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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

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God’s Menu (one-shot)

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin (SKZ)

Warnings: Language, and some mentions of smut

Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU

Word Count: 9K

Summary: Y/N is a critically-acclaimed chef at New York’s premier five-star restaurant, The JYP Organic Cafeteria. However, when a new restaurant across the street begins attracting attention (and paying customers) because of it’s young and handsome head chef, Seo Changbin, Y/N grows furious at her dwindling reviews. When she confronts this new chef, she’s appalled to realize that he’s nothing short of arrogant, and they both engage in a fierce competition to determine who the best chef really is in NY.

A/N: I wrote this in one day, such a crazy experience, and it’s all thanks to Changbin. Also, why not, I’ll dedicate this to @lordseochangbin, the biggest Changbin Stan I know on this site.

The art of cooking involved a delicate sensibility that I had taken great pride in perfecting, especially after I graduated from culinary school. Thereafter, I worked tirelessly as an assistant for some of the greatest chefs in New York City, and I had the pleasure of working next to them under their great tutelage. Subsequently, their talents and well-intended advice shaped my own style of cooking, and my finely-tuned skills helped catapult me to the very top of our industry.

Likewise, I gained instant fame when I became the head chef at JYP’s Organic Cafeteria in the heart of New York City. People from all over the state came to my restaurant to try my cooking, and word spread fast about my immediate rise to stardom. As such, I started modeling for cooking magazines while receiving warm reviews from even the staunchest food critics, and I had a legion of fans in the form of paying customers who often lined the sidewalk outside of the restaurant to wait for an available table.

I also had some of the most promising chefs working directly under me. For example, my sous-chef, Bang Chan, was a very skilled man when it came to experimenting with some of our more expensive offerings. He had a natural talent for measuring ingredients, even without the assistance of a recipe, and his taste was nothing short of exquisite. His assistant, Felix, was a captivating presence among the staff, and he moved around the kitchen like he had been born to cook for the hungry masses. Felix also had a knack for cutting with his impressive collection of knives and cutlery, and he enjoyed trying the recipes that Chan and I worked tirelessly to perfect.

There was also Han Jisung, our kitchen’s pastry chef, whose delicious cakes and sweets were touted as some of the finest cuisine in North America. He prided himself on making the best cheesecakes, and our customers enjoyed a variety of unique flavors that could satisfy even the pickiest of palates. Jisung also never hesitated to include fun and interesting additions to our menu, even if that meant he had to stay up all night to prepare the ingredients.

Finally, our saucier, Jeongin, brought a degree of youthful exuberance into the kitchen, and he was adept at evolving his soup recipes and incorporating the freshest ingredients from the local marketplaces. He was always smiling, despite the recurring dinner rush, and he was quick and efficient with his hands, especially when handling our ingredients.

Together, we formed an intimidating team, and I was excited to continue growing our successful restaurant while bringing our talents out of state and to the rest of the world. Of course, it was important to perfect ourselves at this stage in our evolution, and tonight would be another step in the right direction. As such, when I glanced out the window overlooking the main dining room, I immediately spotted the important food critic talking pleasantly with one of our waiters. “Jeongin!” I shouted to attract the younger’s attention.

“Yes, Chef,” he returned, pausing next to me at the revolving doors.

“Tell everyone that the critic is here,” I said. “And make sure that I cook her order.”

“Of course, chef,” Jeongin agreed, and he addressed the rest of the kitchen with a commanding presence that made me feel proud because he had once been too shy to elevate his voice.

In the meantime, I started to prepare my station, ensuring that everything was clean. “Felix,” I said, turning to the silver-haired chef as he tossed up a pan of vegetables. “Get me the best ingredients and tools.”

Felix smirked, returning the plan to the stove before bowing slightly. “Right away, chef.”

