#I never want to paint another cityscape for as long as I live

[chiliger]

Canon must always end in tragedy. But what if it doesn’t have to?

Something about the lyric “He don’t love himself, tryna love me” from the song “Self Love” made me think of Obi-Wan.

There isn’t really a story for this, cuz I’m not sure how a multi-verse AU would work in Star Wars. But it is an interesting concept that I have a few thoughts about.

[daisychainsandbowties]

actually (i’m not sorry) let’s talk about force-bonded jedi knights Shannon and Mary.

“A Force-bond was a powerful connection between two Force-sensitive individuals that bridged their minds, allowing them to communicate through the Force both visually and emotionally.

The range of the bond was vast; it could span the galaxy, keeping two beings united in a psychic link despite the physical distance between them. As a result, both parties would manifest in each other's location at the same time, making it possible for them to see, hear and feel each other through their bond.”

thinking of Shannon standing in the hallway watching death approach and reaching out, finding that familiar hand, half-memory and half-desire. clutching it even as she raises her saber in the last extreme defense of Ava.

burning her life because she used to dream of holding a blue saber, of going out in glory, but love taught her to long for balance, for harmony, for peace. for green.

and she would have lived in peace, with Mary on some far-flung planet. tinkering with ships and growing too old, too fast. fixing up droids and complaining about the weather and painting the shutters in spring.

but she’s a jedi, so what she has is only an instant of that peace as she feels Mary come awake in a distant place. one last prayer on her lips. “let it be safe. let it be safe and very far away.”

whispering, “i’m sorry. i couldn’t face this part alone.”

distance had never stopped them and it doesn’t stop Shannon from dying with Mary’s arms around her.

they grow up hand-in-hand, youngling Shannon missing a piece of herself until she finds Mary. this odd, thoughtful girl from incredibly far away, who knows about engine specs and torque but not the laws of physics.

telekinetically passing her notes in class, sending them adrift like little white birds. Mary initially dumps them all in the wastepaper bin at the end of their classes, head spinning with physics and math and chemistry and kinetics and protocol and all the myriad things a jedi must know.

but eventually she unfolds them, hiding her blush with her binder of notes. chickenscratch handwriting and little diagrams of a cartoon Shannon (labelled) bonking a cartoon Mary on the head with a saber.

back when Shannon thought hers would be blue.

Mary most at home with a practice blade in her hand, trying to get used to the airy spaces in the jedi temple, quiet courtyards and the soft shuffle of pages in the archives. she sneaks into the hanger bay (as Ava will, in another decade) to look at the ships, to touch them, remembering the desert and the podracers kicking up sand. storms sweeping in to eat the sun.

scowling when Shannon takes her lunch tray over to sit at the far end of Mary’s table, so she can wink at her.

and then, one day, looking up and finding her beautiful.

after that they sit next to each other. binary stars slipping into orbit, trading from tray-to-tray; blue milk for the strawberry one. Mary eating Shannon’s greens when the jedi look away.

Mary growing closer almost against her will to this whirlwind of a girl. how she spars in the early morning with the empty air. she wakes up early to watch, pretending it's the dawn that draws her down, peering around a pillar, stunned at the grace of Shannon pivoting through the air, flipping over imaginary opponents.

asking her, as they perch on a balcony to watch the sunset over the endless cityscape, “why did you bother with me?”

Shannon has her face pressed sleepily into Mary’s shoulder. she plays with the hem of her tank top, “what d’you mean?”

“it just… seemed like you wanted to know me before you even knew me.”

“i did.”

Mary, turns her head, looking at the profile of Shannon curled up against her. warm. “yeah, but why?”

“i don’t know. i just had a feeling.”

they go together to Ilum, to get their kyber crystals, running through the icy cave systems. Shannon helps Mary when they climb and Mary clutches a half-conscious Shannon to her chest when they fall into freezing water. “i got you.”

“i k-k-know.” through chattering teeth, Mary letting Shannon slip her cold hands under her shirt for warmth. a wicked smile in the ice-warped dimness. "s-s-score."

saber fights late at night with blue offshoots of light dancing around their bodies. green sparks shattering against the stars. laying there tangled in their exhaustion, always drawing even. Mary kissing Shannon’s forehead, looking at their lightsabers sitting side-by-side. blue and green.

“we should kiss.” Shannon says this out of nowhere with the air of someone who has been thinking about it for a long time.

she’s half-draped over Mary’s chest, head on her ribs. “i can hear your heart,” she adds, when Mary loses the ability to speak.

Shannon sits up, turns. she’s about to say something when Mary lurches up, takes her by the jaw.

they kiss, and nothing is ever the same again.

[ahkaahshi]

our place [fushiguro megumi x reader]

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn reader

genre: fluff with sprinkles of moments that might make your heart go :’)

warning(s): n/a

word count: 1.7k

overview: you’re not particularly fond of mornings, but you think you could grow to love them if you spent every one of them with megumi

Through bleary eyes threatening to take shelter behind the comforting darkness of your own eyelids and give in to the fatigue weighing heavily in your body, you watch your feet lazily trudge through dewy grass that wets your shoes. Your palms are warm from the fresh cup of coffee you’re nursing, but your knuckles are slightly numb from the brisk air your clothing’s barely able to fend off. There’s a deafening silence in the air aside from the crunching of grass beneath four sets of feet—two of which are a set of four paws—and you ponder the oxymoron that the absence of sound somehow seems louder.

Your foot catching on the root of a large tree when your eyelids flutter shut for a moment brings you to attention and your boyfriend’s hand to your arm. It’s as if he knew in that moment you would stumble, but you figure the connection isn’t hard to make, given you’re a night owl being taken out of a warm nest for an unexpected flight in the cold, early hours of the morning. Your eyes meet for a moment, a subtle flash of gratitude in yours that he acknowledges with a nod before the two of you continue your trek through the forest.

“Megumi,” you sigh, “how is it I’ve downed half this cup of coffee and still don’t feel a thing yet?”

He shrugs. “Maybe because it’s decaf.”

His words have your jaw slackening and a small scoff of disbelief leaving your throat. The way he looks at you over his shoulder, a twinkle of mischief in his deep blue eyes that reflect what little light there is, shows he’s expecting the reaction you give him. “I trusted you.”

“Then why are you so shocked?” he asks, “I didn’t give you caffeine so you wouldn’t be too energized to nap again before classes start.”

Though you’ve felt too tired to show any emotion since you’d been awakened by the man walking by your side, you can’t help but smile and chuckle in response. “Fine. I’ll let it pass since it’s actually considerate of you—even if it’s in an indirect way. I’ll just make my students read or do something quiet while I wait for the caffeine from the next cup of coffee I make to kick in.”

“I’m sure they’ll love that.”

“I really hope you got me out of bed for a reason other than to frown upon my teaching methods.”

Megumi’s lips curl into a small smile and you swear he seems to glow just a bit amongst the silhouettes of the tall trees surrounding you, their branches heavy with leaves and moisture. His happiness is like a breath of fresh air filling your lungs; so much so that you’re reminded to take another deep one in an attempt at keeping yourself awake. His divine dogs—one a shock of white and the other seemingly its shadow—draw your attention when they approach him with a large branch in their mouths they’ve taken a shining to during your walk, and that he launches off into the forest for them to chase down again.

Something about the moment seems so surreal. Maybe it’s because the times the two of you get to spend together in peace outside of your home seem to be so few and far between, or maybe it’s because you normally scoff at the idea of being up and active before the sun rises. But, whatever it is, it creates an undeniable warmth in your chest that prompts you to push away any thoughts of yearning for the coziness of your bed, and reach out towards your partner instead.

“Try not to trip again, alright?” he murmurs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his joggers while you slot an arm between one of his and his torso, “I actually like this sweater and would prefer not to get coffee on it.”

“But it’s decaf!”

His lips pause in their action of forming a rebuttal presumably about how his sweater would stain, regardless of the presence of caffeine, and he simply shakes his head with a sigh upon realizing you’re joking.

The same silence that had once filled the crisp air returns, only interrupted by paws pounding the damp earth, but it feels more peaceful now. It’s calming, given the normally hectic lives you and your boyfriend lead as special grade sorcerers and teachers, and very much appreciated. Megumi’s pace is a bit slower and more relaxed than usual, as if he wants to stay immersed in the quietude with you and his dogs at his side. But you know he has a destination in mind with the definitive nature of his steps.

At the top of a hill whose grassy slopes had been decorated with worn stone steps that would indicate many a visitor had travelled up them, sits a stone bench you’ve never seen before. And, in front of it, a clearing where the leafy spires part just enough for you to see the small flicker of light burning at the edge of the horizon decorated with the distant buildings of Tokyo’s bustling cityscape. Your eyes remain fixated on the gentle colors the sun’s impending arrival starts painting across the dark canvas the sky provides as Megumi leads you over towards the bench so you can take a seat and bear witness to nature’s awakening.

You find yourself lost in it for what feels to be a long stretch of time until his voice brings your gaze to him instead. “Well, this is where I go.” The eyebrow you raise at his statement provided without any context coaxes him to elaborate, “You know, on those mornings I leave for a bit and come back, and you ask me where I went? This is where I go.” His long fingers card through the furry coats of his dogs where they sit on the grass between you.

Nodding slowly, you take another sip of the drink in your hand. “So, why’d you decide to take me here, considering it’s probably the only place where you can get away from the madness of everything?”

As the sun ascends skyward at what feels to be a faster pace than expected, you notice the most beautiful pools of cerulean form in his eyes more brilliant than you think you’ve ever seen them before. His hand finds yours, and your fingers intertwine. “Because I wanted you to be here with me.” There’s a pause, and his gaze shifts away from the sunrise to meet with yours instead. It’s an action that unwittingly reaffirms your importance given the beauty of the scene ahead. “I wanted it to be us here instead of just me.”

Gently, you squeeze his hand, relishing in the comfort of his touch that always brings a smile to your face. “So, what are you saying? That you think I’m actually gonna change my sleep schedule entirely just for you?” is your teasing reply.

“No,” he sighs, narrowing his eyes at your jest, “but maybe every now and then, we could go to sleep at a decent time so we can come here and watch the sunrise.”

Moving your face closer to his shortens the gap between your lips, but you stop before they can meet to answer, “We can do that.” Oftentimes, you find that Megumi’s straightforward manner of speaking doesn’t always match the true intensity of his emotions, but his kisses never betray how he’s feeling. They’re soft and tender, as if his intentions are to give you a few pecks and nothing more, but he’s always quick to chase your lips when they separate from his, even for a moment.

When your eyes flutter open once more, you watch his flit back and forth between each of yours in miniscule movements before pecking his cheek and resting your head on his shoulder. A long expanse of peaceful quietude follows, save for the chirping of newly awakened birds and the secretive whispers of the breeze through the trees.

“Do you think this could be our place?”

The sound of his deep voice reverberating in his chest sends subtle vibrations through your head, and his words bring small prickles of heat to your cheeks. “You want it to be?” A wet nose brushes against your unoccupied fingertips, guiding your hand onto a fuzzy, black snout that you give an affectionate rub.

Megumi nods and his cheek comes to rest against the crown of your head. “Yeah,” he answers, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

“Better make sure none of your nosy students ever find out you’re coming up here, then,” is your warning delivered with a chuckle.

“They’re so desperate to be done with classes for the day that I doubt they’ll want to spend their free time tailing their teacher. Your students are the nosy ones, wanting to follow you on social media, or whatever.”

Each of your laughs permeate the cool air slowly becoming warmer with the sun’s expanding reach—from which you take shelter by burying your face in his neck.

“Megumi?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we just… stay here for a bit?”

You feel his arm move as he checks his phone. “Classes start in an hour.”

“Just a little bit longer?”

A notification appears on his screen, but he turns it off and tucks the device back into his pocket. “Sure,” he murmurs into your hair before pecking your temple.

He says it so nonchalantly, but you know he’s hoping whatever time he’s set in his head to leave doesn’t arrive for an eternity. Because it’s the same hope that settles deeply into your heart as the two of you hold onto one another and watch waves of light slowly wash over the dark sky, doing everything you can to cherish your company rather than agonize over the moment when you’ll have to let go.

In an exhale that tickles your skin, Megumi hums, “I’m glad you came here with me.”

[interstellarflare]

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART SIX-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. I apologise for the long chapters. Gif by @xmichaelmyers​

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR| |PART FIVE|

After activating the pager hacking device after you had entered the building, you and Homelander went your seperate ways for the night.

You watched as Madelyn Stillwell hung off of his arm, smiling and pretending that she was actually interested in tonight’s events as Homelander indulged politicians and government officials in small talk. You however, stood in a secluded corner of the room, waiting for your device to break through Vought’s firewalls whilst idly sipping a glass of champagne. You didn’t know how long he had been there, but Black Noir stood by your side, his arms folded over his armoured chest as his suit blended perfectly with the shadows to your right.

You were growing more anxious as time went by. You expected to hear a small beeping noise when your device had finished its task, but the growing fear that the device wouldn’t work caused your palms to become increasingly sweaty. You loosed a shaky breath, taking a small sip of the champagne in your grasp. You found small comfort in the fact that Noir was by your side, grateful that at least someone else knew what you were up to.

From your position in the corner, you could hear various topics of conversation. However, the majority of them were about you. ‘Who was that woman with him?’ You heard someone question, that someone turning out to be the wife of the Secretary of Defence. ‘Who is she? I don’t think I’ve seen her around before’. ‘Her dress is beautiful, no wonder Homelander chose to escort her inside’. ‘He was probably being nice, she doesn’t really belong here’. You felt Noir step out of the shadows and move to your side, his arm brushing against yours as he stood defensive and tall. As soon as he appeared, the conversations about you stopped, everyone averting their gaze to anywhere else in the room but towards you and the Supe. No doubt he would have heard all of the negative chatter his stern stance giving off a pissed off vibe loud and clear.

“Is it normal for you to intimidate people who piss you off?” You asked teasingly, a smirk growing on your lips as you finished the last of the champagne. Noir nodded wordlessly, his helmeted gaze not leaving the gathered congregation before him. You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as you anxiously peered down at the clutch in your other hand. Still nothing. You huffed through your nose, your anxiety being replaced with frustration. What if all of this was for nothing? What of at the end of the night, the device didn’t go off. What then?

Slow music began to play, a choir of violinists, cellos and various other instruments beginning a long classical piece which you knew would likely last the entire night. “Excuse me, can I have a word?” A toxically sweet voice spoke softly, causing you to turn your gaze and meet the emerald eyes of the blood red reporter from earlier. She smiled a viper’s grin, her eyes turning a shade darker as she towered over over your smaller frame. You blinked in surprise and confusion, unsure as to why this woman was even speaking to you. As if sensing your confusion, her grin widened “I only want to interview you in regards to your entrance with The Homelander himself, it was quite spectacular I have to say”. You laughed breathlessly, unsure of what to do or say. So you shrugged your shoulders “Oh, uh, thank you? To be honest it wasn’t really that-”

“Tell me, is there a secret relationship going on between the two of you behind closed doors?” She pried, her question catching you off guard. You choked, shaking your head in disbelief “I’m sorry? I don’t think I understand” You spoke lowly, standing as tall as your heels would allow. The reporter smirked evilly, knowing that she had gotten under your skin. She stepped closer toward you intimidatingly close with her hands propped on her hips. “Well one would assume that something was going was going on between you two with the way he escorted you inside” She spoke lazily, staring down at you with a bored expression “everyone has been talking about it, you know”.

Your eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare, one that even made the Supe at your side flinch with how much hatred and ice radiated from your form. “He was just being chivalrous-” “Oh, I’m sure he was...” The reporter interrupted sarcastically, picking at her red painted nails through her hooded eyelashes “then again, why else would he associate with someone as dull and uninteresting as you? I mean, look at you. You don’t fit in here, you’re hiding in a corner for gods sake...”

Dull and uninteresting...is that how people saw you?

You tried to maintain your composure, you tried not to take the bitch’s words to heart. But why did they hurt so much?

Dull and uninteresting, boring and plain. You averted your gaze from the reporter’s and casted your eyes across the room. Where your eyes met his. And you knew. You knew Homelander had been listening, given by the stern and unreadable expression on his face. Damn his superhuman hearing, damn him to hell. You could feel him staring after you as you weaved your way through the dancing crowd. You could feel him staring after you as you climbed the main marble staircase, disappearing down the hall and onto a stone balcony. You leaned against the balcony, breathing deeply to try and prevent the tears in your eyes falling.

Why were you hurt so much by this? What did it matter what people thought about you? Why did it matter what he thought about you?

Why? Why did it matter?

It was peaceful out on the balcony, the noise of the Gala inside was nothing but distant rumbles. The music still clear as day. A gentle but cool breeze caressed your skin, brushing strands of your hair out of its well-kept do. Footsteps echoed on the balcony. They were heavy, but taken in a stride that was light and cautious. You didn’t have to turn around to know who was standing behind you.

“Do you think I’m dull and uninteresting?” You asked him, keeping your gaze ahead and on the night cityscape before you. You heard Homelander sigh, but he made no attempt top move toward you. When no answer came, your chest tightened painfully. Of course, he thought you were dull. Of course, he thought you were uninteresting. He was The Homelander. And you...you were just a nobody.

“It’s John...” You heard him sigh out lowly, his tone of voice showing no sign of teasing or malice. With your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you spun to face The Worlds Greatest Superhero with an expression of pure bewilderment. “What?”.

Homelander chuckled, a genuine sound resonating from deep within him as he stepped toward you, his cape billowing slightly in the wind. “Yesterday...” He began, standing beside you and leaning his hands against the stone railing “you asked if I had another name Homelander, otherwise you were going to call me prick or arsehole. My name is John”. You laughed lowly, nodding your head as you leaned back against the railing with an amused smile. So he did have a name. “It suits you” You responded, looking over at him with a soft smile. John nodded, giving you the same smile in return. “And you know what, any woman that can speak to me with such sarcasm, wit, and foul language, and live to tell the tale, is definitely interesting in my eyes”.

Your laughter echoed out from the balcony and across the city. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It wasn’t like the small sarcastic chuckles, or the amused scoffs you would always give him. This was genuine, this was pure. And he loved every second of it. But why? Why did he enjoy your laugh? Why did he long to see you smile, why did he long to always see you as happy as you were now? You turned to face him again, the frown on your face now non-existent as you grinned. “You know, this is why I don’t leave my apartment” You joked lightly, causing the Supe beside you to scoff. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear anything other than an oversized shirt and sweatpants” He teased, shying away slightly as you lightly slapped his shoulder. He laughed as you pouted, folding your arms over your chest as your eyebrows furrowed.

The music from downstairs floated up on a graceful wind, a slow waltzing piece that would have no doubt been played at a dozen luxurious events prior to this one. John stood up from his position by the balcony, moving to stand in front of you with a soft smile. “Dance with me” he spoke suddenly, holding his gloved hand towards you with a smirk tugging at his lips. Your expression became more confused as you looked up at him with an expression that couldn’t have been more confused if you tried. “What? You want to dance with me?”.

“Why not? It’s a Gala, we might as well” John tried to reason, rolling his eyes as you laughed loudly once again. Placing your clutch carefully on the balcony, you shook your head slowly as you placed your hand into his own. He immediately pulled you close, wrapping one arm securely around your waist, and intertwining his other with yours. The two of you began to sway slowly, your cheeks flushing a bright red at the amount of limited space between you. Your heart was beating so loud, that you were sure the man before you could hear your heart beating wildly in your chest without his superhuman hearing. The thought alone caused your stomach to flutter. Pushing down your nerves, you forced yourself to look up, and almost fell apart. John was staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t read. No one had ever looked at you like that before, with such emotion, with such raw-

Pain...there was so much pain.

For a split second, you couldn’t breath. The air was taken from your lungs as John flinched, his grip on your form tightening as his eyes widened in pure horror. Blood splattered the front of his uniform, tiny horrifying droplets coating his skin. A strange warmth suddenly spread over your chest, a deep rumbling cough caused the pain to increase. Blood dribbled from your mouth, your blood. You collapsed forward, the world suddenly spinning in dizzying stars. The ringing in your ears became louder and louder, drowning out the terror-filled shouts from downstairs, and John’s frantic cries. You could make out your name on his lips, his arms wrapping around your form as he lowered you to the ground. You were scared, terrified. What happened? 

You suddenly felt tired, your eyes becoming heavier with every second that passed. It was cold, so very cold. Everything suddenly became numb, consumed by the agony and pain that everything slowly began to fade. You never saw the figure emerge from the doorway, you never heard what John said to that blurry image of a man.

But the last thing you saw was his furious expression. His blue eyes glowing a bright red in rage, hatred, and pure madness.

