life. Either way, whatever you say isn’t leaving here.”

The real Nancy hesitated, it was something she hadn’t dared speak aloud. Mostly out of fear. Even Carson only knew part of the truth. 

But she supposed she could tell herself. 

There was a life lesson somewhere in there that she chose to ignore. 

“Temperance put a curse on me so that if I ever acted on my feelings for him he would meet certain death. A fail safe in the event of her… untimely passing. Didn’t do her much good in the end.”

Nancy dropped all sense of decorum and just spat the blood in her mouth onto the floor beside her.

“Well, she might not be gone for much longer.”

“So that is what you’re going to do, bring her back?”

The other Nancy looked at her flatly.

“Why? Don’t you share my memories, my feelings? She was ready to sacrifice innocent lives to get what she wanted, everyone we loved—Ace included. This whole town. What do you get from this? Nothing. She’s just using you like she did with me. With everyone. We’re—you’re—merely a convenience to be disposed of the minute you’re no longer of any use to her. I know you know that because I know that.”

“I would have Ace. From what it sounds like, she made sure you never could.”

“He’s not anyone’s to ‘have’,” Nancy interrupted but her other self ignored her and continued on.

“You’ll take my existence all the same. I’d rather take my chances and do what I was made for: leaving this town. Bringing Temperance back is just a part of that.”

“I just… How do you not hate her?”

“Like you said, we are not the same.”

The clock struck midnight and the other Nancy gave her a smile she didn’t think she, herself, would ever truly be capable of.

She looked like her, sounded like her, had the same memories as her but this Nancy lacked her quiddity. Any real sense of Nancy Drew. It was a masquerade with so many cracks that it begged to be revealed. A distorted imitation only. 

Despite what she claimed, Ace had seen through it in the end. And George, and Bess, and Nick. And everyone who truly knew her. 

This Nancy would never be her. Even if she corrupted and usurped her life, Nancy Drew would die here today.

“Can I ask you something?” Nancy Drew said, not pausing for permission. “Why don’t you have a shadow?”

She never got a response.

—

Nancy wanted to fear for her life. 

She should fear for her life.

Mostly she was just tired and unable to even focus on the ritual the other Nancy had begun.

That sense of fading away passed over her again like it had these past days and exhaustion led her further into it even though part of her told her she shouldn’t be giving in. 

A part of her was fighting but it was so small it was unlikely to do any good. It might delay it slightly, give the others a chance. Maybe. It was all she could hold onto as she started to lose her grip.

Her vision faded, so she closed her eyes. 

Her hearing faded, so she stopped listening. 

She was vaguely aware of a physical tug on her heart. It willed itself to leave her. It had begun to leave her. She didn’t have the mind to stop it.

It would be so much lighter without it.

She was expecting the pain of having her heart torn from her chest to be excruciating but this wasn’t so bad. She thought she could see the face of her mother smiling. The familiar sounds of summer-sunset soaked laughter. The glint of a flash light. The smell of fryer grease and ocean air. 

Then someone called her name, pulling her back, anchoring her. 

She felt the cold stone beneath her again.

“Nancy,” it said. “Nancy, hey, c’mon. Open your eyes, please. Please.”

She could do that. 

She could open her eyes, that wouldn’t be so hard. They’d asked so nicely after all.

When she did drag her eyelids open it was Ace’s face she saw swimming into vision in front of her.

She wasn’t quite able to form words with her mouth yet so she stared back at him groggily.

As she began to become more aware she registered both his hands were cupping her face gently. He was haphazardly rested on his knees in front of her. Close enough that she saw the muscles in his face relax when she looked at him but concern still lurked in his eyes.

“You’re alright, you’re okay,” he kept saying. “You’re alright, you’re okay.”

She wasn’t sure if the words were meant for her or for himself.

She blinked a few more times trying to bring the rest of the world back into focus as she did a survey of herself.

She found her heart beating rapidly, resolutely in her chest and entirely hers.

“Hey,” she managed to croak out. 

It was such a nothing, overly casual thing to say but it eased some of the concern she’d seen in Ace’s eyes. 

That’s all she wanted to achieve really. 

He let out the most relieved breath. His head dropped down before quickly looking back at her searching her eyes like they held all the answers he needed. 

In turn, he told her everything he needed to without even saying a word. 

She knew it already anyway.

They stayed like that for a moment but reality soon entered back into the picture in the form of heavy footsteps.

With effort, she drew her gaze away from Ace.

Nancy looked around but the other her was nowhere to be seen in any distinguishable capacity. 

Bess was already standing in the room holding one of her leather bound books with a chain bearing a strange looking pendant with a line, a cross, and a crescent in one hand. She held a vial of what looked like blood in the other.

She was breathing heavily, her gaze trained on Nancy and Ace with concern and curiosity. The clock behind her told Nancy it was the bottom of the hour already. 

It hadn’t felt like much time had passed—but time could be such a fickle thing.

The footsteps had belonged to Nick and George who came tumbling into the room like a hurricane, coming back from some mission Bess had seemingly sent them both on.

“Nancy!” George exclaimed. Before she knew it Ace was gone and George had her in a vice-like hug. 

She let go of a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. 

Her friends, all of them.

“What were you thinking! Don’t you dare do that again, Drew. If you do, I won’t come save you next time,” George lied.

“Okay, I’ll try not to get kidnapped by my evil doppelgänger again,” Nancy promised sarcastically, her voice still hoarse. “I’d hug you back but these ropes are pretty tight.” 

“Oh my god,” George said, pulling back and laughing through tears, “oh my god, of course, uh…”

George surveyed the ropes that currently bound Nancy and immediately turned to Ace, now leaning back on his heels.

“You’re up, Mr. Eagle Scout, my crowbar won’t help with those.”

Ace just leaned forward and began working away at the very proficient knots.

“Where is she?” Nancy asked the room.

“She’s here,” Bess said holding up the small vial of blood. “Reverted back to her original form. Un-created… un-done.”

Nancy wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that meant or how Bess had achieved that.

She turned back to the man in front of her.

“Ace,” Nancy began, trying to convey everything through just his name. 

She knows he deserves a proper explanation but she still couldn’t give him one. His life literally depended on it.

He stopped and gave her a searing look that cut through her very soul.

“Tell me later,” Ace said simply before adding, “when you can.”

Ace, never to be underestimated. 

Did he know? He couldn’t possibly.

Her mouth opened silently as she tried to take it all in.

He just went back to untying her.

“She must have used your superb rope tying skills,” he commented offhandedly, trying to diffuse the energy between them. “Where’d you learn how tie a knot like this?” 

“Taught myself,” Nancy replied like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

A small smile spread across Ace’s face at that.

“And her as well apparently. Or maybe that’s the same thing.”

Ace’s smile dropped instantly.

“It’s not,” Ace stated plainly and without elaboration.

He flicked his eyes up again quickly before returning his attention to the ropes in front of him.

Nancy didn’t have the energy to unpack that right now. 

“Madeline would have been useful right about now if Bess hadn’t stolen her again,” he grumbled, increasing his voice as he spoke.

As if summoned Bess appeared crouching next to him. 

“Not my fault if she likes me better than you,” Bess said to Ace. “How are you feeling, Nancy?”

“Whole,” Nancy said honestly. “But tired.”

Bess gave her a gentle smile. 

“I’ve got some herbs that will help with that. But only for the supernatural side of things. The rest of it you’ll have to do on your own.” 

She patted her elbow and stood back up. 

As she did, Nancy felt the rope falling away from around her. 

“There,” Ace said satisfied, leaning back on his heels again.

Once free Nancy, on instinct, threw herself at him wrapping her arms around him tightly like she’d never let go again.

It was… awkward. She’d nearly knocked him over with her momentum. The stone was cold and her knee jutted uncomfortably into it in this position. Her wrists ached still from the ropes. Loose hair covered half of her face which made breathing a challenge as she buried her head into his shoulder. 

She would not have changed it for anything in the world.

Ace, for his part, held her just as tightly.

“Thanks,” Nancy said, eventually pulling away. 

It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. 

She tried to stand up and it was about as successful as a fawn taking its first steps. Ace and Bess both hurriedly caught an elbow each, steadying her.

“Woah,” Ace said. 

And Bess, at the same time, said, “careful, Nancy, you did just nearly have your heart stolen from your body.”

“It’s not my first rodeo. I’ll get over it,” Nancy said, waving away their concern.

“That’s not as reassuring as you’d think,” Nick pointed out. 

Nancy shot him a defiant look and redoubled her efforts.

“There’s no rush, Nancy,” Ace said quietly in her ear, a soothing hand resting supportively on her lower back. “She’s gone now.”

Ace, somehow knowing the right thing to say, actually slowed her down.

“I know,” Nancy said. “I just need… want to go home, I think.” 

“I’ll pull the car around,” Nick said.

“No, no wait. Don’t be ridiculous,” Nancy said. “I can make it.” 

Nick and Ace exchanged looks. 

“We parked pretty close anyway,” Ace shrugged. 

He knew Nancy too well, she wasn’t going to budge. She was going to walk herself out the door come hell or high water. 

And she did.

And Ace didn’t leave her side the whole way.

She watched him do the unthinkable as he handed the keys to Florence over to Nick. 

Nancy herself had only been allowed to drive her once before, and Ace hadn’t taken his eyes off Nancy the whole time she drove. And she hadn’t yet been invited back into the drivers seat.

It was merely an abundance concern for his car, she was sure. 

“Take care of her,” Ace said, but lacked his usual protectiveness. He was too focused on getting Nancy and himself into the back seat.

She managed to do it mostly herself, but having his hand for support was a godsend. 

His shoulder was a nice place to rest her head. He was wearing his puffer jacket so it was almost like a pillow. 

It was allowed, she managed to convince herself, because had it been George who was on the other side of him—or Bess, or Nick—she would have done the very same. 

Probably. 

...

(Part 9: The Distribution of Curses)

#for those keeping track at home #the preparation ritual also brought Nancy to Icarus Hall #it merged the two inclinations #she thought she was going home but she wasn't #she was going where her other self was going #the two journeys becoming one and the same. #converging their paths #nace fic #nancy drew fic #fic #bleeding hearts

[minimoefoe]

thoughts while/after reading a court of wings and ruin for the first time

I sped through this book so I didn't really write much down as I was reading so these are thoughts after I read the first half and then once I finished the rest

first half, chapters 1-32

italics is stuff I've added after finishing the book

I love lucien so much I feel bad that feyre was using him for her schemes but also I love her liike she's so sneaky. even if it didn't work out as planned

'he's a different breed' made me laugh

so a faerie's mate being a human is a thing? that's weird/interesting/idk

ianthe die challenge (I won)

I was wondering why tf feyre's power was so low bc she's supposed to be strong as fuck. I was like um ?

lucien and feyre leaving together!! I kinda knew it was gonna happen bc in the recap vid of mist and fury that i watched she was like 'lucien would get on well with rhys' group wink wink' but also like, it was obvious anyways - elain is his mate, lucien has clearly been a bit iffy about the way tamlin has done things

made me sad that feyre wasn't just straight up like yeah lucien you should come with me like I get it but also :(

lucien and feyre travelling together for a bit was cool I love their dynamic a lot

lucien and nesta's first dinner with everyone is my fave like both of them slowly realising that the vibes are fun and being kinda surprised

amren being stuck teaching nesta is funny, I feel like they're a good duo

are we gonna get an eris is actually a good guy story bc I am here for it idk, I'm very intrigued

so everyone knows that cassian and nesta are mates right they just for whatever reason won't just say it? or is this vibe purely bc he broke his promise or whatever? surely not

azriel being all soft with elain is so cute wait. but also her and lucien would be cute too and idk UGH

nesta and elain had the potential to really irritate me but they haven't been too bad actually. I'm intrigued by whatever is going on with nesta. elain being a seer is a bit less fun bc that's not massively my vibe but it's fine. also I feel like the second she starting being cryptic like she was having visions it was kinda obvious she was some kind of psychic

it's almost comical how non-evil rhys is like wdym he has a library for abused women like okay sarah we get it he's actually very nice under that bad boy exterior

current ranking? lucien > amren > rhys > azriel > cassian > feyre > mor > nesta > elain

second half, chapter 33-end

I teared up way too many times and lowkey can't remember them all but this some - feyre being like that's why luciens mum loves him so much, them all holding hands before the final battle, the bone carver looking at freyre before dying, tamlin telling feyre to be happy, amren leaving

I wish lucien wasn't gone for like half the book

very mixed feelings about tamlin like fuck him fr he's clearly got Issues but also him being there to help and help bring rhys back was very sweet

and also I feel bad for tamlin but I struggle to feel THAT bad in terms of like am I supposed to care that feyre ruined the trust he had with his ppl bc I don't. also he was so twatty during the meeting like omg how embarrassing

kinda need to know more about eris idk like am I supposed to like him or not I still don't really know

tbh I thought lucien was just more tan than his brothers bc the spring court gets a bit more sun than the autumn one 😭

I was worried that all the battling going on in the book would bore the shit out of me but for the most part I was really into it

what is the deal with lucien, elain and azriel like is elain gonna say fuck the bond and get with az? I could be swayed to root for either one of them tbh. azriel seems to be better for her so far tho, like he knows how to be there for her

I stg after the last book I was like damn where are the gay ppl and this book was like HERE are the gay ppl. not that this is like rep central but yknow

kinda don't know how I feel about mor not telling at least azriel idk bc part of me is like if you just tell him and be open I'm sure it'll be a bit awkward (especailly since you waited 500 years to do it instead of telling him ages ago) at first but in the long run it'll be way better and maybe he'll even understand why it was hard for her to tell him. and also everyone else would obvs be supportive of her. but also maybe az is the weird one for not just getting the hint and leaving her alone like if it was gonna happen by now it would have happened and the fact he's soooo protective of her still, in a way that shows how he truly feels, is like okay bro maybe leave her alone

new ranking? rhys > lucien > azriel > cassian > feyre > mor > nesta > elain? idfk

there was a lot of names to remember and idk I defo got most of them down but some of them I'm like idk who you are I'm gonna be real. and miryam etc, I'm still not 100% clear on their story but honeslty it's fine, I understood it enough to not get too confused. I'll pay more attention if/when I reread

low-key feel like either rhys or amren (preferably amren) stayed gone like idk, both of them leaving/dying only to be brought back kinda takes something out of it I want STAKES sarah kill someone

#reading thoughts #a court of wings and ruin #acowar #i didnt mean to post this but anyways #edits may be made

[daresplaining]

[ID: A page from Devil’s Reign. Mike Murdock and Butch are standing and talking alone in a large office. Mike is wearing a white suit jacket and pants over a blue collared shirt. He is slightly unshaven. Butch is wearing a navy blue jacket over a black shirt, and grey pants. The room has wall-sized windows covered by shades, and there is a large horse painting on the right adjoining wall. In front of the shaded windows, there is a desk surrounded by several large chairs.]  Mike: “Are you planning to hit the $#@% mayor?” Butch: “Our revenues have dropped eighty percent since he sent those damn cop drones out. So, yeah. I guess so.” Mike: “You-- you-- It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Butch! We were supposed to be different! Bloodless! I know your dad pissed you off, but--” Butch: “This isn’t personal, Mike. There’s too much riding on my actions now that I’m the Kingpin. Us keeping our hands clean? That was a fairy tale. You don’t want to be a part of this? Fine.” Mike: “What if I... What if I had a way to set things right?” Butch: “What are you talking about?” Mike: “I...#$@%, man...I don’t even know how to say this... I’m not real. I... It’s a long story, but I have...I have a stone. Some kind of magic...” Butch: “What the #$@% are you on about? ‘Not real’? A ‘magic stone’?” Mike: “It-It’s called the Norn Stone. I hid it in my brother’s place! It still has some power to it, and I’ve been sitting on it, like an insurance policy! But it’s tricky. We’ll need, like, a manual or something. Maybe I can figure out how to use it to--” Butch: “$#@%, Mike! This is the exact #$@% I’m angry at my dad about! All this super hero nonsense! I’m not gonna fly around with some magic stone wearing a damn costume or whatever!”  Butch: “You never took this seriously. You never take anything seriously! I’m gonna go run a $#@% business. Go play with your stones.” [ID: Butch walks away from Mike, into the shadows.] Mike: “But, Butch, I-- I can save you. I know I can...” Devil’s Reign #5 by Chip Zdarsky, Marco Checchetto, Marcio Menyz, and Clayton Cowles

    It’s been a long wait, but we are finally getting some answers. This scene is a very big deal. Let’s talk about it.  

    Before we start, I just want to point out: Mike had a user’s manual for the Norn Stone. He paid Felicia Hardy a whole lot of money to steal it for him. What happened to it? Did he lose it?! This is why you can’t have nice things, Mike!

    This conversation is the culmination (or at least, a culmination. This creative team isn’t finished yet) of the relationship between Mike and his childhood best friend/partner-in-crime that Zdarsky has been building ever since Mike made himself real in the volume 6 Annual. It has been a subtle narrative arc, not as central to the plot or well-developed as I, a Mike fan, would have preferred, but it is there and it is important, because it’s Mike’s first bit of character development as a real person. Over the past year-and-a-half, Mike has essentially undergone a loss of innocence; his glee at teaming up with his buddy to take on the Kingpin has morphed into fear as the situation has become more and more serious and the stakes have grown higher and higher. While Mike has tried to play it cool to hide from Butch how freaked out he is, the tension is there, straining their friendship and turning Butch from an ally into a potential threat. With each moral line that is crossed, Mike realizes that he has no idea how far his best friend is actually willing to go to gain power, or who he might hurt to hold on to it. 

[ID: Excerpt from Daredevil volume 6. Hammerhead is lying in the street, holding a hand to his right eye, which is bleeding. Butch, seen from the back, is standing over him, one hand dripping with blood. From around a corner, Mike is watching in horror, his sunglasses propped up on his head.] Hammerhead: “Ahhh!! My eye! You $#@%!” Butch: “I’m here to win. So you’d best get in line.” Daredevil vol. 6 #32 by Chip Zdarsky, Mike Hawthorne, Adriano Di Benedetto, Marcio Menyz, and Clayton Cowles

[ID: Excerpt from Daredevil volume 6. Mike and Butch are sitting huddled together on the couches in Matt’s dimly-lit apartment.] Mike: “But it’ll be okay, I promise!” Butch: “We have zero leverage for a bloodless coup, Mike. Something has to be done. And soon.” Mike: “Butch...I don’t like the look in your eyes. We made a pact, man! Remember? Nobody gets--” [ID: They stand. Butch walks away from Mike, down the stairs.] Mike: “Butch! Dammit, Butch! You stupid lunk! Don’t do it--” Daredevil vol. 6 #36 by Chip Zdarsky, Manuel Garcia, Cam Smith, Scott Hanna, Victor Nava, Marcio Menyz, Bryan Valenza, and Clayton Cowles

    This adds a dangerous edge to every scene in which Mike pushes back-- including the one above. Would Butch hurt Mike? We don’t know him that well. We haven’t seen his limits yet-- and neither, clearly, has Mike. It also tells us quite a bit about Mike, whose Real Boy personality we are still in the process of discovering. In vol. 6 #29, he casually reminds Butch that the two of them “have been charming gangsters since we were kids” and I’m sure it’s true, especially after seeing their past antics in the Annual. However, it is also clear that as much as Mike enjoys playing at being a mobster and loves the idea of seizing real power within the criminal underworld, he is naive, much less of a hardened criminal than his friend. This is not his world anymore, and he has fallen in way over his head. 

    An aversion to violence is a little surprising from the guy who beat Overdrive unconscious and shot out Bushwhacker’s kneecaps in volume 5. This might suggest a slight disconnect between Soule and Zdarsky’s takes on the character, but I also think Mike (like his brother!) is drawing a hard line between violence and murder. When he says their coup was supposed to be “bloodless,” he means they weren’t supposed to kill anybody. (This distinction may or may not prove to be important to the overall development of Mike’s character, but it’s worth noting. I don’t want anyone to think I’m suggesting that Mike can’t handle a little blood.) Where it does matter is in how Mike is classified in the context of the story. For his whole existence, he has danced on the edge of becoming a villain without ever actually crossing that line. He has avoided that label thanks in large part to one vital factor-- a factor that was key in the huge success of his introductory arc, and which Zdarsky has managed to preserve despite a complete shift in circumstances: the idea of Mike as somewhat of a hapless victim. 

    In Soule’s run, from the moment Mike poofed into existence, he was in danger. He was kidnapped, threatened, had his whole worldview ripped apart, and when he fought back, it was almost always in self-defense. “Fragment” Mike was a random blip in the universe thrust into a chaotic, dangerous world, trying to keep enough of a handle on what was going on to just stay alive, and his perspective was always prioritized, sometimes even over Matt’s. It was a suspenseful read, and made Mike an intensely sympathetic character. Now, in volume 6, he has finally seized control. He has twisted the very fabric of reality in order to make himself real and remove the danger of being "unwritten”. His life is his, and he has real, genuine friends and family supporting him (or at least, a friend. Matt hasn’t been much of a brother to him in this run). He has a plan. He has a purpose! And nevertheless, he finds himself once again barely keeping his feet under him as a situation he thought he understood gets more and more dangerous. The poor guy cannot catch a break. Even though it’s his own fault this time-- he got himself into this mess-- Mike’s obvious discomfort, and the threat of danger always hanging around him, keeps him at least a little sympathetic at all times. 

    I also want to point out Mike’s little “I can save you. I know I can” in the last panel. That whispered line carries a lot of weight. It drives home the fact that this is about more than just who Butch may or may not be murdering, or Mike’s own safety while caught in the middle of escalating gang politics. Mike cares about his friend, and is willing to go to reckless lengths to save him from what he is becoming. The sidelining of this plot thread resulted in a lack of development of Mike and Butch’s relationship, meaning that their scattered interactions are not nearly as emotionally resonant as they should be, but we at least know from the Annual that they have been close friends since childhood, and that this partnership is just the latest, most ambitious of many such schemes the two have engineered over the years. 

[ID: Excerpt from the Daredevil volume 6 Annual. Mike (wearing a semi-buttoned blue collared shirt and brown fedora) is running a shell game outside the Central Park fence. He has a brown box with “shell” written on the front, with three red cups upside-down on top of it. Butch is kneeling down to study the cups as an old woman watches.] Mike: “Mike Murdock’s the name...and finding the ball is the game! All right, kid. Pick the shell and if the ball is there, I’ll double your money!” Butch: “Oh, wow! Uh...okay...that one.” [ID: Butch points to a cup. Mike lifts it to reveal a ball underneath.] Mike: “Voila! Another winner! Madam, perhaps you’d like to place a small wager?” Woman: “I...oh, why not?” [ID: She pulls a bill out of her purse as Mike shuffles the cups around.] Mike: “Excellent decision, madam! Now, the easy part! Which shell is the lucrative ball under?” Daredevil vol. 6 Annual #1 by Chip Zdarsky, Manuel Garcia, Le Beau Underwood, Chris Mooneyham, Rachelle Rosenberg, and Clayton Cowles

    When Mike becomes real, the first (and seemingly only) person he reaches out to is Butch. Before murder becomes a topic of contention, their comfort in each other’s company is obvious. The creative team might even be using character design to do some of the extra work of establishing their friendship, because by giving Mike a stocky, brown-haired best friend, they have made it very easy to equate this duo with Matt and Foggy. Though the strength of Mike and Butch’s relationship has been neglected on the page, we can look at the decades of bonding between Matt and Foggy and assume a parallel closeness. The above scene from Devil’s Reign #5 might be Mike’s version of Foggy scaling the wall of the Shadowland fortress. He is willing to bare the deepest, rawest depths of his semi-real-boy soul and use a dangerous magical artifact to screw with reality-- not for himself this time, but to save someone he loves.

    ...Which brings us to the most important panel on this page. 