Meanwhile, I carefully adjusted the sleeves of my apron, pulling them high above my elbows. For the most part, I was fairly consistent with my cooking, but I always put in extra effort when it came to potential reviews that would show-up in distinguished magazines. It was a well-known fact throughout the city that, in our competitive line of work, those reviews meant everything to the clientele we targeted. Thus, whenever a critic came into the restaurant, I liked to handle their meal preparation myself with the utmost attention.

“The order from the critic, chef,” Jeogin announced, following Felix with a bright smile.

I took it from him with a long exhale. “Garlic butter chicken,” I read. “I could do this blindfolded.”

However, I was somewhat relieved about the order because chicken happened to be a specialty of mine that I often took extra care in preparing. It was the first dish that I ever perfected in culinary school, and it often earned me the most acclaim when I was nothing more than an apprentice. And I’m sure the critic in question expected something truly mouth-watering, which is why I started immediately with every ounce of my concentration focused on the task at hand.

The first step was to clean the chicken thoroughly, and I usually requested that Jeongin wash the ingredients, but I was serious about preparing this dish myself. Next, I seasoned the chicken with an appropriate mixture of salt and pepper before allowing it to simmer on the stove while the butter melted in a separate skillet over medium heat. The familiarity of my movements was both exhilarating and reassuring.

Yet, despite just starting the early stages of the dish’s preparation, sweat was perspiring against my forehead, falling in long rivulets down the sides of my temples. It was a mixture of the kitchen’s oppressive warmth and my own nervous anxiety that combined together to create a fascinating effect on my person. But I was undeterred by any obstacle.

Instead, I turned to the sauce, recounting the ingredients inside my head: garlic, red pepper flakes, and hot sauce (a special invention of mine). Afterward, I had to sauté the heady mixture for 30 seconds until the garlic became aromatic. I grinned triumphantly because the smell was nothing short of delectable, and I could practically taste it on my tongue as the flavors excited all five of my senses. Finally, I deglazed the skillet with the chicken broth and brought it to a much lower simmer. “Stand back,” I said, throwing the ingredients together inside a separate pan and tossing it above the heat to ensure that every piece of chicken was evenly coated with the delectable sauce. “Jeongin, it’s time for plating.”

“Yes, chef,” Jeongin said, hustling to the surrounding shelves of our finest decorative serving dishes, assisting me next to my station as we carefully plated the chicken specialty. I watched as the delicate lines of steam rose from the top before requesting that our waiter bring the food to the awaiting critic.

With a steady exhale, I joined the rest of the chefs as watched the waiter disappear out the revolving door before we all crowded together to observe the critic’s reaction from the window. “She looks impressed,” Jisung remarked, and I smiled at his comment.

In the proceeding moments, the critic unfolded her napkin over her lap and reached for her fork and knife, studying the dish with close scrutiny. I swallowed hard when she lifted a bite to her awaiting mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she appraised my offering. Thankfully, I knew that it was successful when her eyes lit with a familiar warm glow, looking down at her plate with evident pleasure. As if on cue, everyone around me started clapping at once, and their shouts of praise and encouragement certainly fed my ego while we watched the critic enjoy the remainder of her meal.

It was another successful evening.

In the mornings, I often walked to the restaurant because the weather was nice this time of year, and I was left alone with the company of my thoughts. However, after such a grueling night of dinner prep, I was also excited to see the fruits of my labors in the form of a new review that might appear at any moment courtesy of the satisfied critic who left the restaurant with a grateful salutation. My stomach was practically doing somersaults just thinking about it, and I was in a fairly good mood when I saw the JYP sign shimmering up ahead in the distance.

However, as I grew closer, I realized that there was also another sign for the previously empty building across the street, and it stood a little taller in comparison. Consequently, I paused outside the recently renovated space, peeking in through the glass window to discover a restaurant set-up waiting inside. “When did this get here?” I wondered, taking a step back to appraise the building. The enormous banner across the front spelled out the name of the establishment. “Dwekki.”

I released an exhausted sigh because I wasn’t ready to process the implications of what this might mean for JYP’s business. However, I was caught off-guard by the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps. “Doesn’t open for another hour, sweetheart,” came an unfamiliar voice.