Tag List: @lauraaan182 @tardis-23 @freshmakertaco @shilsvampsinger @cynthianokamaria  @delicatetimetravelarcade @coloursunlimited @clean-soap @themarch-oftheblackqueen @soft-hargreeves @kennedywxlsh​ @itskatrinahere​

[maknaesdancersrappers]

beneath the daylight moon;

CHAPTER 1.

“Why do we sometimes see the moon, even during daytime?”

Jaehyun doesn’t know, nor did he care to notice that such a thing existed; it was a mystery to him, but you were a bigger enigma.

for the man who deserves the sun, the moon, and the stars; happy birthday, jaehyun ♡

“Why do we sometimes see the moon, even during daytime?”

It was a nice day out; sparse clouds rolled along the vast, celeste sky like cotton floating adrift in the cool breeze. As they pass by, the image of the moon appears stagnant behind them. It was bright enough to see the dark craters on its face, but not enough to outshine the warm sun on the opposite horizon.

Jaehyun returns his attention to you, unable to answer your question.

He walked up the two extra flights of stairs up to his apartment’s rooftop to scope out the area, eager to rent the space out for an area where he could garden. He hadn’t expected someone else to be here.

You sat on an old crate, leaning back on your arms, and staring up at the sky, wearing dark denim short overalls with dried splashes of paint over a white tee. You looked entranced by the scene above you, enough for Jaehyun to peek up as well and expect to see something like a plane passing by or a balloon a child had accidentally let go of.

Instead he saw a moon present during daytime. It wasn’t new to him, but it wasn’t necessarily something he paid attention to either. He was about to mind his own business until you asked him the question.

“Well?” You turned your head to him, maintaining your position.

“I—” Jaehyun stuttered, “I don’t know.”

You stared at him, stunned, before you pouted, bringing your attention back to the moon above you. “That’s no fun.”

He frowns, is it that fascinating? It’s barely even noticeable; just a transparent circle in the blue sky. “It’s just a moon. It’s there every night.”

You gasped at this, sitting up straight and putting a scandalized hand over your chest. He flinches in his place, surprised at your reaction. 

“Yes, we see the moon every night, but it’s daytime—” You gestured to it, “It’s a daytime moon!”

Jaehyun looked back up, warily watching the waning moon for a moment, before returning his attention to you. You were pointedly staring at him, waiting for a response. When he’s confused once more on what to say, you let out a dejected sigh. 

“No one understands.” You mumbled under your breath, standing up and dusting your bottom off. With one last look at the moon, you spun to face him, “You’re new here, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you before. What brings you up to the rooftop? No one ever goes here.”

“Oh, yeah, I moved in a few days ago. I was just checking it out to see if it’s good enough to be a garden space.”

“Garden space? Oh no…” You spun around, “That means this place will be a restricted area.”

“Not at all!” He said, “You’re free to keep coming here. I’m willing to share any of the fruits of my labor as long as it’s not abused. I’ll start with herbs, though. Actual fruits might take a while.”

You giggled, appreciating the little dimples on his cheeks as he joked. “Do you plant flowers?”

“I don’t.” Jaehyun replied with a little shake of his head, but when he sees your lips fall to a frown, he immediately takes it back, “But I’ve always wanted to. I don’t know what I should try first. Would you like to recommend some I should try?”

He wasn’t eager to take care of flowering plants. He picked up gardening so he could have fresh herbs and produce for cooking. Nevertheless, seeing your eyes brighten up after he asked you made him feel happy.

“Personally, I love Four O’clocks.” You told him, bashfully shrugging your shoulders, “I don’t know if they’re easy to grow though.”

“Four O’clocks?”

You nodded your head, “They bloom from four to eight in the evening. If they’re too difficult to grow, I heard sweet peas are easy to care for.”

“Sweet peas.” Jaehyun repeats, “Alright. I’ll keep those in mind.”

A blanket of silence fell between you with only the whispers of the wind and sounds of cars driving down the streets filled the air. He avoided your gaze, suddenly overcome with shyness, ears blushing with his cheeks.

You smiled to yourself, “Well, I should get going now.”

As you started to walk towards the only exit, he startled you by asking for your name.

“I’m Jaehyun.” He held out his hand to you.

Your eyes warily ogled his hand, pressing your lips together. Reluctantly, you stuck your hand out and softly gasped as he curled his fingers around your palm and shook it. “I’m… [Y/N].”

He smiled, cocking his head to the side as you both retracted your hands from one another. “Well, it’s nice meeting you, [Y/N]. Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll have this shabby rooftop brimming green. Maybe get fake grass for you to lie on to see your daylight moon better.”

He looked up above, catching sight of the faded moon peeking behind another cloud as it rolled by.

“I’d like that.” You sighed, following his gaze. “Well, I’ll have to go now. It was nice meeting you again.”

“Likewise.” Jaehyun raised his hand to wave you off, but you were briskly walking out of there before he could even do so. You were weird — not in a bad way. You were endearingly eccentric. He hummed to himself, glancing back up at the sky, pondering on the question you had asked him beforehand.

“Why do we see the moon during daytime?”

Jaehyun finally rented out the rooftop and two days after meeting you, had begun cleaning up the area. A part of him hoped to see you that day, he wished he had asked what your apartment number was, but then he remembered how hesitant you were to even shake his hand. That night he met you, he told his grandmother about you and the conversation you had about the moon. He thought his grandma would agree with you being a little odd, but instead he got scolded for his answer.

Now that he had time to think and look up the scientific reason behind daytime moons, he has an answer for you that he hoped you would like. 

After a few hours of tossing trash and debris into boxes for easy disposal, he took his work gloves off and sat down on the crate you used before. He wiped the sweat of his forehead with his forearm, panting loudly as he caught his breath. The rooftop was the perfect level to be cold when the wind blew, but still be warmed by the sun’s rays.

He peered up towards the sky, looking for the daytime moon. From what he understood from his google searches, today would be the last day to see it properly until the full moon passes. As he waited for a large cloud to pass, he felt like someone was watching and turned his head to the entrance.

You flinched when he turned to you, clutching the pale blue handkerchief to your chest. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Jaehyun swung his legs over the crate’s corners to face you properly, “I thought it would be you.”

“How would you know it’s me? There’s 15 other tenants here.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I had a feeling.”

“Like, you sensed me? Like a… ghost?”

Jaehyun chuckled, shaking his head, “I wouldn’t go that far. You have a peculiar aura to you.”

“I get that a lot.” You curtly laughed.

He patted the empty space beside him after scooting over the edge and moving his water bottle to the floor. You took up his offer and sat beside him, folding your hands on your lap.

“I wish I could help you, but I only came out here for a breath of fresh air.” To demonstrate it, you inhaled deeply, slowly releasing it through your mouth. “It gets suffocating in my room.”

Jaehyun wanted to ask why, but you quickly changed the subject.

“Is gardening your hobby or is it related to your job?”

“Both — er, well, more of the first one. I want to start a restaurant; a classic Korean restaurant using my grandmother’s recipes. But being in a foreign country, the ingredients to make the recipes truly authentic aren’t readily available. And if they were, they’d be so expensive.”

You watched him swipe the bottle from the floor and take a lengthy gulp of it, nearly downing half of it. His Adam’s apple bobbed with every gulp, protruding out of his thick, creamy neck. You snapped yourself out of it, handing your handkerchief to him when he proceeded to wipe his brow with his forearm.

He quietly thanked you, dabbing the cloth over his mouth before dragging it over his forehead.

“What brings you to this small city anyways? I’d do anything to get away from here.”

“Came from Korea when I was just 5 years old, moved every few years because of my dad’s job, and eventually settled here with my grandma to take care of her.” Jaehyun turned his attention to the cityscape, “It’s nice and quiet, but not too rural.”

“Do you ever wish to go back to Korea?”

He didn't reply immediately as he continued to stare off into the distance. There was a large lake in the heart of the city; people fished there no matter what the season, they swam during spring and summer, and went ice skating during winter.

“I think if I ever went back, I’d feel like a fish out of water, you know?” He looked down to the water bottle in his hands, “It doesn’t matter if I have relatives I’m close to there or I’m fluent in speaking the language, I’ll still feel like a foreigner.”

You offered him a smile, “Well, that’s a given. Especially if you have that kind of mindset. You said you moved every few years, but you eventually settled in long enough before the next city, right? You’ll be able to call your ancestor’s land home eventually. I mean, you live in one of the apartments that predominantly houses Koreans.”

Jaehyun glanced at you, nodding afterwards, “I guess you’re right. But I don’t think I want to go back to Korea just yet anyways.”

“That’s understandable. You haven’t even started your garden yet.” You giggled, gesturing to the empty space in front of you. “I should be heading back anyways. It was nice talking to you.”

“It was. Next time, we’ll talk about you, alright?” He laughed, “Not fair that only I get to talk about myself.”

Once again, you hesitated, biting down on your bottom lip, “Alright. Next time then.”

He watched you slip through the open door, careful not to trip the heavy rock that kept it open. Dejectedly, he sighed at the mess he had yet to clean up. A part of him wanted you to stay longer, not even to help, but just accompany him. When he stood up, the handkerchief you lent him fell to the ground and he grabbed it, running after you.

“Hey, [Y/N], wait!” He yelled down the stairwell. You should have probably gone down just one flight of stairs since you left, but his voice just echoed back at him. Were you that in a hurry to leave? Confused, he resolved to wash your napkin first before giving it back to you.

Going back outside, he put his fists on his hips and studied the rest of the area he had to clean up. He could finish this in two — three days, tops. But the seeds, soil, and pots are coming tomorrow and he doesn’t want to bother his grandma by dumping all those in their tiny apartment. Like the distant sound of a telephone ringing, he got an idea and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

After half an hour and phone call later, Jaehyun’s close friend, Mark, comes to his rescue — although unwillingly.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to help you out,” He grumbled, hoisting a trash bag full of dust over his shoulder, “For free.”

“I promised you naengmyeon, didn’t I? Besides, don’t act like it’s all heavy lifting.” Jaehyun swept the ground with a broom.

He overheard Mark grumbling under his breath and chose to ignore it. He met the young man in college through his best friend, Johnny, who is Mark’s older stepbrother, and it was from them that he heard about this city. Mark’s only here for the summer break before finishing his senior year in college in the bigger state and Jaehyun’s going to make sure he utilizes him well.

“Yo! It stinks here!” Mark exclaimed, traversing to the other side of the rooftop he hadn’t even gone to yet, “Ew! Man, there’s a dead rat! And a bird!”

Jaehyun just laughed, “Just pack them up with the rest of the trash!”

“I’m not touching those!”

“Mark, you have gloves on, plus you can just push them into the bag.”

The younger man just grumbled again, “Those better be the best damn naengmyeon I’ll ever have!”

“Subak naengmyeon!” Jaehyun retorted, bursting out laughing when he caught the excited, surprised look on Mark’s face before he turned around and picked up the carcasses right away after placing a secondary barrier in the form of an extra trash bag over his gloves.

The next hour or so goes without a hitch and they finally cleared the entire rooftop before the 2 hour mark. They tied the trash bags together to make it easier for them to haul down to the floor below to toss it in the trash chute. 

“Was that so hard?” Jaehyun chuckled, breathlessly, while he pulled out your handkerchief from his back pocket and started to wipe the sweat build up all over his face. “Let’s drop this in the chute and I can make those cold noodles.”

“Yes!” Mark cheered, eagerly grabbing two bags and heading to the door.

After that was settled, they washed up in Jaehyun’s apartment and Mark played games on his phone while Jaehyun got to cooking. He would have asked him to help out, but based on experience, the younger man is better off not doing anything inside the kitchen aside from eating.

Halfway through preparing the meal, Jaehyun’s grandma came out of her room and Mark enthusiastically greeted her.

“Oh, Little Markie.” She fondly cooed, “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I helped Jaehyun clean up the rooftop and he’s repaying me through cold noodles.”

“It’ll be ready in a while!” Jaehyun chimed, “This is exactly for 3 people.”

“Go on ahead without me, I’m going to head down to do laundry.” Jaehyun’s grandma gestures to the small basket of clothes by the door.

“Wait, grandma, can you wash this for me?” He fished out your handkerchief out of his pocket and jogged over to her, “Someone lent it to me earlier and I forgot to give it back, so I wanted to wash it before I run into her again.”

She took the cloth from him and tossed it into the basket, “Alright. I’ll be back later. You two enjoy now.”

“See you, Mrs. Choi!” Mark waved his hand and Jaehyun bit his tongue to stop from laughing; his friend seemingly reverts back into a child every time he interacts with his grandma, but then again, his grandma is known to be endearing and fond towards all his friends.

When his grandma took her leave, Mark eyed him suspiciously, a sly smirk on his face.

“What?”

The younger of the two narrowed his eyes, “You were with a girl before I came over?”

Jaehyun knew where this was going. He shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah. Met her the other day when I checked the rooftop. She’s… eccentric.”

“So she’s weird?”

He instinctively scowled at him, “In a good way. I caught her staring up at the moon.”

“Bro, that’s creepy, you met her at night on the roof? She could have been a ghost.”

With every fiber of his being, Jaehyun fought the urge to roll his eyes, “I don’t believe in ghosts, and no, I was checking out the roof remember? Why would I do that at night? I met her during daytime.”

Mark pursed his lips, “But the moon is also out?”

“It happens. Apparently, it’s a pretty common phenomenon for the moon to appear even if the sun is out.” He lifted a spoon to his lips to taste the sauce and nodded his head in approval, “Hey, grab me two bowls?”

“Is she hot?” Mark jumped up to his feet and went straight for the cupboard to grab two bowls as requested. He set it by the noodles and began to fill both up.

“She’s pretty.” Jaehyun paused; that seemed like an understatement if he were to be honest, but he doesn’t want to give his friend any ideas. “If you keep helping me up on the rooftop, you could meet her.”

“Ayy,” He held his hands up and stepped away from the bowls while Jaehyun poured the soup on them, “You’re just tryna get me to do free labor for you.”

He laughed, nodding his head because he got caught. After pouring the soup into both bowls, Jaehyun arranges the toppings on each of them, “But is it really free labor if you get to eat good food afterwards?”

Mark threw his head back and groaned, “Stop baiting me with food! I’ll get fat before grad pics are taken.”

“You can’t get fat on Korean food. Not with the recipes I make. Besides, once I get the garden thriving, it’ll be a lot healthier.” Jaehyun huffed, “Also, I only need help setting up; make plant boxes, arrange some pots. I’m not asking you to plant, water, or harvest — although I won’t decline if you want to.”

“Fine. Just because you make Michelin star quality food—”

“— have you ever even eaten at a Michelin star restaurant?”

Mark tsk’d at him, “I also wanna meet this girl. You haven’t dated anyone ever since—”

“I’m not looking to date anyone.” He cut him off, handing him chopsticks. “And I still don’t plan to.”

They took their bowls to the small round dining table and sat down. Mark thanked him for the meal and they started to eat. The loud slurp and satisfied moan from Mark brought a smile to Jaehyun’s face. Those kinds of reactions are what drives him to cook even more and he hopes he’ll be hearing them reverbing off the walls of his very own bistro.

As Mark took a bite out of the watermelon Jaehyun used to garnish, he asked, “I can’t wait for you to start your own resto, man. I’ll be there every week — dine in, take out — I’ll have it delivered, too. I’d take my girlfriend to your restaurant for dates.”

This made Jaehyun burst out laughing, “You need a girlfriend to do that, Mark.”

“Shut up! I’m tryna hype you up!” He snarled, “It’s not like you’re opening your restaurant tomorrow, are you?!”

“Point taken.” He shrugged, picking up a hefty amount of noodles with his chopsticks and shoving it into his mouth.

It’s the perfect meal after working hard under the sun; cold and refreshing. He didn’t like eating them at first, finding it weird to eat something he’s accustomed to eating hot now ice cold. Eventually, the dish grew on him, especially on summer days he spent with his grandparents.

For the rest of the meal, they filled the silence with slurping and talked about his plans for the restaurant. Somehow, he ended up giving Mark a part time job in the restaurant that’s yet to be established as either a busboy or a waiter in case he doesn’t find a job yet.

“So worth it.” Mark sighed after he brought the bowl to his lips and threw back his head to finish the soup. “Damn, fine, I will work to eat this kind of food everyday. I should have taken a pic and sent it to Johnny! He’d be so jealous.”

“You can take a picture of my grandma’s bowl if you’re sticking around long enough for her to come back.” Jaehyun suggested, gesturing him to hand his empty bowl over so he could put them away.

“Thanks for the meal.” Mark clapped after pushing his bowl towards him. “Bro, I’m so excited for you! Your resto is gonna pop off, no doubt. And because of you, Johnny’s gonna come back home to handle the business shit.”

Johnny promised to save up to help him with the lease and other financials so he’d been working two jobs in a completely different state to match up the savings Jaehyun had from all the jobs he had previously worked. Jaehyun could easily pay off most of the things needed, but Johnny reiterated that this is a joint business and he won’t let him do so. Even though they both graduated with a degree in business management, Johnny said he’ll take care of all the paperwork while Jaehyun can cook his heart out.

Jaehyun will always be grateful he ran into Johnny during the first class of their freshman year and clicked with him because they shared the same ethnicity, more so that he supports him with everything he does. Admittedly, he’s sad that his best friend had to work so far away from them, but he’ll be home soon and help achieve his dream, plus he had Mark as the best hype man. With no pun intended, he can taste the future.

It’s been nearly a week and Jaehyun hasn’t seen you. He’s worried for some reason; did something happen? Are you alright? He always brought your handkerchief with him so he could return it and some food he made for you to try, but you never showed up. Even Mark doubted your existence when he kept coming over to help build the plant boxes that were finally delivered.

They were just finishing up, deciding where to place the plant boxes with trellises — whether up against the parapet or with the rest of the plant boxes in the middle — when he had the urge to look back at the door and found you watching them through the door.

“[Y/N]!” He exclaimed, face breaking out into a tired smile, only for it to fall when you ran away just before Mark turned around. “Hey, wait!”

Jaehyun tried to run after you, taking large strides, but like last time, when he leaned over the banister to find you, you were gone. He called out to you, but all he saw peeking up the stairs was a scruffy-looking man from four floors down. Jaehyun apologized and the man retreated. He returned to Mark, who decided to move one of the ceramic pots to the other side of where they were originally placed.

“Did you catch her?” He asked, dusting his hands off.

“No. I wonder why she ran off like that. I didn’t even catch her running down the stairs… maybe she lives just on the floor below.” Jaehyun frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He was sure it was you; you were wearing the same denim overalls.

Mark’s phone rang and he cursed at seeing the notification, “Gotta go. I forgot I had to pick up groceries for my mom.”

“Thanks for today. Tell her I said hi.” He waved as he watched the younger man run to the door as if his life depended on it.

Alone, Jaehyun turned back to check the work they’ve done today. Aside from the trellis, all the plant boxes had been laid with all the proper layers for drainage and just needed to be sowed. He wanted to plant everything all at the same time, but he could plant the Four o’Clock seeds you requested. He had already soaked the seeds overnight and even sanded it according to the google searches he made to plant and care for them. He walked over to the collapsible table he set up and took the flower seeds off the paper towel he left them on.

“You’ve started planting?”

Jaehyun jumped away from you, flinching at your sudden appearance.

“Oops,” You giggled, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You have light footsteps, huh? I’m only planting the Four o’Clocks today.” He showed you the seeds in his palm, “Why did you run off a while ago?”

You blinked at him, “Uhm, well, I thought I left the iron plugged in a-and I didn’t want to bother you and your friend.”

“We were done anyways and you wouldn’t be a bother if you decided to come up here. He wanted to meet you, you know.”

“Oh… I’m… just extremely shy. You just caught me off guard the day we met.” You squat beside him as he sowed the seeds into one of the little ceramic pots, “I would have run off if I had the chance.”

Jaehyun chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

This made you pause, repeatedly blinking at his hands as they gently folded the soil over the seeds. The other day, you would never admit to it, but you were secretly watching him and his friend — Mark, as you heard him call the other — and you were astonished at how strong Jaehyun was. Compared to his friend, he pulled and carried materials on his shoulders with ease. It was a stark contrast to how he planted the seeds just now.

“I believe I owe you a short narrative of my life.” You cleared your throat, looking for somewhere to sit on, and walked over to two collapsible chairs that matched the table. You sat on one while you waited for Jaehyun to dust his hands clean.

Once he sat down, you shrugged, “What do you want to know?”