[ID: One panel from that first Devil’s Reign scene, showing Mike from the shoulders up. He looks very solemn.] Mike: “I’m not real. I... It’s a long story, but I have...I have a stone. Some kind of magic...”

    After a year-and-a-half of wondering, we finally have an answer: Mike remembers everything. And I am RELIEVED. 

    My favorite version of Real Boy Mike was when he was a “fragment”-- real, but only to himself, out of sync with a world and a history in which he did not actually exist, in which no one he knew knew him, holding within his spotty memories an alternate version of Daredevil continuity. That Mike was fascinating. When he stole the Norn Stone and changed reality to correct this displacement, he did not make himself less of an interesting character, because it still offered a chance to see a brand new player in the Daredevil world, and to catch a glimpse of that alternate continuity. But a Mike who at least remembered that previous unrealness and the incredible thing he’d done to fix it was a bit more interesting to me than one who didn’t. Mike Murdock, Matt’s wackiest alter ego brought to life, should not entirely fit into the world-- even if everyone now thinks he does. And so I freaked out when I read this page because it’s nice to have this detail confirmed. 

    This bombshell is huge for Mike’s journey, and provides us a much-needed glimpse into his psyche within this new reality. While the news that he still remembers his pre-Annual existence is great for me, because it preserves that fascination that made him such an enthralling character in the first place, it is tragic when you think about it from Mike’s perspective. 

    In Mike’s introductory arc, a baffled Matt took him to a telepath to try and figure out what he was and where he had come from. This is what he learned: 

[ID: Excerpt from Daredevil volume 5. The Inhuman Sterilon (a short guy dressed in a green uniform, with a giant oblong head set and a big grey mustache) is talking to Daredevil against a grey background. Mike, wearing a blue collared shirt, is unconscious on the ground in front of them.] Sterilon: “This man truly believes he is Michael Murdock, son of Jack and Margaret, brother to Matthew. What exists of his psyche is there, is solid, true, as far as he knows. But there are many holes. He is like a building full of empty rooms. Beautiful and strong from the outside, but inside...open spaces. I don’t know what he is. I have left him asleep. Do with him as you wish.” Daredevil vol. 5 #607 by Charles Soule, Phil Noto, and Clayton Cowles

    There is no indication in this first story arc to suggest that Mike is aware of these gaps in his memories. He is astonished and horrified to find out that he isn’t real, suggesting that this construction is convincing to him-- or maybe that he was simply too new at that point to have done enough mental digging to notice anything wrong.

    But in the volume 6 Annual, Zdarsky leans into the darkness inherent in this concept by making it clear that Mike does notice the gaps and flaws in his memories. This creative team’s Mike is broken, desperate, struggling to cope with the ephemeral nature of his existence. How does a person live with the knowledge that everything they know is wrong, that they are alone in a world in which they are not supposed to exist, that they can’t even trust the contents of their own mind? 

[ID: Three panels from the Daredevil volume 6 Annual. Mike is standing on a rooftop (other buildings and water towers are visible behind him). He is wearing a drab black jacket and sunglasses, and holding a brown book. Black Cat is standing a few feet from him, in the foreground, looking at him.] Mike: “I’m not him. I’m his brother. A brother he made up. He pretended to be his own twin. No judgement. Guy is pretty uptight, I can see why he’d want to do that. But then some guy...one of those power guys you run with...messed up and made me. Can you believe it? Out of thin air. I’m Matt Murdock’s twin brother, but...but I’m not. I’ve got some fake memories. I’m like a shell of a thing...but inside...I can tell I didn’t live through anything...and I think...” [ID: A close-up of Mike’s face as he pinches the bridge of his nose.] Mike: “...I think it’s driving me crazy.” Daredevil vol. 6 Annual #1 by Chip Zdarsky, Manuel Garcia, Le Beau Underwood, Chris Mooneyham, Rachelle Rosenberg, and Clayton Cowles

    Mike’s antidote to this painful half-existence is suitably brash and gutsy for a Mike Murdock plan: to use a cosmic power he doesn’t understand to rewrite history and make himself real. And it works. Mike’s memories become solid and whole, and he gains the family and friends he only thought he had before. There is security in this change. His jerk brother isn’t likely to try and delete him again, at least. 

    But how much of a relief can this really be when Mike still remembers being a “fragment”, and knows that the only reason he is real is because he made himself that way? Even if the gaps in his mind are gone, even if other people now acknowledge his past as he remembers it, he still knows that he was born as a figment of his brother’s imagination-- and now he is the only person in the world who is aware of that, which is its own type of isolation. Since Devil’s Reign is also addressing the topic of the Purple Children’s mind wipe that re-set Matt’s secret identity, it is tempting to draw parallels between that and Mike’s reality rewrite. Mike has found himself in the same position that Matt was once in: the only person with memories of a previous version of the world. Matt decided he couldn’t live with that, and so re-revealed his secret identity to Foggy, restoring Foggy’s memories. Here, Mike does essentially the same thing, telling Butch his big secret, which he has been keeping to himself since the Annual-- though in this case, it is a much more painful revelation. 

    I was intensely stressed reading this scene for the first time, because in doing this, Mike is ripping open a wound and revealing a huge vulnerability. What is it like for him to admit this to someone close to him, after he went to all of that trouble to reshape reality and negate that former version of himself? He is clearly uncomfortable; I love that he drops the bomb real quick, doesn’t explain it at all, and switches right away to talking about the Norn Stone. (“I’m not real, long story, ANYWAY, let me tell you about this rock I’ve got.”). And Butch is so distracted that it doesn’t register at all. Mike is baring his soul here, and his friend doesn’t notice and is unwilling to listen. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe Mike shouldn’t be going around reminding people that he isn’t a real person. But it is sad to see him get blown off two issues in a row by people he is trying to help. Once again, he is finding himself isolated and alone. Maybe, on further reflection, there is a smidgen of a self-serving side to his desire to save Butch...because without Butch, he has no one. 

    This scene leaves me with one pressing Mike-related question: What, exactly, was he planning to do with the Norn Stone? How did he intend to use it to save Butch? Magically make the Kingpin lose the election? Remove Butch’s ability to commit murder? Go back in time and stop them from making this plan in the first place? With the Norn Stone now back in play, I’m anticipating the possibility of it being wielded against Fisk’s Purple Man powers in the big “Devil’s Reign” climax next issue. But we’ll see.  

#Devil's Reign #Daredevil vol. 6 #Daredevil #Mike Murdock #Butch Pharris #Commentary #Mike Murdockalypse

[lacharcutiere]

give me one night [nsfw 18+, sawamura daichi]

1,2k words

masterlist | next ➪

part one of i'm gone i'm gone i'm gone miniseries. high school graduation is a very bad time to realize you're in love with one of your closest childhood friends.

lol just to clarify, JST means "japanese standard time". i'll also be using EST later on, meaning "eastern standard time" (aka the time zone new york is in). JST is 13 hours ahead of EST !

tings // briefly referenced alcohol consumption, v soft n loving sex :) , a lil angst // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend's pussy - cøzybøy // dm, ask or comment to be added to the taglist ! minors dni.

— AFTER-GRAD PARTY: 27TH MARCH, 2021. 22:37 JST.

daichi’s always hated obligatory picture-taking, but he doesn’t mind it so much now. maybe it’s because of the thoughts about how these are your last few months together, the questions about whether he’ll see you again after it’s over. it’s been only hours since he realized he loved you, watching you walk across the stage, dazzling smile on your face as you received your diploma. he’s got one arm around your shoulders (and the other around kōshi’s) as parents and friends stand around you guys, snapping picture after picture until he’s sure he’s about to go blind from the flash.

out of nowhere, you pull the brim of his graduation cap down over his face, and he laughs. he loves you. and it’s a terrible time to realize that, because you’ll be leaving for new york by august. he’s lucky, at least, that he won’t be headed off to college until then either; he doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t get to see you again before you leave.

your voice, glittery with laughter, startles him out of his thoughts: “dude, y’okay?”

“oh, ha, yeah. i’m fine.” he notices a group of your other friends waving you over, nudges you toward them with a little laugh. “hey, i think you're needed elsewhere.”

you’re like magic, making him smile as he watches you laugh with your friends, exchange hugs, take a thousand more photos.

☾𓆙𓂻

you are like magic. he doesn’t drink often, but hey, kōshi tells him, we graduated, have some fun, man, and a few beers—just enough to blur the line between want and need—in you’re drawing him to you; he literally cannot stay away. he’s going to tell you he loves you. he has to. he absolutely cannot keep it a secret. he cannot keep you a childhood friend and nothing more. he thinks he might implode if he does.

— AFTER AFTER-GRAD PARTY: 28TH MARCH, 01:12 JST.

somehow you’re in his bed, he doesn’t know how you got there, not because he’s intoxicated but because all he can focus on is you. you, as you giggle and press his shoulders back into the pillows, kneeling on his mattress and trapping him between your thighs; you, as you ghost your lips down his throat and allow him to undo the zip on the back of your dress; you, as you stand and let it fall to the floor, leaving him in heaven and the presence of a goddess.

he can’t even fathom how complete he feels when he’s inside you, your arms around his shoulders, tugging at his hair and scratching into his back. he doesn’t understand how there can possibly exist a sound as beautiful as you when you cum, whining and shivering and clinging even tighter to him. he loves the way you say his name, soft, breathless whispers of daichi, daichi, fuuuck, loves the way your lips part when you do, soft and pink as he brings them back to his own.

— 07:43 JST.

was it all a dream? it must have been; there’s no one else in his bed. but there are cumstains on the sheets which prove otherwise. he’s almost afraid to text you.

— 16:31 JST.

☾𓆙𓂻

he arrives to pick you up a couple minutes early, sending you a simple I’m here text and leaning against the hood of his car as he stands outside and waits for you. when you step out the door, his breath catches. the smile you meet him with is mesmerizing.

☾𓆙𓂻

“so… what now?” you ask him over half-finished bowls of udon. after nearly an hour of avoiding it, it’s probably best to address what the two of you came here for in the first place.

daichi sighs, trying to balance rationality with the fact that he’s definitely in love with you. he realizes he still hasn’t asked you what your feelings are, and although he’s almost scared to know, he counters with a question of his own. “what do you want to do?”

“i dunno, what do you think—“

“no,” he says. “forget about what we should do, for now. i wanna know what you want first.”

his eyes don’t leave you as you avert your own, staring down into your soba and thinking. your cheeks flush and he swears he can feel his pulse speed up. when you look back up at him, your expression is soft and almost sad.

“i kinda want this,” you say, and suddenly everything stops except you. “i do want this.”

“okay…” he nods, urging you on vaguely aware of where this is going.

“but. new york. columbia. i already accepted their offer. and, i don’t know…”

“hm?” his tone is gentle.

“i don’t… i don’t think i could do long distance.” you pause to try and collect your thoughts; he waits for you to continue. “i don’t think that would be a good idea. because i don’t even know how often i’m gonna get to come back home. and, um, i don’t know—i mean, like, if we were actually together—i don’t think i’d be able to just not see you, you know?”

you’re right, he knows you’re right. he tells you this.

“but i do really want this,” you say quietly.

“me too.”

“so what do i do?”

“tell me your plans after college again.”

you shrug. “get my master’s, i guess? get a job in sendai or something?”

“okay,” he says. “okay. i’ll wait.”

“what?”

“i’ll wait,” he repeats simply. “i mean, if you’re okay with it, too.”

“what do you mean, you’ll wait?”

“we can, like, just keep things the way they've always been until we can make it work? until we’re both done undergrad, at least.” he stops, realizing he might be going too far too fast. “sorry.” and then quieter, almost shyly, he asks, “i— uh, sorry, i— how much do you want this?”

you shake your head at him, and there’s a tiny smile playing on your lips. “i’ll wait.”

— PRE-DEPARTURE: 20TH AUGUST, 2021. 18:32 JST.

somehow he’s managed to convince your parents to let him drive you to the airport separately tomorrow morning. they probably assume there’s something going on between the two of you already; you hadn’t hung out nearly this much since elementary school, when they’d still been the ones arranging your play dates. no one really minds, though; your families were always close and anyway, it really is just a matter of time.

he’s just finished dinner with your family when he nudges his knee against yours under the table. “spend the night at mine?” he says quietly, although he knows your parents will still hear. it’s fine; they love him. he watches you look to them in question, half surprised when your mother nods and allows you to go.

☾𓆙𓂻

on the walk back to his—just a few streets down, actually, he catches you thinking out loud. “is this a good idea?”

“is what?”

“you know... to, like, stay over. at yours.”

he laughs. “we won’t do anything, promise. friends for now, remember?”

“okay.”

— 23:32 JST.

you’ve fallen asleep next to him, in his bed, midway through the second movie of the night. he notices almost immediately, shuts his laptop and turns out the light. he pulls you into his chest, arms firmly around you. just this night. just for one night, he doesn’t have to let go.

taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia

#haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #daichi x reader angst #daichi x reader fluff #daichi x reader smut #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #haikyuu series #daichi texts #haikyuu smau #? kinda

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. I

The Royal Series Masterlist

I posted this series in 2018 but in late 2019, my blog got hacked and I lost all my work. This is me reposting the written chapters of The Royal Series after crying to my husband after I lost it along with all my writing on here. Enjoy. x

It had been long since you had let your hair down for a night.

You longed for a lowkey life, although you knew that the royal protocols you had been following since you were a child were far too embedded in you – yet, you knew how to have your fun.

You found fun in your trips to get milk and cheese yourself, in the strolls you went on in the early morning, when you attended a friend’s wedding, when your oldest brother wasn’t Prince William who was close in line, but a protective brother whom you teased for being old, when your ginger brother, Harry, patted you on the back and helped you with the plans that would make your grandma, the Queen, not necessarily pleased, when you danced with your best friend, and,

when you listened to music; which explained where you were that moment.

The arena was lit, some people who passed by you walking past you without a care, probably thinking that a princess in a Harry Styles concert in Los Angeles was too far-fetched, while others stood stunned.

In your defence, you looked unsuspicious in your black merch hoodie and black jeans, your best friend, Farrah – whom you met at university –, beside you in a casual attire as well, but the two bulky men walking behind you and close in black suits and wireless earbuds did little to conceal you.

Reaching your seats, you grinned at your best friend as you sat. From your peripheral, you saw your two private guards looking around, standing in the aisle beside Farrah’s seat.

“Hey,” you grabbed their attention, pointing with your thumb behind your back at the empty seats, “Would you please sit?”

“Your Highness w-”

"Please, it's a command. Sit here, enjoy the show." You told the two guards who intently looked at you before giving a reluctant nod.

In your balcony seat, your eyes then fell on the stage in anticipation.

"Your Highness," You heard someone beside you, making you look.

A brunet man, no older than 32, stood with a polite and kind smile.

You smiled. "Are you Jeffery?" He nodded, beginning to politely bow his head a tad. You offered your hand with a wide grin, "Thank you for giving me seats in such a short notice, I’m really sorry for any inconvenience."

"Oh no, it really is a pleasure, your Highness." Jeff tipped is head.

"Just Y/N." You smiled, glancing at the stage as the opening act were saying their goodbyes. "He's coming out now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he is. Have you been a fan for long?" Jeff asked as you both stood alongside each other, looking at the stage.

"Quite long actually. Since One Direction," You giggled, shrugging, "Always wanted to attend one of their concerts but only now have I been able to do so. Harry has a lovely voice. I have the album on a lot." You laughed, letting Jeff in on your secret, “But hey, keep that between us.” You joked.

Jeff chuckled, "Who would've guessed that the Princess of the United Kingdom is a Harry Styles fan?"

“Trust me, you’d be surprised.” Farrah said, joining in as the three of you laughed.

“I’ll be right there with the rest of the crew,” Jeff pointed at a different place where people from the crew stood, almost all of them looking at you. At you looking at them, they all turned in embarrassment which made you chuckle to yourself before looking at Jeff who had a bashful smile, “Sorry about that. It’s exciting.”

“It’s exciting for me, too.” You assured him.

“Well, please call me or have anyone to do so if you need anything, your H-” you gave him a look, “Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

The lights flickered off, your heart fluttering in excitement as you stood up, beginning to cheer with the fans.

The notes of Ever Since New York started playing before the lights were on, making you finally see the man you had flown out to see.

In a blue floral suit, Harry stood with his guitar before he began singing, Farrah recording you as you dramatically sang along.

With every song, you and Farrah let loose; dancing together and screaming the lyrics, vibing with Harry and his band. Hell, you caught one of your guards bob his head to Only Angel before his colleague swatted his arm.

It didn't take long for more people to notice the presence of the English Princess and her famous best friend, some phones and flashes being directed your way but experiencing the excitement and utter euphoria of it all, you chose to ignore the attention.

You were captivated to say the least by his performance, posting stories to your private Instagram account, isthataladybug, of a 102 follower.

You knew that he was a cheeky person who enjoyed a nice chat, so him walking around with his mic and talking to fans wasn’t of any surprise, yet, you didn’t predict him addressing you.

"I would just like to greet someone incredibly special here tonight," Harry said through the mic as he wandered on stage before looking your way, "Hi!" He grinned, waving at you. "All well?"

With a grin and flushed cheeks, you nodded and gave him thumbs up.

With a dimpled smile, Harry tipped his head and gave you a curtesy which sent everyone in a frenzy and you and Farrah to laugh.

Farrah nudged you, making you turn to look at her. "We're meeting him, right?"

You shrugged, "Jeff said we will. Said Harry would have his head if we didn’t.”

To say you were disappointed when Harry said his goodbyes after finishing the setlist would be an understatement, although the fact that you were meeting him seemed to brighten you up a tad.

Backstage was chaotic.

Everyone was running around, wanting to be on their best behaviours and look like it for when the Princess came in, every person telling the other that Jeff was on his way to get you and your best friend and that in just a few, they would be seeing the Princess of the United Kingdom in the flesh.

Harry was no better, pacing around the room, making sure he looked decent and collected. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned to look at his band, “How do I look?”

“Like you’re not going to pass out in any second.” Sarah said sarcastically.

"Fuck, I'm so nervous." Harry laughed, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit trousers.

"So am I. Who would've thought that I'm going to meet the Princess of the United Kingdom? Someone better film this." Clare said before letting out a breath as the band stood in the dressing room.

"I-" Adam was cut off by a knock on the door.

They looked at each other with wide eyes before Harry cleared his throat, standing straighter. "Come in!"

Jeff came inside first, his figure hiding yours before he walked further inside and you and Farrah were then seen. The grin on your face was contagious.

Lined, with Harry at the end, you began to shake hands with the band.

"You were absolutely amazing!" You said as you shook their hands, one by one before reaching Harry.

Neither of you knew that the other was about to pass out from the nerves and excitement as you both smiled at each other.

"Thank you for the show. You're as good live as the studio version, if not better." You said.

Blushing at the comment, Harry softly shook your hand. "It's my honour, your Highness."

"Y/N," you corrected him, your hand still in his. "Just Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry repeated with a charming smile. "An honour, Y/N."

Being this close to him, you noticed how emerald Harry's eyes were. Raspberry pink lips and blushing cheeks, he was a sight for sore eyes.

It was cliché, anyone from the outside would say so, but have a 23-year-old Princess meet a 23-year-old artist whom she had been listening to for years and try not to make it cliché; hell, cliché or not, it was a meeting for the stories.

Farrah clearing her throat was what brought you out of your trance, making you remove your hand from Harry's.

"Well, we were actually going out for a drink if you want to join? Is that okay for you?" Sarah asked, “Oh my God, I just asked the Princess to grab a drink with us, I’m so sorry, your Highness.”

“Hey, no, no,” you quickly shook your head, “It’s fine,” you glanced at the guards and your best friend who gave you a nod, "I’d love to join if you’re all okay with Farrah and I joining. We wouldn’t want to interrupt any band-bonding time."

"Of course!" Harry grinned. "We're more than okay."

Telling you the lowkey bar – that served “amazing fries and boneless chicken wings” as Adam said – they were driving to, you exchanged “see you later’s” before you separated ways.

Right as you sat in the car, Farrah turned to face you, “What was that?”

In confusion, you looked at her, “What was what?”

“You and Harry fucking Styles! What was that?” She laughed excitedly, “Please make it happen.”

“Make what happen? You’re a lunatic!”

“You just pulled a Nicholas Sparks back there; ogling at each other, holding hands like yes, Mr. Darcy, I’d let you wed me.” She said dramatically, putting the back of her hand against her forehead.

“First of all, never do this again,” you cringed jokingly, “Second of all, what’s wrong with you? I have a conversation with a lad and suddenly I should get married to him?”

“He’s not just any lad, don’t discredit him like that.”

“Why don’t you go out with him then, Miss Farrah?” You teased her.

“Because I’m Muslim and it won’t work out, you know with our fa-”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t when I said you pulled a Nicholas Sparks.”

“I should’ve brought Emma instead of you.” You let out a sigh.

“Imagine if she could’ve joined though. It would’ve been Emma and I against you.” Farrah poked your arm.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Arriving at the bar, you and Farrah entered, finding that it wasn’t at all crowded but quite the opposite. Very few people were inside, all seeming to mind their business as they ate and drank, a jukebox playing music to add to the atmosphere of the place.

Among the people, your eyes fell on the band you were meeting, Harry instantly standing and waving at you with a grin.

They had left you seats, although you knew your guards were going to stand as your shadows.

Sitting on the opposite seat from Harry, you were seated beside Sarah, the “discreet” excited expression she gave to Mitch not going unnoticed but you only smiled to yourself instead of commenting.

“This was your second show, wasn’t it?” You asked, all of them nodding and replying with confirmation, “Any idea what this tour will have for you?”

“So many headaches,” Hélène replied in her French accent with a chuckle, “So, so many headaches.”

“Brighten up,” Clare nudged the photographer jokingly, “It’s only the second night.”

“I feel like this tour would be a milestone in all of our lives,” Adam replied, seeming to avoid eye contact with you before he looked at his bandmates, “Literally all of us.”

“A-Are you okay?” Farrah asked him, causing Adam’s posture to relax as he laughed.

“I just don’t know if I should look at you,” he said as he looked at you, “What if it’s disrespectful? Illegal?”

“Oh my God, no,” you laughed as you shook your head, “I’m sitting at a bar in Los Angeles with you, Adam, that’s not exactly a Trooping the Colour.”

“When we first heard you were attending,” Harry began, “We all just sort of,” his eyes widened before he laughed, “You know what?” He turned to look at Adam, “That’s a milestone right there.”

“You speak too highly of me,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, “What about all of you? That album, tonight, you should give yourself more credit.”

“Makes sense that people love you so much.” Mitch said with a small smile.

“Not everyone loves her, excuse you,” Farrah joked, raising her hand up.

“Ah, bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, “You love me the most.”

“No?”

“That’s denial.”

Conversations seemed to flow naturally among everyone at the table, laughter being heard as well as a few claps from how hard one of you would be laughing.

It wasn’t until you realised that you hadn’t drank anything that you stood up, “I’m going to grab something to drink. Does anyone want anything?”

A chorus of “thank you’s” was heard, you fully knowing that they probably hadn’t bothered to even ask you to get them anything because of your title.

“I’ll bring these fries and wings for all of us you told me about.” You pointed at Adam.

“I’ll join you.” Harry said, standing from his place and approaching you before the both of you walked towards the bar.

“Sorry if they make you uncomfortable.” You mumbled to Harry as you both sat on stools.

“Who?”

“Sid and Andrew, the guards,” you replied, “They’re the sweetest actually.” You smiled at the men who stood at a safe distance away from you but nearby, both of them tipping their heads at you before they began looking around.

“No, of course not,” Harry shook his head, “I thought you’d have more with you honestly.”

You waved off, “No, two are enough. Daddy wanted me to walk around with 6 but,” you laughed, “God, no.”

Harry smiled before his smile turned into a smirk, “Did you just say Daddy?”