I turned around to confront the man whose attitude clearly exposed his underlying arrogance. “Excuse, me?”

He smirked, and it made him look even more handsome. In contradiction to his dark-colored eyes, his blue-tinted hair glowed beneath the sunlight, and his arms crossed over his broad chest to experiment with the limits of his thin t-shirt. “We don’t start serving lunch until 11:00.”

“I’m not interested in eating here!” I glowered.

“That’s a shame,” he replied, and I was taken aback by his flirtatious tone, watching as his eyes appraised me.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted an autograph, then you should’ve just asked,” he replied, and I instantly recoiled.

“I work over there,” I said, jutting my thumb behind me. “I’m the head chef for JYP.”

“Really?” Changbin asked, and his eyes reflected a newfound interest. “I’ll be more formal, then. My name is Seo Changbin, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” I said. “I’m Y/N.”

Changbin chuckled. “It sounds like you don’t like me, Y/N, which doesn't seem right since we just met.”

“Well,” I huffed. “I always like to keep an eye on potential competition.”

“Competition?” Changbin snorted. “Sweetheart, there won’t be any competition when they taste my food.”

I bristled at the challenge. “Is that so?”

“I have the best cuisine,” Changbin said. “I’ve been told that my food is the best in New York City.”

I gasped at the insinuation. “Listen here, Changbin, I have the credentials to back up my food! I’ve been voted Food Critic Magazine’s most promising chef for three years in a row.”

“Well, it was a good streak while it lasted,” Changbin said, and he seemed amused by my inability to offer some kind of witty comeback in return.

“Fine!” I managed. “I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart,” Changbin replied, and I held my breath when I pivoted around, storming away from the horrible man with a new purpose guiding my steps.

Graciously, I found Chan waiting outside of JYP, looking up at me with a bright smile that disappeared when he realized that I wasn’t happy. “What happened?”

“There’s a new restaurant opening across the street and its chef is a complete asshole!” I shouted, fumbling with the restaurant keys in my hand. “He thinks he can say those things to me? Nobody’s food is better than ours!”

Chan blinked twice. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s a war, Mr. Bang!” I declared passionately, holding the door wide open. “We’re going to prove that man wrong!”

Chan sighed because he was already used to my dramatics. However, what he didn’t realize was that I was serious about the declaration, and I had no intention of holding up the white flag of surrender anytime soon!

Of course, despite my initial confidence, it was hard to maintain my earlier enthusiasm when, after a week of operation, I had started to notice that more people were wandering into Changbin’s restaurant and ignoring JYP. “His food must be killer,” Jisung remarked off-handedly one day, wincing when I slapped him on the back of his head. “What was that for?”

“He’s the competition,” I seethed, pacing back and forth in front of the open window at the front of the restaurant. “It’s just because he opened recently and people are curious.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jisung huffed, rubbing his head with a pout.

“We’ll just have to keep a lookout,” I insisted, and I knew that I sounded mad when Jisung hesitantly took a step back away from me.

“Aren’t you taking this too far, Y/N?”

“Too far?”

“Woah! You know that I’m just kidding!” Jisung chirped, anxiously power-walking his way back into the kitchen while I continued to maintain my post as JYP’s head chef and silent guardian.

Eventually, I returned to the kitchen since I was expecting the usual dinner rush to commence. However, the longer that I spent chopping way too many carrots without a ticket request for our finest appetizer soups, the more I began to realize that something was amiss. I reached for Felix’s arm and drug him away from the others. “Why aren’t we getting any ticket requests? Is the waitstaff missing people?”

“Not exactly,” Felix said, and his eyes darted back and forth as if he was withholding valuable information.

“Well?” I insisted. “What’s happening?”

“There’s not many people tonight,” Felix said, and he quickly tried to reassure me when he noticed my sharp intake of breath. “It’s Monday, Y/N, and most people don’t like to eat out when they have work the next day...”