“Anything you’re comfortable with sharing.” He mirrored your action, “I would have brought extra snacks if I had known I’d be running into you again. Oh, shit — I forgot your handkerchief back in my room.”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head, “I’m in no rush to get it back.”

You let yourself get distracted by a cat’s loud meowing somewhere below, thinking of something to share to him.

“Well,” You started off, “I was supposed to start my Master’s degree for education 3 months ago, but I chickened out the last minute. I just felt like… it’s not something I want to do at the moment.”

“So what have you been doing? Painting?” Jaehyun gestured to the paint marks on your clothing, “Your clothes always have paint on them.”

You stuttered, “Oh, uhm, yeah — just getting the creative juice flowing. Never liked anything to keep it, though. I think I’m more into photography.”

“Like portraits? Landscapes?”

“Anything.” You paused, “Haven’t really found a niche yet. That’s why I’ve been painting.”

He nodded, understanding your situation. “Hey, there’s this mural on the other side of that wall—”

“Yeah, I know. It’s such an eyesore.”

Jaehyun blinked at you, “Oh, I don’t think so. It’s just unfinished. Maybe the person who started it moved out or maybe they just lost motivation. But I think it still looks great; just unfinished.”

Unfinished, you repeated in your thoughts. It’s such a sad word for you; incomplete, undone.

“You could paint over the mural if you think it could be better.”

The mural was yours to begin with. You started it half a year ago when you went up here to escape reality. It was just a mess of angry, distressed brush strokes of a multitude of colors overlapping one another; what made it look incomplete in the first place? You just kept adding layer after layer, never satisfied with how it looked.

“Maybe.” You croaked out, realizing you hadn’t responded to him. “I’d need to buy all the paint though, so I can’t work on it immediately.”

“No rush. You can’t force art.” He said in a comforting manner. “I didn’t learn to cook right away. My grandma has unlimited patience with me every time I burnt something.”

“I wish my older sister had the same patience as your grandma.” You fiddled with your thumbs, “I live with her — uh, well, technically, she lives with me… with her boyfriend and baby.”

Jaehyun gave you an awkward smile, “They live with you?”

You shut your eyes, hanging your head low, “I love my sister and I love little nephew, too. But her boyfriend is a piece of shit. Absolutely useless. Doesn’t even consider moving since he considers me free housing even though he can afford it. He doesn’t even help pay rent!”

“So it’s that kind of situation, huh? Your sister must love him for staying with him.”

You averted your attention elsewhere, biting down on your lip with guilt. She’s still with him because of you, she wants to leave him but she can’t because of you. It’s not your place to tell Jaehyun about the real cruelty your sister’s boyfriend does to her, not to mention he’s a shitty father to your nephew, but you don’t want to drag him into this mess.

“I wish she’d wake up.” You grumbled. You wished you would wake up, too.

“If there’s anyway for me to help, just tell me.” Jaehyun put his hand over yours, the sensation of his skin against yours still confounding you.

You met his gaze, reading the sincerity in the dark chocolate pools of his eyes. You barely know him, but why does it feel like you’ve known him all your life? “Thank you.” You whispered and you watched him retrieve his hand.

“Whatever happens, you can also escape to my place. My grandma loves to meet new people. I’m sure she’ll love you. I can introduce you to Korean food, too. Are you okay with spices?”

“It really depends.” You bashfully admitted, hoping it doesn’t sound like you were turning his offer down.

“Well, if you come over, we’ll see it ourselves.” He beamed at you, dimples flashing in full display. “I live in room 307.”

This caught you off guard. You lived on the same floor as him. Why haven’t you noticed?

When you didn’t say anything after him, even though he had hoped you would reply with your room number, Jaehyun smacked his thighs. He doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable for disclosing your room number to him. “I have to start cooking dinner. Are you going to stay longer here?”

“Uh—” You followed his movement as he stood up, “Y-yeah, I will.”

“See you later. Don’t stay for too long. It gets cold up here.”

“I’ll be fine.” You smiled, waving at him as he slowly inched towards the door.

After he left, you stared at the door a little longer before looking down at your hands. You could stay for as long as you want because the cold doesn’t bother you. You can’t feel the cold or the heat or anything… aside from him.

It was a little alarming to Jaehyun that you hadn’t been up on the roof for two weeks. Yes, he counted the days. Did something happen with your sister and her boyfriend? Did you two finally escape him? Did he do something bad? Are you safe? So many questions plagued his mind but he doesn’t know what to do to get answers to them. Mark is no help because he has to see you with his own eyes to even believe you were real.

After your last talk, Jaehyun had made it a point to bring your handkerchief with him so he can finally return it to you. He even washed it again despite not using it just in case the sweat from working under the sun seeped through his pants.

It was a shame though because he’s proud of the progress of his little rooftop garden. All the plant boxes have been sowed with their respective seeds, he purchased a picnic set so he could have meals up here with friends and family, and most importantly, the 4 o’clocks have started to germinate along with the sweet peas that he decided to plant as well. His grandma liked to take afternoon tea up here as well, hoping to meet you after he had spoken often about you, but fortunately doesn’t doubt your existence just because of your absence like Mark.

Jaehyun didn’t have much work to do these days aside from watering and making sure there were no pests since the materials he needed for the pergola hadn't arrived yet. It was a good thing the past days were cloudy enough for his grandma to rely on just sunscreen and not tire herself from holding an umbrella.

Another day is about to end, the sun setting across the horizon. Even Jaehyun hadn’t seen the daytime moon the past week — or maybe he just didn’t bother to check during the prime hour when it’s clearly visible. Heaving a dejected sigh, he goes back to his apartment. He should have really asked for your number — to, you know, check up on you.

Arriving on his floor, he took his time to walk up to his door, briefly glancing when he heard a door open. He didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but did a double take when he saw you.

“[Y/N]?” He exclaims, a little too excitedly, and took three long strides towards the woman he thought was you.

She turned to face him, alarmed and confused.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone I knew.” Jaehyun stepped back, sheepishly rubbing his neck. He bows his head out of habit, “Sorry again—”

When he looked back up at the woman, he faltered. She really did look like you.

“Wait, I’m sorry, but are you…” He licked his lips, “[Y/N]’s sister?”

The woman watched him apprehensively as she closed the door but kept her hand on the knob, “I am. And you are?”

“I’m Jaehyun. I moved here just a month ago. I was wondering where [Y/N] is. I haven’t seen her in awhile. Is she okay?”

She looked at him like he had grown two heads. “I don’t understand.”

“Uhm, well, we met up on the rooftop and she’d drop by every now and then. It’s been awhile since she went back up so I got a little worried—”

“Look, boy,” Your sister dismissed, “You’re not making sense to me and I’m busy. You’re wasting my time.”

Jaehyun bit his tongue; did something happen between the two of you? “Okay, I’m sorry again. But could you return this for me? She lent it to me a few weeks ago and I keep forgetting to return it.”

He brought out your blue handkerchief from his back pocket and your sister’s eyes grew wide with alarm. She snatched it from him, making him flinch, and inspected it, revealing the little embroidery of your initials on the corner he had never seen before.

“Where did you get this?!” She hissed, vigorously shaking the fabric in her fist. “I kept this in her drawer!”

“I-I told you! She lent it to me a few weeks ago and—”

“That’s impossible! She couldn’t have!” Your sister’s eyes started to well up, “I don’t understand— she couldn’t have— but how?”

Jaehyun ogled her warily as she examined the handkerchief once more, “I… I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m telling you the truth. She lent it to me herself.”

He described you to her to prove himself; from your hair, to your clothes, to even the reason why you were up on the roof the first time he met you, and that’s what caught your sister’s attention.

“Daytime moon?” She quietly repeated, cutting him off. “Di-did you say she was up on the roof, looking at the daytime moon?”

He nodded, gasping a little when she faltered back and lost her balance, making him reach out to help her stand up properly.

“That can’t be… my sister… [Y/N]... she’s… it’s been three months...”

“What?” Panic gripped at his chest. Three months? He hasn’t even moved in three months ago. “What happened with [Y/N]?”

Your sister looked up at him, visibly perplexed at the situation. Her pupils shook as she stared right at him.

“My sister has been in a coma for three months.”

Chapter 2 by @smileyjaeminies

​cc: @moonttaeil​ @wonjaekook​ @lovestrucked-again​

[nctsoftskz]

Shy love | bang chan

Word count: 2.7k Pairing: shy! reader x e-boy!, skater! Chan Genre: fluff, romance, cliché af A/N: I know I’m very absent and it’s badly written, but I’m not at my best rn and I suddenly got into my Chan’s feels (i dreamt about him last night 🥺) I’m sorry!! i stg he’s too handsome to be real 

Sitting on the bus with your headphones, you dramatically watched the scenery went by at full speed. You needed to go at the other side of the town for an appointment and you decided to try another route to reach your destination point. You had always ridden the train, but at those hours, it was most likely to be packed, and you hated it. Here, you were sitting at the back of the bus, not a lot of people around you. As you neared another bus stop, a group of nine boys mounted the bus, laughing and holding cans of beer and their skateboards or scooters. They were pretty loud, earning side glances from other people riding the bus. You quickly looked at each of them, but you brought your attention back to the cityscape out of the window.

After a few more minutes, the boys had quieted down a bit, giggling and snickering here and there, but something felt odd. You felt like someone was staring at you. You truly hoped that it wasn’t someone creepy, that it was just someone that tried to recognise you.

You turned your head in direction of the staring and you met big hazel eyes. Your heartbeat started increasing and you started feeling hot, studying the boy’s face for a few seconds before looking away out of embarrassment. You felt him doing the same and when you stared at the floor, laughter getting louder on the boy’s side. He looked at you again, but you ignored him, trying to focus on your music and the rainy streets. You pressed the button to stop the vehicle at your bus stop, gathering your stuff and putting your raincoat on. You gulped and gripped a handle, preventing you from falling. As you were about to go off the bus, you stared at the hazel boy one last time and hurried to your appointment, running in the rain.

You found yourself riding the bus more often, a public transport less used by people during rush hour. This time, it was sunny, and you had your sketchbook in hand, trying to draw the boy that you saw last time. You still sat at the back of the bus and music was your only friend, helping you to focus on your artistic task. When you looked up to crack your neck, you immediately sank your head back in your drawing, noticing the skater boys boarding the bus. You held your breath, as if it would make you smaller and voices you recognised started getting quieter, noticing that the boys stood a bit further away from you than last time. You exhaled and forced yourself to not look up, not wanting to be caught staring. Each time one of them talked, you wondered if it was him speaking or not, some voices sending more chills in your body than others.

Lowering your music to hear your stop announcement, you focused on your drawing again as you heard that you still had a long way to go. “Hum, excuse me? Do you mind if I sit here?” a deep yet gentle voice asked and you looked up, immediately shutting your sketchbook. You nodded and clumsily gathered your stuff to make room for him. It was the hazel boy. “What’s your name?” he asked, and you felt like dreaming. Was he interested in you? “I’m… Y/N,” you quietly said and took off an earpiece, briefly looking at him. “And you are?” “I’m Chris, but everyone calls me Chan,” he answered, and you nodded, not really knowing what to do. You were panicking and anxious, whereas Chan looked extremely chill next to you. You stared at his friends, who were looking at the two of you with playful eyes, mocking and teasing their friend for approaching you.

“Don’t mind them,” he said as he followed your gaze, making you turn your head to look at him, “they’re making fun of me, not you, but don’t worry.” “But why are they behaving like this?” you asked and he chuckled. “I’m actually the only one that has the guts to go talk to a girl,” you nodded and clutched your sketchbook against your chest. “Oh, you draw? That’s so cool,” he said as he pointed your small black book and nodded again, smiling. “Yes, it’s one of my hobbies, along with painting,” you said and Chan’s mouth opened to form an “o”, impressed. “That’s so sick,” his smile showed dimples and you felt your breath catching in your throat at the sight, “can I see it?” “Oh hum, I’d rather not if you don’t mind,” you awkwardly said and your grip on your notebook tightened, but you were immediately relieved when Chan nodded. “It’s okay, I know it can be pretty personal, one of my friends over there also likes to sketch but he never shows everything to us,” you gratefully smiled at him and he sent it right back to you, eyes turning into crescent moons. You looked away, flattening your floral dress on your thighs, not knowing how to keep the conversation going. “If I can’t get to see your artworks, can I get your number instead?” you cleared your throat and pursed your lips at his words, not expecting him to be this straightforward. You thought two seconds about it and nodded, making Chan’s smile widen. You shakily took the phone he was handing you and double checked that you entered your correct phone number and gave it back to him with a shy smile. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Chan, but I’m going off here,” you mumbled and the boy grabbed his skateboard and stood up with you. “Wait, you’re going off here as well?” you asked and he nodded, making your brows furrow. “I don’t live far from here, so I can be around you a bit longer. Only if you don’t mind, I can jump right back in the bus if I bother you.” “No, not at all, it feels kind of nice to have someone with me,” you said as you struggled to put everything in your bag. Chan stood in front of you and held the bottom of your bag, allowing you to put everything in it like you wanted. “Thanks,” you mumbled and slightly shook his head, telling you that it was nothing.

You got to meet Chan a bit more than only in the bus. You were slowly warming up to each other, feeling like a teenager in love when you looked at him. You knew that his looks wanted to make him look unapproachable, but when he was in private, he was a whole other boy. He was smiling, very touchy and gentle, making you crazily blush when he was around. 

One evening, you were bored as hell and your parents had to attend a professional meeting together. You texted Chan around twenty minutes ago, but you were still left unanswered. You sighed, pondering about going to bed early or just watch a series. As you were about to go fetch yourself some snacks in the pantry, your smartphone emitted a sound, notifying you from a message.

I’m skating right now, do you want me to come over? you read his text and sighed, still undecided about what you actually wanted to do. Can I come watch you instead? You sent back and locked your phone, dropping it on the bed. His answer wasn’t long in coming. Of course, honey. Make sure to bring a sweater or something warm, it’s getting windy 😉

You smiled and sprung from your bed, putting a sweater above your t-shirt and a pair of leggings before leaving your room. You grabbed water from the fridge, as well as snacks and two apples. Locking your front door, you ran to the bus stop as you heard the bus coming, signalling your presence to the driver to make him stop. Once you arrived at the skatepark near the beach, the salty wind made you inhale deeply, loving the current atmosphere. You noticed only two skateboarders, recognising Chan as one of them. The rest of the people populating the park were skaters, sending ticks mid-air as you passed by them. You carefully walked to Chan, who noticed you and sat on his board while waiting for you. You handed him a bottle of water and an apple, surprising him by your gesture.

“Thank you? That’s so nice of you,” he said gently smiled, watching him gulp down a few sips of fresh water in one go. “You must be tired and thirsty, so I thought that I’d bring something for you,” he passed his arm around your shoulder and drew you towards him, swiftly kissing your temple. Your stomach churned at the action, it was the first time that he showed you affection aside from flirting and complimenting you. You looked at him and he chuckled, his fluffy hair dancing with the wind.

“What? Want me to do it again?” you giggled and looked away. “Not for now,” you answered as you observed the riders clapping and cheering at each other for a trick they managed to succeed. “Wave to me when you want affection, then,” he winked and you shook your head with a smile, stuffing his apple in his mouth. He slightly turned his head away and grabbed your wrist, only to allow him to properly bite into the apple. He munched on it with a happy smile, wiping the juice of the fruit falling from his lips with the back of his hand. “It’s nice to take a break from skating with you,” he said out of nowhere as his eyes got lost in the sea in front of you. The sun was about to set, and the last rays warmed you up from the chilly wind, goosebumps flooding your body. “I feel at peace when we’re together,” you mumbled as you bit into your apple, “I feel like all my worries and anxiety suddenly vanish, it almost feels weird to feel good.” “I’m glad you feel like that when I’m around,” he looked at you with a soft smile, his foot on his board, making it roll back and forth. He stood up, gently letting go of the hand you didn’t notice him hold and speeded on his board, showing you off his skills. You didn’t really care about skateboarding, the only things that mattered to you was the smile on his face when he succeeded a trick or when he looked at you.

Without having him noticing, you took your sketchbook out of your bag and found a pencil in the back pocket and started sketching Chan as he was waiting for the park to clear out a bit. He had the top of his board in his hand, looking away from you with the beach behind him, looking like he was posing. Maybe he was, but you were too immersed in your sketching to care. You curled up a bit on yourself, trying to keep the warmth as close to you as possible. Chan stayed like that for a few more seconds, allowing you to finish the rough draft of his silhouette. Then, he started riding his board again, sometimes closing your eyes to remember details of him and his handsome face.

“Have you gotten bored?” Chan joked as he came back after a while, wiping the light sweat off his forehead and sat down next to you again. You chuckled and put your pencil down, closing the notebook between your fingers. “Nah I’m fine, let’s say that I suddenly got inspired.” His eyes went from your face to your notebook and he pointed at it. “I still can’t have a look at it, can I?” you shrugged and he faked an annoying huff, pushing his hair back and deeply breathed. “It’s not that good, but you can see it. Only that page, I’ll murder you if you flip through it.” He smirked at your warning and opened the sketchbook, his eyes widening at your drawing of him. “It looks so good! So real!” he said as he took a closer look of your piece of art. “I want a poster out of that, Y/N, you’re so talented.” “Chan, it’s just a rough sketch,” you humbly mumbled as you tried to get your sketchbook back, but he extended his arm away from you, teasing you by trying to flip the page with his thumb. “Stooop,” you whined and Chan smiled, softly grunting as you laid your hand on his thigh, shifting your weight to try and grab your precious item.

“I’ll give it back to you only if you kiss me,” he said in your ear and you almost fell at his words. You looked at him and your eyes widened at your sudden proximity, red softly decorating your cheeks. Chan was smirking as he still held your notebook above your heads, arm slowly going numb as you took your sweet time to stare into each other’s eyes. You slowly leant and grabbed his jaw, making sure that he wouldn’t move his face as you kissed the soft skin of his cheek. He huffed as you ruined his entire plan but gave you your sketchbook back anyway. 

“You’re so not funny,” he mumbled as you put everything that belonged to you in your bag. Zipping it up, you smiled at him and went to sit on his legs, surprising him. You weren’t usually the one to initiate skinship, but he wasn’t complaining when you did. Chan’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and thighs, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His nose touched your neck and you gasped as you felt his warm lips laying a soft kiss on your sensitive skin.

“Not here,” you whispered, and he laughed. “Come on, it’s just a kiss on the neck, it’s not that deep,” he stated and you heavily blushed, pulling the hood above your head and nestling into his neck. He smelt like cologne and laundry, it was very comforting to be in his arms. Chan’s hands drew you a bit away from him, making you turn to the side, your legs wrapped around him. You were now straddling him, and Chan rested his head on your chest. You rubbed the back of his head and he sighed in content, tightening his grip around you.

“I love you,” he mumbled, completely out of the blue, which startled you. “Come again?” you said, not sure that you heard him quite right. “I love you,” he didn’t hesitate to repeat, his hands going under your sweater and t-shirt, softly rubbing your back as he looked up at you from his spot in your arms. “Since I saw you for the first time, you’re constantly running in my mind. I never told you that but, when we first met in the bus, I almost went off with you like the second time, but I didn’t know what to say or do when I’d reach you. I’m glad that my friends pushed me to come and talk to you because I’ve never been this happy since I’m seeing you.” You laid your hands on his shoulders to make him properly look at you and he had the most delicate eyes that you’ve ever seen on him. Cupping his cheeks, you smiled, softly bumping his nose with yours. He chuckled but you both became serious again, Chan’s eyes leaving yours to land on your lips. He looked back up at you and you nodded, allowing him to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

Your mouths moved in sync, the kiss bringing you nothing but happiness. Chan had managed to break down your ice walls, comfortably installing himself and his love in your heart. It felt warm, he knew that he was in a good and safe place, and so were you. Chan, under his skater, e-boyish appearance, hid a loving heart, filled with attention and kindness. He felt like trusting again, and he was right. Having you by his side made him feel like nothing could hurt him. You protected each other’s hearts, and that’s the only thing that the two of you needed; someone caring and loving.

[liujinhee]

[ Kyuhyun/Reader ]

plotting an us (working title)

Word Count: 2,622

Summary: Art student y/n, theatre student Kyuhyun one shot

Uh, so this was supposed to be a y/n fic, but I think I gave the character so much personality that they qualify better as an OC? Haha... im sorry guys :')

-

There was little use in trying to reason with yourself why you travel two hours every weekend to the Penguin Ice cafe. Cafe menus were unreasonably expensive, and Penguin Ice was located in the heart of the city, where the population was far too saturated for your liking.

Then you hear the familiar voice saying the words Welcome to Penguin Ice cafe, and you know you'll be coming back next weekend regardless.