“Ye-Gross, stop! That’s my father!” You groaned, stuffing your face in your hands as Harry laughed, “How old are you, Styles? 14?”

“And a half actually.”

“Ha, ha.” You tried to stifle your smile as you looked up at him, “It’s Mummy and Daddy for us, excuse you.”

“It’s cute.” Harry smiled timidly.

“It was until you commented.” You teased him, giving him a shrug.

“I apologise, your Highness. Please, don’t behead me.” Dramatically, Harry put a hand to his heart.

“I’ll think about it.” You put both hands on the counter gracefully, placing one above the other as you turned away from him before the both of you laughed.

Neither of you had noticed that you hadn’t ordered yet, only remembering when the bartender came over to take your order.

After ordering, you were both quiet, listening to the music that sounded in the place, you swaying slightly in your seat as you looked around.

"Are you not scared?"

You turned to look at Harry, “Excuse me?”

“Are you not scared?” He repeated.

"Of what?” You asked.

"Being seen in here. The rumours. I mean my rumours I can take care of but royal rumours?" Harry shrugged.

“Why? Are you scared?” The tiny smirk that was your lips were drawn into didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, feeling his lips lift into one of his own just at the sight of yours.

Harry took a moment to drink you up; the vibe you gave off was nothing he imagined. The dainty, soft princess he saw on the screen ever since he was young wasn't who sat in front of him.

In front of him was a confident woman, fearless and ready to seize whatever risk thrown at her. A woman who refused to have her identity shaped up and formed by her family and what the world was trying to limit her to, all for a title.

That's why with a thumping heart and an amused smile, Harry replied; "No, Princess. I'm not scared."

#harrylilies #I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING #The Royal Series #my babies #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fake au #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #harry styles fluff series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff fanfic #harry styles au

[vvitchering]

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” for bobadin?

This is my first time writing for this ship and my second time writing Boba so I am FEAR (TM) but I think I actually like the way this came out?????

~ It’s been a month and a half since the beroya had come to stay at the palace. Six since the loss of his child and his creed. Boba doesn’t like to think about what Din had been doing to himself in the time between handing his son over to the jetii and when Boba had finally managed to track him down halfway across the galaxy. He hadn’t known Din long at that point, but anyone could have seen the defeat and hopelessness in his posture and demeanor. 

If Boba had taken any longer to find him, he isn’t sure there would have been much left to find.

Given purpose once again as a hunter and personal guard for the usurper king of Tattooine, Din is flourishing. Now, Boba counts on him almost as much as he does on Shand. She may be his right hand, but Din is as close to clan, aliit, as either of them are going to get and that means something to Boba. They’re both orphans, survivors from a scattered culture; and in every word of mando’a they speak to each other, every nostalgic smile, every instance of innate understanding, they grow a little closer. 

Things have been going well, possibly too well, suspiciously well. So while it isn’t a complete shock when Din begins to pull away again, it still hurts. They haven’t shared a meal in days. The mats laid out for combat practice have gone unused. Din hovers at the edge of Boba’s vision when he absolutely must make an appearance and he all but evaporates like a desert breeze the second he’s no longer needed. 

Din begins to stay out on hunts for longer stretches of time. He reports the relevant details on his return and disappears again until he’s summoned. His absence burns like acid but Boba tries to give him his space. He doesn’t know what he’s done to offend the man, but it’s clear there’s been a shift in their relationship and if he doesn’t want to lose the wayward beroya yet again, he’s going to have to do something soon.

He gets his chance one afternoon after he’s yelled at his court to disperse and he’s made his way to the chambers they use for exercise and weapon storage. Din is already there, moving through his forms, beskar spear in hand. His movements grow stiff and unnatural the moment he realizes he has company and Boba feels the last of his restraint snap.

“Do you have some issue with me all of a sudden?” he asks. Din flinches like he’s been struck. 

“Have I offended you in some way? Made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome?”

Din fidgets with the spear and shifts his weight from foot to foot as if he’s debating making a break for it. Boba frowns. He’s never pressured Din to go helmetless, he knows he finds a certain kind of comfort and familiarity in keeping that part of himself intact, but he finds himself wishing for the umpteenth time that Din trusted him enough to remove it in his company. 

Right now, it feels like just another impenetrable barrier between them.

“No, it’s not that.” Din finally responds, tilting his head as he speaks in that curious way of his.

Boba moves closer, motioning for Din to continue. They’re having this discussion, no matter how much Din looks like he’d rather take off running. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s hurting them both and Boba can’t, won’t, stand for it any longer. He’s come to value Din’s companionship in a way he’s quickly realizing is frighteningly irreplaceable. The thought of losing it permanently sends cold shivers up and down his spine in a way nothing else ever has. 

Boba sets his jaw. Despite the avoidance techniques Din has been favoring lately, he is still Mandalorian, as is Boba. They will clean the air as their kind have done for centuries. 

Boba lunges. 

The attack catches Din completely off guard and they fall to the mat covered floor with a muffled clatter. Din loses his grip on the spear and it rolls away out of his reach. He struggles under Boba’s weight in a weak attempt to avoid being pinned down, but Boba has him just where he wants him. He leans almost his full weight onto Din’s chest, keeping him down, and presses his forearm into Din’s throat. He takes care not to press too hard; he wants to subdue and restrain, not hurt. 

Din inhales raggedly but goes obligingly limp, unwilling to fight back. It’s like the fire that they’ve both worked so hard to kindle has left him again. Cold fear zings through Boba, mingling with the adrenaline from their short lived tussle and he feels sick to his stomach as he realizes this might be the last time he’s allowed this close to Din. 

“Tell me. Please.” He begs. And it is begging. How far the mighty Boba Fett has fallen, pleading with a no-name beroya from some backwater covert for forgiveness for some unknown slight. He’d fall even further if it meant he could keep Din by his side just a little longer. 

He can’t see Din’s eyes behind the dark of his visor, but he can feel the strength of his gaze. He can feel him tense again beneath him as he registers Boba’s pathetic pleading. There’s a moment of complete stillness before the world tilts and Boba gasps for breath as Din manages to swap their positions and slams him into the ground. It’s not gentle. There’s force in his movements, real intent, and Boba would sigh in relief if he hadn’t just had the air mercilessly knocked from his lungs.

“I have lost everything in my life that mattered to me,” Din begins, and his normally calm voice is edged in steel. “My home. My family, twice over. Everything I had left fit inside a storage locker in my ship and that’s gone, too.” 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost things, Din.” Boba reminds him gently.

Din laughs miserably. He’s shaking slightly, Boba can feel the tremors where Din is pressed against him. 

“Sometimes I think I’m cursed.” Din says quietly. “I never get to keep anything important. My creed, my ship, the kid, everything I loved...” He trails off, viciously biting off what sounds like the beginning of a sob.

Din’s hold on Boba loosens significantly as he falls apart and Boba takes the opportunity to grasp at Din’s wrists, gripping them lightly but securely. He’s not great with words and even less so with comfort, but he can do this at least. He can anchor Din, help him weather the storm he’s fighting through, and see him safely back to shore.

“I pulled away because I thought if I ended this myself before it turned into anything it might hurt less than waiting for something to come along and end it for me. Cut something out of my life on my own terms for once, you know? Couldn’t do it, though.”

“Din--”

“Ne’johaa, I’m not finished.”

Boba swallows his interruption and stares up at Din pointedly. 

Go on. Get to the point of all this. 

Din takes a measured breath and then lets it go. 

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified. I don’t want you to be another thing I lose. I won’t survive it. Not again.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

“Is that all...Boba--”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up. C’mere.”

Boba shifts his grip to hold Din by the forearm with one hand while the other slides up over Din’s shoulder to pull him down by neck. Their helmets clink together at their foreheads and the sound echoes through the chamber. Din makes a short shocked sound and throws his free hand down beside Boba’s head to support himself but makes no attempt to pull away. 

“I’ve lived through far more than my fair share of hardship in this life. You don’t get to look like I do without having survived some absolute shit situations.”

They’re separated by the metal of their helmets, but Boba would swear he can feel Din’s warmth seeping through.

“If this is something you want to pursue,” he continues, “I’m amenable to that. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere any time soon, verd’ika.”  

Din makes a strange wheezing noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh and sniffs loudly before collapsing slowly on top of Boba in an exhausted but relieved heap. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying you sprawled out on top of me like this, but do you think we could relocate to a more comfortable surface? A training mat isn’t exactly an ideal place for a cuddle.” 

“Trying to get me into bed already? You’re shameless.” Din laughs, clear and true, and it’s the sweetest sound Boba has heard in a long time.

--

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, do a writer a favor and reblog! Likes are nice, but they don’t get this story out there for more people to see. I’m also toying with the idea of putting this one up on my ao3. Thoughts?

mando’a words beroya - hunter Ne’johaa - shut up verd’ika - literally “little soldier”, used here as an affectionately insulting term of endearment as its usually used for little kids

(I really like Mando’a as a language, I think its fascinating, and writing a ship that consists of two Mandalorians gives me the perfect excuse to WAY over use it because I barely ever get to. I apologize for NOTHING. I wasn’t expecting this to be so long. I’m fully planning on coming back to this when I have fresh eyes and revising and editing some parts where the pacing feels a little off!)

#bobadin #the mandalorian #mine #my fic #this is actually full fic length not a drabble OOPS #its almost 1500 words fhsjkfhdskjl #I got Slightly carried away #turns out I really like writing this ship #jury's out on whether this is actually any good but I can say I actually did have fun writing it which is an accomplishment all on its own #also all my characterization for boba comes from the mandalorian pls don't come for me #I wasn't planning on it ending up this long so I didn't do a whole lot of editing before I just slapped it up here #if I do decide to put it up on ao3 I'll probably polish this up a bit more and maybe flesh out a few spots a bit better #I struggle with pacing if you can't tell lmao

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 32

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 8.7k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act four ➻ part seven

​​​

“Captain won’t hurt him.”

You don’t need to turn to see who has just stepped in, but you do nonetheless at least for the smallest semblance of confirmation. It doesn’t make it any easier to see who stands at the edge of the tunnel, bright light cascading around his tall form and casting crude shadows across the floor as he walks closer to the group. You swallow around nothing in anticipation although nothing could prepare you for what Mingi says next.

“Because I’m the one going in there, not Jongho.”

“Absolutely not!” Yunho blurts without a breath of hesitation, hand jerking down by his side in a fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles go white.

“Mingi, how did you get here?” Seonghwa adds. This must not be according to plan for him to sound so bewildered, unless Hongjoong has truly kept him out of the loop but again that wouldn’t make an ounce of sense since Hongjoong spoke so adamantly about Jongho being the one to go in with him. So the only reasonable conclusion is that —

“I left the bunker.”

The only reasonable conclusion is, in fact, that Mingi has come to the arena by his own choice and volition.

“How the hell did you get out?” San interjects, pushing closer to Mingi with a hand stretched towards the man’s arm. Mingi merely blinks back at the shorter man without seeming surprised in the slightest.

“I knocked on the door and they let me out. How else would I have gotten out?”

“Why?” Seonghwa’s tone is nothing short of livid, and for a moment, you fear that his rage will affect Mingi in turn, but the Berserker manages to keep his steady expression with little effort.

“That’s my captain in there. That’s my captain who is about to fight, and that’s my crewmate who is taking the place that should be mine. Lieutenant, you said yourself that if he let you, you would take Captain’s place in a heartbeat. I feel the same way about Jongho.”

Feel. Mingi feels the same way about Jongho. It shouldn’t have as much impact as it does, but your heart clenches painfully in your chest and you blink at Mingi’s expression of determination with a certain sense of disbelief.  The anger on Seonghwa’s features melts away, replaced by some other emotion you can’t quite place upon first glance.

“I was there when they prepared this plan yesterday,” Mingi continues. “I heard Jongho and Captain discussing what would happen as a last resort. Captain had wanted to talk Vladimir down and make him see reason. But in the event that he was not able to do that–”

“He would put himself on the line,” Seonghwa finishes, gaze falling to the dusty cobblestone. His jaw shifts as he mulls over his next words, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.”

“Exactly. But Jongho doubted that Vladimir would take Captain up on the offer, didn’t think he would allow Captain to select his own opponent.” Seonghwa hums, a sound that is noncommittal and meant to fill the small lapse in conversation when Mingi finishes speaking.

“Vlad only accepted because he has something else in mind. He can’t trust Jongho not to go easy on Hongjoong or anything like that.”

“But… he can trust the Brute of Kebos to do his job. What that man wants is more than blood. He wants the Brute of Kebos in his arena because that’s what he can trust. And so, I must deliver it.”

“No,” Yunho mutters, head shaking from side to side almost violently. “No! This could ruin everything. Don’t you see that? All the years of progress, everything I’ve done, all of it–”

“It won’t though.” Mingi sounds far too confident. There is a sense of finality to his words, and even Yunho is forced to stop speaking and focus on what Mingi has to say for himself. “The second Vladimir sees me in the arena, the tide will shift. His plan will go out the window because everyone here heard what he said. He craves to control the beast. The way he exercises that power is through his hand. It’s just like my father. I have seen it time and time again, lived it time and time again. Vladimir wants to see Captain dead, and he will want me to deliver the killing blow. But when he puts that thumb down and tells me to kill Captain… I won’t do it.”

“You were — Mingi, there is no guarantee that the beast won’t take over the second you set foot in there. I am not attempting to doubt you, but the mere mention of this planet sent you into a frenzy not too long ago. You cannot possibly think that this will end differently or that you won’t be able to hold back!”

Perhaps it’s all on account of a ridiculous effort on Mingi’s part, but still, his expression shows no cracks. No faltering, no flashing in his red eyes – just the very same neutral visage that reminds you of a statue.

“You know better than anyone what I’m capable of, Healer. And I am capable of disobeying orders because I have done so once before. Have at least a sliver of faith in my abilities to protect my captain.” Yunho snaps his lips together, forming a thin line that nearly disappears into white, but he does not say anything else. Seonghwa glances between the pair in a similar state of silence for several moments.

“If…” He trails off before he can finish the thought, lashes fluttering as he looks upwards now. “If this is truly what you want to do, we obviously can’t stop you. Though this is – it’s a hard agreement to make.”

“Have I ever hurt him before?” Mingi asks. The question is not truly inquisitive, moreso rhetorical, but it causes Seonghwa is sputter and struggle to come up with a response anyway.

“I – n-no, not that I can recall.”

“In six years, I have not once laid a finger on Captain. Not in all those years of episodes and relapse after relapse. I know the circumstances are different, and I know you have no reason to take me for my word, yet I would still ask you to trust me.”

Seonghwa extends a hand all of the sudden, eyes coming down to meet Mingi’s with a flare of determination. Mingi seems just as taken aback as the rest of you but he is quicker to understand the intention behind the gesture, hesitantly stretching his own hand out to latch around Seonghwa’s forearm. The lieutenant squeezes hard at his skin as though putting all his emotions into that one hold.

“Then Mingi, I beg of you — please bring him back to me alive.”

“Understood,” Mingi murmurs through a small nod. Then his hand falls away from Seonghwa’s, and the latter man releases a shaky exhale, watching Mingi step around him and move down the same tunnel that Hongjoong and Jongho descended into not too long ago. Yunho must be too stunned to say or do anything in that very moment because it takes at least two minutes for him to even react in the slightest to what just transpired before him.

“Tell me you have simply lost your mind and you don’t actually trust him.”

Seonghwa reels at those words, and he isn’t the only one to be shocked either because they elicit a broken gasp from Wooyoung’s lips that is followed up by the sound of skin slapping skin, no doubt the man trying to cover the sound a bit too late.

“Explain to me why I shouldn’t trust him.”

“Because the last time he disobeyed orders, it was when his fucking father was in my clinic recovering from a near-fatal injury and Mingi murdered him! There is no guarantee that this won’t affect Mingi badly and no guarantee that the second Mingi sets foot in the arena, things won’t go to hell! The moment he gets the chance, he will kill Hongjoong regardless of whether he is Mingi’s captain or not.”

“That is my captain down there as well, Yunho,” Seonghwa seethes through gritted teeth. “You are a fool if you think I am not even the slightest bit worried as well, but I trust my crew.”

“You act like you’re the only one who gets to call him that. He’s my fucking captain too – fuck that, he’s captain to every single one of us.”

“Yet I would not sit here and watch him die in that arena. I would never do that willingly, and as such, that’s not what I am doing now. I am putting my faith and trust in Hongjoong’s word and in Mingi’s word.”

“You aren’t a fucking savior to him!” Yunho pushes forward and slams both palms against Seonghwa’s chest, knocking the man back several feet. He doesn’t fight back though; he just stands as still as ever and glares forward at Yunho with enough heat to make you shift uncomfortably from where you stand. Out the corner of your eye, you can see San taking a few hesitant steps towards them, hand outstretched towards Yunho’s arm. Just before he can stop the healer from doing anything more, Seonghwa lifts a hand – a stopping motion directed at San and San only. “You blindly throw trust in his face and for what? To turn around and spit at his feet when he actually needs you?”

“What can I do, Yunho? What would you have me do? Go in there and take Hongjoong’s place? Speak the word and I’ll do it!”

“Stop fucking around and be serious.”

“Stand down, Yunho.” The enunciation of the words sends chills down your spine. There’s too much evenness to his tone, too much steadiness even though his rage billows off him in waves. Seonghwa’s anger is far more terrifying than you could have imagined it to be, a cold and harsh knife that deepens in your chest. In that moment, Yunho seems to shrink despite being taller and larger than the lieutenant, and his size could not possibly hold a candle to the absolute power and control in Seonghwa’s disposition. “That is an order, not from your lieutenant, but from your acting captain. This is me being serious, and I will not have you endanger my crew because of a reckless and distorted sense of pride and narcissism.”

Yunho’s face is overtaken by a stark pallor as Seonghwa takes a step in his direction. A finger jabs into Yunho’s chest, and even though it’s only one, Yunho reacts in such a way that it seems like he’s been hit by some incredible force.

“You will learn your place because whether you like it or not, I am your lieutenant and in Hongjoong’s absence, I am your captain. You listen to what I say, you follow my orders, you do as told without complaint. And if you feel differently, then you should have jumped ship during the mutiny.”

Silence comes in response to Seonghwa’s cold words. All Yunho can do is manage a shaky nod before dropping his gaze to the ground.

“Now if that’s the end of your whining, listen to me. All of you. San, Wooyoung, Yunho, Y/N — you four will stay down here during the fight. Once Hongjoong and Mingi go through, the guards will close the gates. You will be allowed to stand by the gate and watch that way, but be wary. The guards typically don’t question it when crowd members come down because they assume it to be for a closer view of the fighting. On the off chance that they do ask questions, just say that: you want a closer view. Yeosang and I will remain with you all until Jongho returns so I can inform him of the plan, then us two will head back up the left-wing. Should anything happen, use the comms channel.”

“I… I need to be on standby for when Mingi takes the hyacinth but — well, I ideally need someone to go into the market and find me some supplies.” Yunho’s shoulders loosen a bit as he speaks, all the anger in his tone dropping to a state of calm once more. Seonghwa’s lips part to respond, but Yunho cuts him short and continues speaking. “If you truly want everyone to come out of there alive, I have to have supplies. I truly will not be able to help Mingi without at least something to help him throw up to get the root out of his system.”

“I’ll get it.” You turn to the source of the voice only to find Wooyoung stepping forward, hand still clasped tight around Yeosang’s, and through the panic on his features, you can see a bit of determination in his eyes. “I can’t watch the fight, and I-I would rather not even be present for it. Maybe I’m weak but I don’t have the stomach to watch that.”

“I’ll go with then,” Yeosang adds without missing a beat.

“No, Yeosang, you can’t.” Seonghwa shakes his head, causing a few strands of black hair to fall loosely over his forehead. “Vladimir is expecting the two of us to be watching. He will have his men ready to watch us and look for us. If he only sees me, or if he sees me with anyone other than you, it will be problematic at best. He expects Hongjoong to try something, but that doesn’t mean we should give him the opportunity to confirm that thought.”

“I can go with him.” You hardly realize that the words have come out of your mouth until all eyes turn to yours. A large part of you would much rather stay and witness the fight between Hongjoong and Mingi – just out of a sense of curiosity and fascination at what might happen – but you know that there are bigger things at play here which matter far more than your personal agendas. Even if you think solely out of logic, this is the best course of action. Yeosang wouldn’t trust San to go with Wooyoung, Yunho can’t go, and Jongho isn’t even back yet for some reason that you can only boil down to him and Hongjoong talking with Mingi. And thus that leaves you.

“Me too.” It’s San who speaks this time, although Seonghwa’s immediate response is a sharp shake of his head.

“You have to stay with Yunho and Jongho. Y/N can… she can go with Wooyoung. There’s no telling how long this fight will last, but knowing Hongjoong, he will try to drag it out as much as possible out of pride and to make seem believable. We can only hope that it’s enough time for the two of you to get what Yunho needs and hurry back.”

Your initial reaction is just to nod and turn towards Wooyoung, not bothering to face Yunho when he decides to speak again.

“I’ll tell you what I need once you two get further into the city. There’s an old supply shop not far from here, at least there used to be — if you can’t find it, let me know and I’ll try to figure something else out.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung says before pulling his hand free of Yeosang’s. For the briefest of moments, Yeosang chases after his retreating hand, but he pulls away before Yeosang can close his fingers around Wooyoung’s again. You glance away from the pair as the creeping feeling that you’re watching something you shouldn’t be sneaks up on you. Then a hand closes around your arm, burning the skin in a tight grip, and you jerk from the suddenness of the touch. It’s none other than Yeosang who stares forward at you when you turn to face the culprit, eyes wide and pleading. For once, you find no scathing hatred in them.

“Make sure he comes back unharmed.” There is something so raw and unadulterated about the way he utters the words, and it’s that very emotion in them that causes your throat to constrict a bit. He carries the same desperation that Seonghwa did when he asked Mingi to bring Hongjoong back alive, a desperation that runs deeper than love or adoration. You can’t quite explain it – it’s hard to even imagine something being stronger and deeper than love – yet you can feel it at that moment. More than that though, it pushes a new thought into your mind that you’ve never had before, one that nearly shatters you into a million pieces.

“We went to a fortune teller once – just the two of us before we even joined the crew or knew anything about pirates. To see my future, not Yeosang’s, but… when the woman looked into my future, Yeosang wasn’t in the picture. She said that we were not meant to be in each other’s lives. Our meeting was a mistake, and it was not what fate had planned for us. And as such, any attempts we made to stay close to each other would inevitably end in flames. All because the stars didn’t align for us.”  

How can one still fight so vehemently that even fate is against? What drives a person to be that desperate? To bear a desperation that would drive you to do absolutely anything to save the person you care about more than anything else? Was it that very desperation that drove Hyunwoo to take your place and kneel before the king prior to his death?

There won’t be hell to pay if Wooyoung gets hurt or put in danger; it’s what comes after that, what Yeosang might do in turn, what he might sacrifice to guarantee Wooyoung’s safety. That kind of devotion and commitment terrifies you — to love someone so much that you would lay down your life without a second thought to protect them.

“You have my word,” you whisper. And it’s not merely because he asked you to because frankly you don’t have many fond feelings surrounding Yeosang and the both of you know that you owe him no favors, yet here he stands, hand on your arm, pleading for you to do the job he cannot. You aren’t entirely sure why you agree with sure vehemence, but something compels you to, and the melting away of Yeosang’s panic adds to that stirring sensation in your gut.

“I don’t care for fate or destiny. I would rather it not exist, but I can’t deny the feeling that I get in my chest in those moments of intimacy. In a perfect world, I would get to call him mine without worrying about what fate has planned for us. But this? This is far from a perfect world.”

They are doing nothing more than the rest of every last sorry soul in the universe: trying to create what would be their perfect world. Fate has deprived them of enough. Who are you to take more from them?