But I ignored Felix’s attempts at rationality, leaving the kitchen with heavy steps to instigate some preemptive sleuthing of my own. “What the hell?” I grumbled, crossing my arms when I noticed that there was some sort of commotion going on outside. Yet, when I stood in front of the window, I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What’s wrong with these people!” I exclaimed, watching as the line outside of Changbin’s restaurant continued to grow even longer.

“I heard it’s good,” Han offered unhelpfully, and I didn’t even notice his approach because I was too distracted by the horror-show playing right in front of me. My literal worst nightmare coming to life with one preemptive swoop!

“This is terrible!” I said. “We’re losing business t-to them!”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Jisung said, laying one hand on my shoulder. “Most of our regulars are here.”

“It’s not okay!” I said, shaking off his hand aggressively. “We need to get to the bottom of this!”

Jisung flinched when I turned around sharply on my heel, finding my way back to the kitchen where I clapped my hands together loudly to attract everyone’s attention. “Listen up, people!” I started. “The place across the street has just become enemy number one. That means we need to investigate! We have to infiltrate the restaurant and figure out what the hell is going on!”

“Y/N,” Chan sighed. “Is this necessary?”

“Oh, it's completely necessary! We’re going undercover,” I said, pointing between Felix and Chan. “You two are coming with me.”

Chan shook his head. “Y/N, do we really have to do this?”

“Yeah,” Felix whined. “You’re just gonna do something embarrassing again.”

I offered them both a glare. “Do you like working here?”

“Yes, chef!” Felix immediately shouted, holding up his hand to his forehead in a military salute.

Chan rolled his eyes. “I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“We’re losing customers, Chan,” I said. “We need to figure out why.”

“But do we really have to go over there?”

“Can’t Jisung go instead of me?” Felix asked, jutting out his bottom lip like it might garner him some kind of sympathy.

However, I was completely set on my resolution. “You’re coming, Felix, and we’re going to get justice for JYP!”

“Justice for JYP!” Jeongin shouted while raising his fist in the air to demonstrate his solidarity with my outrageous claim.

In the meantime, I had removed my apron, dusting the flour from my jeans while grabbing my purse from the backroom. “Now!” I said, dragging a reluctant Chan and Felix behind me as we exited the restaurant through the back door.

I had never been more determined in my entire life!

“How many are in your party?” the hostess asked when we stepped inside Dwekki for the very first time.

“Three,” I replied while scrutinizing every feature of the interior.

“One moment please,” the hostess said, leaving her podium stand to enter the dining room. I stood on my toes to look inside, but I only caught a faint glimpse of an overhanging chandelier before the doors closed again.

“Fancy,” Felix remarked, but I ignored him while observing the main lobby.

“How pretentious,” I muttered, taking in the elegantly tiled marble floors and freshly painted white walls.

“Says the person who charges 30 dollars for chicken,” Chan retorted.

“Whose side are you on?” I asked him, but a potential argument was quickly interrupted by the hostess who re-emerged from the dining room.

“Right this way,” she said, grabbing three menus before encouraging us to enter the literal lion’s den.

Immediately, I decided that I didn’t like Dwekki. It screamed money and finesse, and I wasn’t impressed with the elegant set-up, disregarding the shimmering fountain and the open kitchen that revealed dozens of chefs working tirelessly to prepare their dishes.

“Thank you,” Felix said politely when our hostess brought us to a small table near the kitchen’s entrance, offering us our menus before returning to her post outside the dining room. “You guys, it smells like chocolate in here,” Felix said, whining when I reached over to whack his arm with my menu.

“It smells like desperation to me,” I said. “Look at all this unnecessary decor. Who the hell needs a water fountain in the middle of their restaurant?”

“I think it’s nice,” Chan said with a sarcastic attitude on clear display.

“You’re the worst sous-chef,” I told him.

“But what would you do without me?”

“I’d put another ad in the paper,” I said, and he gasped in dramatic fashion that was clearly meant to mock me.