You walk straight up to the counter—even if you had a crush on one of the part timers, it didn't mean your judgement was clouded enough that you'd drop by during rush hour just to see him. At 4pm, the cafe was quiet, a few patrons scattered in different corners.

When Kyuhyun's gaze falls on you, his professional smile softens into one you now recognize as warm. “Single scoop of matcha and vanilla with sprinkled topping, having here?”

“Got it in one.” You return the smile, hoping it isn't too wide. The way your feelings tend to write themselves on your facial features has never done more good than harm thus far. Digging into your pocket, you hand him the bill; never the exact amount, if only for the selfish reason of wanting him to drop the change onto your open palm.

And he does. “Here's your change,” Kyuhyun sings in that merry tune you know by heart.

“Someone's in a good mood.”

He makes a show of scanning the bar, which currently only has him manning it, before leaning forward. He's not close enough that you feel his breath, but still close enough that your heart rate picks up as he tells you in a hushed whisper that fails to contain his glee, “It's payday.”

You snort at that, even though you already had your suspicions. Kyuhyun simply gives you a cheeky grin and wags his brows, seemingly pleased to have shared that little tidbit. Your hand twitches with the instinct to reach out and ruffle his hair, something you're not quite able to do to someone you can barely call an acquaintance. So you settle for a Congratulations, to which he bows dramatically, My heartfelt thanks, before twirling away to prepare your order.

He may be majoring in theatre, you think. Or at the very least, hold an interest in it. It's not the first time the two of you have exchanged words in such a manner, nor do you believe it'd be the last. As you watch him drop a generous scoop of ice cream into a cup, you wonder if you should ask him today. Something like, What school are you from? What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Do you want to catch the next musical that comes?

But they all feel like questions that'd make your existing dynamic awkward. In a way, you already consider Kyuhyun a friend, despite not knowing anything about him other than his name, which you got from his name tag, and that he only works on weekends, which is written on their blackboard under the Shifts section. 

Once again, you spend too much time overthinking, and your order is ready before you come to a decision, Kyuhyun extending the cup to you with a gentle hum. Your mumble of thanks matches the tone of his hum, and your feet bring you to your usual seat, empty as it always is. Customers aren't the biggest fans of seats by the entrance, after all; the constant opening and closing of the door can get annoying. It doesn't bother you, however. As much as you dislike crowds, you find comfort in the buzzing of human activity.

And, well, if the seat provides you a good view of the bar where Kyuhyun busies himself with cleaning up, that's just a really big bonus. Once you're satisfied with the angle of your chair, you bring out your pencil and sketchbook, flip to a fresh page, and begin sketching.

It's not always Kyuhyun. Scenery fascinates you, and you've long since lost count of the cityscape, the parks, the rivers that you've drawn from memory and imagination. But it's always when the imagination starts that Kyuhyun joins, somehow making his way into the scenery.

This time, you’ve sketched him barefoot by the beach, laughing as he splashes seawater up a silhouette with his foot. It’s an imagery that comes easily to you; Kyuhyun with his friends out having fun together. He seems like the type of person who is able to get along with everyone, and you're near certain he is.

You scribble down the date and your signature like you do on every piece of art, leaving out your name. The ripping of the page is quiet, barely audible over the music; the edges of the paper imperfect, but they always are. 

As you rest the paper under the now empty cup, you can't help but imagine how Kyuhyun would react to the sketch this week. He hasn't shared his thoughts on your sketches since that first time nearly three months ago, when you'd come to Penguin Ice with your friends for a birthday celebration.

I like the way you sketch, Kyuhyun had told you as he served the tray of sundaes ordered by your table. Art student?

Yeah, you'd answered after a moment of shock, watching how the man's eye was trained on the lines of your sketch. Understanding that it was genuine praise. Your eyes had fallen to his askewed name tag, committing his name to memory. And, um, thanks. He'd tipped his head in acknowledgement, set down your orders, and returned to his post.

Looking back, it might've seemed like nothing. But to the you back then who had been dealing with self doubt, the words of a stranger had been everything you needed to hear and more. While your friends chit chatted and ate, you'd done up a quick sketch of the cafe, and left it on the table with a short thank you note addressed to Cho Kyuhyun.

The next time you'd come, it had been because another friend was curious after seeing your post about the cafe before. Even then it had been Kyuhyun who took one look at you and went, Ah, the art student! Right? The memory of that moment still makes you chuckle now. It's in his recognition that Kyuhyun started becoming more than a part timer at a cafe in the city for you.

Now, as you wait for Kyuhyun to turn away and busy himself with cleaning before sneaking out of the cafe like a protagonist in a cliche romance drama, you wonder if this plot will ever advance, or if this is but a draft that will not live to see a happy ending.

It doesn't really serve as a surprise when you come across Kyuhyun at a local arts festival you are a participant of. You've thought about it, the what if. What does surprise you, is how you come across him.

There's an event pamphlet, of course, but you're also not the type of person who focuses on details like the musical cast names. It's not like any of them would ring a bell, since they're students. Except one of them does. You don't connect the dots at first, too tired from hours of live sketch after live sketch for customers. Then you hear it, his My heartfelt thanks, and the thought is formed.

Can it be? You reach into your back pocket for the pamphlet and flip to the musical lineup for today. Sure enough, printed in bold is the name Cho Kyuhyun along with a photo of him. Gods, does he look cute in casual wear. You're staring hard at his photo when he rips your attention back to him with his vocals.

While you wouldn't go as far as to call yourself a theatre enthusiast, it's not like you haven't been to musicals. You have, and you enjoy them when you do. Paid hundreds of bucks for a good three straight hour sitting of a show that'd live in your memories for decades to come. And when Kyuhyun sings, goosebumps rising along your arm midway through the first line, you know that's the kind of level he'd belong on in the near future. That's how good he is.

You're in awe, then you're in wonder, and then maybe, just maybe, you're falling in love with the theatre student and part time ice cream man Cho Kyuhyun. The sudden realisation startles you, but you accept it just as quickly. Little as you may know, it's enough for you to have developed feelings for him, and you feel it growing stronger every passing second in your mind. Your fingers itch with the need to capture this moment forever in the form of a painting.

Then the musical comes to an end, the cast coming together, hands joined as they bow their thanks while the audience reciprocates with thundering applause. Your eyes are still on Kyuhyun as the curtain falls, but you're certain he hasn't seen you in the dark. Nor would he know or have reason to be looking out for you.

You're out the moment you're able, zigzagging through the night crowd back to your post in a rush. It's not that you're late to return, nor will your neighbor mind even if you were. You simply need to pick up a pencil right now and bring to life the visuals buzzing in your head. It's been a while since you've felt this adrenaline rush under your skin. 

This is going to be a masterpiece.

-

You drown yourself in the canvas, skipping your weekly visit to the Penguin Ice cafe for the first time. There's only one reason for it: you don't want to override the memory of seeing Kyuhyun on the stage. A side you've never seen before, a temporary skin he wears so well one may be fooled into thinking it is his own.

There's a moment when you wonder if you'll ever finish the painting—each time you think you're quite about done, the paint setting for the last time, there's something new to add or to revise. You want to make it perfect, but in art, nothing ever is. Still, it is through willpower that you drop the brush for good, stepping back to take a good look at your painting.

It's… well, there’s no other way to say it: it's the man you saw on stage that night. It’s as close to what you wanted to express as you think it can get. The desire, the urge to convey your admiration for Kyuhyun grows overwhelming, and you rush to hold down on the power button of your phone. It’s 7:12pm on a Sunday. Which means there’s a good chance Kyuhyun will be there. They close at 10pm on weekends… can you make it?

It's worth the risk, you decide. You've got to be stupid at least once in your life (or many, but that's not how the saying goes, see). You wrap up the canvas carefully, yelling to your parents that they don't need to buy your share for dinner later, and rush out the second you feel presentable enough for public appearances.

Kyuhyun stares at you unblinking, and you do the same. It's easy to get lost in the reflection you see in them—and he blinks, light returning to his eyes.

“Hey,” he greets, but behind it you sense the question.

“Hey,” you return between pants.

“We're closing,” he says slowly, as if you can't tell from the flipped chairs and cluttering of washed utensils, “But if you're okay with on the go, I can bring out the tubs.”

You shake your head wildly before Kyuhyun can go grab said tubs. “That's not why I'm here.”

When you don't elaborate, he nods once and prompts, “Okay… So you're here to…”

“Pass you something. I can wait till you're off work. If you don't mind, I mean.” You're babbling, and you just know your face is a deep shade of red from nerves and embarrassment. To his credit, Kyuhyun doesn't judge despite his wrinkled brows, and gestures in the direction of your usual seat. So that's where you head. And you wait, your mind too crowded and thoughts so jumbled that you blank out until someone taps you on the shoulder.

“I'm done here,” he says, but now your brain short-circuits for a different reason. Kyuhyun in a plain t-shirt and shorts with a bag slinging across one shoulder shouldn't be anything worth ogling over, but it is. Even more so than the photo you'd seen on the pamphlet. You struggle to remember how to string words together and give him an answer, digging into your backpack for the thing you're here to hand him but can't quite remember what.

Then your fingers brush against the cloth holding your canvas, and you're reminded of your purpose. Right. With your heart slamming against your chest, you carefully pull out the painting you spent a week on, all while watching for any changes in Kyuhyun's expression. He has that cute frown that suggests he's confused, and you bite back a smile as you extend the canvas in an offering.

“For me?” 

The laugh breaks free from you as he accepts it with a cautiousness you've never seen. “

“Is there… something here?” He wonders aloud, gesturing between the two of you. His question is innocent enough, but then you see the way he's nibbling on his lower lip, the way he's peeking at you from under his long lashes—why are they so long anyway, you briefly wonder.

“An empty space,” you quirk, still somewhat afraid to take the leap, but unwilling to leave his question hanging in the air. 

Kyuhyun is instantly right by your side, the sleeves of your t-shirts brushing against each other, his body heat radiating off him this close. You feel yourself stiffen before you relax, easily growing used to this new lack of distance.

“So that's fixed,” Kyuhyun says after four beats of silence. “Anything else?”

“Hmm,” you hum to stall time as you think of other quirky answers to give, but it seems that isn't something Kyuhyun is willing to take a second time. His steps grow wider as he makes to stand in your way, forcing you to look up at him. He isn't exactly tall per say, perhaps a 1.8, but you're simply leaning toward the other end of the spectrum. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He smiles, small and shy and hopeful. “It'd be really embarrassing if I'm reading this wrong, but are you interested in me the same way I'm interested in you?”

And now it's you who's worrying your lower lip, question after question clogging up your mind about all the things you can say that will ruin any possibility of the two of you—Then you look at Kyuhyun again, and realise the man’s likely feeling the same, to some extent.

Licking your dry lips, you decide to go for it. “If by that you mean—” you swallow before you're sent into a coughing fit because of your salivary glands, “—The I want to hold your hand on a date kind of interested… then yes.”

“Who said anything about dating?” he teases, and before your brain even registers the words for you to feel disappointed, he continues, “I think we should start with self introductions first, shouldn't we? After all, I still don't know your name.”

“Okay then.” Kyuhyun clears his throat, his posture tall and grand before he gives a graceful bow, hand extended. “Would you do me the honor of exploring the potentials in this budding relationship?”

It seems like the plot is moving forward, after all.

[kaplanwrites]

02.7.Other Side.

sound: The other side by UNKLE, Tom Smith

***

Kon knows when he fucked up this relationship (started to fuck it up more and more). 

He supposes, he also knows why he did this - as an unconscious protest to the unfairness of life, of the circumstances. To Tim’s decisions. 

Mostly out of his own frustration to being unable to protest the pound of a replacement Tim made all for himself, but who somehow became an anchor for the both of them(the sum of them). 

(Somehow on the shitty end of his mulish egoism, as always, Tim ended up being.  )

Jeez, is he an asshole.

It’s no wonder that as he earnestly tries to make this pretend-family real, more than simply real: strong, lasting. Romantic. (oh God he’s so fucked. Everything he fucked, in the end, is just himself over). Tim is being difficult. 

The kid is in the heart of it, but it is not about him, right now it’s about Tim and making Tim understand how he is making Kon feel.

Frustrated. Angry. Miserable.

Fucked.

Tired and sorry, and stuck in front of the wall that Tim’s self-loathing is. (“Self”, though? Tim was never the one to doubt himself, he's the most driven and sure person Kon knows. So is it just, “loathing”? Is it “Kon-loathing”?)

(But then again, Tim was confident. He also was cheeky, and an ass, and Kon’s best friend and confidant, and now he’s… kinda pushed a stop button on all of those things).

It’s like they coexist simultaneously in the same and parallel place together, it’s like Tim can hear him only if making a conscious effort (which he is not always trying to make. Or, to be fair, has time to).

See, Kon understands that things should be unfucked, and then they start to fuck. It also happens unconsciously (for him at least, but, he thought that they started to fuck to make it all better, but all they achieved - is fucking it up better). For all that he wants Tim to open up, he doesn’t really want to know why he did it. His peaceful rest lays on trusting Tim not to have a malicious cause for it. 

For the first month, Kon thinks this arrangement to be blissfully awesome, then entertaining and convenient. As he starts to stay in Tim’s bedroom for nights, he starts to see cracks in Tim’s facade.

(He knows, that when he’s not contemplating Tim’s disassembly drilling metaphorical  (and wanting to blast very real ones so badly) holes in the ceiling, he is being watched. He also knows it’s the only time Tim looks at him directly now (after they started to fuck(this up)).

He wants to feel loved again like he was - for years now, he realizes, and isn’t it an asshole thing to wish? The worth in the want, isn’t it?

 This whole cohabitation started off as weird, but now they push to unhealthy. Then again, he suspects, maybe “fuckbuddy relationships with your best friend who nursed your child to life while you were dead” have very shaky foundations for “normal”.

Also, he’d never was able to do fuck all to shift Tim from his path, but together, oh, they’ve always been synergetic. Hence, fuck-up of cosmic proportions. Fast. Brutal.

He dreams of his cheeky snobby overthinking Robin.

He lies in bed and thinks about tearing the gorgeous sharp man lying next to him apart and finding his old chum wonderboy inside. Cradling him to the chest and reassuring that everything will be back to normal. Eventually. Sometime later.

(sometimes he resorts to pushing his forehead into Tim’s jaw, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder) (sometimes Tim doesn’t pull back)

Sometimes he thinks that if they’ve started to fuck back in Metropolis, it wouldn’t be that much of an issue right now. At all. This whole…

Then again, Kon doesn’t think Tim is that shallow of a person to think that Kon will chase the first convenient skirt when Kon will get bored with him.

Then again, Kon didn’t think that he will be that shallow of a person to treat this whole… this. As friends with benefits.

(With the benefit of doubt size of Manhattan.)

He tries to speak, but every time he opens his mouth, he finds words… lacking.

(‘Hey man. Back a couple of months ago, when we fought about your fuckbuddy who wasn’t me? Remember that? So I’ve figured it wasn’t that I was just horny, I was really jealous of this dude. Weird, huh?)

Sometimes (when they’re angry) it’s for the best.

The Kid awful lots of time was more about words than deeds, now Kon mostly resorts just giving everything Tim needs.

If that needs to be spreading out on top of still hot bike, balanced only by Tim’s hand in his hair and spared scraps of TTK, well, it’s worth it.

(For all it looks like Tim punishes him for being careless, his second hand strokes Kon’s outstretched thigh, soothingly, and Kon lets go. Lets them both feel it).

---

Kon keeps his stretched and primed canvases on the wall next to the windows in his room; white and greyish rectangles hanging on nails in odd angles form unsettling ghost gallery around the window frame.

Tim usually doesn’t spare much thought to them, but faint acrylic smell wafts from the open window, and it catches his attention.

There are no new paintings in the room. The easel stands empty, all pots seem to be shut. 

Tim smells paint as he looks for a new brush on shelves; smells it as he turns to leave after he finds one that will tech cleaning job done. Stops.

He stares at empty queen-sized mattress negligently pushed towards the wall, to make more space in the centre of the room. It stands right in front of the door uncovered - Kon was gathering laundry a couple of days ago. It makes the bed look barren and unnecessary. There’s an empty shopper bag with receipts for paints and condoms on it, the latest lie now in his nightstand. Tim chews on his lips.  

The smell itself is nothing of a notice: it could be any of the rags thrown around the room, but something tugs on Tim’s mind, brings him to the windowsill.

There’s that one canvas peculiarly hanged near ceiling facing away from the room, obviously darker than others. It would be a hard job to put it this way if you don’t have a TTK, Tim guesses.

He contemplates how exactly hard it could be to get it down and back up again.

He wants to think that he didn’t mean to climb the windowsill.

He takes first look on the painting as he grabs it from the hook, and almost flops down to the sill from his precarious position hanging from the window frame.

Tim is fascinated by the vividness of the painting: maroon backdrop seamlessly merges with shadows around the sole figure on painting creating vertigo of strokes and dots,  almost like the bird-eye view of a night city.  

Startled,  Tim recognizes himself on painting,  bare-chested and barefaced,  but very unmistakably Red Robin.

Man on painting poised over the viewer reaching over the upper right side of the canvas, eyes either hooded in bliss or slit in anger,  with multicoloured strokes proclaiming sweat over his chest.

He remembers a red streak of blood on his cheek,  remembers the anger and anguish of the night Kon was knocked out on a team-up with JL Dark. Remembers vindictive way he fucked into pliant body splayed on his bike,  barely into the garage after a long night. The way Kon’s dazed eyes never left his.

The way he later tugged both comforter and Tim over the spread of bed, murmuring ‘Cold’ into the back of Tim’s head. The way he felt (not normal. human. cool) on Tim’s back.

Tim figures that the voodoo sucked the sunlight charge out of Kon, and kicks him out of the bed first thing in the morning to park with Eli. He looks wrought and miserable leaving, but when hours later he returns, perked up and with two more kids in tow, Tim is relieved to learn that he was right.

He’s not particularly clingy that day, but he touches Tim more. A handclap on the shoulder. A brush of fingers as he passes Tim’s laptop charger. He goes to fly some more, leaving kids to distract Tim from work and destroy the living room.

During the dinner he pushes his bare feet under Tim’s, twine them together. Looks at Tim.

(he’s running a fever again, and Tim’s feet are cold. It is convenient (it is a relief)).

Smiles.

---

As Tim turns the light off in his office, he realizes that the cityscape outside his window looks almost like the background of that painting.

He’s already too late but really wants to take this photo now.

He finds the drone in the lowest drawer of Yves’ worktable, contemplates flying it through the labs to the roof. Nobody will bat an eye about it (it says something about his department, but he’s not sure what exactly). Thinks about the half-dead battery in the drone.

When it’s finally outside, paired with his cellphone and poised at the right side of the roof,  Tim activates it; lowers it down to the right floor,  makes a couple of sweeps to and fro until he sees himself through the drone's cam.

He toggles with controls a bit and pushes drone back and forth until he catches frame right and sees the reflection of city lights clearly behind the drone - in front of Tim.

Momentarily distracted by this dichotomy,  simultaneously seeing this landscape both in the window and mirrored on his cell’s screen.

He gets rid of the tie and opens the collar,  puts his right palm to the glass just over his right shoulder.

It's not right.

It’s too crystal, too precise, and although he likes that in his photographies, it’s not like that painting at all. He can see the drone in reflection,  for one,  and his face - tense and annoyed, for another.

Warning of low battery, peacefully blinking in the upper right corner turns angry red and the drone begins it's slow descend to fickle safety of the solid ground.

Tim pushes forward,  tries to catch a couple of shots more. Transfers everything drone shot to the cloud.

Pages security to retrieve the drone sometime during the night.

He swipes through photos in the elevator, and luckily finds what he looks for. There's one accidental shot where he's slightly off-centre, with tightly pinched eyebrow looking down to descending drone. His palm cut in half by the border of the frame, and the cityscape is a blur of lights, highlighting his face with a soft glow.

It’s perfect,  but he still tweaks a bit with colours. Deepening shadows, pulling contrasts. Making sloppy seem intentional.

His phone buzzes with an inquiry from Kon if he should tuck the kid in.

He sets home, sending a photo instead of an answer from the car.

***

Years later both painting and printed-out photo hangs in Kon’s studio in the new house.

flies drone

takes dozens of pictures

they’re pretty but not it

than battery dies and the drone takes last shot before descending down to its sure death

and the picture has blurred lights in the reflection, and Tim’s brow pinched in concern as he looks at descending drone

and it’s perfect

[lumaejin]

ten | zehn | 十

Bad Luck. New company. New luck. You’re getting a new manager. Finally. Your experiences with your last were... let’s say anything but pleasant, so you’re excited to have a new one. Well... only to find that good luck really doesn’t seem to like you.