When you pull away from Yeosang, the tightness in your throat has strengthened, and when you come alongside Wooyoung, you don’t miss the way he glances back at the Elitist. You cannot see the emotion in his eyes or his features, but you don’t need to to understand the hesitation in his movements. It is the same emotion you recognize in Seonghwa when it comes to Hongjoong. Back on Echidna when he pleaded for you to make sure that Hongjoong stayed safe, just now with Mingi, the haughty Lieutenant of Death begging for his captain to come back unharmed because he could not go in there to do the job for him. You can hardly imagine it — fearing for someone else’s life so much so that every time you part from them you have to treat it as though it could be the last. Well, you can imagine it because it’s a feeling you have always run from; one you ran from when it came to Jisung, and one you ran from when it came to San the moment it started blossoming. And with Seonghwa, you don’t feel that, you don’t fear for his life or what might happen if you are not around, and perhaps that is why you find yourself so drawn to him.

“Come on,” Wooyoung mutters. “The sooner we do this, the better.”

Merely seeing the way Wooyoung and Yeosang interact makes you want to run away, yet you find yourself turning just like Wooyoung did. Except when your gaze finds someone, it isn’t Seonghwa that you look towards. It’s San. San, the bright-eyed man with the cat-like smile who grinned at you on a military ship. The gentle man whose eyes seem to hold all the stars in the universe when he looks your way, the one who said he couldn’t bear the thought of you forgetting about him, who couldn’t dream of losing you before he told you he truly feels about you. The same man who looked you in the eye and said he would rather suffer pain to have you in his life than live a day without you. Gentle, kind, loving, oh so loving, San. As his eyes trail over your features, brows knitted together with concern washing over those deep brown eyes, you are overcome by a stark pang of fear in your chest.

You turn back to Wooyoung, struggling to push your legs into action and follow him out of the arena’s tunnel because each step feels heavier than the last. Walking away from San seems too much like a goodbye, even though you’re confident that you and Wooyoung will both be fine. The one thing you failed to take into account was that in your efforts to keep that flower of worry from blossoming, you forget it had already taken root, and now that you can so clearly see it reflected in the people around you, you feel its roots stretching deeper into your chest.

“How do you do it?” You murmur once the two of you are further away from the rest of the crew. Tall buildings rise up around the two of you, filling the void of the arena’s cobbles with its colored brick houses and buildings. It brings you back to when Yunho brought you here along with Wooyoung and Yeosang, with the glittering lights against the sunset sky and snow falling around your heads. The scenery now is far from that sense of peace — hard, bright rays of sunlight bearing down on you with a cold in the air so brittle that it bites at your skin.

“Hm?”

“How do you keep fighting so hard for Yeosang? When even fate is supposedly against you?” Wooyoung inhales sharply at the question, and you think you’ve crossed an invisible line for a moment. Life goes on around you, people bustling over the same streets that you walk with Wooyoung and minding their own business without a care in the world. He doesn’t respond right away, in fact, it takes quite some time for him to muster up even a few words.

“Because love is… I-I know I can’t, but sometimes I feel like I can outrun fate. And Yeosang – he makes me feel that way. I was a slave for as long as I could remember, that was my fate, they told me it was. They said I was destined to be nothing more than a slave, just someone to be used and tossed around until I died. Everyone in my life said that even the people who raised me. B-But a dumb little blond prince came in and… and h-he shot my chains and set me free. Yeosang changed my fate for me, and he did so without any hesitation. If he could do that for me — me, who was a complete stranger back then — then why would I not try to do the same for him now when we are so much more than strangers? Fate can do a lot of things, but it could never keep me from loving him.”

Despite the stutters and hesitation in his tone, Wooyoung sounds more confident about his words than anything else. You have never heard him speak with such conviction. You thought you had seen the extent of his resolve when he cut his hand open and told Yeosang that the man could not protect him from himself, but he proves you wrong now.

“And how do you find it in you to walk away in times like this?” Perhaps you are just searching to hear what he would do so that you know how you should cope yourself. What he says instead hurts far more than it helps, and you cannot even begin to think about having that same mindset yourself.

“Because I know that even if I were to die apart from him, we would find our ways back to each other in whatever comes after this life. I know that I have loved him better than I have loved anyone in my life, and despite all his faults and missteps, he has done the same for me. I can never be at peace with the thought of him dying before I do, and I’m confident that he would say the same about me, but I can be at peace with the thought of resting eternally in the knowledge that I gave him my all through thick and thin. That’s how I can walk away.”

“I…”

What can you say in response to something like that? You understand Yeosang’s desperation now because even if Wooyoung would be okay with it, he could never forgive himself for not being there in those moments. That makes your drive heighten, the desire to protect Wooyoung from if only to keep Yeosang from suffering a pain worse than death.

“Hey, you two there?” Yunho’s crackling voice breaks through the silence and tension hanging between you and Wooyoung.

“Yep, we’re almost to the trade district.”

“Okay, start looking for the supply shop. It’ll be somewhere on your left, The Quiet Peony, let me know if you can’t find it.” Yunho’s voice dissipates into nothingness once more, leaving you and Wooyoung to blink at each other without saying a word for several passing moments. Then the dark-haired man reaches down and catches hold of your hand, yanking you closer to his body. The action startles you, and you hardly realize why he is so urgent in his movements until you hear a loud clatter of metal resounding from behind you. A whoosh of air hits the back of your neck, one that feels a bit too much like the point of a spear for your liking. Wooyoung prevents you from turning around to examine your surroundings. All you can do is beg for answers in the form of a hushed whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“Guards. Look like Vladimir’s men,” Wooyoung mutters back, hand clinging to yours with more force now. “I think they’re just passing through to get to the arena.”

“Why is he bringing more men in? Could he already know about Mingi?”

“Seonghwa would tell us, wouldn’t he? Is it – no, no, they can’t have even started the fight yet.” Wooyoung glances past your shoulder as the rattling of metal continues. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips once, twice, three times. Then he brings his other arm up, lips pressing against the thin band around his wrist. “Hey, would you – could one of you please tell us when the fight starts?”

“Of course.” It’s Seonghwa who speaks this time, voice as cool and steady as ever, and his words confirm the suspicion that the fight has in fact not started quite yet. Wooyoung exhales a sigh of relief, then the rumbling steps behind you fade into the din of the city. He releases your arm after that and steps away from you, a bit of the worry creasing his features dissipating more with each passing second.

“Let’s just hope that it’s unrelated to the mission. Come on, I think I see what might be a supply shop over there,” you urge as you stretch a hand back out towards Wooyoung. He offers a quick series of nods. His hand slots against yours as he takes it, letting you guide the way through the lines of people. As you push closer to the row of buildings, the small hanging nameplates outside them come into view, and sure enough, one of those very nameplates reads in small uppercase letters The Quiet Peony.

“Yunho, we’re here, it’s here,” Wooyoung says into his wristband, and there’s more optimism to his tone now that you’ve found what you were looking for with little issue.

“Thank goodness,” Yunho sighs. Behind his voice, you can hear a clamoring of noise: loud cheers and shouts, applause that rings in your ears, a booming but unintelligible voice somewhere off in the distance. “Vladimir is announcing the fight and the rules. He—” Yunho’s voice drops at least an octave, if not more, as he hushes his tone “—he doesn’t know about Mingi yet.”

“What do you need us to get?” You press the question, urgent to get this done and over with so that you can return to witness the fight.

“Um, violet stems, cardamom seeds, two vials of pure lily essence, and a bit of pink peppercorn. Just things to help him vomit the hyacinth mixture. I’ve got some purified water in my emergency bag so I won’t be needing any.”

“And you’ve got a mortar and pestle?” Wooyoung inquires, obviously knowing far more about whatever Yunho is on about than you do.

“Yep, brought the backup.”

“Alright, we’ll – we’ll head in now.” Wooyoung hesitates though and refuses to budge from his spot outside the door. You think he’s waiting for you to make a move, but after a second you realize what it is that has him caught up. “Yeosang?”

“I’m here.”

Except it isn’t merely a confirmation of his presence on the line or in the arena. Wooyoung breathes out again, lashes fluttering as he shuts his eyes, and he almost seems to bask in the sound of Yeosang’s voice while he can. It rubs you the wrong way. Something about Wooyoung’s disposition is off, even if he isn’t showing the same signs of anxiety and worry that he was showing earlier. Still, you keep your lips pressed tightly together as he pushes into the shop, and you follow hot on his heels. There’s nothing for you to do once in the shop; Wooyoung takes the initiative of speaking to the shop over and requesting all the materials that Yunho listed off for the two of you. You just stand back by the door, wringing your hands together endlessly with a growing disturbance in your gut. Enough is enough when Wooyoung bows at the waist and pulls away from the man behind the counter. The second he faces you, you level him with a firm stare.

His throat bobs behind the metal collar clinging to his neck. Slowly but surely, he walks towards you, eyes not leaving yours for a second, then he motions towards the door.

“We should go.”

“Wooyoung,” you utter. A bit of a tremor slips into your voice.

“Y/N, we need to go. Now.” This isn’t the same man that you met in the med bay, the same man who was so desperate to follow orders with a high-pitched and panicked tone. This Wooyoung is far different — he doesn’t waver under the heat of your glare, and he bears a firm resolution to him. It feels entirely wrong. When he grabs hold of your arm this time, it’s to pull you out of the shop and back into the streets. The din resumes louder than before, and now you find it accompanied by your heart thrumming in your ears.

“The fight is starting now,” Seonghwa announces. The adrenaline pumping through your veins seems to reach impossible heights. “They announced him as Jongho, but it won’t take long for Vlad to realize who is truly down there in the arena with Hongjoong.”

Wooyoung’s grip tightens on you. You try to pull free of his grasp, startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor, but he’s holding you with a newfound force that you can’t get out of.

“Wooyoung, what the fuck is going on?” You hiss as you give up on your attempts to get out. He barely shifts to look back at you over his shoulder.

“I-I can’t explain. You won’t – it won’t m-make any sense. You just have to trust me on this, Y/N. We need to get back there as quickly as possible.”

“Wooyoung, you’re hurting me.” The words are only half true – mostly an attempt to get him to loosen his grip, but it backfires because he only clings to you tighter.

“I had a dream about this last night, Y/N.” Wooyoung’s chest heaves in an unsteady pattern. “I had a dream about the mission and everything that would happen on it. And everything I dreamt of is happening, it’s all coming to life. I dreamt that Hongjoong would offer himself up and that Mingi would be his opponent, and I dreamt that Hongjoong dies in there. I saw him die, but it wasn’t Mingi who killed him. Vladimir killed him – both of them – then he killed Jongho, Yunho, San a-and Yeosang. And after that? He captured Seonghwa and you and m-me, and he used that same squadron of guards who passed us in the streets not long ago to do it. I dreamt that we would pass them, that one would hit your shoulder and knock you to the ground, and t-that’s why I was able to stop them from doing that today. Call me crazy, but there are far too many coincidences happening right now for me not to think that that dream is coming true.”

Under any other circumstances, you would yank your arm away from Wooyoung’s and call him batshit insane. Now, however? The blaring sirens of panic and warning rampaging in your head are enough for you to take Wooyoung’s word for it. It may only be superstition, but you know that you never would have guessed that Mingi would come to the arena or that Hongjoong would offer himself to go down to fight. Yet Wooyoung seems to have dreamt both into reality. You don’t fight him anymore, not with your body or your words; instead, you let the man tug you back towards the arena with an increased sense of urgency to your movements.

A panic settles into your bones the closer you draw to the rising walls of the arena. It’s one that you have felt before — when you were scaling the walls of the palace grounds on Eros to stop the king from killing Hyunwoo. His form swirls to life at the forefront of your mind, the black silk hood cinched around his neck and covering his face even in his last moments. Again when you and Hongjoong were racing through Echidna in attempts to catch up with San before he did something reckless. Wooyoung’s mention of Vladimir killing San in his dream is not the only reason why his face replaces Hyunwoo’s in your head.

In all your time in the military, you never had to fear for Jisung’s life. You didn’t have to fear for any of your team’s lives, not until the end when Hyunwoo’s was on the line. Even when you were in jail for your crimes, you did not fear for them because they were your crimes and not theirs. The pain you felt when you learned that Hyunwoo was scheduled to die is the same pain you feel radiating through your whole body now. You aren’t there. If anything happens to him now, you can’t be there. You are too far away to get to San in time. Logic tells you that he can protect himself and keep himself safe, but sheer panic screams louder in the din of your thoughts.

Something stops you in your tracks. Wooyoung comes to a halt beside you, a startled and broken cry ripping from his lips. Everything happens in slow motion.

An explosion first. It’s so loud that your ears ring and your head throbs from the pressure of it. The both of you are staring directly at the source of the explosion, just through the tunnel leading to the main fighting ground of the arena and just past that gate that separates Hongjoong and Mingi from the rest of the crew. It starts and ends there, a cloud of sandy, pale dust billowing up so quickly that you have to duck your head to keep from choking on it.

Wooyoung tears forward. His hand drops yours without second thought. Someone is screaming through the earpiece, you can at least feel the vibrations of their voice, but your ears are still ringing too much for you to actually process what’s being said. Your legs work on their own accord and thrust your after Wooyoung.

Hongjoong. Mingi. Both in the arena.

How bad was the explosion? Everything happened too quickly for you to recall the extent of the blast, but it could be that the dust made it seem much worse than it was in actuality.

Jongho?

He would have been close to the gate with the others. With Yunho. You are angry with the healer, yes, but you wouldn’t go so far as to wish death on him.

Seonghwa.

He said he would be in the left wing with Yeosang. That would be far enough away from the blast, no? Surely it would be. Unless Vladimir’s guards reached the two of them first. Yet you can’t imagine that either one would go down easily.

San.

He was to remain with Yunho and Jongho. That’s far too close for comfort.

Please. You’ve never been one to pray, but if that’s what it takes for San to be okay, then you will do whatever you have to. Please be okay. You don’t care what kind of monster you have to become in order to keep him safe. It scared you before — back when you turned into a person you did not recognize in that warehouse on Echidna — but now you cannot find it in your body to care in the slightest.

As you burst into the tunnel, a body slams hard against yours. You are so clouded with panic and too focused on staring forward that you thrash against the grip on your shoulders.

“Y/N!” It isn’t San’s voice calling out your name, you know that much.

“San!” You scream out nonetheless, fingers ripping and tearing at the arms caging you in to no avail.

“Y/N, listen – listen, it’s me! Y/N!” You stop thrashing long enough to bring your gaze to the face of the man holding you. Blond hair fills your vision, panicked eyes wide and your throat nearly closes in on itself when you recognize it to be Yeosang. But —

Wooyoung was just in front of you. He is nowhere to be found now, not anywhere near Yeosang which is where he should be, and Seonghwa isn’t anywhere in sight either despite him being with Yeosang earlier.

“Se-Seonghwa?” You stammer through a few heavy breaths.

“He went straight to the source of the explosion.”

“Hongjoong and Mingi?”

“Hongjoong and Mingi,” Yeosang confirms through a shaky nod.

“Wooyoung. He – he went ahead of me. Did you s-see him?”

“No, I just came down the stairs. Seonghwa jumped straight down into the arena, but I got caught up in the crowds of people trying to rush out.” You couldn’t even focus on the people rushing around you and Yeosang until he mentions it, still high on the adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you dizzy.

“San,” you exhale. Your gaze falls over Yeosang’s shoulder again and stares deeper into the tunnel ahead.

“There’ll be guards ahead. Vladimir probably launched an emergency attack when he realized Mingi was down there.”

“And? We can’t leave them there.”

“No, I’m not saying we should. Just – just that we need to be careful.” Yeosang pulls back to hold you at arm’s length now, but his gaze isn’t focused on you. No, it’s shift to look back over his shoulder and down the tunnel that remains clouded with dust. There is far too much screaming from the crowds trying to rush out of the arena for either of you to hear anyone further down. Yeosang maintains a steady grip on your bicep as he pulls his gun free of its holster. You fumble to do the same albeit with much more of a struggle because your hands are shaking so badly.

Yeosang leads the way down the tunnel despite not being able to see far in front of him, and you stay close behind him, leaning to the side just enough to glance past his shoulder. The whole situation is horrifying enough but the whole concept of not being able to see or hear your crewmates makes it far worse than it already is. The two of you are only about halfway into the tunnel when a gunshot resounds. It ricochets and echoes throughout the length of the cylinder. Your steps come to a halt as Yeosang darts a hand out in front of your body. The barest outlines of bodies come into sight, dust beginning to disperse enough to expose the people inside the cloud. You can’t make out any faces, but certainly, some have to be your fellow crewmates.

“Move!” One voice rises above the others, and it’s one you recognize in a heartbeat. San. San, who sounds tired and out of breath and strained but still okay. Alive. More noises begin to resound as you and Yeosang push closer. The clattering of metal against metal for the most part – very sparse gunshots – along with a few shouts that are foreign compared to the voices of the crew. You can only hear Wooyoung and San in the mess, but there’s certainly more fighting than that going on, so you can only hope that Jongho and Yunho will be there as well when you finally push through the dust cloud.

And it’s with a sigh of relief that they do come into view, Yunho sprawled out of the ground with a gun in hand, and Wooyoung and San standing back to back both with spears in hand. They must have taken them from some of the guards because the guard standing across from Wooyoung holds the same weapon in his own hands, swinging the weapon in Wooyoung’s direction. Yeosang reacts before the dark-haired man can; his gun whips up and places a bullet in the guard’s helmet before he can come close to touching Wooyoung.

“Yeosang!”

Wooyoung nearly drops his weapon in favor of rushing towards the Elitist, but another metal-clad guard comes down on his left. Yeosang doesn’t have time to react this time. San does though, hand stretching behind him to snag the shaft of the spear before the point can sink through Wooyoung’s skin. He twists and slams the tip of his own weapon deep into the gut of the attacker. A grunt leaves his snarled lips as he shoves the guard back and plants a foot on the base of the spear. You and Yeosang came just in time to see the end of the fighting it seems; no other guards stand in the tunnel, just San and Wooyoung surrounded by a myriad of bodies with Yunho not far away. One person isn’t in sight though. Jongho.

San wipes at the base of his nose with his sleeve before turning to face you. Sweat paints his brow, dripping down the sides of his face, but as far as you can tell, there are no injuries or blood on him. Wooyoung and Yunho are in similar conditions, which is reassuring at best, but the lack of information surrounding the rest of the crew doesn’t let you rest easy.

“Seonghwa and Jongho went in for Captain and Mingi,” San heaves, mouth continuing to hang agape even after he speaks. “Seonghwa told us to wait here for them, but a squadron came in. Most likely will send backups too.”

“We’ll just have to be ready for a fight then,” Yeosang answers. He doesn’t push his gun back into its holster, but he does lower it to his side as Wooyoung rushes over to join him where he stands. You don’t have time to glance away before you catch the sight of their lips slotting together fervently, Wooyoung’s hands clasped desperately around the back of Yeosang’s neck. San moves towards Yunho’s reclining form, and he extends a hand to the healer before helping the man get to his feet.

“What happened?” You inquire, trying not to let your gaze linger on the carnage strewn over the cobbles.

“It took longer than we thought it would for Vladimir to react to Mingi being in the arena, but… everything happened really quickly after that. The fight didn’t last more than ten minutes at best. The explosion came from under the arena, no doubt a failsafe for Vlad to use in emergencies, but it wasn’t a true bomb. An electrostatic pulse meant to incapacitate. He has nodes lining the walls of the actual circle, and my guess is that they can conduct the pulses through them and send it throughout the whole arena. Still, any bomb of that size causes a big impact, and that’s why there was a sudden dust storm and so much chaos.” San brings a hand to his hair and combs through his sweat-slick locks. “No doubt that’s what is taking Seonghwa and Jongho so long. And a unit was probably dispatched to take care of them too.”

“Then shouldn’t we go in there and help out?” You offer, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s best to guard this entrance from further intruders.” Yeosang is the one to answer you. You peek over in his direction. Wooyoung clings to him like a vice and refuses to let his arms pull away from the blond for even a fraction of a second, and frankly, you cannot blame him at this point.

“Then we should—”

You cut your thought short out of the blue. Expectant eyes turn to you, waiting for you to continue what you were saying, but your mind goes elsewhere. A chill runs down your spine. A freezing cold sensation blossoms in your fingertips, spreading and spreading until you feel it down to your toes. Jerking your head, you glance back over your shoulder only to find nothing there except for the retreating backs of civilians who are still trying to get out of the building.

“Y/N? What’s goi—”

“Shut up,” you hiss, not caring to process whoever the voice belongs to. Nothing. Not the barest hint of a sound. A ruckus coming from both ends of the tunnel, but the air is completely still under the tension hanging about you in this part. Too still. You bring your chin forward once more only to test a theory. It proves useful because the second you face San again, a clink of metal resounds. Something rolls by your left foot. A small, round silver ball. Etchings all over the sphere. Two carefully carved initials into the side of the metal. Technology you’ve only seen from one person before.

You’re too late to kick it out of the way, and a gust of freezing cold smoke hisses around your body, filling the air with a new kind of dust that blinds you in seconds. All you can hear are the sounds of the others coughing near you. You think back to the letters that rolled across your vision.

HJ

Smoke bomb. Not just any smoke bomb — one specially crafted and made for reconnaissance and assassination missions. You would know exactly what their original purpose was supposed to be because there is only one person you know of in the entire universe who would sign his name off on a bomb.

Your body careens to the floor before you can think about it further, a force slamming so hard into your back that almost every ounce of air leaves your lungs.

“Jisung,” you exhale with the last few huffs of air in your body. The pressure on your back alleviates in less than a second.

Han Jisung.

Assassin, Spectre, reconnaissance specialist.

Talents: crafting special grade weaponry for missions.

Trademark: carving his initials into every single weapon he creates.

Han Jisung.

Jisung is gone.

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

Gone.

“Promise me that you won’t.”

Here.

“I could never. I love you far too much to do that.”

Jisung is here.

“Did you miss me, Y/N?”

That’s the last thing you hear before something sharp digs into the back of your neck, and a strange warmth fills your veins. You don’t have time to think about what it could be because it sends you into a deep and intense state of unconsciousness within mere seconds.

…

The air around you is stiff and unmoving, cold as ice yet you don't feel goosebumps rising across your skin. A dark night sky looms above you with its scattering of bright stars. Near the center of the indigo sea lies a brilliant red moon; bright in its blinding color. Something about the scene is familiar, the clearness of the sky reminds you of something from your past. No clouds, no breeze, no sounds of nightlife.

It's a sense of complete and utter peace. Something damp seeps through your clothing, touching your skin and leaving you cold. You sit up and press your palms to the ground below you. Instead of meeting solid ground, however, you're met by water. It splashes against your legs, and you withdraw your hands from the surface in an instant.

Water?

You bring your chin up, glancing across your surroundings. It's a lake, a shallow one yes, considering that your legs aren't fully submerged and you seem to be placed in the middle of it. A chill runs down your spine. You know exactly where you are. The water beneath you runs black, and the enormous moon hanging in the sky is only present on one planet. It's only then, when you discern where you are, that you realize you're in a dream and not reality. You push yourself to your feet, nearly slipping on the slick mud beneath the layer of black water. A man sits at the edge of the lake, undisturbed and unbothered by your presence.

You wade through the water in the direction of the man. As you get closer, his features become more clear under the vibrant red moonlight. A familiar face to go along with the familiar scenery. He prods at the pebbles along the shore of the lake with a crooked stick, paying you no attention even as you splash water across the rocks with your steps.

“It's been a while since I've seen you, old man,” you greet, soft tone carrying through the air with ease in the absence of a breeze. The rugged form before you doesn't move. He continues to prod at the stones near your feet and pushes black water against your ankles. You wait a moment in the hopes that he'll look up at you and respond, but he still acts as though you don't exist.