➳ pairing: manager!seokjin x singer!reader

➳ genre: idol au, sm au, a tiny bit of angst?

➳ warnings: minor swearing, will be handling mental illnesses and triggering events from now on

➳ word count: 1885

The car ride to the restaurant was like always, silent. Over the past two days, you had quickly realised that the only thing you two managed to have a normal conversation about was work. How the hell the two of you had managed to talk for hours non-stop on the plane was lost on you. Even though you had somehow silently come to the conclusion that you could spend time with him without throwing up, you still had no idea how to start conversations. You were officially friends, but it was plainly awkward (though of course, it was better than before). You wanted to be comfortable around him, but memories of the end kept coming up whenever you looked him in the eye. You wanted to let your barriers down, but your mind and brain were warning you to not get too close. It was like your body was fighting an inner battle. A part of you hoped for nothing more than to talk with him like you would have before, another part of you wanted you to stay as far away from him as humanly possible. Currently, the first part was winning… you hadn’t run back to Korea yet. That was something, right?

Staring out of the window at the beautiful cityscape, you tried to keep your mind off of the person sitting in front of you. It was mostly dark, but the yellowish street lights gave the buildings an elegant feel. Stars competed with each other, trying to shine brightly enough to be seen, accompanied by the sound of the low rumbles of the car.

It was so peaceful. No traffic jams, no continuous honking, no hurried people with briefcases trying to make it to work on time. London was sleeping, softly breathing almost like a small baby.

It was beautiful.

You wished that your inner thoughts could be just as placid, but honestly, it was just an empty wish. Wishes were nothing if you didn’t do anything about them and they would never come true if you didn’t work for them. And honestly, something inside you (probably the second party in your emotional battle) was preventing you from pursuing that wish.

“We’re here,” Minju said about 10 minutes later, making you turn to look at the back of Jin’s head. He was texting someone on his phone, probably one of his friends. When he heard the driver’s words, however, he immediately put the phone back into his pocket.

“I’ve already reserved,” he said, getting out of the car and opening the door for you like a true gentleman.

You took his hand as he helped you get out, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand and the tingling feeling which was left in its place. You sculptured your face into one of nonchalance, waiting for Minju to get out too.

“He wanted to go and eat with some of his friends in London and I let him have the rest of the night off. Someone else will be coming to pick us up,” Jin said, tugging your sleeve in the direction of the entrance. You heard the engine of the car rumble and waved to Minju one last time, before the car backed out of the driveway and disappeared.

“He deserves it,” you said, putting on your face mask. It was unlikely that you were going to be recognised, but ‘better safe than sorry’ right?

As both of you entered the restaurant, Jin exchanged a few words with the manager while you looked around silently. The whole place was dimly lit, the lights tinted slightly red. There were multiple wooden tables placed around the room, and a few families were still eating their dinner. Some of them were korean and asian, some english. The smell of the food filled your nose and it immediately reminded you of your hometown. You felt Jin tap your arm as the man bowed and smiled, leading the two of you to a table slightly separated from the others. Another precaution to make sure you were safe from prying eyes.

A waitress came by with your menus moments later and as you opened it, your mouth watered at the sight of the korean dishes. You didn’t think that western food was terrible, but whatever it was that you had ordered yesterday, it had been a nightmare. Stale. Tasteless. Ew.

“Never thought I’d be so happy to see rice again,” Jin said as both of you looked through the list.

“Me too. To think that mum used to have to force me to eat just a tiny bit more of it,” you said.

“I remember,” he said, “You used to complain about it all day.”

Immediately, his eyes widened in surprise, “Oh my god, sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It just came out of my mouth.”

“It’s okay,” you said, just as the waitress came to get your orders.

After she walked back to the kitchen, the two of you were left in silence again. You turned your head to examine the paintings, trying to look anywhere but at Jin. Weren’t you past this whole awkward silence thing? You had gotten used to awkward car rides, but sitting next to each other and being like this was something else. A lot worse.

“Look… I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Jin said, breaking the silence. Suddenly, you were wishing he hadn’t. Here comes the serious talk. “But if we’re gonna be around each other as much as we will be, I think it’s not enough to say that we’re just going to ignore the past.”

You had expected it, in all honesty, but had hoped for it to come at a later time or maybe in a place where you could escape. For a moment, you thought about going to the bathroom… that would easily show that you weren’t ready for this conversation. Just as you were about to stand up however, Namjoon’s voice coursed through your head. He was right, the two of you really needed to talk if you were going to work together. He was right…

“I hurt you and I want to apologise for that,” Jin said. He was fidgeting with his hands, something he had always done when he was nervous. Once upon a time, you had found it cute and taken them in yours to try and calm him. Now, you were the reason for his nervousness.

“I’m not gonna lie… at the time, I really did mean what I said to you and I’m sorry for ever thinking about you in the way that I did. I’m sorry for never coming to you earlier to apologise, and I’m sorry that I ever even looked at someone else while I had you. You didn’t deserve what I did to you… you’d always been so good to me and truly, I loved you a lot. The woman… the woman I compared you with was a bitch and I let her words get to my head. I had a hunch that she was playing me, but decided to ignore it and… I’m sorry that I destroyed what we had,” Jin said, his eyes filling with so much regret as he looked at his hands, “I’m sorry for believing her words. I don’t even know why I did it… but I did it. I’m sorry Yn. If I hadn’t been so dumb, maybe… maybe everything would still be okay.”

Was it weird that you were happy that it hadn’t worked out with the woman? Was that being sadistic? You innerly shook your head at the thought. Here he was, apologising, and that was the one thing you decided to focus on.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me after you realised?” You were holding your tears back, using your experience as an idol to sculpture your expression carefully. Your facade was threatening to crack, however, the edges of the mask unstable and frail. You didn’t want to talk about this, but you knew that you needed it. This talk was long overdue, your own fears had prevented you from doing the sensible thing for so long. It was time to listen to Namjoon’s advice.

“I felt… I felt that you’d be better off without me,” Jin answered, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Once I came back to myself, I thought about it for a while and realised how much I hurt you. I just thought that you deserved better than me. I… I was going to apologise and then leave, but when I texted you, you never replied and I- I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore, so I decided to at least let you have that. I didn’t know that you had lost your phone… if I’d know I…”

You had always sworn that you wouldn’t let a break up ruin you. It was just a ‘simple’ break up, right? A few days and your heart would be healed. That was what you had thought before getting your heart shattered by the one person you loved most in this world. A break up like that had absolutely destroyed you. No matter how many days you tried to get over him, you were never able to. For many weeks, you watched someone else live your life, a hollowed out version of the real you. You watched as everything fell apart right in front of you. Your debut...pushed back. Your normal life… spent drinking at random bars. Your friends… pushed away whenever they tried to help. If Taehyung hadn’t been so insistent, if Jungkook hadn’t been so kind, if Namjoon had given up on you… you didn’t know what you would have done. They had been your saviours from the catastrophe that was Jin. And they continued to be saviours.

You couldn’t keep the tears back any longer. The thoughts of the times after the end… they hurt as much as thinking about the end itself. It hurt to watch yourself losing to life. It hurt to watch your friends’ desperate attempts to help you. It hurt to see the tears staining your pillows every night. But most of all, it hurt to relive the emotions you had felt during that time.

Before you knew it, he was sitting beside you, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his arms. The scent of his cologne and after-shave filled you and you almost smiled at the fact that he smelled just like he had so many years ago. The warmth of his embrace calmed your racing heart, but the tears continued to fall, wetting the front of his shirt. You could feel how sorry and regretful he was through his hug, how tight he held you, how there was wetness dripping from his eyes too.

And then, something inside of you changed. The barrier which had kept you from him, the barrier telling you that he was an absolute monster and that he was going to hurt you again and again and again if you even got close, disappeared? He had hurt you sure, and maybe you were going to regret this later, but the thing that mattered to you at that moment, was that he had made a mistake. And mistakes are made to be learned from.

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[sondepoch]

Day 9

10 Days (Jumin Han x Reader)

You didn't expect to find yourself locked in an engagement to Chairman Han, but with your own mother forcing you into it, you have no way of denying her. But as time continues and things change, you begin to develop affections for your fiance's son: Jumin Han. But the sad truth is that there's nothing either of you can do to stop the marriage, and you only have these 10 days before your future becomes reality. 10 days with Jumin Han.

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | ✔

MASTERLIST

“The flowers are beautiful, Jumin.” You smile as you stare into the bouquet of red and white, wondering how the man had managed to discretely procure these roses when you’ve been all but glued to his side for the past three days. You have more tact than to ask, though, so you settle for a bashful smile up at Jumin as he pulls a single long-stemmed rose from the bundle, lifting it up and fitting it into the first knot of the elegant braid you’d woven your hair into for this special evening.

Wear this, he had mumbled an hour ago, thrusting the burgundy gown you’re currently wearing into your arms. I have a surprise for you.

You ended up exiting the room fully dressed: wearing heels, earrings, a necklace, and all the other little accessories you’d managed to dig up that pair with the outfit. In truth, you’d expected that Jumin would be taking you out to a restaurant, to get your mind off of everything. When you’d next seen him, that thought had only been reinforced, staring at the man in his crisp suit, not a single strand of cat hair anywhere on his body.

But what he’s prepared is more romantic than even an evening at a five-star establishment, with all its elegance and prestige.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as Jumin leads you into what was once his living room.

“How do you like it, my love?” He smiles down at you, still holding your hand as he brings it up to his lips to lay a tender kiss over the knuckles.

“Oh, Jumin.” You’re left at a loss for words, your response coming out in a jumble. “How—how did you do all of this? And when? It’s—it’s so lovely—too lovely—oh, Jumin, it’s incredible. I love it. I love it so much, I love it and I love you, Jumin.” You wrap your arms around the man, sighing in content as he chuckles over your complete mesmerization.

And, looking around, who wouldn’t be mesmerized by this?

The living room has been reborn.

It’s no longer a comfortable lounging area, with couches and a TV—it’s something else entirely. Where there was once a carpet, now the hardwood floor has been exposed, revealing the vibrant color of the wood that seems to glow in the gentle lighting. All furniture has been removed, not a single couch or coffee table in sight, and the room is lined with tall wick candles, the flames flickering gently as they give off the soft scent of romance.

And there, in the very center of the room, is what brings the entire aesthetic together: a table for two, with a single candle and rose in the center of the table.

Stunning.

The table has even been moved parallel to the windowed wall you love so much, giving you both a perfect view of the city and its quiet but distant lights, and you can only stare at the sheer beauty of everything. Who would have thought that Jumin’s living room could be converted into this?

“Shall we?” The man whispers, offering his arm to you as you walk forward. Your heels click quietly on the ground, and soon enough, Jumin has pulled out your chair.

You take your seat with a gracious smile.

“It’s amazing,” You mumble, still looking around. The walls have been stripped bare of the modern artwork previously hung, the only art in sight being the cityscape the two of you painted together just two days ago. “How much effort did it take to arrange all this?”

“That doesn’t matter, my love. It was all worth it, I assure you.” Jumin’s gaze is soft as he strokes the top of your hand with his thumb from across the table. “Your smile has never looked so lovely.”

You can’t suppress the immediate grin that stretches across your features, a light blush painting itself over your cheeks. You would say something just as romantic back to him, but another man enters the room, one you recognize as Jumin’s private chef. Your eyes widen in surprise for a moment, given that you haven’t seen anyone other than Jumin in these past few days, but you quickly understand.

Jumin must want to give you the full experience of a romantic dinner. Having it located in his own penthouse is only meant to enhance the experience, which obviously will be a five-course meal with a privatized dining experience, complete with a personal chef and waiter.

“Sir, my lady.” The chef politely nods at you both. “The current meal course prepared is best complemented by a bottle of Pétrus, though if there is an issue, our stock offers a variety of other wines that pair well. Might I bring a bottle out?”

Jumin nods his head, the whole situation a mere formality to better simulate a restaurant, but you smile nonetheless. He’s so thoughtful.

“It occurred to me that the two of us have yet to have a formal dinner like this,” Jumin says when the wine arrives, pouring you both a glass. You take a sip of yours. “So I wanted to treat you.”

Before we have to part.

You hear that second part in your head, an unwanted extension of Jumin’s kind words. They’re true, but you ignore the thought, forcing it away with another drink of your wine.

“This Pétrus is delicious,” You say when the glass leaves your lips.

“I agree. It’s one of my favorite reds, so I always make sure to have a few bottles on hand.” Jumin smiles, taking a sip himself. “Though I must say, the company makes this glass taste infinitely better.”

Once more, your cheeks pinken at the man’s utter seriousness as he says words that, from anyone else, would be teasing. It only adds to his charm, though. Not that his charm needs adding to. The fact that he’s managed to do all this when he could have simply taken you out to a restaurant speaks volumes about his character—volumes about how much he cares for you.

Slowly, the night grows longer and the conversation turns natural once more, both of you finding comfort in the presence of each other. You feel like you should pay attention to the food, to the foie gras on your plate that is quickly exchanged for glazed steak rolls and then caviar with crème fraîche and then something else that you barely think about as you swallow, but you can’t. How can anyone think about food, of all things, with a man as interesting as Jumin so close?

You smile as he finishes his analysis of the current market economy, concluding with a brief mention of how the optimal time for purchasing stocks should come in roughly eight months, counterproductive as it may seem. If you’re perfectly candid, you’re not sure you care—but that doesn’t matter. The fact that these words are coming from Jumin is enough to make you hang on to every sentence for dear life.

After all, it’s not like you’ll have the rest of your life to savor his presence.

You take another sip of your wine at the thought, immediately forcing the knowledge away.

“(Y/N)?” Jumin asks. His eyes are round in concern. “Is something the matter?”

“Not at all,” You say with a smile. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that you seem to be drinking rather heavily tonight. This bottle is nearly empty, and I’ve only had a glass.” Jumin’s eyes shift away, clearly uncomfortably with the direct confrontation. “Do consider that tomorrow is a day of...importance. It would be very difficult for you if tonight’s alcohol adds to your burdens.”

Hungover.

Fancy phrases cast aside, Jumin is saying that it’ll be bad if you’re hungover for your wedding tomorrow.

You hold back a slight frown as the chef (or waiter? Jumin is partially correct, your brain is a bit fuzzier than it should be right now) sets down a plate of Danish chocolate truffles: the dessert course. You wait until the man leaves the room to respond to Jumin, staring at the three delicate balls of cocoa and sugar.

“Let’s not speak about tomorrow.” You take another sip of wine to push the thoughts away from your mind, savoring the fogginess that accompanies the wash of the Pétrus down your throat. With cares of the morrow freshly forgotten, you turn your face back to Jumin. “Shall we eat these truffles? They do look quite delicious.”

But Jumin doesn’t seem to register your question. If anything, his expression grows darker when he notes your utter avoidance of his earlier comment.

A moment of silence passes between you two.

And then Jumin breaks it.

He stands up with a sigh, walking over to you to pull out your chair. You almost lose your balance in your heels when he helps you up, his hold gentle but quicker than you’re used to. Or perhaps it’s just as quick as you’re used to, but your dulled senses are processing it incorrectly. “Come on, my love.” Jumin’s voice is soft, tender as he wraps an arm around your waist. He doesn’t sound angry, or even irritated. But there’s a mute helplessness lurking behind his words—one that you’re too mentally unfocused to understand why. “We should get you to bed.”

You freeze at the words, your body suddenly fighting back against Jumin. You still against his touch, rooting yourself to the ground.

“No.”

The word is quiet, but it’s there nonetheless. Jumin halts at your denial, glancing down at you with confusion painted over his fine features. “(Y/N)?”

You press your hands flat against his chest, forcing him to stop (and subsequently stabilizing you on the ground). “Do not force me to go to sleep now, Jumin.” You hear the waver in your voice, and you have to swallow before you continue. “Do not end this night earlier than it has to.”

Against your arms, Jumin sighs. If he didn’t understand it before, he understands the reason for your increased alcohol consumption now. “My love,” He murmurs, wrapping you in a gentle embrace. “We can’t...we can’t delay time itself. This...has to end.” Jumin pauses, leaning back ever-so-slightly. “You know that, right?”

You suppress an urge to curse at his words, a wave of frustration flooding you. Of course you know that. How much of a fool does the man take you for? You can hold your alcohol better than he thinks; you’re only slightly buzzed from the beverages.

Is it so wrong to give in to temptation, though? Is it so wrong to allow yourself to forget the truth? To forget, for one fucking moment of your godforsaken life, that this snapshot of happiness isn’t going to last?

“You need to sleep, (Y/N).” Jumin sighs, lifting you. Miraculously, he slides you out of your slip-on heels, placing you flat on the ground. “It’s time...to accept our reality.”

“Is this how you wanted dinner to end?” You ask. The question is real. Had you ruined the evening with your drinking, or was the dinner the goodbye in itself? You feel tears hot in your eyes, spurred on by your slight inebriation, and you suddenly wish you hadn’t touched your glass of red.

Jumin’s smile is sad as he gazes down at you, brushing a strand of loose hair out of your face and looping it behind your ear. His hand traces from your ear, to your jaw, to your ear again and then the back of your head where he had earlier slipped a rose into your braid. He strokes the flower’s petals, and as you gaze into his eyes, you understand his earlier sigh of helplessness. “This was the only way for dinner to end, my love.” A pause. And it’s here that Jumin should stop; it’s here that he should wrap you in a hug and lift you into his arms as usual, but for some reason, the man continues. “For us, there are no happy endings.”

The painful words of the truth hit you like a truck, knocking the air out of you, and you feel a shudder travel through your body. In an instant, the tears in your eyes are falling to your cheeks, and your knees would hit the ground if not for Jumin’s quick reflexes.

“Shh,” He whispers into your ear as you allow yourself to cry in the safety of his arms. For days, you’ve suppressed the tears. Suppressed the tears and suppressed the truth. But there’s no denying it anymore, is there? The wedding is tomorrow, and you’re going to forever lose this sweet mercy of happiness that you’ve found in Jumin’s arms. “Don’t cry,” He whispers. “Everything will be okay, don’t cry.”

“B-be quiet,” You mumble into his shirt, though you both know you don’t mean it. “Of all people, you don’t deserve to...to…”

To what?

To comfort you? To hold you? To cradle you in his arms, and soothe you?

Jumin lifts your body up, a motion he’s done nearly a hundred times by now in your brief stay with him, and carries you to his bed. He kisses your tears away, lips fluttering across your cheeks every time your miseries persist, until they’re dry.

He briefly leaves your side, murmuring something about getting you something to change into, but you barely register his words. The storm of emotion wreaking havoc on your heart is too much for you to think about anything else.

If you were to withdraw from the blankets and place an ear to the door, you might hear the snippets of a conversation Jumin has over the phone: hushed utterings directed to Luciel, something about coordinates and calling in a favor just this once to make saying goodbye a little easier. But the words end up staying between Jumin and the redhead hacker on the line, you and your despair entirely unknowing of the entire discussion.

But it doesn’t matter.

It can’t matter.

Because right now, to you, nothing matters.

Three days ago, you’d had at least that: three days left with Jumin Han. He was to be your mortal savior, a brief gift from God to show you bliss. But now, your time is up. And you’ll have to leave his side.

You barely respond to the man as he helps you out of your clothes, slipping you into silk pajamas that feel cool and refreshing against your skin. He wraps you in an embrace from behind in an attempt to soothe your trembling as he pulls your body back down onto the bed, silently encouraging you to sleep, and give yourself the mercy of slumber to escape this life, however temporary.

But even as Jumin rubs soothing circles into your sides, all the lights out and the noises of the city far away, your mind is impossibly alert.

You think about the chocolate truffles still on the table. Three exquisite balls, shaped to perfection in their cocoa goodness, untouched and disregarded. You feel an overwhelming urge to return to the table, to drag Jumin out of bed, and finish those truffles with him.

It will be brief, but it will be happiness. Another memory for you to recall on painful nights, as you reminisce over a love that should have been but never could have been.

You almost turn around in Jumin’s embrace, with a heart set of whispering your request into his ear, before you realize—what’s the point?

There’s so much you want to do. Having chocolate truffles with Jumin is only the beginning.

You want to wake up with Jumin and appreciate his morning bedhead. You want to make him breakfast, and learn how he likes his eggs best. You want to find out how he drinks his coffee, and surprise him at work with a cup. You want to spend peaceful afternoons with him, and listen to him analyze all your favorite books. You want to take bubble baths with him, go to jazz clubs with him, play board games with him, have inside jokes with him, you want to love him goddamnit.