“Daichi,” you try again in an attempt to garner his attention. It works this time.

His chin snaps up, a wrinkled face becoming clear before you, and blue eyes stare into yours. Piercing and cold, just as you remember from your last encounter with the aged man.

“Ah, Tsukio. There you are.”

✧✧✧ a/n: ignore that i haven’t fixed the banner yet that is a later problem right now it’s all about sURPRISE CHAPTER 32!!! WHATS GOOD?! jk um please dont yell at me LMAO yall about to be mad mad after this so save your anger for the next one WHOOPS!

taglist: @faeriewoobin​​ @sugarrimajins​​ @atinyinwonderland​​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon​ @sparklychangbin​​ @jeong-uwu​​ @jeonartemis​​ @anothershorthuman​​ @xxbluestrifexx​​​ @haotheheckk​​ @noonawriter​​ @lostscenarios​​ @nlost21​​ @mirror-juliet​​ @okokokok123-45​ @purple-aeon​ @theoinkypiglet​ @toothlessshiber​ @atinyarmyx1​ @simpforhyunjin​ @hwangwoosan​ @vampire-jimin​ @softyubi​ @drumboydowoon​ @chatsgotmytongue​ @just-a-starfruit​ @babydolljo​ @scintillating-souls​ @khjssss @felixity​ @rawrrainn​ @hewwo-from-the-other-side​

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mists of celeste #mingi x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez wooyoung #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #ateez angst fluff smut #ateez series #ateez pirates #ateez space pirates

[melismaticmadness]

RAIN

Hi..so this is my first ever fanfic/imagine/story thing. (I am not quite sure what this is..) This is just fiction and no part of it is real, nor am I claiming to know anyone I write about. 

Description: Fluff and Friendship - You plan to surprise Owen in Vancouver while he’s filming JATP. Charlie helped you organize it, but something goes wrong in your plan. What happens in the rain?

2400 words

Warnings: Language, Talks of Anxiety/Mental Health

Owen Joyner x Reader

***********************************

RAIN 

November rain in Vancouver wasn’t exactly pleasant but as I stood outside hitting the call button for his apartment building for the fifteenth time, I was far past annoyed. Soaked and annoyed. How could this surprise get so messed up that I am standing here at 3:32 am?Charlie and I had planned my surprise Thanksgiving visit perfectly. I would take a red-eye flight, get into the apartment, sleep for a few hours while Owen was still on set with BooBoo, and then we’d have a day together and the Thanksgiving party later tonight. Charlie won’t wake up to answer the call button and let me in!!

I have been out here for 30 minutes already when someone taps me on the shoulder from behind.

“Excuse me, sorry, but do you need help?”

I turn around and the tall, sleepy boy in front of me with a hoodie pulled tight over his hair is shocked.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Well, I could say the same about you! Charlie said you were shooting until at least 6 am!!”

“I’m so good that we wrapped early, and got what we needed. I am still so confused as to how you got here…” He said with a fake hair toss.

“Owen, we’ve talked about this. Airplanes work for everyone, you’re not special.”

“No no, butthead. I mean standing outside my apartment building - in Vancouver - in the rain.”

I went on hurriedly about how I was here to surprise him for Thanksgiving, but the surprise is ruined because Charlie never woke up to buzz me into the building. My anxiety over his reaction was at an all-time high because my plan was derailed and he was here early, and I was drenched, but Owen could see it on my face, and before I could even finish explaining I was wrapped in a hug.

“Let’s get your soggy ass inside,” he said as he entered his pin and the doors unlocked. With his hands on my shoulders pushing me ahead of him, we went to the stairwell and up to his floor. We laughed as my wet shoes squeaked down the hall and into the apartment. I was immediately ordered into the bathroom to strip and shower.

“Hey, you can’t make me strip. I charge for that nowadays.”

“Yeah and I charge for taking in homeless, wet girls off the street, but you don’t see me asking for a check.”

After I punch him in the arm and run off to the bathroom, I can’t help but smile. We’ve been apart for so long, but it feels like nothing has changed. I was so worried that he wouldn’t be happy to see me, or that he would be annoyed that I showed up and messed up any plans he had, or god forbid if he came home with a girl and I was there.

Still, as I got into the warm shower most of my anxieties washed away (besides the ‘bringing a girl home one’). About five minutes into my hot shower, I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Yes?” I whisper-yelled out.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh..sure”

“I just wanted to bring you a set of dry stuff to wear, I’ll put it on the toilet for you.”

“Thanks, O.” I peeked my head out behind the black shower curtain and saw him standing with his back to the shower placing the clothes and towel down. I could pull him into the shower by the back of his shirt from here if I wanted to, but I am not ballsy enough to do that. He thinks of me as one of the boys, and I doubt that line will ever get crossed. The boys would mess with him in this situation though.

I filled a hand up with water and sprinkled it down his neck and back. Hearing Owen gasp when he felt water all over him was hysterical, especially because he would not turn around to look at me.

“You are SO lucky you are in the shower or I would get your ass back sooooooooo good.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get the hell out of here,” I said splashing him again, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

He hurried out and I finished as fast as possible because now I was a little worried he would hand my bras from his balcony or something…

One last look in the mirror as I squeezed my hair out and I smelled like Owen. His soap, shampoo, towels...I wish I could always smell this. Stupid TV shows shooting in foreign countries….

Back in the living room, I found Owen asleep on the couch. Knowing him, he probably did not sleep at all yesterday like he was supposed to for the night shoot.

“Yo, blondie...Owen..go to bed”

“What’s wrong?! Oh, no I’m awake what...what do you wanna do?”

“I want you to go to bed. We can hang out after you sleep for a few hours.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll probably try to sleep a little too. The guy next to me on my last flight was a snorer.”

“Come to bed with me”

“Wh-what? O, it’s ok I am totally ok on the couch.”

“No, no. You’re coming. Let’s go, y/n. I’ll sleep on the floor if you want”

I couldn’t even protest more because I was being wrapped in a blanket with Owen and we were walking to his room. Look, we had had sleepovers before as kids, but the last time we did this we were thirteen, in his childhood room, with two sleeping bags on the floor. He was always working, and I was always in school, so most of the time when he was home I had to go home at night for school the next day.

How do you have a platonic sleepover with your best friend who you are also in love with? Do I just roll over the opposite way and pray that we don’t wake up with me holding onto him?

His bed was made and it smelled like he had just washed his sheets before work. He led me to one side of the bed, pulled the covers back, and simply said, “Get in.” He shuffled over to his side of the bed and did the same.

“G’night.”

“Goodnight. Hey, do you have to be up for work or anything? I can set an alarm.”

“Nope, I’m off all day because of the night shoot.”

“Okay, goodnight y/n”

With that last “goodnight”, I felt him get closer to me. My heart was beating so fast I wasn’t sure if I was going to pass out or throw up and nothing was even happening!! Owen reached over to the other side of me and pulled me close.

“It looked like you were shivering. I should've told you to dry your hair before bed.”

“I’m okay,” I said pushing his hair out of his face, so I could see him.

“Okay.”

Arms tangled over each other, we both fell asleep.

***********************************

Hours later the rain got worse. Through the open window, I could hear the thunder was really loud and I happened to open my eyes as lightning lit up the sky. Fun fact about me. I hate lightning and am terrified of it. Being in a highrise apartment building with lots of windows, was a nightmare for me. I curled up in fetal position under the blankets and pulled them all the way up over my head.

I felt Owen moving around next to me and just assumed he was rolling over, but I felt him grab me by the waist. We were now face-to-face, chest to chest, completely under his sheets.

“Fancy meeting you under here.” His morning breath could’ve killed me, and not because it smelled. I didn’t think I could be attracted to him and his voice more than I already was.

“Sorry for waking you. The storm.”

“I know. As soon as I heard it, I knew. You’re safe. It’s loud because it’s passing over us and will be gone in a few minutes.”

The next roll of thunder shook the room a little and a single little tear escaped and I tried to hide it by moving my hair and pretending to fix the blanket over my head but he caught me.

“..hey I’m right here. Do you want to go sit in the bathroom? There are no windows.”

“I’m fine, sorry,” I said and took a deep breath.

“How can I help you right now?”

“I’m sorry. My anxiety went off the rails when my surprise got ruined earlier and I don’t know how to sleep in bed with a boy, and on top of that the worst storm is happening,” I sputtered.

Owen laughed a soft little laugh and pulled me closer.

“You’re just sleeping next to me... I’m not just a boy... we’re not strangers, hell I just walked in on you in the shower earlier...wait... god, did I make you uncomfortable?” He made some space between us and laid his head on his hands while looking at me.

“Oh god, Owen no. No.” I grabbed his hands back and put them under my face pulling him back towards me. I hadn’t noticed until now that he lost his shirt somewhere in the night. “You just know how I get, all up in my head about every little thing.” The butterflies in my stomach felt more like fireworks exploding in an almost painful display under these sheets.

“Well, what is your head saying right now? Let’s talk through it.”

A shaky breath escaped my mouth. I can’t tell him I've loved him since our days of sleeping bags on his bedroom floor. So, I pivot.

“I was worried you wouldn’t be happy to see me and that I was imposing by just showing up here…”

“You know I always am so happy to see you. I wish I could see you every day, we talk every day. You being here is so much better than a few texts and a missed facetime call while I’m at work.”

“Okay.. I love- I mean...I like being here too. I can’t make fun of you if you don’t answer my texts.” We both laughed a little this time.

“Sounds like the lightning stopped. Wanna go watch the sunrise? It should be up any minute.”

“We should get out from under the covers first...”

“Right.”

Pulling the covers down gave me the fresh air I needed to think clearly. I did not need to tell him how I felt. These moments were enough.

“Good morning, y/n.”

“Good morning, O.”

“Grab a towel before we head out to wipe the chairs down.”

“Yes ma’am,” Owen salutes and runs out of the room.

***********************************

Nothing is better than watching the sunshine hit this smiling boy’s blonde locks and pink cheeks first thing in the morning. Sitting on the same plastic lounge chair, I wanted to pinch myself.

“We slept for like three hours,” I laughed.

“We can nap again before the Thanksgiving party tonight. I’m not that tired.”

“Want me to order coffee? I’ll run and get it, I saw a Starbucks next door.”

“Nah, I put some on when I went for the towel.”

“Smart man. I’m gonna grab some water then.”

“I’ll get it. I added lemon to our pitcher in the fridge for you, when I went for the towel too.”

“Joyner, you do think of everything.”

“I did remember you don’t drink coffee, give me some credit!” He said as he ducked off the balcony.

I stood up to lean over the railing and before I knew it Owen was over my shoulder with a glass of water and his coffee. The rain was picking up again. I took a sip and put it down on the little outdoor table they kept out there and continued to stare out at the city as it woke up.

Owen hugged me from behind and I leaned into him as an instinct. I realized I was probably making him uncomfortable and went to slide over to give him space, but he stopped me.

“Y/n, can you stand still? Your head is blocking my view.”

“My head?! I am like a foot shorter than you!”

“Yes, the back of your head is blocking my view.”

“What can you possibly be looking at? The rain?! Look there’s a bus! Trying to stalk people as they walk their dogs?” I rambled as I turned around to see where his eyes were pointed.

At that moment, he grabbed my neck, and the next thing I knew his lips were on mine. I think my heart stopped. I stood there like a limp noodle for a solid 3 seconds before I pulled away. The expression on his face was one of being mortified.

“Oh god...Oh, I’m so sorry. Oh, fuck!” He said and started running his hands through his hair and pacing away from me. “I thought..oh god.. It doesn’t matter what I thought because I was out of line..”

I grabbed his arm as he turned away from me again.

“Do it again.”

“..wh-what?”

“Owen, can we try it again?”

“Y/n, I don’t want you to think you have to kiss me because I kissed you. It’s ok. I’m so sorry.”

I walked over to him, put my hands on his bare chest, and kissed him.

“I have wanted to do that since we were thirteen.”

“You-huh?”

“I have wanted to kiss you since we were thirteen, probably before. I just was scared. Our friendship is so special to me, I couldn’t imagine losing it. Then when you were spending more and more time in L.A. and then coming here to Vancouver, I thought you probably had met someone already and were just keeping it quiet.”

“I haven’t met anyone,” he stammered. “I thought I lost my chance with you for good when I moved out here, but I never was into anyone else.”

“Now what?”

“Can I kiss you again?” We both laughed and as we collided it’s almost as if rain was waiting on its cue from us. It stopped.

I wonder what is in store for us now.

#owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen joyner imagine #owen joyner fluff #owen joyner smut #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms #owen x reader #owen joyner x reader #owen x y/n #owen joyner x y/n #jatp

[starshapedkookie]

“everything i’ve wanted.”

CONTINUATION OF: “i’d rather be dead.” 

pairing: jungkook x female reader 

summary: The aftermath of Jungkook breaking up with his long term girlfriend hasn’t gone how you were expecting. After all, you believed with her out of the picture, everything with Jungkook would be easier and he would finally be yours. Turns out, Jungkook’s guilt for what he did may be the one thing that’s stopping him from fully giving his heart to you.

genre: angst, smut, little fluff, college au

word count: 10.7K

includes: mentions of cheating, swearing, drinking, smoking, unprotected sex (wrap it up gentlemen), dry humping, hair pulling, feelings of being used

note: hi welcome back. if you haven’t already please read the first part (i’ve linked it above😊) this was written on a whim of inspiration to continue one of my favorite things i’ve written. less smutty details in this one but that’s fine lol. please give me some feedback if you want & enjoy the shitshow!

.

It had been exactly one week since the party. One week since you found out Jungkook had broken up with his long-term girlfriend. One week since he had taken you back to his place and made you his—finally. Or so you had thought. One week, seven days, 168 hours, and 10,080 minutes since you had last seen or spoken to him.

You had tried to reach out at least once day, sending him a call or text only to be left unanswered. In the two months you had known Jungkook, you hadn’t gone one day without at least texting each other. The first time exchange numbers was to keep up with a friend in the class you shared, only later down the line to turn more inappropriate. You hated this. You weren’t sure what was wrong with him. You only wanted to help him and be there for comfort, but he obviously needed space.

You had bit your nails down to the quick before you realized and had skipped more meals in the past week than you ever had in your life. You didn’t know why you were being like this—you and Jungkook weren’t dating. The circumstance far from that. After all, he was the one who had just left his girlfriend of nearly two and a half years—he has a right to feel down. 

You had thought after so much time of him longing for you—fucking you—after she was out of the picture that the two of you would ride out on a stallion into the sunset. Maybe you misread the situation. But after so long, you wanted Jungkook—you wanted him to be yours. You waited long enough—it wasn’t fair for him to shut you off like this.

“Earth to Y/N,” a snap takes you from your thoughts. You blink your focus to Min Yoongi and Mina—your roommate and best friend—along with the new black haired friend that’s in one of Mina’s classes. Yoongi was a nice guy—quiet and reserved, but super thoughtful and always telling it like it is.

“Sorry,” you laugh, stabbing at the salad in front of you aimlessly, not planning on finishing it.

Mina eyes you curiously, “Are you okay? You’ve been acting kind of strange,” she says tilting her head slightly. Even Yoongi who hasn’t known you but for a few weeks max, would agree with Mina.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you brush it off, “I’m just really stressed about midterms,” you say. It was partially true. You were stressed about Jungkook, but even more stressed about your next round of exams mainly because you had yet to start studying—because you were busy worrying about Jungkook.

Mina only half believes you. “Okay, just let me know if anything’s wrong?”

You know she means best, but sometimes you wish she wouldn’t go creeping into your personal life. She knew about yours and Jungkook’s situation and was not a fan, obviously. You couldn’t help but fear she knew exactly why you were acting strange—no matter how much you tried to fool her.

“I’m gonna get a coffee,” you announce standing up from the table, “Want anything?” You ask Mina and Yoongi. They both shake their heads before looking back at their laptops.

You walk over to the coffee shop, squeezing through the crowds of people. Peak lunch time was the absolute worst in the dining halls on your campus. Freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors all trying to eat at the same time was a horrifying sight. Especially for someone like you who didn’t want hundreds of pairs of eyes looking at you.

You place your coffee order, plain black with three sugars, before someone catches the corner of your eyes. It’s Jungkook. He hasn’t noticed you and you feel your heart racing just from one glance his way. He’s picking up a Grubhub coffee order and before he can walk away you say—

“Hey,” you offer with a small smile. Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to you and his face is unreadable. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before speaking.

“Uh hey,” he says monotonously before turning on his heels and walking away from you. You watch his back as he walks away from you and you don’t think your heart has ever felt like this before. The sharp pain in your chest is hard to ignore and you can’t help but wonder; what have you done?

You grab your coffee before walking back over to the table where you and your friends sit. You don’t even get fully in your seat until Yoongi is asking you a question.

“You know Jungkook?” He asks. You nearly freeze and you ignore the way Mina’s eyes flicker up from her computer.

“Uh yeah,” you say, “We have a class together,” you leave it at that.

“Gotcha. We’re frat brothers,” he says and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Of fucking course they are. “He’s been kind of MIA this week, acting weird and shit.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Really?” You act like you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah apparently him and girlfriend broke up, did you know her too?” he asks. You have to fight the urge of your skin wanting to heat up. Mina is looking dead at you right now and you choose to ignore her fire-bolt of a stare.

“Uh, no not really,” you clear your throat awkwardly.

“I just didn’t know if you knew what was going on with him,” he says, “Not that you guys care,” he laughs dismissing the subject.

You look at your watch before gathering your things up. “Well I have class in ten minutes. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you say.

“Wait up, I’ll walk you. My class is on the way,” Mina says gathering her things too. You internally groan. Fuck.

“Alright, see you later,” Yoongi says waving the two of you off.

Once you and Mina are outside away from the commotion, she immediately begins to question you.

“Jungkook and his girlfriend broke up?” She presses, “Did you know this?”

You had failed to relay this information to Mina as you weren’t sure how to approach the conversation. If everything was normal between you and Jungkook it would have been an easy conversation to have—a relieving one at that—but we see how that’s turning out.

“Uh yeah,” you say kicking a rock as you walk.

Mina’s eyes nearly pop out of her head, “What the fuck and you didn’t tell me?!” She scolds you.

“Why do you care so much?” You shoot back at her.

She rolls her eyes, “Um maybe because my best friend had been fucking him behind his girlfriend’s back for two months, that’s why I care,” she half whispers, “Is this what’s been going on with you?”

“I’m fine Mina,” you say.

“Bullshit,” she spits, “Shouldn’t you two be happy about this?”

As much as she hated the circumstance—she knew you and Jungkook just clicked.

“He hasn’t spoken to me in a week,” you say simply approaching the building your class was in. Mina’s eyebrows furrow.

“Wait… seriously?” She seems just as confused as you feel.

You nod, “I don’t know what’s up with him,” you sigh, “I’ll see you later okay?”

She lets you go and once you get to class, you don’t even open your laptop, staring at the back of the chair in front of you the whole time.

______

You thought you were dreaming when you got a text from Jungkook the next evening around 8:30 PM. Your mouth goes dry and your hands clammy as you fumble with your phone.

[Jungkook 8:32 PM] what are you doing

[You 8:34 PM] Nothing much

[You 8:34 PM] What about you?  

You bite your lip nervously as the bubbles show up of him typing.

[Jungkook 8:35 PM] can I come over?

You think your heart skips a beat and you don’t think you can reply fast enough.

[You 8:35 PM] Of course

Mina was out studying in the library therefore you were by yourself. You could use the company and Jungkook is easily the first person you could think of you that you want to be with right now. You tidy up the messiness that’s consumed your room the past week and make sure the living room and kitchen were clean enough for your liking. You’re throwing on a sweatshirt as you hear a couple knocks on your door.

You hurry over, opening the door quickly. Jungkook stands there dressed in all black—black sweatpants, a large black long sleeve shirt covering his frame. His dark hair is messy and his eyes are tired. You probably look the same to him.

“Hi,” you squeak out, stepping aside for him to come in.

“Hey,” he says, seeming much more relaxed than he was at the coffee shop yesterday afternoon. His eyes glance around your apartment, “You here alone?” He must have taken note of the silence within the walls.  

“Uh yeah,” you shut the door, “Mina’s out at the library with our friend Yoongi,” you explain watching his frame carefully.

“Min Yoongi?” He asks, his gaze turning back to you.

You nod, “Yeah… he’s in your frat right?”

“Mhm,” he nods, “I like hyung a lot.”

“Yeah he’s nice,” you say and you swear the tension rises after each passing second of him being here. It’s suffocating.

You lead Jungkook back into your room and shut the door as he lays down on your bed with a deep exhale. He covers his eyes with his arms and you sit down on the edge of the bed, eyeing him carefully. He seems distressed and you aren’t sure what to say to him.

“H-how are you?” You ask him hesitantly. He removes his arms from his face, looking at you and then over to your desk scattered with school work.

“Not good,” he says, again monotonously, but truthful.

“I figured,” you are careful with your word choice and you keep your tone low, barely audible. He laughs and you can’t tell if it’s sarcasm.

“Why do you say that?” His eyes finally meet yours and stay locked. His tone isn’t serious, but it isn’t exactly playful either.

You bite your lip, breathing heavily, “I mean… you haven’t spoken to me in over a week so I just thought…” you trail off, not sure how to finish what you’re saying.

His eyes don’t leave yours and his gaze is too heavy for you. You look away as he speaks again.

“Y/N,” he says, getting your attention again, “I’m sorry… I’m just going through a lot right now…”

You turn back to him, shifting your body to face him more. His hand is right by your leg and your tempted to grab it—and you normally would have—but you don’t this time.

“You can tell me anything Jungkook, you know that,” you tell him honestly. He knows this and you shouldn’t have to tell him.

He stays silent. He looks as if he’s trying to find the right words to say, but he doesn’t know how to formulate them. He looks down at your body before putting his hand on one of your legs that’s bent towards him.

“I just thought this would be easier,” he says, his thumb rubbing small motions on your bare skin, “It’s been hell.” You think he’s nearly on the brink of tears but he pushes them away quickly.

“Jungkook,” you say putting your hand on his, “It’s the process…” you pause, “I know what you’re going through—“

“No you don’t,” he snaps, pulling his hand away from you. His eyes are narrowed and burning holes in your skin, “Don’t fucking say that Y/N.”

Your lips part in shock. He’s never raised his voice at you, this being the closest thing to that. You ease your gaze on him, not wanting him to be angry at you. Everyone has gone through a break up—and the healing process is the fucking worst, but it’s something everyone goes through—he can’t say you don’t know what it feels like when you do. You don’t defend yourself though, wanting to deescalate his mood.

“Jungkook just let me help you,” you say in almost a whisper, feeling your emotions beginning to creep up the more you look at him. He’s so goddamn beautiful and perfect in your eyes, you couldn’t stand seeing him like this.

His eyes are stormy and he looks as if he’s debating something. He sits up more on his elbows, reaching one of his hands out. You take it slowly and soon he’s pulling you on top of him. Your heart drops into your stomach at his touch—fuck you’ve missed it.

You sit perched on his abdomen, his hands firmly around your waist as the two of you stare at each other, waiting for someone to make a move.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly and you shake your head instantly.

“Don’t say that,” you tell him and he licks his lips quickly and a little too tempting for you.

“Come here,” his voice is deep and you swallow harshly before leaning down to close the gap between the two of you. When your lips meet after an entire week, your whole body sets ablaze. His lips are always so damn soft, sometimes chapped, but not today. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you two move with each other, his own hands slipping underneath your sweatshirt to grip your waist better. You already feel hot and want the material off of you but you want to make sure this is what Jungkook wants before you do anything furthur.

“Jungkook,” you pull away from him momentarily, “Are you sure?” You don’t know why you’re asking because you already know his answer.