A tightness begins to clutch at your throat, and you wish it would grow tighter. Anything, to get you out of the hell that your life will be without Jumin by your side.

You can hear the grandfather clock chime twelve times: twelve loud syllables that are a ringing declaration that the cursed day has come.

Twelve reminders that the life you’ve lived has ended, your heart—the one thing keeping you afloat all this time—ripped out of your chest to be lost forever with the sweet memories of what these past nine days with Jumin have been.

You bury yourself in the covers, in memories of how you fell in love with this ebony-haired businessman.

Instinctively, a smile crosses your face. So many memories. It’s barely been over a week, but it’s enough to last you a lifetime. Enough for you to daydream all night, only popping out of your enraptured state once every hour when the grandfather clock breaks your focus to tell you that it’s one, two, three, four, five o’clock.

Before the clock can ring six times, though, the sunrise beats it.

You frown when you see the room beginning to lighten, the darkness lifted with the ghost of sunlight. You immediately stiffen, thoughts of Jumin and the time he had mistaken a spatula for ladle suddenly removed from your mind.

You swallow, and the way Jumin’s arms tense around you tells you that he, too, has been unable to sleep this past night.

You’re quiet.

You don’t want to disturb the moment.

If you freeze and pretend not to move, will time humor you and stop its march forward?

You hold your breath as light continues to fill the room, stealing away the last of your inner peace.

There’s no mistaking it: the new day has arrived, the morning sunrise you once adored being the bearer of bad news. A pity, you can’t help but think. There was a time when you liked the rising sun, with it’s promise of a new day, of new possibilities, new life.

All it can bring you now is the daily reminder of the miserable life you’ve been cursed to live.

A life without love, happiness, or hope.

A life without Jumin.

MASTERLIST

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 |  ✔

Word count: 3.1k

Notes: Ahhhh I can't believe this is the second last chapter! It's been such a wild ride, and chapter 10 (day 10, i guess) is something I'm super excited for :) (lmao im already planning my next jumin x reader fic the things i do for this man smh) 

Comment & Like

Next Update: 5/16/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

[shrimppebbles]

Through the Generations

there’s probably another challenge named this, but I am not good at names, so I’m keeping it

*this challenge is currently unfinished as I am play testing it and fell into a rut, but feel free to start from this point*

this challenge is a free forming challenge meant for me to hopefully enjoy the sims more and have structured legacy that I like without anything that seems to hard. this legacy can be bended however you want and the gens played in whatever order you want (each gen however has a backstory and will not work if you switch them around, so create your own backstory if you switch generations around) there are a lot of pack requirements I didn’t intend to make, but you can skip those or modify them to your will.

Also, feel free to play with siblings and such to make fun family trees, just make sure to have “auto-age current household only” on!

we’ll get into all the rules below the cut to make it neat, but incase I ever delete my tumblr or it gets deactivated, HERE is a google doc of the rules too 

@sims4challenges​ @ts4-challengenet​

Some Basics before we get into the Generations

Heirs are whoever you choose unless specified 

You can give the next generation however much of the family funds of the current generation as you choose

Piggy-backing off of that, unless specified you can use however many funds you want to build/buy new lots

You can create sims to be your spouse and add them into the world unless specified

Any lifespan length is fine, although regular is recommended

Start each gen at young adult unless specified 

You can have pets in any generation unless otherwise specified

You can have same-sex or hetero couples per each generation (your choice). In same-sex couples, you may adopt or use a mod that will allow try for baby and pregnancy between them

and lastly...have fun and please tag me if you play or use the tag #ThrGen, I’d love to see it!

Generation one: A Big Happy Family 

family oriented, [your choice], [your choice]

any family aspiration

You grew into young adulthood with absolutely no-one, no siblings or parents, it’s not something you would wish onto your worst enemies, let alone your own family. You vow to make a large, happy family for your own children and never want to lead a boring life for your kids

Marry one of the first sims your spouse meets

Have 10 children (you can use mods if you wish, but just replacing them as they move out is fine)

You can live in whichever world you want, just pick the biggest lot of that respective world

Paint, write, or any other work from home job (your spouse may hold a part-time job or do the same)

Max the parenting, cooking, and charisma skills

Grow a nice little veggie garden

Have good relationship with all children

Most of your children should have the happy toddler trait and at least one positive character trait

Generation two: Work, Work, Work

 [your choice], [your choice], [your choice]

fabulously wealthy aspiration

You didn’t hate growing up in a full, loud house, but you saw how much your parents sacrificed of their own freedom and ambitions for you and you never want your family to come in between your dreams and you like that. So you move to the city to build up a career for yourself completely kid free.

Move to San Myshuno, working from a small apartment up to a penthouse

Reach level ten in either the Business or Politician careers (you can pick which branch)

Take any career opportunities the game offers you

Only after you reach the top of your career can you look for a serious relationship (you can have one night hook ups here and there if you wish, just nothing serious)

The only way you can intentionally boost fun is by listening to the radio or watching the television

Have a child with your spouse once you complete your aspiration (this should be into adulthood, the older you are the better)

Only have one child building a strong relationship with them and spoiling them rotten

If you or your spouse dies of old age, the respective partner should also die in some manner shortly after (to set up for the next gen)

Generation three: All on my Own?

snobby, [your choice] , [your choice]

start with whatever aspiration you think fits, but change it to and complete the Friend of The Animals aspiration

With the sudden passing of both your parents, you have no idea what do with yourself and how to live on your own. In a rash decision, you sell the penthouse and all it’s belongings. You blow through all this money quite quickly on drinks and gambling until you have barely enough money to move out to a small house on the coast (you will probably need to cheat this, just cheat it down to 20,000). There you try to find yourself and make a life for your new normal. After job after job, you notice the amount of strays in the area, which inspires you to open a small family clinic

Do as the description above says, only starting once both of your parents are dead

Move to Brindleton Bay

“Try” (you can just work at them for a couple days) three different jobs before deciding to open a small vet clinic

adopt at least five animals over the course of your life

You can meet your spouse wherever (perhaps the clinic) and have 2 children with them

Take your children on trips to different parks, museums, etc., every week

Max the pet training and veterinary skills

Generation four: The Nuclear Family

athletic, paranoid, [your choice]

strangerville mystery aspiration and successful lineage aspiration 

Your parents always encouraged you to pursue what you wanted, but also encouraged economic conscious and independence. Not sure what you want to do, you enlist in the army and move to StrangerVille, trying to figure out what you want, but as your there, you get enveloped into what’s going on

As a teen, have a part time job

move into the trailer park in StrangerVille

Enlist in the Military

Complete the StrangerVille Mystery aspiration

After finally taking down The Mother, you are finally able to decipher what you wanted, a Writer. You leave your position in the military and pick up a job at the local paper (the writer career), where you tell your stories of your adventures and other strange happenings in Strangerville. At the paper, you meet your spouse and settle down to have a few children with them. But still feeling unsatisfied, you find solace in a stranger at a bar and do things very questionable as a married sim.

Move to the Suburbs of StrangerVille

Become a writer and choose the Journalism path

Meet your spouse at work

Have 3 children (preferably at least one boy and one girl)

Cheat on your spouse with someone you meet at the bar (this can be a one time thing or a continuous theme)

Complete the Successful Lineage Aspiration

Max the Writing Skill

Generation five:  Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

green fiend, perfectionist, [your choice]

Eco Innovator Aspiration 

Sensing something was always off in your parents marriage, you wanted everything else in life to be perfectly in your control to balance it out. One of the biggest problems that seemed to be out of your control however, was the environment and the negative impacts of it, until you learned about a little town on the coast, Evergreen Harbor. There people of your similar mind lived and coexisted, working on creating a community of a better environment. So, soon after your eighteenth birthday, you pack your bags and move. 

Move to Evergreen Harbor

Always live in a tiny home, the smaller, the better

Grow a garden of at least ten different plants

Go into the Civil Designer Career, specifically the Green Technician Branch (you can also choose the conservationist career, just cheat the aspiration go

Concerned about their environmental impacts, have only one child, you can either by adopt or a have a one night stand resulting in a child ( you can be in contact and be in a relationship with the child’s parent, but they should not live with you) 

Have at least fifteen renewable energy sources

Make your neighborhood (and maybe others!) the cleanest it can be

Generation six:  Paintings of Cityscapes

creative, loves the outdoors, [your choice]

 pick painter extraordinaire aspiration, but also complete “friend of the world” along the way

Growing up with a single parent, your life was a little interesting, but never dim or unloved. Growing up in Evergreen Harbor gave you access to many interesting and cool people who shaped your view of the world and it’s beauty (Rory and Lorelai Gilmore type vibe ig?). Interested in broadening your world view, you move yourself all the way to the big city to pursue a career in arts. There you meet all sorts of people 

Move to San Myshuno, try moving into the smallest apartment possible, make it into a studio/loft and live there for as long as possible

Meet all your friends at art galleries and karaoke bars

go to as many festivals as possible, trying to paint and photograph them as much as possible

Max the Charisma and Painting skills

Never to boggled to settle down, have at least two children to at least two different people, preferably “casual” friends

Never live in an apartment bigger than what you need in the name of being unique (basically no mega big apartments and penthouses)

Marry as a elder to your highest romantic partner

Take your kids on trips to art galleries and such every week

You should have an extra stock pile of money, don’t spend it on stuff you don’t need

Generation seven:  A Higher Degree

genius, [your choice], [your choice]

Academic aspiration and then whichever aspiration you think fits

Living with your eccentric parent in a tiny apartment with your siblings, at times, felt quite odd and claustrophobic, but your parent always introduced you to new people and new places that widened the lens of what you could do in your life. With the help of your parent, who put away any extra dollar they could so that you and your siblings could to go to college and pursue your passion, you apply for university and move into the dorms. 

Go to University and get a degree in Psychology, History, or Literature and Language

Join at least one student organization

Meet your spouse while in university (they can be attending or you just meet them somewhere on campus)

Have a big graduation party with all your friends and classmates

Marry your partner soon after graduation

Pursue a career related to your major

Max your Logic and Research & Debate skills

I will add  more to this as I get here 

[aion-rsa]

The Dark Knight: Why Heath Ledger’s Joker is Still Scary Today

https://ift.tt/2MFoX6l

It’s one of the great villain introductions in cinema history. Standing with a slight hunch at the center of a massive 70mm image, Heath Ledger’s interpretation of the Joker not so much dominates the frame as he commandeers it. He seduces the IMAX camera, which is still capturing vast amounts of Chicago’s cityscape around him, and draws it closer to his sphere of influence, and by extension us. Before this moment in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, the director’s Gotham City functioned with clocklike precision. Even its greatest villains were slaves to the need of rationalizing everything in cold, utilitarian logic.

Not the Joker.

Within our first breath next to Ledger’s clown, one senses a malevolent spirit has been summoned, and he’s chosen to manifest out of thin air at this exact moment, on this exact street corner. He’s come to claim Gotham’s collective soul, but he’ll settle for any individual with delusions of virtue who crosses his path—including you.

This is of course just a fleeting moment in The Dark Knight; a brisk tease before Ledger’s shown his makeup-encrusted face or uttered even a word. In fact, Nolan and the actor dole out the character with impressive restraint: first as a masked Mephistopheles who is primarily a sing-song-y voice until he unmasks at the end of a bravura bank robbery. Later he becomes an actual narrative presence when he shows up again more than 20 minutes into the film, demonstrating for Gotham’s criminal underworld how to perform a magic trick.

As an isolated performance, there’s an argument to be made that none has ever been finer in the realm of superhero movies. Sure, there’ve been showy turns before and since in comic book blockbusters; there have even been great interpretations of the Joker before and after Ledger. Yet what the actor was able to do in 2008 transfixed audiences because he, like the character, had the freedom to bend the film to his will—even as Nolan prevented the movie from simply becoming merely a showcase for the performance.

With the grungy strung out hair of an addict who hasn’t showered in three months, greasy self-applied pancake makeup, and a grisly Glasgow smile that’s as unnerving as it is uneven (suggesting perhaps half of it was self-inflicted to make a matching set of scars), Ledger’s anarchist supervillain was a long way from Jack Nicholson’s hammy version of the same character in 1989. For audiences, and even comic book fans baying for something darker than Nicholson, it was abrasive in its time—and electrifying, like a punk rocker leaping into the mosh pit. Indeed, Ledger reportedly based the character’s appearance in part on the Sex Pistols’ Johnny Rotten, and there is more than a hint of Tom Waits’ gravel in Ledger’s cadence whenever the clown growls.

But more than aesthetic culture shock, the enduring horror (and not-so-secret appeal) of Ledger’s Joker lies in the effect he has on the film, both in terms of its narrative storytelling and its enduring pop culture standing. Speaking strictly about this Joker as a character, the villain is off screen for far more of The Dark Knight’s running time than he’s on it. Appearing in only 33 minutes of The Dark Knight’s epic 152-minute running time, the average length of a Hollywood spectacle passes without the Joker on screen. Yet he’s omnipresent in the film, a shadow that hangs over each of Nolan’s three relatively equal protagonists: vigilante Batman (Christian Bale), police lieutenant James Gordon (Gary Oldman), and district attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart).

Nolan and his brother and co-screenwriter, Jonathan Nolan, have admitted the setup is somewhat inspired by another quintessential blockbuster, Steven Spielberg’s Jaws. In both films, three disparate, combative male authority figures band together for a mythic battle against a presence so malignant and evil, it transcends being simply a shark or a madman in makeup—or even a comic book supervillain. Like that beast, Joker has no arc, no psychological growth, he’s a force of primal evil unbounded. And as the heroes’ battle against him creeps on, it seems like the sanity of their entire community is being dragged into the abyss.

This framing allows Ledger’s Joker to functionally be a catch-all stand-in for many of the social anxieties that kept American audiences up at night during the Bush years. Some of them still do today. There are of course obvious implications to the Joker being the terrorist, the non-state actor who cannot be negotiated with, and who doesn’t play by preconceived rules or notions of fairness. There is also shading of the lone wolf, the usually male gunman who inexplicably pulls the trigger. Most of all though, the Joker represents the hole in which much of humanity’s irrational predilections toward violence is collectively stored and ignored by our cultural memory… until it can’t be.

As Michael Caine’s Alfred Pennyworth famously reasons, “Some men aren’t looking for anything logical like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.” That summation of staring into irrational, needless cruelty is what gives The Dark Knight bite. And what a sharp bite it is in moments like when Ledger’s Joker laughs manically at the Batman, our ostensible hero who’s resorted to pummeling (or torturing) the villain in an interrogation room. The clown gloats, “You have nothing to threaten me with, nothing to do with all your strength.”

This is why the Joker is such an effective villain for The Dark Knight’s parable about how best to use moral power in immoral (i.e. irrational) times—and perhaps why the thrill of Ledger’s performance was so strong on first glance that it powered him all the way to a posthumous Oscar in the Best Supporting Actor category seven months after the film’s release.

Still, Ledger’s Joker, more than any other movie villain in recent memory, continues to haunt well after that Oscar night. The mental image of the character slipping his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, like a cobra, and licking his scars—a tic Ledger invented to keep his prosthetics in place while upping the creep factor—has stayed with us like a subconscious boogeyman. Thirteen years on from The Dark Knight’s release, Ledger’s depiction of the Clown Prince of Crime has gone down in the annals of cinema alongside Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs or, well, that shark in Jaws again. He’s an enigmatic and mysterious persona who is barely seen in his film, yet unmistakably casts a pall of evil over the whole proceeding.

We don’t know why Ledger’s Joker actually became the way he is, or what made him so obsessed with the Batman—to the point where he was inspired to put on “war paint” and declare his love for the Caped Crusader by saying, “You complete me!” The Joker gives multiple versions of his origin story in The Dark Knight, telling one mobster played by Michael Jai White that he’s a victim of an abusive father while later recounting to Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal) that he scarred his own face to cheer up his similarly disfigured wife. Both tales are of course lies, transparent manipulations intended to prey upon perceived vulnerabilities in his victims. This touch was inspired by Alan Moore and Brian Bolland’s The Killing Joke where the comic book Joker provides the reader with a sob story flashback, and then confesses he probably made it up.

“If I’m going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice,” he says on the page.

Read more

Movies

Joker: 6 Actors Who Have Played the Clown Prince of Crime

By David Crow

Movies

The Dark Knight, The Joker, and Game Theory

By Ryan Lambie

The Nolan brothers understand the horror of this, and they keep the Joker a manipulative and inscrutable evil. Beyond obvious sociopathic tendencies, we know nothing about his inner-psychology and barely can ferret out his real motives beyond an odd devotion to maintaining Batman’s attention. He claims to be an agent of chaos who wants to “just do things,” yet his meticulously planned attacks belie this claim. In the end, he sees himself in a battle for “Gotham’s soul.” Like Amity Island’s Great White Leviathan, or the original incomprehensible nature of Thomas Harris’ cannibal serial killer in the earliest books, we never know the truth about why he is, and how he’s able to do what he does.

That mystery makes him live on in our own heads for years after the story ends and the credits roll.

It’s interesting to consider that effect now, after years of pop culture storytelling going in the completely opposite direction, particularly in comic book movies and other fanboy-driven media. Rather than find satisfaction in the inexplicability of evil, or standalone visions, we like to rationalize it and sympathize with it, even while glorifying it. Most of all, however, we insatiably seem to simply want more.

The need for endless content being generated by intellectual property has led to prequels, sequels, and even spinoffs that explore and too often redeem villains. Even the Joker himself is not wholly immune to this.

Since 2008, there have been two big screen versions of the Joker. Jared Leto and Joaquin Phoenix both had the unenviable task of stepping into Ledger’s shadow, with at least one of them being dwarfed by it. Leto’s attempts at “method acting” stunts on the set of Suicide Squad shows what can go wrong when scenery-chewing is mistaken with Strasberg.

Phoenix obviously fared better in his own Joker movie two years ago, making the actor the second performer to win an Oscar for playing the comic book villain. However, his film’s interpretation is diametrically opposed to Ledger’s enigma. Instead Phoenix’s film attempts to rationalize everything about the character, depicting the Joker as a mentally ill sad sack whose motivations are borrowed from other iconic movie screen villains and anti-heroes like the mother-obsessed Norman Bates (Psycho) and ticking time bomb Travis Bickle (Taxi Driver).

It still makes for a fascinating (if unoriginal) portrait, but one divorced from the terror of the unknown. We understand who Phoenix’s Joker is and why he is. Society, man. Phoenix’s Joker even outright states it before murdering not-Johnny Carson (Robert De Niro). “What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? I’ll tell you what you get, you get what you fucking deserve!”

Technically, Phoenix’s Joker appears closer to our reality and our daily horrors. With clown makeup inspired by real-life serial killer John Wayne Gacy and preening self-pity parties resembling the manifestos of so many mass murderers, Phoenix’s Arthur Fleck is modeled as much off nightly news nightmares as comic book panels. Writer-director Todd Phillips is inelegantly blatant about it.

Nevertheless, whatever ugly truth there may be in that approach, it’s not as haunting, or exhilarating, to witness as what Ledger did in his own rock star interpretation of evil. Save for a blink-and-you-miss-it insert shot, we never see Ledger with the makeup off. And while he might indulge in mocking “society,” he is a character who says more by basking in the chaos of a city in terror, literally sticking his head out of a stolen police car like a dog with the wind in his hair and our horror on his face. It’s a more enduring image than a didactic conversation about insecurities with a father figure. Thirteen years later, Ledger’s version of the character continues to confound, horrify, and ultimately thrill. He still has the last laugh.

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from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3e1mUol

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Case of Bureaucracy Pt 3 (Siduri, Hakuno, CasGil)

Thus Far: 1, 2

___

“You will need this,” Siduri told her, handing over a pen. “When we arrive at the house, I will need you to be patient and listen fully to what my boss would like to say. You agree to his terms. He agrees to yours. The two of you won’t really need to take long so we’ll hopefully be able to move you in and have you accustomed to the atmosphere and the temporary lifestyle before early dinner.”

“Early dinner?”

“Well,” Siduri brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You will need to spend a bit of time with my boss. I am sorry for that, considering what I’ve read up about your background.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman pulled a tablet out, pressing a button at the top and beginning to read. “Hakuno Kishinami. You’re a chemist that has been working amongst various beauty industries. You were noted as close to the Roma brand, a main name behind some of the best products that have been placed on the market. Of course, you went under pseudonyms and avoided any limelight for doing so.”

“And you know why.”

“I do.” The woman beamed. “I’ve read up on your products and patents this morning. They’re absolutely brilliant. I’m actually really interested in learning more about this moisturizer that you’ve come up with. I’ve been having some dryness around my elbows and neck and nothing has been working.”

“I’m happy to give you a sample of them.”

“That would be great! I look forward to trying it, Lady King.”

“Kishinami.”

“You’re married, Ms. King. I would suggest accepting the last name for the time being. You and Gilgamesh King will need to work out the details of how you want the separation to work. He has a reputation to keep and your divorce will be huge news if it is a quick separation.”

“I’ll say he’s bad in bed.”

The woman stared at her a moment before lifting her tablet and busying herself with something on the device. It seemed that, for now, that wasn’t going to be an option.

The landscape outside was losing the cityscape. Trees grew forth, greenery forming where greys and silvers had been before. Gone were the throngs of people and the various streetlights. In their place, there were open fields and bright blue skies.

The vehicle they were in moved up the road, passing through a large and grandeur gateway. The scenery changed from there.

Large garden blooms showed now. Bushes lined the road on both sides, leading up towards where they were going. She could see fountains pouring forth waters, great statuary popping up here and there. A woman riding what looked like a steer, a man standing before a podium, a long haired figure posing with a pair of what looked to be a wrestling uniform, a man with a series of strange birds; she wasn’t sure what the statues were, but she took a good look as they passed, watching as they continued on.

There looked to be a labyrinth on the estate, but she made a note not to dabble too long here. In, divorce, and out. That was the plan.

“Ah, perfect. We’ve arrived.”

Siduri moved first, opening the door and holding out a hand for her.

“Come along, Mrs. King. Your husband should be finishing up with the expansion to the gardens and his photo shoot with a magazine.”

“A photo-“

Siduri yanked him, hard. As the sound of someone shouting could be heard, Siduri yanked her into the building, yelling forth for a maid.

Two came. Immediately.

“Mrs. King neglected to think about preparing for company. Please hurry with getting her to a room to dress up for receiving.”

“What are- WAIT!”

There was no stopping them.

One second she was in her Sunday best, the next second- upstairs.

“Just sit down at the powder table, Madam King. We’ll fix your hair.”

“I don’t need-“

“Do you want a current season or something from the prototype lines?”

“Ah- Prototype?”

What the hell were they talking about?

The women were already giddy though, bouncing over to the wardrobe and pulling the doors open. Their hands reached in like children on a holiday morning, grabbing from within the confines and pulling out a light looking outfit.

The sheer white blouse was already being unbuttoned and removed from the hanger. The purple and pink plaid skirt was being unhooked, carefully unzipped as one of the other women looked through the collection of bottles on the table nearby.

“Ms. King, if you don’t mind… We’ll need to have you take off the clothes you have on.”

“Oh… Right.”

It was just to talk to the guy that lived here and get the divorce done. It could be done quietly.

They took the time to help her, despite many complaints that she gave about being able to do this alone. At least three were changing her hair. At least two were helping to paint her toenails as they bickered about shoes.

“Alright!”

The moment they released her hair, Hakuno called it quits for this.

“I should- I should see my husband!”

The women looked to him in awe, pulling back and beaming.

“If you need anything, we love this!” One of the women told her.

“We love your husband’s videos. They’re so great. He teaches about everything important. He’s an absolute genius!” Another told her, all but admiring the room they were in.

“So you don’t um… you don’t normally take care of-“

The women were shaking their heads.

“…Thank you for your help.”

She had them lead her out of the room, back down the stairs as she did her best to walk in the heels she’d been given. They were a bit taller than she was accustomed to. The satin ribbon felt a little loose too.

“Siduri, our reporters are hoping to schedule a second photo shoot. We’ll have them set up in the rose garden this time and go with a most subtle set of colors to compliment the…”

His eyes were drawn to her.

His mouth was hanging open for some reason.

“Ah, Ms. King!” Siduri smiled, finishing what she was writing and hurrying forward. “Your husband just finished what he was doing. Would you both like to enjoy some time to yourselves?”

“I would appreciate it,” Hakuno found herself saying, knowing there were too many eyes on her right now to bicker about the name and the title for the man before her.

His eyes were looking her over, the man finally quiet for a moment.

It was probably the first time he’d ever shut up before.

“Right this way. We just had food prepared and you both can enjoy a quiet corner while we clean up from the shoot.”

The other was still quiet.

She could hear a small shutter sound the moment that was said. Her eyes strayed to the men nearby, catching a glance at the doodle that was on one man’s papers. Their partner was slipping a hand into their pocket, looking at her with interest now.

They were snooping.

Oh…

Oh, but this would be kind of fun.

Even if it was just for a moment, right now they were married. If he had access to her patents, then she probably had access to something of his too. That would explain the wardrobe of hers in the house, the effort being placed to get her comfortable. Even if it wasn’t, she still was married. She could kick her feet and cause so much trouble.

“Gil!” Hakuno moved around Siduri, bouncing forward and looking up at him with a smile. “Why don’t we spend the afternoon together? We really didn’t get to spend too much time together on our wedding night. You found that poor man spasming and helped see the poor man all the way to the hospital.”

The room quietened, a couple men in the corner writing quickly.

Gilgamesh cleared his throat, “Hakuno-“

“It’s fine. I was so proud. You really helped with making sure the man could survive to make it to his daughter’s first child being born. Who would have guessed the news of the birth would have sent him into such an extreme shock?”

“Hakuno!”

She straightened his shirt a bit, brushing off a bit of lint.

“I’m proud of you. More than anything else.”

Gilgamesh just stared straight at her, lost for words.

A few of the maids were giggling as they hurried to get to their duties. She could see the two men moving over to the two of them, their faces fighting smiles and their eyes gleaming in the light of the room. She could see them practically dancing on their feet, their hands holding their pens with white knuckled grip.

“Mr. King. You never mentioned your wedding night. Do you have a few words to say for the newfound grandfather whose life you saved?”

“My wife can no doubt tell you more than me,” Gilgamesh told them simply. “Who do you think spoke over the phone to the new mother the whole time, assuring her and coaching her through her labor?”

“Amazing! Absolutely amazing.”

“Gentlemen!” Siduri motioned them towards the door. “Mr. and Ms. King are both needing time to enjoy their married life-“

“Oh! Of course! Of course!” The two men nodded, their heads shaking wildly as one wrote quickly onto the paper in his hands. “We have a deadline to meet anyway! We’ll be on our way!”

They ran for it, booking it out the door with yips of joy escaping them out on the front stairs.

Gilgamesh closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead.

“Woman, what was that about?”

“They were trying to take photos of inside the house,” Hakuno told him. “I thought they were looking for an interesting bit to write about. That was why they were yelling for me outside, weren’t they?”

“I don’t have private conversations in my foyer, woman.”

“Oh, I didn’t take you as someone to do anything quietly. You’re constantly surprising me, husband.”

“Hurry up, Ms. Kishinami-“

“King. My last name is changing soon. Apparently someone made all my patents be registered under my married name.”

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Imagine being Winston's daughter and Wick's lover

As requested by @rachelcarroll1819

I don't do face claims btw sorry!

And sorry it took so long!

Hope you enjoy!

"John." The older man greeted said individual with a soft, familiar smile. His eyes never once leaving the sight of the garden that presided on the rooftop of the Continental. Quietly enjoying the soft rose scents that the gentle breeze brought along to his nose. "Winston." Replied back said male as he took a seat across from him. A silence bloomed between the two, mostly due to Winston being too occupied admiring the cityscape before him. Watching him watch the city, John shifted in his seat, quite uncomfortable with the whole thing. Still not fully aware of just why he was there in the first place.

You see, John had been, in the most blatant of terms, chilling in his hotel suite. He was taking a small, needed break from all the killing and blood and shit. Originally he would've never done so, in fact, he would've just come back to the hotel for some medical attention and upon receiving such, he would've walked back out. Because that's just who he was; a man with the determination and stubbornness----a man on a mission basically. But no. A certain little someone just had to intervene in his plans. The assassin chuckled quietly as he shook his head at the memory of you barging into his room, almost breaking the door in the process whilst almost getting shot at by him upon the intrusion. The gun that was pointed at your head did little to deter you from sending him your most harshest glare, one that even he had to silently admit kind of.......intimidated him in a way. And so, upon staying in the hotel for a few hours more, his hotel room phone soon ringed. He was being summoned to the rooftop garden on the orders of Winston. Never once informing the summoned male as to why exactly be was being called up there.

Unbeknownst to the younger male, Winston had been eyeing the change of expressions that John subconsciously committed. His eyes wide being at the sight of the small smile that adorned the other males battered lips, a sight he hasn't seen since before the death of his wife. He recalled all those talks the two had, talks about John first meeting her, their first date---believe it or not, but the Boogeyman did once convey his feelings and the happenings in his life to Winston. After all, he was once considered a close friend. It was only after her death that John had closed up. So yo see something like that today...... well, it was quite shocking to say the very least. However, he couldn't help the small scowl to make itself known on his wrinkled face.

Sensing as though he was being watched, John glanced up only to see that he was, in fact, correct. The raven-haired male staring intensely at him, a scowl painting his features. Furrowing his brows, the soon-to-be-retired assassin hesistantly began, "Uh....Why did you call me here?" He inquired.

Winston smirked," Don't tell me that you have not the slightest idea." John gulped nervously. Yep! You heard right! Err, read right. The mighty John Wick was, in fact, nervous as hell right now. He knew the reason as to why he was called up, of course Winston was bound to find out about their relations. But he didn't think it would've been this soon.

"You know." John breathed out. However, his words seemed to have offended the man, for an irritated look expressed itself. "'You know', of course I know John! I know every thing that happens!" John winced at the volume of the older male's voice.

On any other matter Winston would've been as cool as a cucumber, but when it came to his beautiful, sweet, innocent, little angel of a daughter--- well, let's just say he becomes quite of a hot head. Slamming his cane to the ground, Winston leaned back into his chair. Glaring at the man before him," Now John," said man breathed in," why? Why my daughter? Huh? Out of all the fucking women in the world, you just had to pick my cherub." The known mercenary didn't know what to say in the slightest. He had not counted for this type of response, but, nonetheless, he had to answer.

John spoke," I don't know what you want me to say Winston. I really don't. I'm in love with her. And I can't do anything a bout it." He was desperate to leave. He was tired from a days work, tired of the world and all its stupid confusing obstacles. All he wanted to do was jump into your arms, where for some reason, everything did make sense.

You made it make sense.

Winston glared at him. His eyes threatening murder on the spot. But he knew better. Winston knew that if he proceeded with the gorish thought and made it true, you'd be absolutely furious. And heartbroken. Just the mere thought of you in tears, tugged at his heartstrings, which threatened to split and kill him if he made his sweet, little daughter cry. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

He knew John would never let anything happen to her, knew that he would even kill for her. But he just couldn't help but feel protective over you, after all, what's a father for aside from being supportive? Sighing, Winston shook his head as he massaged his wrinkled temple.

"You better treat her right. One complain from her and I'll have you killed on the spot, understood Wick?" He uncharacteristically used the man's surname.

"You know I will, Winston. And thank you. Your approval meant everything to her." Your father smirked, "Of course it does. She loves her papa." The two chuckled at his words, even the bodyguards, who have watched you grow, too chuckled at the fact.

Those around the two men remembered fondly the days when you would go out exploring throughout the entirety of the hotel. When you would meet the workers of the building, greeting each one with a smile.

Oh the joy of those days.

________________________________________

"Sooooo???? How'd it go?" You asked, leaning on the marble kitchen counter, eyes glittering with curiosity. John gave you a look, before realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "You told him!" You grinned like a Cheshire cat. Moving off the counter to do a little twirl around the kitchen as you headed over to your lover, your smile widening ever so upon seeing him denying you an embrace. A cute pout on his face. "Of course I did my love! He's my father!" He growled, throwing himself onto the leather couch in the living room, arm over his eyes. "You could've at least warned me. I've never seen Winston so hot headed before." Your eyes glimmered at his words. Climbing onto his figure, you straddled his lap, hands gripping onto the armrest behind your partner.

"Was he really that mad?" He sighed, pulling the arm off his face to look into your (e/c) orbs, admiring the emotions behind them. When the two if you first met, you weren't as open with your feelings as this. You were very much more reserved, always keeping on this cool demeanor. Always wore this intense, cold stare that could freeze a person where they stood. But he changed that. He earned your trust, and soon after that, the walls came crashing down, happily letting him in.

"Yep. He did not meant anything to happen to his little cherub." Your jaw dropped in disbelief and shock, straightening your back as your exclaimed," No fucking way did he actually call me that! I refuse to believe that! Please say sike!" John let out a chorus of laughter as he sat up on the couch, keeping a hold on your hips so that you didn't fall. He hummed," Can't lie about this babygirl."

Shivers of delight ran down your spine as he uttered the pet name, your ears enjoying the sound of his deep, hoarse voice speaking it. And that didn't go unnoticed by him. He smirked," What? You like it when I call you baby girl huh?" You blushed. His words hitting right at a certain spot. Leaning forward, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and said," Shut up, you just have a nice voice so fuck off." (How very tsundere of you) He smirked. "Oh? Is there anything you want me to say, babygirl?" You playfully punched his chest, giggling.

"Oh fuck off before I tell Papa you're bullying me. Then, he'll have an excuse to go after your head." He glared at you half heartedly.

"Fine." Wrapping his muscular arms around you, you sighed, happy to be in his embrace. It was moments like these that you loved most. Moments where it was just you and him, no guns, no revenge, no killing spree, nothing. A perk of being the daughter of a very, very powerful man and the lover of another.

Ah, the joy of it.

________________________________________

(A/N): Please feel free to comment!

Hoped you enjoyed!

[flyingkiki]

Stay

Hi, @ravenfan1242​. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. did i have fun writing this one. 

—

Seeing Raven at the Gotham City gala was a surprise. Granted, the gala was held at the national museum, so it might have held some level of interest for Raven. At first, Tim wasn’t sure it even was her, but the purple hair and eyes, and those deadly curves, were pretty much a giveaway.

Tim barely paid attention to the two businessmen talking to him. He hummed occasionally at the right places in the conversation but kept his blue eyes trained at the woman across the ballroom. As socialites, politicians, celebrities, and business leaders milled around the grand ballroom in their flashy dresses that would put any other MET Gala to shame, Raven was dressed in a flowing black sleeveless dress that dipped so dangerously low in her back. For a brief moment, Tim was entranced watching Raven’s back enticingly move as she slipped from one painting to the next.

Raven, for her part, seemed perfectly oblivious to the whole drama around her and instead kept her focus on the priceless art pieces hanging on the walls.

It had been a couple of years since Tim had seen Raven – maybe at Dick’s wedding? Most of the Titans had moved on with their lives, each taking on different paths in their superhero journeys. Garfield, Dick and Kory remained with the Titans, working to train young superheroes. Victor had been accepted by the Justice League. Raven, he heard, had moved out of the Titans and taken on a more civilian life. But he did hear Constantine and Zatana talk about her on occasion.

“So, I’m saying if we can just adjust our forecasting a little bit, we won’t have to worry about not reaching our targets,” one of the men droned on.

Tim paused from nursing his scotch when Raven turned on her heels and headed towards the bar. As she turned, he was 100% sure she glanced in his direction out of the corner of her eyes. A small smile played on her lips as he continued to watch her grab a champagne glass from the bar and make her way to another corner of the room.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” not bothering to wait for their replies, Tim left the small group and set to find Raven in the crowd.

He found her behind a woman dressed extravagantly in a gown that could only be described as a candelabra – it had glowing candles! As he maneuvered himself through the crowd, Tim looked up and caught purple eyes staring directly at him. It really was Raven.

“Careful,” he heard her soft voice over the ambient music in the ballroom. Her eyes held an amused twinkle as she watched him squeeze through a couple of more extravagantly dressed couples. “I saw one of those dresses leak water,”

Tim chuckled and briefly looked over his shoulder at the dress in question. The woman was dressed in something akin of a waterfall with water dripping down her train. “Ah. That must not be comfortable,”

Raven took a sip of her champagne and Tim felt like she was measuring him up with her deep purple stare. Tim tried to distract himself just a little bit, by stuffing his free hand into his pocket. He’s be lying if he didn’t say that Raven had always intimidated and intrigued him just a bit. Her presence when they were growing up always held a deeply mysterious note on her and it always had him staring at her on occasion, wondering what she was thinking.

“Rav-”

“Rachel,”

Tim blinked and stared at the purple haired woman. “Ah,”

Raven offered an amused smile. She extended her hand, briefly looked over to some curious women and men who watched Tim Drake talk to some random woman at the gala. “My name is Rachel Roth,”

Tim grinned. Of course. Hurriedly pulling out his hand from his pocket, his warm hand engulfed her small, soft hand. “Tim Drake,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you,” his lips quirked and he dropped his voice just a little. “Again,”

Raven offered him a soft smile. “How have you been?”

Tim shrugged dismissively. “So, so.” He said and pointed at the glass door leading to the balcony, motioning for her to follow. “It’s been pretty busy at work, Bruce has been unforgiving when it comes to dishing out work,”

Raven chuckled softly and followed him out onto the balcony. She walked up the stone railings briefly surveyed the cityscape they could  see from where they stood. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one Bruce trusts to do the work,”

Tim grinned and stood next to her, folding his arms over the railing and turning to her. “Am I hearing a compliment?”

Raven glanced at him with a mildly amused expression. “Well, Damian is still a kid, Jason is doing god knows what where, and Dick has his family priorities,” she hummed. “You are the only one,”

Tim stared at Raven as she leaned in to him ever so slightly with a teasing look. He laughed loudly, and shook his head in amusement. People were so vastly wrong about Raven, he mused. She was full of surprises. “Hey!”

Raven wrinkled her nose when Tim nudged her shoulder with his teasingly. “Just saying as it is,”

Tim took a swig of the last of his scotch, his insides warming slightly – either from the alcohol or Raven’s light teasing. He turned to her, eyeing her curiously. “How have you been? It’s been a couple of years,”

She shrugged lightly and took a tiny sip of her champagne. “I’m about to graduate next week with a literature and history degree,”

Of course Raven had gone to University. That’s what she’d do – always thirsty for new knowledge. Tim was impressed. “Literature and History? Wow. Must be interesting,” he said.

Raven looked utterly pleased as she turned to him. “It is. I’d be lying if I’d say I didn’t have a lot of fun going over some Latin scripts and early civilization records,”

Tim smiled as he watched her lips. “We have a lot of old Latin books and some other antique books at the Wayne library if you ever want to see those,” he said, tilting his head in her direction.

Raven’s eyes widened just a little bit and she raised a teasing eyebrow at him. Leaning in just a tiny bit into his space, just a little so she could catch the scent of his musky aftershave. Sandalwood. “Isn’t it a little bit too early in the evening for you to invite me over with your library, Tim?” she teased softly, her voice holding an amused lilt to it.

Tim felt his insides warm again in a very familiar way. He blinked and felt just a tiny bit flustered but he also knew she was just lightly pulling his leg. Or was she? He refused to move out of the way as Raven leaned into his space teasingly. Two could play that game.

He sent a playful, sly smile and leaned into her space just a fraction of an inch. He met her amused stare with his own. “Never too early,”

Raven’s cheeks colored slightly and her stomach warmed not because of her champagne. She watched as Tim calmly leaned on the stone railing, long hair falling into his eyes which she admittedly wanted to brush away from his face. His lips quirked into a deeper amused smile and she had to look away, lightly flustered. She smiled and looked at him through the corner of her eye as she took the last sip of her champagne. “We’ll see,”

Tim chuckled an kept his close spot next to her, feeling more at ease with her. This side of Raven he liked. “I didn’t know you went to Gotham U,”

Raven shook her head. “Finishing at NYU,”

Tim grinned. “Always the smart one,” he paused and looked at her curiously. “So what brings you to Gotham? You didn’t come here just for the gala, right? Because, I know I’d rather be anywhere but here,”

To corner of her lips raised. “Bruce leave you all alone here?”

Tim shrugged. “Bruce left for Paris this morning for a business event and had me come here. I feel like he did it on purpose,” he said. He turned and looked down at her amused expression. Was she always this tiny? He tilted his head towards her again and offered a small smile. “Besides, I got pretty good company now, so coming here wasn’t so bad after all,”

“Really?” he could hear the amused tone in her voice. Her smile grew just a little bit.

“Really.”

“Well, I guess we’re lucky the ticket I bought yesterday from this guy outside the museum was legit. He looked very shifty,” Raven propped her chin on her hand as she looked thoughtfully at Tim.

Tim eyes widened with amusement. “You got your ticket yesterday? From some random guy off the street?”