He nods quickly, moving the sweatshirt material up from your frame. “Yeah, I’ve missed you so much,” he says and you help him pull it over your head leaving you in your sports bra. He leans up again to close the large gap between you two. You tangle your hands into his hair when his tongue dips into your mouth, once and then twice, sending your core a shockwave. His lips move from your mouth, to the corner of your mouth, to your jawline, and down your neck slowly and tortuously. With the grip in his hair, you pull him impossible closer to you and you shift your weight from his tummy down to his crotch, settling where he needs you the most.

You move your hips experimentally against his sweatpants and he sends a small groan into your ear. You do it again and you groan at the feeling. He pushes your bra up and over your head and quickly attaches his mouth on your left nipple. You continue to grind against his growing member, your clit being stimulated slightly.

Jungkook detaches his lip from your nipple and he quickly rids himself of his shirt before kissing you again. His hands rest against your ass and he pushes you to grind on him again. He moves his hips to meet up with yours and you let out a moan against his lips when part of his shaft hits just where you need it.

You feel an orgasm already approaching as you rock yourself onto his clothed length and you want him inside of you as soon as possible. You need it.

“Fuck, Jungkook I think I’m gonna come,” you breathe out, your forehead resting against his. He rocks up into your clothed core a little harder this time and it’s becoming too hard to stay quiet.

“Come on punkin,” he says against you, “Come for me baby.”

With his words, you find yourself over the edge and your jaw drops as your orgasm quickly washes over you. No—it’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had but it feels damn good after so long. He covers your mouth with his as you moan into him, your body stifling above him.

“I need to fuck you,” he groans and his brown eyes look almost black as he stares into you. You nod quickly and you get off of his lap, quickly pulling down your pajama shorts and underwear, him doing the same with his sweats and own underwear.

“I don’t have any condoms,” you tell him and he nearly knocks the breath out of you when he flips you over on your stomach.

“It’s fine punkin,” he says and he’s already lining himself up with your entrance. The small friction sending a chill down your spine and you nearly collapse onto your elbows. He slowly enters you, both of you sending harsh groans to each other. Your hands grip the bedding, Jungkook’s left hand gripping your hip just as tight as his other guides his length fully into you.

Once he bottoms out,  he has to breathe heavily to stable himself. You look at him over your shoulder and he’s looking right back, his chest heaving up and down. He starts to move in and out of you slowly and your head falls into your pillows.

“Fuck—shit,” he groans throwing his head back, watching the way he enters and leaves you through slitted eyes. His pace is agonizingly slow and you yourself start to move back onto him, fucking him from the front. You moan deeply as you feel all of his length fill you up. Jungkook watches as you fuck yourself onto him as he listens to your small ministrations. From this angle, his tip hits the right spot deep within you and you’re picking up your pace before Jungkook halts your hips against his.

“Jungkook,” you whine, needing to feel him fast and hard.

“What’s wrong punkin?” He teases and you groan as he slowly pulls out of you and back in again.

“Fuck,” you can’t hold yourself up anymore and you go down on your elbows, trying to focus on your next orgasm that’s slowly building up.

“Want me to fuck you harder?” He says deeply and he leans forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling your face up from the mattress.

“Yes, Jungkook—goddammit,” you’re almost frustrated the way he plays you like this. It’s all he needs to hear before he picks up his pace, thrusting himself in and out of you quickly but not too fast for either of you. He pulls on your hair each time he sinks into you, his other hand kneading your ass between fingers. His own small whines have picked up as he fucks himself faster into you and you feel your toes curling at the familiar sensation of your climax coming. To your surprise, Jungkook’s hand smacks down onto your ass quick and hard, once then twice, which causes an animalistic groan to come from his mouth.

You reach up in between yourself and rub your sensitive bud to send you over the edge and once it comes, your whole body feels like it’s shattering from the sensation.

“Jungkook…ah, fuck,” you whine loudly and he lets go of your hair, both of his hands holding you firmly against him as he chases his own high.

“Almost there baby, jesus—fuck,” he stills deep within you as he cums. Your name and a string of curse words flowing out of his mouth quietly. You collapse against your bed as he pulls out of you. You’re spent and you nearly don’t have enough energy to turnover. When you do, you almost ask Jungkook to spend the night until you see him gathering his things, pulling on his underwear.

“A-are you leaving?” You ask him, covering yourself with a small blanket on the end of your bed. Jungkook’s eyes glance at you before finding his shirt.

“Yeah… I gotta chapter meeting… for the new pledges,” he says, not really paying much mind to his words.

Your mouth parts, “Oh.”  

You expected him to stay—you wanted him to stay. It was always either one of you leaving after you fucked—but you thought that would be over once he broke up with her.

“I’ll text you okay? I promise,” he’s slipped into his shoes and he leans down to your face, kissing your lips gently but not long enough for your liking.

“O-okay,” the disappointment is evident in your tone and Jungkook notices, but he pretends he didn’t hear it as he leaves your room, closing the door behind him.

You stare at the door, unable to process what just happened. You feel yourself start to get emotional, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. You cover yourself with your blanket more, feeling lonely, used, and vulnerable. As the first tear falls from your eyes, you don’t stop the others that follow. For the first time in a long time, you’re spending a Saturday night by yourself, crying your eyes out, unable to get those brown eyes out of your head.

_____

Jungkook never texts you. Not Sunday, not Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. It’s starting to look like another week is going to go by without hearing from him. You were worried to say the least. Jungkook had never ghosted you and this was now becoming so out of the ordinary, it was something you couldn’t brush off anymore.  

Thankfully on this Thursday afternoon, Yoongi offered to grab some food with you as you study together. You were quiet once again and Yoongi couldn’t help but ask what was going on.

“Y/N,” he says and you look up from your notes to meet his gaze.

“Hm?” You mumble under your breath.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he pauses, “I haven’t known you that long but you’re kind of worrying me…”

Your shoulders and face visibly drop. “I swear I’m fine, I just—“

“You don’t have to lie to me you know,” he interrupts you, his eyes burning holes into yours.

You glance away from him, slumping back into the chair you are currently sat in.

“Can I assume this is about a guy?”  Min Yoongi was a quizzical person—a very smart person at that. Deep down, you wonder if Mina had mentioned anything to Yoongi about yours and Jungkook’s situation, but you know she would never do that.

“Sure,” you answer bluntly, not bothering to hide the displeasure in your tone.

His mouth goes straight before almost curling into a smile, “Wanna talk about it?”  

“Not really,” you mutter. You couldn’t talk about it.

“C’mon,” he starts, “We’ve both taken basic psychology classes and we both know ignoring your problems doesn’t make them go away.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “Are you volunteering to be my shrink?”

He laughs before speaking again, “I charge five dollars an hour, that covers my Starbucks order.”  

For the first time in awhile, you send him a genuine smile. You stare back down at your notes, knowing you aren’t retaining any of the information so possibly a study break would help. Perhaps you would open up to Yoongi some—but leaving out some minor details.  

You breathe out heavily before shutting your notebook, leaning onto your elbows. Yoongi watches you carefully, doing the same as he shuts his laptop to give you his full attention.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” you warn. Yoongi looks at his wrist that doesn’t have a watch sitting on his skin before saying—

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he smirks and you roll your eyes. “Time is a social construct so I’m all ears.”

“So there’s this guy,” you pause, thinking about your word choice carefully, “We met a few months ago in class and I would see him around at parties. And uh… we both hit it off together well, but then a bombshell dropped that he had a girlfriend, one for awhile at that.”  

Yoongi nods his head, signaling you to continue.

“Um, well skip through a couple weeks and,” you pause, getting ready for the embarrassment that’s about to flow through your body, “We hooked up… like hooked up, hooked up.”

Yoongi’s face falls some, tilting his head to the side, “So…do you feel guilty? Is that why you’re acting weird?” His voice is calm and not demeaning like you were expecting.

You shake your head slowly, “Well… the thing is we kept hooking up, for a couple months,” your voice is uneven and shaky. You hated to admit being the ‘other woman’ but in your moments with Jungkook you couldn’t have cared less.

“Hm,” Yoongi says, “Okay… can I ask why? I mean you knew he had a girlfriend…?”

You bite your lip nervously, “Well every time we were together, he told me that he wanted to be with me and he didn’t know how to end things with his girlfriend.”  

“He sounds like a pussy,” he scoffs with a laugh and you have to fight the temptation for your cheeks to fill with heat. “Are you still hooking up with him? Does he still have this girlfriend?”

You shake your head, “No, he broke up with her recently and… I thought that everything would fall into place now that she’s out of the picture,” you pause, “But he hasn’t really spoken to me since they broke up. I’ve only seen him a couple times since he called it quits.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow, seeming to be somewhat confused. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words immediately come from it.  

“I wish I could tell you why this guy is doing this, but honestly I can’t,” he responds, “Do you know if he told his ex about you?”

“I’m not sure… I’d hope not,” you rush the last part.

“Wouldn’t you want to you know? I mean if your partner cheated on you?” He asks. Cheating. Probably your least favorite word in the dictionary.

You shrugged thinking carefully about your answer, “I’m not sure… maybe if I suspected something?”

Yoongi’s eyes soften, “Maybe his ex suspected something? And now that she might know why he broke up with her, he feels guilty about it now.”

A confused look spreads across your face. You’re not really following. Jungkook didn’t seem to feel guilty anytime his dick was inside of you, why would he feel guilty now?

“I mean maybe he’s pushing you away because he’s trying to cover his ass. Like I said, if she suspected something, seeing her ex with a girl right after they broke up would probably confirm any suspicions she had,” he rationalizes and once you hear those words, it makes sense as much as you don’t want to admit it.

“I guess that makes sense,” you mumble, staring down at your horribly picked cuticles. “I just wish he would say something to me and not leave me hanging like this.”

Yoongi debates saying his next sentence—but he’s not one for a filter.

“You probably don’t wanna hear this but I don’t think you should be this upset over this guy. He cheated on his girlfriend and then strung you along and has left you like this… sounds like a guy you shouldn’t want to be with anyways, single or not,”  he says truthfully.

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Maybe you had been so infatuated with Jungkook and his huge dick—you couldn’t see that maybe he isn’t what you need right now. Maybe Yoongi’s right?

“Maybe you’re right,”  you mutter, slumping down fully in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Have you told Mina any of this?” He asks.  

“Yeah, she found out pretty quickly what was going on.”

“What does she think?”

You frown slightly, “She hated the fact that I was demoted to homewrecker but she said if we made each other happy…” you trail off looking at your now cold coffee.

Yoongi chuckles, “Well, don’t settle for the class of a homewrecker, you’re better than that.”

You give him a small smile again, “Thanks.”

“What are you two doing this weekend?” He asks with curiosity.

“I don’t know yet, not sure about her either,” you answer.

“Well, we’re having a party to welcome in the new pledges. You two should come,” he smiles ever so slightly.

You think about protesting when you remember that Yoongi and Jungkook reside in the same frat but that soon passes your mind when you realize you’re in desperate need for some fun. You’re sick of sulking in your room watching The Office for the umpteenth time.

“Sure,” you say, “I’ll let her know.”

He nods and you almost don’t hear him when he says, “You better.”

A smirk creeps up on your face, “Is Min Yoongi sweet for Mina?” You tilt your head jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah fuck off,” he flips you off from across the table before pushing his chair out, “I gotta get another coffee if I’m sitting here with you for another hour.”

You laugh, “Get me one!”

_____

Never in your time at university had you put so much effort into your appearance to go to a fraternity house. Alas, here you were trying on your 10th outfit of the night and double touching up your makeup.

“Y/N! Come on! Our Uber’s here!” Mina yells from your living room and you groan loudly. You look at your black jeans and black blouse that shows some of your cleavage before running out to the living room, holding your booties in your hands.

“I’m coming!” You respond, grabbing a water bottle of vodka in your other hand. You follow Mina out to the Uber and she sits up front while you hop in the back. You quickly slip on your shoes so you’re not barefoot anymore as the driver begins to speed off to the familiar fraternity house.

Knowing you should have started drinking an hour ago, you twist the lid off of the vodka bottle and tip it back into your mouth, making sure the driver can’t see you in the dark. After a big gulp, you pull away and a shiver sends down you spine. Fuck, you hated vodka—why were you doing this to yourself? Then you remembered—Jungkook. You had to get him out of your head to enjoy this night and the only way to do that was to get absolutely plastered. You take another swig and Mina eyes you from the front seat with a judgmental look before laughing to herself.

You had not told Mina about the conversation you had with Yoongi. You weren’t planning on it either. Should would probably kill you if she knew you told him your deepest darkest secret. Granted you were smart enough to leave Jungkook’s name out of the picture but she wouldn’t have cared.

Another ten minutes go by before the driver pulls up to the curb in front of the house. You and Mina thank him before walking up to the scene. It’s about 10:30 PM and there’s already a plethora people here, the music loud, and the smell of different types of smoke coming from all directions.

“Mina! Y/N!” You are greeted at the door by non other than Park Jimin. The hunky guy you nearly hooked up with a couple weeks back before Jungkook obviously changed the plan and fucked you in one of the bathrooms at this very house.

“Hey! What’s up?” You give Jimin a side hug, holding your vodka bottle close to your chest. He also gives Mina a small embrace before pulling away.

“I’m on door duty tonight so no alcohol for me,” he says with a pout, “But don’t let me stop you!” He smiles and steps aside from the door to let the two of you walk in.

The hallway is crowded and a Drake song plays loudly over the conversing. You hold onto Mina’s hand tight, dragging you through the corridors to go to the dance floor. Before you get there though, you run smack dab into the chest of Min Yoongi.

“Oh. Shit, hey guys!” He smiles brightly and you’re sure he’s buzzed.

“Hey,” Mina hugs him quickly.

“You guys wanna drink?” He leans down between you to half yell his question. Both of you nod and he gestures to follow him. He leads you into the kitchen/bar you are quite familiar with before digging into a cooler to fetch some drinks.

You take another shot from your bottle and then hand it to Mina—her needing to catch up with you.

“Here you go,” he hands over a classic hard seltzer and you gladly take it.

“There’s a lot of people here tonight,” you say louder than usual.

He nods, “Yeah all these pledges invited pretty much anyone they looked at this past week,” he laughs. You offer him the vodka bottle but he shakes his head quickly, “I gotta DD at 2 AM, I can’t get shitfaced as much as I’d want to.”

“Gotcha,” you turn to Mina and she takes another shot. After she’s finished, her pointer fingers goes to you and she signals for you to come closer. You lean into her, her mouth near your ear.

“Have you talked to Jungkook?” She asks trying to keep her voice down so Yoongi won’t hear.

You shake your head, “No, why?”

“No reason,” she shakes her head and you furrow her eyebrows at you.

“What are y’all whispering about and why am I not a part of this conversation?” Yoongi butts in and both of you push against his chest.

“It’s nothing Yoongi,” she sends him a sweet smile and you’re sure his eyes melted at the sight, “Come on, we’re gonna go dance,” Mina says grabbing your wrist.

“We are?” You ask.

“Yup, c’mon,” she pulls you away from Yoongi before you can object and you finally feel the effects of the alcohol fogging your brain.

An EDM songs rips through the walls and before you know it, both of you have let loose and released all your stress in the world. All you know is that you needed this. After the two weeks you’ve had—this was only the beginning of your night and it wasn’t ending anytime soon. You and Mina continue to pass the bottle back and forth, sipping on the harsh liquor until half of it is gone. Mina’s hands are on your shoulders as both of you scream the lyrics of the current song into each other’s faces. Although your head spins and each time you jump up and down you stumble, it’s the happiest you’ve felt in a long time.

Between everyone’s yelling of the lyrics and yours, time suddenly feels like it stops when you meet a familiar set of brown eyes across the room. 

The sight of Jungkook makes you head to a full spin but when you realize who is standing beside him—you feel like you could hurl—his ex-girlfriend. What is she doing here?!

You steady yourself onto Mina, breaking Jungkook’s gaze on you before turning to her.

“I’m gonna g-get another drink,” you stumble your sentence and she nods quickly before she leans to you.

“I’m gonna go talk with Hanna, I haven’t seen her in awhile!” She tells you and you give her a thumbs up before walking away from her and Jungkook’s line of sight.

You get back to the kitchen and find that Yoongi hasn’t moved—he’s now talking to a handsome guy who you’ve only ever seen around the frat.

“Y/N!” Yoongi greets you again, “Have you met Taehyung?” He asks.

You shake your head, steadying yourself against the island in the kitchen, “No, hi… I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself as sober as yourself will allow it.

Taehyung has a boxy smile—it’s cute. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

“I need a drink,” you announce, stepping between the two frat brothers, heading straight to a cooler. Yoongi notices the way you stumble and almost fall onto your face before he’s grabbing your hand.

“Wait, Y/N come on, let’s slow down,” he offers seriously. You jerk your hand away from his.

“No I think I want a drink,” you tell him pointedly before digging around and pulling up another carbonated beverage. You crack the can open and smile to Yoongi, “Cheers.”

You down half the can in one gulp and Yoongi again grabs at your arm to pull the drink away from you. 

“Fuck off Yoongi,” you step away from him and look back at Taehyung, whose eyeing you up and down. Maybe you’ll have this one tonight. Yoongi notices the way you’re practically drooling over Taehyung and he rolls his eyes.

Yoongi says something in Taehyung’s ear before he nods to the older brother, giving you one last glance, and walking away from the two of you. Your mouth falls open.

“Are you fucking kidding me Yoongi? I wanted to talk to him,” you pout and cross your arms.

“I think you wanted to do a little more than talk,” he narrows his gaze, “Come on, finish that drink and be done—“

His sentence breaks when he notices your gaze shift behind of his back, your face falling at whatever you’re staring at. He looks over his shoulder and sees Jungkook walk into the kitchen, seemingly looking for something to drink. Yoongi looks back at you and the way your gaze softens, your lip nearly trembling at the sight—Yoongi begins to piece what he was suspecting together.

He steps close to you, leaving little to no room to breath, “Is it Jungkook?” He asks you. Yoongi hadn’t said anything when you spilled what was on your mind to him—but he had an inkling that your said “guy troubles” were over someone he knew very well.

“What?” Your gaze breaks from Jungkook, your heart settling when you see he’s alone and not with her. He hasn’t spotted you himself yet.

“The guy you told me about… it’s Jungkook isn’t it?” He asks again. Your head is spinning but once you realize what Yoongi is referring to, you swear it sobers you up some.

“How do you know that?” Your face drops, “What did Mina tell you—“

“She didn’t tell me anything,” he cuts you off. “Am I right?”

You look back over at Jungkook who is talking with some other brothers before you begin to nod slowly.

“Yeah, it is,” you say slowly, trying to control your breathing and your emotions all at once. Jungkook was all you wanted and seeing him standing there looking breathtaking as ever—your heart ached for him. “Why is he here with his ex?” You ask him.

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows, “Is he?” He looks behind him once more, but doesn’t see her so he wonder’s if you’re that drunk you’re seeing things.

“I saw them together, like five minutes ago,” you say. “Do you know if they’re here together?” Your voice is desperate and rushed.

He shakes his head slowly, “No I don’t know…”

Your jaw clenches the longer you look at Jungkook and you feel your blood boiling but your heart skipping beats simultaneously.

“I should talk to him,” you announce.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Y/N come on,” he laughs, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

You nod your head, “Yeah… yeah I do,” you give him a flat smile and before Yoongi can stop you, you are marching your way over where Jungkook stands with his mates.

As if you’re a magnet, Jungkook’s eyes immediately fall onto your approaching frame and he shifts uncomfortably when he sees the small perk of your boobs from your shirt. You approach the group with a small smile.

“Hey guys,” you say, “Jungkook.”

“Y/N hey,” he says with an uneasy tone, “Guys do you know Y/N?” He asks his friends and you nearly roll your eyes. You needed to speak to him—alone—not with these goons around.

“Jungkook do you have a lighter?” You ask him as nonchalant as you could in your intoxicated state.

“Uh,” he feels around his back pockets, “Yeah, here,” he hands it over to you but you only stare at his hand without taking it.

“Come outside with me?” You give him a weak smile and ignore the pointed stares from the other guys standing around you. Jungkook hesitantly pulls back the lighter before nodding.

“Alright,” he says, “I’ll talk to you guys later,” he dimisses himself and he grabs your hand to pull you outside. Though he doesn’t intertwine your fingers, his touch alone is enough to send flames through your veins.

He leads you onto the all too familiar back balcony where hardly anyone else is outside. Perhaps the chilly, autumn weather being that culprit for that or the party is just too good no one wants to venture elsewhere. Either way, you were glad no one else was around you and Jungkook right now.

You lean against the balcony, pulling out a cigarette from your bra—a clichéd classic. You put the cigarette between your lips before Jungkook pulls it out of your mouth.

“Hey! What the hell—“

“Don’t do that nasty shit,” he scolds before pulling out some of Juul-like device from his front pocket, “Here,” he hands it to you and you gladly take it from him. You inhale the strawberry—you weren’t quite sure due to your drunken state—vapor once, twice, and then a third time before you hand it back to your onlooker.

“Thanks,” you say shooting him a lazy smile. You full take in his appearance as he’s dressed in light denim jeans and a sweatshirt that’s a least a size too big for his frame.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” his voice is low and timid. You sway side to side slightly as you get lost in druken thought.

“Yoongi invited me,” you answer him bluntly. He’s not standing too close to you as he’s got about a foot in between you.

“Oh,” he mutters, his eyes looking away from yours briefly.

“You haven’t texted me you know,” the liquid courage was strong with that one. Jungkook’s face contorts as he obviously wasn’t expecting your statement. He tries to say something but you cut him off. “Have I done something?”

Jungkook notices the way your eyes are glassy and the way your lip quivers when you ask the question. It makes a sharp pain shoot up his chest into his throat. He’s cornered and he has no idea what to say.

“No,” he finally says something after a too long silence, “You haven’t done anything.”

“Why are you here with her?” The question that’s been hanging on your drunken tongue finally comes out.

“We’re not here together,” he says almost defensively.

You narrow your eyes at him, “Then what are you doing Jungkook? You can talk to your ex but not me?”

Jungkook knows you are drunker than you need to be and that this isn’t a conversation that should be held right here, right now. After all, he didn’t know if anyone could be listening in on the conversation.

“Y/N I should you take home, you’re really drunk right—“

“Why so you can fuck me and then leave again?” You spit your words at him. You wanted him to know how awful he made you feel last week. 

“No Y/N—“

“Because I’m sick and tired of that Jungkook,” you pause and there are now tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, “I just thought that n-now it would b-be different,” anger laces through your words and Jungkook can’t ignore it this time. “You’re fucking cum was still inside of me when you left,” you seethe your words and Jungkook flinches some. 

“Please Y/N can I take you home? We shouldn’t do this right here,” he says as a stray tear falls down your cheek. “Fuck no, please don’t cry, it’s okay,” he steps closer to you and pulls you into a hug.

“J-Jungkook,” you mutter into his chest and try to hold in the rest of your tears. As drunk as you were, you knew he was right and that you two shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Your arms are tight around his torso, “Will you take me home?”

He nods, “Of course.”

Everything going on in Jungkook’s head was raging full speed right now. He’s thinking about you, his now ex-girlfriend, the cheating—it’s all too overwhelming. But with you in his arms threatening to spill tears everywhere, his heart is pulled in your direction and he just wants to get you home safe. Jungkook manages to call an Uber with you hanging off of his arm and he escorts you out front to ignore from going back inside. He knew you would be embarassed being seen like this and thankfully he cared about you and he wasn’t going to let that happen. Your Uber arrives and as soon as you get in the backseat, you rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder, your eyes closing into a snooze.

_____

You’re stumbling up the stairs to your apartment with Jungkook holding you up with ease. Despite his slim frame, he was all muscle and you were pretty easy to keep up. Your short lived nap in the Uber went by all too quick before Jungkook was pulling you from the car. You felt slightly sick, but you tried your best to hold down whatever was rumbling in your tummy as he opened the door to your apartment.