Raven shrugged nonchalantly. “Seemed like a good idea at the time,”

Tim raised an eyebrow and watched Raven in the soft evening moonlight. Light spilled over her shoulders, giving her a soft glow as she looked at the cityscape in front of them. He was reminded again how beautiful Raven was. Tim swallowed at the thought. “Raven?” he gently prodded as a brief silence fell on them.

“My mother was from Gotham,”

Blue eyes widened and he leaned a little closer to Raven unconsciously. He didn’t know that. “Really?” his voice dropped a little lower. He eyed Raven curiously. “So you…”

Raven tilted her head in his direction and shot him brief glance. “I just honestly wanted to see what Gotham is like,”

“But you’ve been here before.”

Raven offered him a small smile. “Maybe I just wanted to see Gotham through regular eyes?” She said. “I’ve been going to some places my mother liked when she was growing up here. I wanted to see Gotham through her eyes,”

“That’s beautiful,” Tim stared at her, taking in her bittersweet smile. A slight breeze swept over them and he watched her short purple hair tickle her chin. He felt like he found more than her story beautiful.

Raven’s cheeks colored slightly and she looked at Tim. “The museum has been closed since I got here and I’m leaving tomorrow evening. Getting into the gala was the only way for me to see the museum,”

“Always the one with a smart plan,” Tim teased. He chuckled when Raven rolled her eyes at him. “How do you like Gotham?”

Raven looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to think of an answer. “I like it,” she replied. “It’s a really busy city but also a lot quieter than New York or Jump. There are so many things to discover in the city and everything seems to be surprisingly well curated. It’s a bit more mysterious with its secrets,”

Tim looked at her impressed.

He briefly looked at her lips and suddenly had a deep desire to be closer to her. He shifted closer, his elbow brushing up against hers. He leaned into her a bit more, he faintly smelled her soft perfume of vanilla and fruits. “So, uncover a few more secrets while you were here?” he asked.

Raven looked at him and felt herself warm again at the sight of his amused blue eyes. She felt the warm push of Tim’s emotions against her own. Glancing briefly at the amused smile on his lips, she stared into his blue eyes and shot him a rare smile. “Maybe.”

Tim smiled. Pushing himself away from the railing, he stood up straight and smoothly plucked Raven’s empty champagne glass out of her hands. He met her raised eyebrow with a smooth smile. “I know it’s not Gotham’s most important sight to see, but, would you want to leave this place and get some coffee?” He paused. “Or tea?”

Raven felt her face warm as she stared at Tim. She thought of her options and faintly wondered what would happen if she left the party with him. A small smile grew on her lips as her body warmed at the possibilities. She cocked her head a little and nodded. “Okay,”

Tim’s smile widened and they stepped away from the railing. “Let’s go.” His hand slipped to the small of her back, fingers fanning over the naked dip of her back. The touch sent tingles down his arm and he briefly glanced at her.

They weaved their way through the crowd. A few curious glances shot their way. Slipping out of the back entrance of the museum, they headed towards Tim’s car. Raven lightly teased him for not having a driver around (“How very un-Wayne of you.”) to which he laughed loudly while fishing for his car keys in his pocket. Raven decided he had a nice laugh.

“Any preference?” he asked while pulling on his seatbelt.

Raven settled into the passenger’s seat and shrugged. “Surprise me,”

Tim hummed thoughtfully and pulled out of the parking lot. The drive was mostly comfortably silent, with Raven just asking for the names of places they drove by.

They soon found themselves a little way out of the city center, at a small café with colorful tapestries and trinkets. The doorbell tinkled as they entered and they shared amused smiles when they earned curious stares for their full gala attire.

Raven slipped ahead of him, her hand briefly touching his elbow, and he watched as walked up to the display counter. Tim will admit that he fell back just a little bit, to admire Raven’s slow walk towards the counter in her gown. She looked absolutely stunning. He faintly wondered what he was doing with her now – and how an utterly boring evening gala turned into an evening of coffee with one of the Titan’s strongest heroes.

“Coffee, right?” Raven asked, when Tim stepped up next to her with his hands stuffed casually into his pantsuit pockets.

“Right,” he answered. He pointed at one of the Ethiopian brews and asked for a slice of cake for them to share. Raven got a cup of tea.

They shuffled their way into one of the empty corners of the café and settled next to each other. Raven looked around the café, before crossing her legs and allowing one of her hands to drop on the table while they waited for their drinks. “This is a nice place,”

Tim tried to not stare at her thigh that peeked out of the long slit of her gown as she crossed her legs. “They serve pretty good coffee,”

Raven titled her head. “Interesting turn of the night,”

Tim turned his body just a fraction of an inch closer to hers. He felt like there were a million and one ways to answer that statement, each one more dangerous than the other. He wondered if it was the right time to do so. “Better than at a stuffy gala,”

Raven smiled. “Better,”

Their orders arrived and they thanked the waitress. “Do you still see the others?” Tim asked after they each took a sip of their drinks.

“Once in a while. I saw Dick and Kory last month. And few months ago I helped them out with work,” Raven shrugged. “I stay in touch mostly with the old team. I barely know the new kids.”

Tim nodded. “So you graduate next week. And then?”

“Yeah. I might want to travel a bit and then look for a job. There are a couple of universities that offer some research posts that I’d like to try out,” Raven explained.

“Gotham University has a pretty solid history department,” Tim grinned.

Raven laughed. She propped her elbow on their table and placed her chin into her palm, sending him a teasing smile. “Are you trying to make me stay?”

Was he? He felt his insides flip again, silently amazed to see this side of a playful Raven. Perhaps he did want her to stay. She always did intrigue him. Chuckling, he fluidly leaned closer.  “Maybe?” He heard her inhale softly and his gaze briefly fell to her lips. He dropped his left arm behind her chair, trapping her between their table and his personal space. “Do you want to?”  

Raven would lie if she would say she didn’t want to. As she stared at Tim, with her emotions purring inside of her, she embraced the soft, now familiar push of his emotions. A sly smile slipped on her lips, and she stared into his eyes as she leaned away. “Maybe.”

There was a pregnant pause and they both stared at each other, knowing that they had slipped into something dangerous – but undeniably welcome.

Tim smiled, looking a little bit satisfied and he pulled out of her space. He pulled his arms back to him and picked up his coffee mug for a drink. “Good.”

They slipped into an easy conversation until they finished their drinks and polished off an excellent slice of cheesecake. Raven decided to call it a night once the barista started cleaning the display counter and they were the last customers in the café. Tim led them back outside, hand still easily sliding down to the small of her back, guiding her towards the door. Raven leaned into him slightly.

Once they settled back into his car and Tim pulled out of the driveway, he cast her curious glance. “Where are you staying?”

“At the Grand, down 5th avenue,”

“Okay,” Tim took a turn and they fell into a heavy silence. Tim glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. He wondered if he’d see Raven again.

The car stopped at an empty stoplight. Raven turned to him, feeling his emotions push against her. She smiled as he turned his head curiously. She titled her head, eyes dancing. “Do you think I could see the Wayne Library?”

Heat dropped into his stomach and Tim fully turned to her. His grip on his steering wheel tightened. Did she? He swallowed. “The Library?”

Raven laughed, leaned into his space just a little bit. “You said it had old Latin books. I’m curious.” Her purple eyes sparkled as the stoplight turned yellow.

A wide smile grew on Tim’s lips. “And it’s not too early in the evening now to invite you over?” he teased.

Raven rolled her eyes and she pulled away with a chuckle as a car behind them honked loudly. The stoplight had turned green for a while now. “No, it’s just the right time.”

Tim let out a soft laugh and quickly turned back to the road. “Okay,” he whispered, a smile on his lips as he took a turn towards Wayne Manor.

They were silent for the rest of the drive. When they arrived at the manor it was past midnight. Tim led her through the maze of hallways, silently wondering how the evening was turning out – and how it could potentially turn out. He gently took her elbow and guided her into the last room, pulling her into the giant library. He stepped away from her, mumbling he’d be right back, and turned to switch on the lights.

“Oh,” he heard Raven breathe as the library became alive with lights. He had left her in the middle of the library, standing right under the grand chandelier. She looked breathtaking, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the library in her gown. Tim had to stop and admire her – one of the many times that evening.    

“It’s beautiful.” Raven looked around her, taking in all the grand bookcases that lined the walls.

“Yeah,” Tim stared at her.

Raven paused and looked over her shoulder, catching Tim stare at her. Her heart beat against her chest. What was she doing? She smiled at him. “Where’s the Latin section?”

Tim blinked and blushed, slightly embarrassed for having been caught staring. “This way.” He led her to one of the bookcases in the other end of the library. As they walked, he smiled at her wonder. “I like spending time here when I visit the manor,”

“It’s amazing,” Raven whispered, her hands sliding over all the spines of books as they walked through the bookshelves.

“Here.” Announced Tim, making them both stop in the Latin section. He waved at the books at either side of them. “All Latin text,”

Raven smiled, stepped past him, her hand resting briefly on his bicep before touching some of the books in front of her. She pulled out one of the books and leaved through it curiously. She closed the book and pushed it back into its space on the shelf. She eyed other titles above her. She raised her hand, trying to reach one of the titles above her head. “Some of these are so hard to find.”

Tim chuckled at her excitement and watched her hand glow with her dark power and the book above them gently fell out of the self and into her waiting hands. He casually stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the bookshelf, watching her leaf through the book. “Enough to make you stay?”

She stopped leafing through the book in her hands, purple eyes wide and a soft blush slowly blossomed on her cheeks. She breathed in deeply, again taking in his familiar scent of sandalwood. She closed the book and allowed it to float back to its spot above them. She smiled. “Maybe.”

They both chuckled and felt the mood between them shift. Tim pushed himself away from the bookshelf and took a cautious step towards Raven. She smiled and turned back to some of the books in front of her, but allowed Tim to crowd her space.

“Raven?”

“Hmm?”

Purple eyes looked up at him, and he felt his insides warm. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Tim threw caution into the wind and caved into the dangerous games they had been playing for a few hours now. His warm hand held her forearm, stopping her from pulling another book out of the bookshelf next to them.

“Tim?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Raven looked up at him, his hand practically burning into her forearm. She embraced his emotions as they spilled into hers and she allowed herself to step a little closer to him. Her emotions purred.

“Yes.”

Like the trained superhero he was, his movements were swift. A long sigh escaped his lips and Tim’s hand slipped up her naked arm and held her chin, and in one fluid motion, he dipped down and his lips found hers. They were soft and warm and he drank the soft sigh that escaped her lips at the contact.

Raven felt his emotions crash heavily into her own, and she sighed at the warm contact. Her hands slid up his strong arms, one curling tightly around his bicep for balance as his (or her) emotions sent her into a blind, dizzy spell. Her right hand curled into his long hair, pulling him closer. She moaned softy at the contact and felt herself being pushed into the bookshelf.

Tim felt her body arch into his and he pushed her into the bookshelf roughly as their kiss deepened. There was no getting out of this. He felt her warm body push against his own, pulling him closer and he let his right hand slide down her back slowly, relishing the feel of soft skin. He groaned softly when she opened her lips, giving him more access. He swiped his tongue against hers and he drank her moan greedily.

Tim cradled her head as their kisses deepened. He could feel Raven’s own emotions push against him – perhaps because she was an empath and he groaned as she whispered softly his name against her lips. Taking a step closer to her, he pushed himself further onto her and relished the feel of her body against his. His lips kissed the column of her neck and both his hands slid over her tiny waist and rested dangerously close to her ass. He felt her breathe heavily against his neck as she toyed his hair.

They both wanted this.

Tim straightened slightly, his hips pushing into her own and they both sighed softly at the contact. Tim kissed the underside of her jaw and pushed himself further closer to her. “Will you stay now?”

Raven let out a breathy chuckle and both of her hands slid down his back. She slipped them underneath his black coat jacket and teasingly dipped her fingers into the back of his pants.

“Yes.”

Tim grinned against her neck, his teeth grazing against her pulse which earned him a throaty moan. With one swift motion, he bent down and picked up her left leg and pulled it around his hips. Tim pressed himself into the new warm space between her legs and they both moaned at the delicious contact.

“Good.”

[gainerstories]

Muffin Tops: Chapter 2 (Community Story)

Written by: gainingfiction

As he toweled off after his shower, Diego imagined all the different ways that his date with Hayden could go. He knew he had nothing to be nervous about, and he was so used to playing things cool, but just thinking about Hayden left Diego feeling like a high schooler with a crush. There was something about the baker that captivated his attention… Diego had always tried to do things in moderation, but every meeting with Hayden seemed to leave him craving more.

Diego looked at himself in the mirror. At the start of the summer, his torso had been distinctly V-shaped, with a set of broad shoulders tapering down to a small waist. Now, in his blue button-down shirt, that V-shape looked a lot less distinct. On top of that, the athletic fit of the shirt left his expanded frame almost no breathing room.

He turned to look at himself in profile. He still had nice pecs, and his stomach was for the most part flat. His ass, however—which Diego always considered one of his best features—certainly hadn’t suffered from the growth. His khakis, always form-fitting, did a great job of showcasing his assets. He honestly didn’t mind his newly-broadened frame. Feeling content, he grabbed a jacket from his closet and headed out to meet Hayden.

When they met outside the bar, Hayden looked sharp in a blue linen shirt and a pair of designer sunglasses. The place where they ended up had been Hayden’s suggestion. It had a laid-back lounge vibe, and the advantage of being located right on the water. They got a seat by the window, with a view of the sun setting on the beach.

Hayden ordered a glass of red wine, and Diego got a craft beer. “I know I said drinks, but did you wanna order food?” Hayden asked, with a sheepish smile. “My treat.”

“I’d be down to eat, but I can get mine,” Diego said.

Hayden leaned in, “This place is kind of overpriced. Please, let me buy you dinner.”

Just hearing an older man use that phrase made Diego’s heart flutter. “Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Hayden said. And with a wink, he added, “No expectations.”

Diego smiled. He glanced at the menu. “What’s good here?”

“Trust me, you want to get a burger,” Hayden said. “They’re way too good.”

When their waitress came by, Diego followed Hayden’s suggestion and ordered a burger. With their food order taken, the two guys fell into easy conversation, starting with the events of the day and going from there. The bakery had been busy; so had the beach. As they enjoyed their drinks and loosened up, they chatted freely.

“Lifeguarding was just the obvious next step for me,” Diego explained. “I swam a lot in high school. I actually won a silver medal at a competition.”

Hayden smiled. “Impressive,” he said. “I haven’t gone swimming in years. I love it, but I’m totally graceless in the water.”

Diego arched his brows. “Dude, you work steps away from one of the greatest beaches in the area, and you haven’t gone swimming in years?”

Hayden swallowed a sip of wine. “Well they say to wait 45 minutes after eating before getting in the water, and... by that time I’m usually eating again.”

Diego was getting buzzed and snorted with laughter. He had not been expecting that joke on a first date. “You can’t make me laugh when I’m drinking beer, man, that’s not fair."

“Alright, no spit-takes,” Hayden said. At that moment, the waitress arrived with two massive burgers, setting them down in front of their respective challengers.

Diego peered at his mountain of fries in shock. This was not his usual first date meal… what had gotten into him? “I don’t know how I’m gonna finish this,” Diego said. But honestly, it looked so good that Diego was afraid he actually might finish it.

Hayden picked up his burger with both hands and looked at it hungrily. He turned to Diego, “Trust me, these are next level.”

From his first bite, Diego knew what he meant. As he devoured his dinner, he and Hayden kept up the conversation, with frequent pauses to eat. Hayden was so laid-back and friendly, Diego felt no embarrassment at stuffing his face in front of him. If anything, he almost felt proud to show off his eating abilities to the baker responsible for so much delicious food.

After their empty plates were taken away, Hayden said yes to a dessert menu before Diego had the chance to object. “It’s my competitive streak,” Hayden explained. “I always try to pick up some trade secrets when I go out to eat.”

The substantial slice of chocolate cake that arrived in front of them looked like a pretty good trade secret to Diego. He didn’t think that he could eat another bite, and yet seeing Hayden taste the dessert motivated him to pick up a fork and dig in. As soon as the chocolate touched his lips, he didn’t regret it.

“Not as good as yours,” Diego said, when the last of the frosting had been scraped off the plate.

Hayden grinned, “You charmer.” Diego tried to think of something witty to say about the way to a man’s heart, but his head was sluggish from so much food and the pint of beer.

After such a large meal, Diego thought that he’d be stuffed all night. But after dessert, they sat and sipped coffee, chatting and laughing as the number of other diners dwindled. An hour later, when their food had had a chance to digest, Diego had no desire to say goodnight. He protested again, but Hayden paid the bill. After that, they stepped out into the warm summer moonlight.

“My building is like, two minutes from here,” Hayden said. He glanced at the ground, and then fixed his blue-eyed gaze on Diego, “If you wanted to keep hanging out...”

“Yeah,” Diego smiled, “Definitely.”

Diego surmised that Hayden had at least some money, considering he was a 30-year-old business owner, but he hadn’t expected Hayden to live in a sprawling, top-floor apartment. Stainless steel appliances and granite countertops filled his spacious kitchen, while sleek living room furniture was set apart from the dining area. Contemporary art hung on the walls, avant garde paintings and dramatic photographs of attractive men and urban cityscapes. “Holy shit, man, your apartment is gorgeous,” he said.

Hayden shrugged. “I’m really, really lucky,” he said. As he trailed a hand down Diego’s arm, he added, “In more ways than one.”

Diego responded with a lopsided smile. He glanced at Hayden’s mouth, and admired the dark stubble that coated his jawline. His eyes flicked down to Hayden’s torso, where his full belly bulged against the buttons of his shirt, before flicking back to Hayden’s eyes, electric blue and practically begging Diego to throw moderation to the wind.

Diego didn’t know who moved in first, but their lips seemed to meet exactly in the middle. Hayden leaned into the kiss with passion, and Diego gave in, feeling the release of an energy that had been building a long time.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this since you first walked into my store,” Hayden said. They kissed again. Hayden’s right hand gripped Diego’s right pec through the cotton of his shirt, while his left hand trailed down Diego’s side.

Diego’s hands went to the buckle of Hayden’s worn leather belt. “Is this okay?” he breathed, as he worked on it.

Hayden nodded, pressing his lips against Diego’s. Bodies pressed together, they stepped to the couch, where Diego slumped back, pulling Hayden down with him. Hayden positioned himself over Diego, and the two set to work on unbuttoning their shirts. Diego hadn’t realized how constricting the buttons had become until his stomach was free from them. He sighed with pleasure as his hands clasped the sides of Hayden’s noticeable gut, slipping around it to meet at the small of his back.

Hayden planted his lips on Diego’s, and then kissed his way down the dark-skinned lifeguard’s neck, his softened pectorals, the curve of his bloated stomach. As he moved downward, Diego ran his hands across Hayden’s soft body.

Diego’s last boyfriend had been skinny and submissive, but Hayden took charge almost instinctively. As Diego traced the curve of his gut, Hayden growled in his ear, “You like that?”

Diego nodded. His cock felt like it was going to burst out of his pants. He slipped them down, letting his impressive, uncut manhood spring free. Hayden slid off his own pants, kicking them off onto the floor. Hayden’s dick was well-proportioned, and Diego noticed the way it just barely nudged the front of his stomach as the baker leaned forward.

The sex was better than Diego had imagined. They took their time; Diego felt the force of Hayden’s erection, and inhaled with pleasure as Hayden rubbed it against his own. Hayden’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, and in all the right places: cupping Diego’s round ass, trailing an index finger around his nipples, running along his thigh. They made out, sometimes jacking off, sometimes rubbing against each other. Diego felt the urge to suck Hayden’s dick. He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, while Hayden spread his legs obligingly. He had an air of confidence, a maturity that Diego appreciated. After months of stuffing Hayden’s baked goods into his mouth, Diego welcomed his sausage with enthusiasm. He ran his tongue along its length, his hand grasping the base of the shaft. Hayden pushed his fingers through Diego’s curls, inhaling sharply as the younger man licked at the head.

While he pleasured Hayden, Diego’s left hand worked on his own dick. He glanced at Hayden’s stomach, noticing how his fat quivered with his rapid breathing. Diego had never been into that sort of thing before, but now… his heart was racing.

“I’m about to come,” Hayden murmured.

Diego was basically there, too. As he sucked down Hayden’s load, he came himself, an orgasm so powerful he almost saw stars. He gave one last lick to Hayden’s cock and sat back, reeling from the afterglow. He didn’t know if he had ever come that much before; he was legitimately concerned about Hayden’s hardwood floor. But as he looked up at his date, sprawled on the couch and looking like the picture of manhood, all Diego knew was that he had to see Hayden again.