You nearly tumble over when you begin to walk towards the kitchen, but once again, Jungkook is there to catch you.

“Hey hey,” he pulls you up from your waist, “Be careful okay?” His eyes meet yours and you feel like you could melt into his arms. He rests you against your kitchen counter and as he tries to walk away you pull against him to keep him close to you.

“Kookie,” the nickname drips from your mouth with a pout as you place your hands on his upper chest and shoulders, “I’m really drunk…” you rest your head against his chest.

“You don’t say punkin?” He laughs resting his head on your head but you soon pull away quickly.

“You don’t get to call me that,” you press, pushing him away from you some, “Not after the w-way you’ve t-treated me.”

His face softens at your words and he looks down at the space between you two. He grabs your hands gently before saying, “You need some water… and maybe some food.”

You want to protest but your dry mouth says otherwise, so you nod in response. You lean against the counter to steady yourself as Jungkook steps away to get a glass of water for you. He also takes a look in your cabinets to see if you have any quick food to fix. He finds one cup of instant ramen left in your cabinet and he decides to fix that for you quickly. You watch his every move and despite how drunk you are, you hated being like this, this was not fun. You felt like a child as he took care of you and frankly, you probably didn’t deserve it, but you were inwardly grateful nonetheless.

Jungkook mixes in the flavor packet quickly before stepping back over to you. You smile at the cup in his hand and you’re about to snatch it from him before he pulls it back.

“It’s hot,” he says giving you a watchful eye.

“So am I, we’re a perfect match,” you say seriously and he only rolls his eyes in response. He sets down the cup before turning back to you, placing his hands firmly on your waist. You’re about to ask what he’s doing until he’s hoisting you up to sit on the counter, him standing between your legs. He grabs the ramen once again before he picks up a small amount of the noodles, holding it up towards your mouth. You stare at the curly noodles for a few moments before Jungkook speaks.

“If you’re just gonna stare at them, I’ll eat them,” he says and you shake your head quickly, taking the noodles in your mouth in one gulp. The taste is just what you needed to coat your vodka intruded tongue and stomach. You half moan at the the food when you swallow it and Jungkook watches every move you make. He takes his own bite of the noodles and you nearly scold him but remember he fixed them, so he should have some.

“Thank you,” you tell him in a low voice as you continue to share the noodles. You soon feel the drunkenness slowly move out of your body, more coherent thoughts invading your headspace.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he responds after he finishes chewing. The longing look on your face is obvious and Jungkook curses to himself when he notices it. He looks down at the almost empty cup, “You want the last bite?”

You don’t even have to debate it in your head before you nod quickly with a smile. Jungkook returns a soft smile before feeding you the last of the noodles. Your stomach feels a lot more settled now and you feel like you could have a deep conversation with Jungkook right now, but honestly—you just wanted to go to bed and you wanted him to stay with you.

“I wanna go to bed,”  you mumble playing with the strings of his hoodie aimlessly

“Come on,” he says grabbing ahold of one of your hands to pull you from the counter. Before you two can go anywhere though, you speak again.

“Stay with me tonight,” you plead into his dark eyes. His face is blank and unreadable, but he squeezes your hand tightly.

“Okay.”

Your admiration for Jungkook only heightens when he undresses you carefully and slips over a large t-shirt over your frame and ties your hair up for you since you claimed your arms were too tired to do so. He even brushed your teeth for you and you were sure in this moment, he was angel from heaven on earth. You practically throw yourself on your bed with him following in the sheets after you. In all the time you two had known each other and hooked up—never once had you stayed at each other’s places. With the then ominous threat of his girlfriend, it was impossible, but right now—this was all you needed. You cuddle up to Jungkook’s bare chest, one of his arms snaking around you.

“Goodnight Kook,” you mutter closing your eyes as you listen to the slowed heartbeat in his chest.

“Goodnight punkin,” he breathes out heavily, staring down at your limp frame. He laughs to himself—you hadn’t even heard him as you had passed out that quickly. He watches you for a few more moments, focusing on your breathing as a way for him to relax. He almost couldn’t believe he was actually here right now, spending the night with you—after all this time. But at the end of the day, he couldn’t help but still feel saddened and bothered by his thoughts—he felt like a horrible person and he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get over it.

_____

You woke up early with a groan, a slight hangover pulsing through your head. Jungkook soon followed you in waking up and you nearly forgot that he stayed the night with you. His close proximity from behind of you was unfamiliar but comforting. You had leaned back into his chest as his arms pulled you closer to inhale your scent. It was as if the two of you were making up for lost time of being able to stay with each other because not even 10 minutes after waking up, you found yourself sinking onto his thick and pulsing cock.  

“Mm, fuck,” Jungkook moans as he watches himself disappear inside of you. Your fingernails claw into his shoulders and his hands grip your waist tightly through the t-shirt you were wearing. You couldn’t wait long enough to take the material off but Jungkook liked it as if gave him some leverage.

“Jungkook, oh my god,” you bottom out and it doesn’t take you long to start moving up and down his length. Jungkook’s head falls back against your headboard as he helps you move along him at a steady pace.

He felt so good—better than you even remember. Your insides are sensitive and you feel him everywhere, taking up space you didn’t even know existed. Your moans are loud and your chest is heating up, as is his. Jungkook’s hands crawl beneath the cotton material and grip your hips where they bend against him to shove himself as deep as he possibly could. You slow yourself against him as you lean foreword to rest your forehead against his own. Both of your lips connect at the same time, gentle yet harsh as you cover each other’s whines.

One of Jungkook’s hand trails down to your front to find your clit which he does with ease—he could do it in his sleep as he knew your body like the back of your hand. You break the kiss with a loud groan as he begins to rub you, your toes curling at the sensation.

“Fuck Kookie,” you lean back against his thighs as you begin to pick up your pace, desperate to reach your high.

“Feel good punkin?” He manages to get out as he relentlessly chases his hips with yours, his thumb moving against you the way you like it.

“Y-yes, yes,” you breathe out and you’re almost there, “God, I’m gonna co-come.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop and soon your climax hits you like a wall and it’s a good one to say the least. You clench around his length in pulses which nearly sends himself over the edge and he watches the way your eyes close tightly to relish in the feeling. Without a warning, Jungkook manages to flip you two over, him beginning quick thrusts in and out of you. Your are over sensitive but it feels so good as you wrap your legs around his back to shove him deeper. His head is craned in your neck, his lips and teeth nipping the soft skin, as another hand is placed around your jaw to hold your head down.

“God you’re always so tight,” he says in disbelief, “I fucking love your pussy,” he groans into your ear and with his words you can already feel another orgasm coming soon. “It’s all mine, yeah?” He lifts his head to look into your eyes and you nod quickly.

“Yours,” you choke out as he gives you a particularly hard thrust.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” he says, “You gonna come with me again punkin?”

You nod quickly, “Yes, please Jungkook.”

With three more thrusts in you and you grinding yourself against his pelvic area, you both reach a climax together. He’s loud and it’s like music to your ears when he stalls inside of you to feel you clamping around him again.

He’s breathing heavy and he looks at you again before kissing you deeply again. You return the kiss instantly, your hands tangling themselves into his hair. You don’t know how much longer the two of you kiss before he’s pulling out and away from you. He flops down beside of you and you don’t ask to cuddle up to him as you turn on your side and throw an arm around him.

Silence engulfs the room—an unspoken tension between the two of you. You stare out you window while Jungkook stares at your ceiling, breaths heavy from both of you. You could fall back to sleep but you would rather not, so you look at him after a few moments. His eyes follow yours but he still doesn’t say anything.

“You okay?” You finally ask him breaking the ice.

“I don’t know,” he’s being honest. He looks at you and sees a future, but he’s not sure he he can get passed his previous mistakes.

You frown at him, “Please just tell me what’s bothering you.”

He closes his eyes briefly before pushing himself up on your bed. You pull your blanket over him as he sits up against the headboard. Your eyes stay focussed on his face as you adjust your body to look towards him. He fumbles with your hands in his lap and he seems like something is agonizing him. You can’t help but get frustrated towards him. He’s never been like this in the few months you’ve known each other. He seems more distressed now than he ever did when he was sneaking behind his girlfriend’s back.

“Why were you with her last night?” The question tumbles from your mouth before you can think about it. As drunk as you were, you vividly remembered seeing the two of them together and the thought made you sick.

“We didn’t come together if that’s what you wanna know,” he speaks timidly.

“That’s not what I asked you,” you say matter of factly. He sighs in deep frustration before tilting his head slightly.

“I—“ he stops for a second, “I just saw her there and I thought I should say something to her,” his excuse is lame but he didn’t even know the exact reason why he went up to his ex.

“Jungkook come on,” you shake your head at him. He narrows his eyes at you and he sighs again. ‘

“Y/N I really don’t need you questioning me about her like this, it’s none of your business,” he drops your hands from his with some force before leaning his head back against the bed frame.

Your mouth slightly drops open, “Are you fucking kidding me Jungkook? Last time I checked this is part of my business. You’ve been fucking me for months behind her back and you just recently broke up with her so I think this is my damn business,” your words are harsh and angry. Perhaps Jungkook’s biggest flaw was his inability to be a little selfless at times and it was instances like this that prove that to you.

“Well what the hell do you want me to say Y/N?” his tone raises slightly.

“I just want you to be honest with me Jungkook!” You raise yours right back, “What the fuck is going on with you? And the what the fuck is going on with us? I’m sick of being treated like an object by you,” you have to steady your breath as you feel your emotions taking over you.  

Jungkook shakes his head at you, “You know you’re not just an object to me, don’t fucking say that,” he spits just as angrily as you, “I don’t even know what’s going on with myself Y/N so how am I supposed to tell you?”

You don’t immediately respond because you’re not sure what to say. You keep pressing him about his feelings but if he’s confused do you really have a right to question him just yet?

“Y/N listen to me,” he grabs your hand reluctantly again, “I care about you so much, but I also still care about her—and I always will. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for what I did to her, she didn’t deserve what I did…”

You feel like you’re going to get sick as the tears come to your eyes. He notices and wipes them away just as quick as they came.

“I wish I would have never dragged you into my shit, there isn’t enough apologies that I can come up with for you,” his words are sweet and genuine and you feel like you two are finally getting somewhere.

“Jungkook you know I care about you too,” your voice breaks off at the end, “I don’t care about how we met or the situation we were put in—“

“But I do,” he interrupts, “I think about it all the fucking time. What if we met when I didn’t have a girlfriend? What if we met before I even met her? But we didn’t and I ruined my relationship.”

His words are hurtful, but you know it’s the truth so there isn’t much else you can add. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on his roots a little too hard.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask him trying to ignore his harsh tone. He closes his eyes briefly, as if he’s not sure what to say next, but what he does say causes your heart to drop in the pit of your stomach.

“She found out Y/N,” he finally lets his secret slip past his tongue. “She fucking found out after I broke up with her okay? I’ve never seen someone look more hurt than when she confronted me about and yeah, I feel fucking horrible.”  

“H-how?” You asked shakily.

“She said someone she knew saw us at a party together one night,” he stares at his hands, sounding upset and covered with guilt. Yoongi was right after all. “So sorry if I seem fucking upset,” he’s being sarcastic with his words.

You don’t say anything else. You only stare at his hunched over frame and suddenly, you were torn between two paths. You wished that you had never met Jungkook and created this mess with him. On the other hand, you were glad Jungkook was in your life, no matter the circumstance.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you,” he says after your moment of silence.

“Don’t apologize,” you shake your head. “I should be the one apologizing.”

He looks at you once again, “Don’t say that. It’s all my fault.”

You genuinely feel bad for him. While towards the end of his relationship with her, he obviously wasn’t happy and wanted other things, he is still obviously hurt by the situation. You get bold and scoot closer to him, wanting to comfort him as much as possible.

“You know how I feel about you right?” You ask. He nods slowly and you speak again, “I don’t want anything to change between us but Kook, if you need some time and someone to talk to you know I’m here.”

He runs a hand through his hair, “I wasn’t lying when I said all those things to you.” You let your mind drift to his words that have been drilled in your head for months now.

I want to be with you.

You’re everything I’ve wanted.

I promise it’ll be over soon.

Don’t doubt my feelings for you.

“I know that,” you say honestly.

He pauses grabbing your hand gently, “I just don’t think I should jump into this right now when I’m still trying to figure out what to do myself.”

You nod slowly trying to take in and understand his words.

“I get it,” your voice sounds weak and you let go of his hand. “I just don’t want to be dragged around any longer Jungkook…”

He inhales deeply before nodding, “I know… it’s not fair to you I get that,” his tone is rushed, “But I promise I’m gonna try to fix this.”

“What’s there to fix?” You feel angry all of the sudden.

He furrows his eyebrows at you, “Y/N please don’t get mad, I don’t want you angry with me,” he pleads. “I want to be to be with you, I really do, but I also need you to be patient.”

For once, Jungkook is being the sensible one between the two of you. You soon understand you don’t really feel like you have that much of a reason to be angry with him. It was only selfish to do so. After all, hadn’t you been selfish long enough?

“Okay,” you glance at him, “Just please don’t leave me in the dark again.”

He sends you a small smile, pulling you into a deep hug, “I’ll try not to.”

Jungkook was being honest. He knew he had dug himself into a hole that was going to take a long time to crawl out from. He felt absolutely horrible for what he had done to you and his now ex-girlfriend. As holds you close and tight for clarity, he knows what he wants but he isn’t sure if that’s what is best for you. He felt what he did wasn’t acceptable of forgiveness—no matter how much you said you didn’t care and as much as he wanted to make a home out of you, he wasn’t sure he could let himself ruin you any further.

#woo new fic uwu #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x oc #jungkook scenario #jungkook series #jungkook oneshot #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bangtan scenarios #jungkook drabble #bts drabble #goldenclosetnet #enjoy!! leave me some feedback <3

[pixelnrd]

Storytelling asks! 5, 7, 13, 14, 20, 21, 22, 23, 31, 32 and 33!

Putting these under a cut because it'll get looooong!

5. how do you choose your characters’ names?

I usually look at lists of the most on-trend names for the particular decade and then use that as a reference, but I tend to go for the ones further down the popularity list otherwise everyone would be called John lol

I like to make nice pairings between first and middle names too, especially middle names honoring another person. It's all gotta flow. This family is woke.

7. whats the biggest risk you’ve taken with your story? did it pay off

One of the biggest risks was Daisy's arc, because I know some might find her behaviours and decisions morally compromised or controversial. THe last thing I want to do is cause controversy but also I don't think every character has to be perfect and wholesome because people just arent like that. Everyone still likes her though so... I think it paid off?

13. from basic planning to a finished post, how long does that take you

I have a note on my phone that I edit in the day (usually when I'm on public transport or in a waiting room etc) where I plan all my posts when creativity strikes. I then use that as a reference to build from, and I flesh the idea for each post out from that.

Eg: X and Y get married, I break it into this so I know what images I want to tell that story:

Picture of the chapel

Bride walking down aisle

Picture of the bride and groom saying vows

Family members watching

Final photo of the married couple

How long it takes to do that depends on how long it takes me to appropriately dress the scene - e.g. does the church already exist or do I need to download one and then decorate it? - how long it takes me to dress all the sims, posing everyone (which can go for ages depending on how many sims there are). The last part - editting - is usually the easiest, because I have pre-saved actions so its pretty smooth.

14. do you have any regrets about your story so far? if you could go back in time, how would you fix these?

I think my biggest regret is not giving some of the characters more air-time in the 1900s. I had a whole subplot about Marigold and Primrose going to suffragette rallies with Juniper and getting into trouble. I also wish I could've done more with Juniper's story then too. But, I was at a point in the 1900s where I was becoming disillusioned by my challenge and not playing it anymore because my ideas were bigger than what I had the tools to create at the time, and in order to keep going, I needed to skip those bits of story and move on to the next decade. So, I regret that a bit, but it was a necessary thing at the time.

20. already answered!

21. choose your least favourite shot so far

Oh boy. Well. This absolutely fucked photo I accidentally took when I forgot to remove a gun accessory from Tommy's outfit, thought it wouldn't matter, then posed him looking at his newborn son:

Yep.

22. choose a favourite character from your story so far

That ain't fair but it's probably... Juniper.

23. choose your least favourite character so far

THAT ain't fair how could I?? Don't make a mother do this to her children!

31. drop some random trivia about your story

the Langston's have $200,000 (and I need to get rid of it by 1929...)

32. give a light spoiler

someone in this generation is LGBTQI 🌈

33. recommend another creator’s story!

I'm really liking @antiquatedplumbobs story! The imagery 💓 *chefs kiss*

#ask game #answers

[awkwxrdapple]

Sometimes - Javier Peña x Reader

“Sometimes, just sometimes, well alright maybe all of the time.” - Sometimes by Gerry Cinnamon (x)

Word Count: 2.5k 

Warnings: mentions of injury

A/N: What you have to know is that I am a sucker for “there was only one bed” style tropes. It’s just fluff and sleep related angst. With no back story, it just is what it is. This came to me while I was in the middle of my chem midterm so enjoy :) I’ve set it up for a second part I think, so we will see how it goes haha.

“Forgive me for asking, but are you ok?”

Javi exhaled smoke slowly. You weren’t expecting an honest answer, or any answer at all. You just had to ask. Watching him sit, slumped, on your sofa was worrying. The man looked exhausted. You were used to having him lounge lazily on your couch whenever he came round, but this time it was different. Before, he still had an air of confidence around him, whereas now he looked like he was ready to drop any minute.

After a few seconds of no reply you changed your question. 

“Are you sleeping?” 

“No.” 

The short, blunt answer startled you as you were still expecting to get nothing back from him. You were happy he was with you now, that he had come to your apartment. Something was clearly bothering him, and maybe a stranger wouldn’t have been able to tell, but luckily for Javi, you weren’t a stranger. Far from it. 

“Do you try to sleep?” It was a stupid question, but one you needed to ask. You knew his habits, he could spend all night out in a bar or a brothel to avoid sleep if he wanted to. The latter being one that brought a nasty taste to your mouth. 

“Not any more.” As you had expected. 

“Javi, you need to try.” Your voice was soft. 

“I have tried.”

“Try again then.” 

The lights of the buildings of Bogotá were bright against the inky blackness of the night sky. Your curtains were still open showing the proof that it was late. You had been sitting in each other's company for a while.

Javi saw you looking up at the window, and instantly felt guilt at keeping you up too. Just because he wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight, doesn’t mean that he has to stop you too. 

“I should go Y/N.” 

Bringing your attention back to Javi, he seemed to look even worse than he did a few minutes ago. There was no way you were going to let him out of your apartment to go and do God knows what until tomorrow morning when he would start the self-destructive cycle all over again. 

“No, I want you to stay. Please.” 

“Why? You need to go to sleep and I’m keeping you up.” Javi removed himself from your sofa and took steps towards your door. 

“Javi, look at me.” He did stop and brought his gaze to yours. “Would you sleep if you stayed here?”

Your question threw him slightly. It was something he had never considered as to him, that would be a huge imposition on you. But now you were the one to mention it, maybe it would work. He had nothing to lose in the sleep department. He either would, or he wouldn’t. Yet, he also had a lot else to lose. Staying here, in your apartment, knowing you were lying peacefully only a room away, had so many domestic connotations. That was a reason he had never considered staying at yours ever, because could he put himself through that? The magnetic pull he felt around you would be ever harder to resist if he said yes. 

As soon as he let himself slip just once, it would be harder the next time. And then all his worries of keeping you safe and out of his complicated, dangerous life would manifest into reality.

“You can sleep in my room and I will have the sofa. I really don’t mind.” 

Your eyes were pleading him to stay. 

“Thank you. But I can’t. But thank you.” 

Trying not to look at you again, Javi left your apartment before you could try any harder to convince him to stay. 

+  +  +

The next time Javi knocked on your apartment door, it was much later in the evening. You had even been lying in bed for the past half an hour reading. The knocking on your door had startled you considering the hour.

“Javi, what-” 

“Can I take you up on your offer?” He was leaning against the door frame in a way to hold himself up. His body language screamed of fatigue. You wondered how his day had gone. Had he been on a stakeout? Had it been dangerous? 

“What offer?” You were confused for a moment. 

“Sleep… here.” It almost pained him to admit he wanted the comfort and safety of your apartment. 

Your eyes widened when you finally realised what “offer” he was referring to and opened your door further to let him in. 

“I don’t want to bother you at all.” Javi started, wandering over to your couch. “You won’t even know I’m here, apart from the fact I’ll be on your couch.” He let himself fall heavily down onto the cushions. 

“Javi it’s fine don’t worry. You can have my bed if you want and I’ll sleep out here.” You walked to the linen cupboard to reach down a spare pillow and blanket.

Even before he entered your apartment he knew you would say this, and he had planned what he would say in return. There was no way he was going to have you give up your own bed. He was the one imposing on you. 

He hadn’t even consciously realised he was at your door until you had opened it to reveal you wearing pyjama shorts and a tank top. You found it hard to sleep sometimes in the Colombian heat. The amount of skin on show surprised Javi, making him even more aware of your presence. The thrill of the idea of running his hands over every part of your exposed skin was intoxicating. If he wasn’t so utterly exhausted he may have done. Soft. That’s the first word that came to mind upon seeing you in cozy clothing. 

“No, I’m fine here, honestly.” At least Javi had the strength to fight you on this. 

You considered him for a moment, weighing up your points for a good counter argument, but he had already made himself comfortable. Instead, you just handed him the pillow and blanket. 

“Thank you, hermosa.” Javi drawled lazily shoving the pillow underneath his dark hair. 

The nickname didn’t go unnoticed. Your Spanish was good enough to know what he had called you. You wanted to revel in it, allow yourself a small bit of joy that he used that word to address you. Until you remembered that you probably weren’t the first, or last, girl to be called that by Javier Peña. 

“Goodnight Javi.” You saw he had already closed his eyes. And for the first time in weeks you could finally describe him as peaceful. You were going to ask him about his day at work, to try and work out what had finally made him come to you, but by doing so now you would only disturb his peace. 

+   +   +

You woke suddenly, and surprised yourself by the blackness of your room. It still wasn’t morning yet. Your phone read 4:32. 

Remembering Javi was in your apartment, you had the urge to see if he was actually asleep. Was being here actually giving him any respite against his insomnia? 

Trying not to make any noise, you crept to your bedroom door and opened it as quietly as possible. From here you could see his figure lying still on the sofa. A thin sliver of light from in between the drawn curtains shed a small amount of light into the main room. You could tell from the slow and rhythmic rise and fall of his chest that he was in fact, asleep. 

Smiling to yourself you closed the door again and retreated back into the darkness.

+   +   +

Javi sleeping on your couch sometimes became routine very quickly. 

You had got used to leaving the pillow and blanket there every evening, as more often than not he would turn up to use it. You liked it, it was nice knowing where he was, and even nicer to know that when he needed someone, he came to you. 

When you offered him your spare key he was incredibly reluctant to take it. You wanted him to have it so he could come and go as he pleased at night. You knew staying at his own apartment wasn’t working for him, so you wanted to give him freedom in another safe space. 

Eventually, he did accept the key, and sometimes he did use it. Whether that be to leave and come back at night for something, or to let himself in if you had gone out for the evening. You would come back to find him passed out in your living room, the curtains still open giving the tranquil scene an urban backdrop. You would creep around him and close them silently, before retiring to your own bed. 

Amazingly, you found your sleep had improved too. Although some nights you were more aware of the man in your apartment with you. Knowing he was in the other room was soothing, but at the same time maddening. The fact that you were too good friends meant you could never offer your own bed to him, with you still in it. No matter how much you wanted to. So you just were content with knowing that you were helping a friend. Javi had started to look better even from the first night he had spent at yours, something that only got better with time. 

One night was very different though. 

You had just finished eating dinner at the little breakfast bar in your kitchen when Javi practically stumbled into your apartment. At first you thought he was drunk, but then it became apparent that something else ailed him. There was a horrible purple bruise on the side of his face. 

“Javi!” As soon as you saw him you ran towards him and helped him to sit down. 

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” 

“Well it’s obviously not.”

You cautiously brought the tips of your fingers to the afflicted skin. He winced as you touched it - just as you thought. It wasn’t fine. 

“What happened?” Your voice was almost a whisper. You knew what he did for a job, you knew it was dangerous, but only now were you seeing that with your own eyes. In all the time you’d known Javi, you had seen him get into a few scrapes but nothing as bad as this. The bruise covered from next to his right eye all the way down his cheek. 

“One of Escobar’s sicarios had a gun, which ran out of ammo, so he used it in another way.” 

You were still inspecting the damage. There was no obvious swelling so icing it wouldn’t do anything now. Rest is what he needed. 

“Please tell me you managed to get a few punches in too.”

“Unluckily for him, my gun was working perfectly.”

“Ah…” You wondered how the other guy managed to get so close.

Javi turned to look you dead in the eye. Your face was already so close to his and the close proximity almost winded you. You had always been fascinated by his dark brown eyes. You hadn’t known anyone to have eyes as dark but still so lovely to look at, because they were so warm, and comforting. Yet, there was something else that was there too. Something that may be considered wary or even haunted. What had Javi witnessed as part of his job? 

Neither of you had said anything for a few moments, however neither of you had made a move to shift away from each other.  

“Has work been a lot like this recently?” He could still hear your whisper even though you could barely hear yourself. 

“Yeah it’s been… difficult lately.” 

“You are so brave and strong though Javi.” He winced at your words. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that.” 

“I don’t, not from you. You’re just wrong.” 

“No I’m not. You are, even if you don’t believe it.” You allowed your words to be flooded with determination. You hated that he thought this way about himself. 

Javi leant forwards and instinctively put his head in his hands. He winced again at the contact. The affection you felt for him in that moment was overwhelming. 

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not really, I feel more dizzy than anything.”

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“No I don’t. Cause for one, this was an unauthorised stakeout.”

“Javi.” 

“Y/N please, just let me rest.” 

Putting everything else aside and prioritising Javi’s well-being you found yourself saying, “Come and lie down on my bed.” The couch was no place for someone injured. 

You briefly saw a flash of worry cross his face. Was the thought of lying on your bed so bad? 

You helped him up and he leant on you on the way into your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes at the door and you allowed him to lie on his back. 

“You know you shouldn’t be left alone.” 

“I know, that’s why I came here, because I know you would watch out for me.” 

You were now lying on your side next to him, and upon hearing that you felt a blush creep into your cheeks. You would always watch out for him. You were glad he knew that. 

“You should rest.” You moved to get up but a strong arm caught your arm. 

“Stay please.” 

“I was only going to get the blanket to sleep on the floor in here.”

“No I mean, stay here. Please.” His hand was still wrapped around your forearm. 

“Ok.” You agreed, and settled back onto the bed, bringing the sheets up over the both of you. 

“Goodnight Javi.” You said softly, for what felt like the millionth time recently. That in itself was soothing. 

“Goodnight Y/N.” 

Every cell in your body was on fire as you could feel his body heat radiating through your bed. You wanted to reach out and have some physical contact with him. Nevertheless, you knew he needed rest, and you were only friends, so there were boundaries. You rolled over to give him space and willed yourself to sleep. 

+   +   +

The first thing you thought when you woke up was how warm you were. Not an uncomfortable heat, just nice warmth. 

Javi’s arm was around you. 

Sometime through the night he had moved so his chest was up against your back. The muscles of his arm were strong and solid. You wondered if he had moved consciously, or unconsciously. You couldn’t decide which was better. He was definitely still asleep though, as the rhythm of his breathing was even and shallow. 

You, consciously, snuggled back into his embrace, and could feel yourself dozing off again until you were startled by movements from him. Javi’s arm tightened around you even more and he moved so his face was nestled into your neck, you could feel his nose lightly touching your skin. 

You couldn’t help but grin. You thought about all the times he had slept in your apartment but not in your room with you - it was a waste. You’d both been missing out on this. Maybe in Colombia this was the closest feeling to home you both of you would get. 

Masterlist 

#this is actually the first time ive written for any of the pedro boys #just fancied writing this one #to see how i could do and whether i want to do anymore in the future #javier pena #narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #storyofavengers

[dreamiehrs]

a Christmas miracle ➛ z.cl

genre: fluff, comedy/crack, bestfriend!chenle, gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort somewhat

pairing: zhong chenle x reader

word count: 2,588 words

warning(s): some swearing

summary: Christmas had been the same old same old holiday for you and your family for plenty of years now, fully embracing the tradition of meeting up with family, exchanging presents, and enjoying each other’s presence on Christmas day. however, this year seemed to feel quite different, with your family quite literally forgetting that Christmas even existed, and with you all stuck in your apartment alone in the snowy city, you weren’t so sure what you were going to do for Christmas this year. unbeknownst to you, though, your sneaky best friend had a trick up his sleeve, and he was determined to make this Christmas one you’ll remember forever.

note: this is a part of mylin’s @suh-insane​ and sunny’s @neocitybynight​ Walking in a Winter Wonderland collab! this is my first time participating in a collab solely for Christmas, so I hope you all enjoy this fic of mine! Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it! I hope you all have an amazing and safe Christmas this year, and I just wanted to let you all know that I appreciate and love you guys so so SO much! (and to the people who don’t celebrate it, I still hope you all have a wonderful day nonetheless!)

prompts chosen: “when we finally kiss goodnight how I’ll hate going out in the storm! but if you’ll really hold me tight all the way home I’ll be warm.” + “that’s what Christmas memories are made from. they’re not planned; they’re not scheduled. nobody puts them in their blackberry. they just happen.”

for the past few months, time seemed to fly by without leaving a trace behind, and before you knew it, it was already Christmas day. if it was any other year, you would’ve woken up earlier, around 6 AM to be precise, and start your trek to your parents house with their gifts in hand. however, since your parents and the rest of your family got caught up in other ordeals, and quite literally forgot that Christmas even existed, you had woken up quite later than 6 AM. 9 AM, if you were being specific.

you had still bought your family presents for Christmas, of course, and took the time to wrap them and spiffy them up yourself with various different kinds of Christmas wrapping paper you’ve collected over the years as a pro wrapper (in actuality, it was just your mother giving you extra wrapping paper when she accidentally bought too much, so you weren’t entirely a pro wrapper, per se). what you were trying to say is that you put a lot of thought into buying and decorating presents for your family, and you were sort of down about how you wouldn’t be able to give them their presents in person this year.

basically, what you were trying to get across is that you quite literally had no plans for Christmas this year, and you were probably going to spend your entire day wailing away in your apartment.

nonetheless, you pulled yourself out of bed after being in deep thought for thirty minutes straight, and decided to actually not wail away in your apartment for the rest of the day. it was time to be festive, you thought to yourself, as you slowly made your way around your room to move your curtains aside to let some sunlight seep in. although you were in a brooding mood, you didn’t entirely want your room to reflect that.

you huff to yourself as you slide your feet against the carpet floor, swinging open your closet doors and glancing over all of your clothes, none of them really catching your attention. you sigh before closing both of your closet doors dramatically, turning around and heading towards your dresser. you can faintly hear your phone buzz on your nightstand as you pull on one of the knobs on one of your dresser drawers that contains your pajama pants. you grab a random pair of snug pajama pants and opt to keep the same pajama shirt you wore to bed last night on before heading to the bathroom to change.

after taking some time to get dressed and brush your teeth, you finally exit your bathroom and toss the pajama shorts you wore last night in your hamper. you snatch your phone and stash it in your pocket before making your way towards your miniature kitchen. you promptly grab your kettle and fill it up with water, waiting for it to reach the third line before placing it on your stove. you move the dial until its exactly on high temperature, and you’re about to start to make yourself breakfast until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

fed up with how active your phone had been for the past thirty minutes, you finally fish your phone out of your pocket and lean against the counter next to your stove.

your phone contained the usual notifications, such as Instagram likes, Team Snapchat sending you a Christmas snap, your best friend chenle spamming your phone- wait, your best friend chenle spamming your phone? that was FAR from your usual notifications, and you were honestly quite surprised that he was contacting you on Christmas day this year. he’s usually spending it with his family all day, and never texts you back until he gets back home, which is around eight PM.

without thinking, you unlock your phone and tap on the messages icon, and your jaw almost drops when you see how many messages he sent you within the past few hours. since 6 AM, chenle has sent you over one hundred messages, and for once, you were grateful that you were a heavy sleeper, because if you were a light sleeper and woke up to every single one of his messages, you would’ve lost your mind.

you [9:45 AM]: please chenle what do you WANT FROM ME

lele the dumdum [9:45 AM]: WOW YOU’VE FINALLY WOKEN UP FROM UR DEEP SLUMBER

lele the dumdum [9:45 AM]: I THOUGHT U WERE NEVER GOING TO WAKE UP

lele the dumdum [9:46 AM]: took u long enough smh

you [9:46 AM]: ...is this really how you’re going to treat me on Christmas day??

lele the dumdum [9:46 AM]: I treat you like this all the time. what makes you think that today’s gonna be any different?

you [9:47 AM]: …

lele the dumdum [9:47 AM]: anyways… MY GORGEOUS WONDERFUL BESTIE WHAT DO U HAVE PLANNED FOR CHRISTMAS TODAY

lele the dumdum [9:48 AM]: DO ANY OF UR PLANS INVOLVE ME POTENTIALLY COMING OVER??? O.O

you [9:48 AM]: is this why you’ve been spamming my phone SINCE 6 AM!?!?!

you [9:48 AM]: also why were you awake at 6 am anyways

you [9:49 AM]: did your crush finally text you back or are you still drowning in loneliness like usual

lele the dumdum [9:50 AM]: I don’t even have a crush??? who told you that false information

you [9:50 AM]: the little elves running around my house whispered it in my ear last night

lele the dumdum [9:51 AM]: I think you’re going to delusional

you [9:51 AM]: I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case at this point

lele the dumdum [9:51 AM]: MOVING ON

lele the dumdum [9:52 AM]: WHAT DO U HAVE PLANNED

lele the dumdum [9:52 AM]: I NEED TO KNOW THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT

you [9:53 AM]: me planning to wail in sorrow all day is very important to you??

lele the dumdum [9:53 AM]: ...excuse me what?? UR GOING TO WAIL IN SORROW ALL DAY ON CHRISTMAS DAY!?!?

lele the dumdum [9:54 AM]: this is not acceptable. I am coming over right now to spread some of my FESTIVENESS AND JOLLINESS with you :D

you [9:55 AM]: chenle you really don’t have to-

lele the dumdum [9:55 AM]: TOO BAD IM OMW RN AS WE SPEAK

you [9:56 AM]: at least bring some festivities, games, and snacks with you 🙄

lele the dumdum [9:56 AM]: oh shit you have a point

lele the dumdum [9:57 AM]: BRB ILL BE THERE IN 30

you knew that once chenle had made his mind up about something, he wasn’t going to change it that easily, so it would be futile to try and stop him now. you don't bother replying to his last message, and you shove your phone back in your pocket a few moments before your kettle whistles. you move on from chenle tormenting you for twelve minutes straight and make yourself some tea and breakfast instead.

it was now around 10:30 AM, and you had just finished digesting your breakfast when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket again. you were lying down on your small, beige couch, with your cold tea sat on the coffee table a few feet away. you were still in your pajamas, with no intent of changing into actual clothes anytime soon.

once again, you fish your phone out of your pocket to see what nonsense chenle was texting you this time.

lele the dumdum [10:31 AM]: open up, bitch

you [10:31 AM]: I thought I gave you a spare key??

lele the dumdum [10:32 AM]: shit I forgot it

lele the dumdum [10:32 AM]: anyways OPEN UP

you lazily lift yourself up from off of your couch, grasping your mug of cold tea on the way to the door. you take your time unlocking your door, halfly because you felt like annoying chenle, and halfly because you were just over today in general.

the first thing that stands out to you once you swing open your front door is how different your outfit looks compared to chenle. he was all bundled up with plenty of layers to keep him warm while adventuring the city, and meanwhile you adorned white and pink striped pajamas with socks on. you also noticed that he had a dark grey bookbag on his back, and was holding two full bags in his hands.

the two of you stare at each other for a few more seconds until chenle breaks the silence with: “I think this is the most I’ve seen you look like a complete old person. there have been other times, but the old person persona is just jumping out at me right now.”

you roll your eyes. “don’t say that when you yourself have dressed up as an old person before.”

“yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off, passing by you to slip his shoes off and to take off his five hundred layers. “it doesn’t matter whether you look like an old person, it mainly matters whether you have the spirit of an old person, you know?”

“I cannot comprehend your words this early in the morning. we can have a conversation about whether I act like an old person later.” you say as you watch him remove his large, dark green jacket and place it onto your coat rack. you can hear him scoff at your remark, and you grin as you see the corners of his mouth lift up slightly.

“early in the morning? y/n it’s only-” he pauses to check his phone “10:32 AM. that’s early for you?”

“I woke up at 9 AM, you dum.”

“oh,” he swivels around to face you after taking his shoes off and removing all of his additional layers. “makes sense, I guess. you’ve only been awake for an hour and a half, so you’re probably not fully awake yet. I mean, I’ve been awake since 6 am, and I’m bursting with energy compared to you.”

you give him a deadpan expression in response to what he said, and he can’t help but burst out laughing at your reaction. he steps up beside you and pats your shoulder gently. “well, besides that, I’m gonna be the one who helps you burst with energy like I am right now! follow me!” he whisper-shouts a few inches away from your ear, and you can feel his hand leave your shoulder and grasp your right hand in a matter of seconds.

he leads you back towards your couch, and even somehow manages to help you set your mug down even though he has bags in his hands. the two of you plop down on your couch, and you almost melt at how soft and comfortable your couch was. you closed your eyes for a few seconds as chenle rustled through his bags beside you, and you don’t know how much time has passed when chenle starts to snap his fingers at you.

“y/n, I am not going to deal with your sleepy ass right now. I spent around forty minutes scurrying around the city to find things to lift your mood, and I am not going to let those forty minutes go to waste just because you’re tired.”

you groan and roll to the other side, facing away from chenle. “just five more minutes…”

surprisingly, you’re met by silence in response to your wish of wanting five more minutes of rest, but that silence doesn’t last when you feel something cold touch your face.

you screech and immediately open your eyes to witness chenle pressing an ice cube onto your forehead. you swat the ice cube off of your forehead as quick as you can, and stare up at chenle like he’s gone completely mad. “what was that for?”

he grins proudly. his plan had worked. “awake now? great. now, help me figure out what we should do first.”

“I think you’ve gone mad. I cannot believe you just woke me up by pressing an ice cube onto my forehead.” you complain, still feeling the coldness of the ice cube on your forehead. when you finally move to face him now, you see that he had brought plenty of things for you two to entertain yourselves.

“I could’ve done worse things, like dip my hand into freezing water and press it against your face, but I was feeling generous today, so I decided to spare you the pain.”

you scoff. “right. anyways, what’d you bring?”

he glances at you excitedly before getting into it. “well, I brought plenty of snacks, some fizzy drinks, some board games, some movies I rented that we could watch together, some candy, etc. I honestly brought everything that I thought you would like with me, so I really hope all of this is enough to make your Christmas day a little bit more festive. I may have also bought you a present, but besides that… let’s get this party started! ...y/n?”

he tears his gaze away from the couch to up to your face, and you don’t entirely register that you’re crying until a few minutes after staring into his eyes. “oh, I’m sorry… I just… I’m just really grateful that you decided to come all this way to cheer me up on Christmas day, and you brought so many things with you as well to make me feel better so… thank you, chenle.”

he beams at you even though he can feel a tear threatening to fall from his left eye, and instead of letting you see him cry as well, he quickly wraps his arms around your figure, bringing you into a tight hug. “of course, y/n. you know I’d do anything for you, right? if you’re down, I’m going to cheer you up in some way, shape, or form, and if you feel like watching the world burn, then I’ll be right by your side.”

“awh, stop it, you’re going to make me cry even more.” you faintly hit his back with your hand, and he giggles as a few tears fall down his face.

the two of you stay like that for a good five more minutes, which is enough time for chenle to regain his composure and act like he didn’t shed a few tears in the process. he slowly leaves your grasp, taking a good look at your face and wiping some tears off of your face with his thumb. “you know what I think will make you feel better?”

you grin. “what?”

he smiles before swiveling around to rustle through his bookbag, and your eyes widen when you finally process what he’s up to.

the next moment happens so quickly you can barely register that it’s happening. chenle swivels around with two nerf guns in his hands, throws you one that lands perfectly in your arms, and declares: “me completely destroying you in a nerf gun battle will make you feel better.” before he releases fire on you.

you shriek as you run across your apartment, trying to avoid the plastic bullets that chenle was littering your apartment with. eventually, he does win the battle, and it does make you feel better in the end, but let’s not mention that or else his ego will run wild, alright?

#dreamwritersnet #neothestars #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream blurb #nct dream drabble #nct dream fluff #nct chenle #zhong chenle #chenle #chenle imagines #chenle scenarios #chenle blurb #chenle drabble #chenle fluff #chenle fic #nct dream fic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct blurb #nct drabble #nct fluff

[wonderofasunrise]

32 or 61 for Kerry/Susan please ❤️

#61 - "I'm pregnant."

Okay, I'm letting the cat out of the bag now - I have a WIP, a passion project of some sorts in the form of a multi-chapter Kerry/Susan AU fic. I've been working on it on and off for months, writing whatever I can come up with out of order (a process which involves at least three different Google Docs files for notes etc and not-so-subtly tweeting about it every now and then), and I can't promise anything because I just...well, suck at planning things ahead especially when it comes to writing anything lengthy (unless it's an academic essay *laughs nervously*). Fingers crossed I will be able to post the whole thing someday - if and *only* if I manage to finish it in advance, because I love the idea so much I don't want to take the risk of posting it early and writing as I go along...only to (God forbid) abandon it. I don't want to give away too much, but hopefully you'll get the gist from this excerpt of one of the chapters I've managed to finish:

“Susan?” a voice calls me almost immediately as I step out of the cubicle. I look up in a swift move to find the source of the voice, and sure enough my head starts to spin again. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see none other than Kerry Weaver—her bright red hair kind of gives it away—with a very concerned look on her face, which I try my best to ignore.

Slowly, I make my way to the nearest basin, and just as my hand is about to turn the faucet another wave of nausea surges over me. Please do not vomit, please do not vomit, it was bad enough to storm out of a fucking trauma but to vomit in front of Kerry of all people…?

“Are you okay?” she asks just as my nausea passes, the tone of her voice as concerned as her expression. I know that at this point even saying a single syllable will bring back the nausea, so I simply nod.

“Are you sure? I was in the trauma room, and I was just as surprised as everyone else to see you storm out like that…”

“Yes, Kerry, I’m fine,” I suddenly snap, though immediately I can feel guilt lingering over me as I know Kerry is genuinely worried. Say what you want about her, the woman does care about the wellbeing of her colleagues (or employees? Whatever.). I glance at her while putting some water into my mouth, somewhat grateful that I don’t see any sign of her being offended. If anything, her expression grows even more worried, and I know that at this point there is nothing I say that can ease her concern.

“Okay,” Kerry says, seemingly giving in. “It’s just—you normally have the best composure of the lot, and I never expected a trauma to affect you that badly, that’s all…Susan? Can you walk?”

Her concerned tone returns as soon as she catches the sight of me dropping to my knees, no doubt thanks to me turning around too quickly after I finished my business in the sink. Instinctively one of my hands travels to my stomach, and I pray to all that’s holy that the gesture somehow goes unnoticed by Kerry, who is now kneeling next to me, her crutch abandoned, with one of her hands on my back.

“Can you stand up?” she asks in a tone that I would never expect Kerry Weaver to use when speaking to an adult. I nod, though I myself am not quite sure. I try anyway, with one of my hands still firmly on my stomach and the other holding onto Kerry for support. Once I get back on my feet, I let go of the other woman and I take a deep breath, relieved when no more sign of nausea kicks in. I try to make my way out of the ladies’ room, and I can feel Kerry’s eyes firmly on my back as I turn around—more carefully this time.

“You know, if you’re not feeling good, you can go home and rest,” she says. “I-I would hate to see you not in your prime at work, and more importantly it’s clear you really can do with a rest. We have a busy day ahead, and if you’re...feeling like you’re not up for it, you can go home. I can cover for you.”

I can tell she chose her words carefully, and she tried her best not to insinuate that I am not up for a busy day at work. Heck, she knows I’m more than capable—I’m one of her best attendings, after all, but still…who can really guess what Kerry Weaver actually means?

As for going home and resting, I can’t deny that I need it badly. I barely got any sleep last night, partly due to anxiety ahead of my appointment with Coburn this morning, and who can guarantee that I won’t storm out of another trauma? Still, part of me is trying to fight the urge to go home, because work is the best form of distraction I can think of and at home I know I will drive myself mad over everything, with no one to talk to and all.

“I’m pregnant,” I suddenly blurt out, the words coming out of my mouth far more quickly than I could comprehend. My eyes grow wide at the realization of what I just said, to Kerry of all people, and I try to avoid her eyes so much it’s ridiculous.

Unexpectedly enough, Kerry steps closer toward me, and she puts a hand on my shoulder. Just as unexpectedly, I find the gesture quite comforting, and God knows I have been deprived of comfort for far too long the last couple of weeks. It doesn’t feel as awkward as one would expect, coming from Kerry Weaver, and I sigh as I let her hand give my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“How-how far along are you?” she asks in a tone that can barely conceal her surprise.

“Four weeks. I-I saw Coburn this morning,” I say with a shrug. She nods, and then lets go of my shoulder so that she can focus on looking me in the eye, which always makes for an interesting sight thanks to our significant height difference.

“In that case,” she states matter-of-factly, “You should go home and rest. I don’t want you to feel worse than you already do. Go home, get something to eat, and rest. I’ll cover for you for the rest of the shift.”

Now that sounds more like the Kerry Weaver that everyone knows and loves (though that part is still up for debate, I reckon). At this point I know there is no use fighting with her, so I nod and turn back to the door, silently hoping that somehow nobody will pay any attention.

“Kerry?” I mutter, suddenly remembering something important before we part ways. Letting her know of my pregnancy is bad enough (though it’s by no means a fault on her part); having everyone else know before I’m ready will be a disaster. I have enough on my plate at the moment, and the last thing I need is being the center of the latest ER gossip. “Um…thank you for letting me go home for the day, and I guess—well, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. I have too much to deal with at the moment,” I say in a voice so low I will be surprised if she actually listens.

But apparently she did, because she nods and puts a hand on one of my arms and gives it a gentle squeeze—which, again, does not feel as awkward as one would expect coming from her.

“Of course,” she responds. “It’s not my call to let people know. It’s yours, and yours only. Don’t worry about it.”

And with that, I mouth a thank you before exiting the ladies’ room, trying my best to forget everything that has happened today. It’s not even noon yet, and too much has already taken place. Perhaps Kerry is right: I really can do with a rest.

#okay...i have a LOT to work on #i will get on it i swear #it pains me that i've been working on this for *months* yet achieved so very little #unless random notes on my phone and Google Docs files count as something #as always it started as 'why hasn't anyone written about it?' #which then turned into 'fuck it i'm taking matters into my own hands' #that kinda explains my career in a nutshell #anyway please wish me luck #i really want this to come to fruition #now that i have waaaay more free time i really should work on this more often #i will i will i will #writing prompts #drabble #er drabbles #er fanfiction #er #nbc er #kerry weaver #susan lewis #kerry weaver x susan lewis #kerry x susan #...sort of at this point #sapphicsandscience