Meanwhile, I had barely noticed the arrival of our waiter until his voice interrupted my playful banter with Chan. “Good evening, folks, welcome to Dwekki, my name is Hyunjin and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to start off with an appetizer.”

“What do you recommend?” I asked, taking note of Hyunjin’s taller stature and the way he tied back his long hair into a neat style.

“Our chef’s choice is the scallops,” Hyunjin replied, and I inwardly groaned at the mention of the restaurant’s chef.

“Yes, that’s fine,” I said, and Hyunjin had barely left the table before Felix was opening his mouth again.

“He has literal angels working for him, Y/N,” Felix said.

“Do you really have to say that?” I asked.

“He certainly has class,” Chan added, and I felt their betrayal deep inside the center of my chest. “Do you think he might recommend his decorator?”

“Our restaurant is more family-oriented,” I said, bringing my water glass to my lips because I was suddenly parched.

“He’s coming back,” Felix whispered, and I was taken aback by Hynjin’s reappearance, holding a bottle of wine in his hands.

“This is for you,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Pinot noir!” Felix gasped, snatching the bottle from Hyunjin who barely flinched.

“Compliments of the chef,” Hyunjin explained, and I hesitantly glanced over my shoulder to see Changbin watching us from the kitchen’s entrance. I returned my gaze to the table, fanning my flushed skin. “He also insisted that you should try tonight’s house specialty.”

“That’s fine,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally left us alone.

“Does he know who you are?” Felix asked curiously.

“I ran into him the other day,” I said.

“She nearly had a heart attack,” Chan said. “It was the day we declared war or something on this place.”

“Like battleship?” Felix asked, and I actually regretted not listening to his plea from earlier to have brought Jisung along instead. At least my pastry chef was entertaining.

“The food is probably mediocre,” I said. “Nobody can have an ego that big unless they’re compensating for something.”

“Y/N,” Felix teased, raising his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not whatever you’re thinking,” I said, wincing at the idea. “Look, I know that you both think this whole thing is stupid, but the restaurant is really important to me, and I care when our customers start eating somewhere else.”

“Is it really about the customers or your pride?” Chan asked, and I hated it when his questions turned philosophical.

I tossed my menu in his direction. “Study the dishes, Chan. We’re here to gather important intel.”

Chan smirked, but obeyed my command, browsing quietly while Felix took his job too seriously and started capturing screenshots using his cellphone. Meanwhile, I leaned back in my chair with a heavy heart because it was starting to look like we were hopelessly outmatched. I mean, just the interior of the dining room itself was far more impressive than our cafeteria-style, and I was actually envious of that stupid fountain because it looked magical underneath the stupid chandelier.

Thankfully, the arrival of our food temporarily paused my morbid thoughts, and the smell of our appetizer scallops actually had my stomach grumbling. Felix and Chan immediately grabbed a scallop for themselves, and I forced myself to take one of the delicious smelling rations. My mouth started watering when I brought a small bite closer, and when I chewed against the tender meat, my entire facade cracked because it was absolutely wonderful.

Of course, to make matters even worse, the head chef had decided to leave the kitchen and gloat before I could even swallow my food. “What do we have here?” Changbin asked, and I trembled at his approach. “It can’t be the head chef of JYP! I’m honored.”

“Why are you out here?” I hissed.

“I saw you come inside,” Changbin replied. “I figured I should be nice to our new neighbors.”

I watched as Changbin took a step to the side, crooking a finger, and Hyunjin joined our table once more with the entrees. “The veal,” he said, placing a portion in front of the three of us.

“It’s one of my most popular dishes,” Changbin said with a tone laced with his smugness.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, stuffing a bite into my mouth and immediately regretting the way that my body reacted positively to the food. Like I was suddenly back home and enjoying my mother’s home-cooked meals.

“Do you like it?” Changbin asked.

I gritted my teeth as I pushed the dish away from me. “It’s okay,” I said, sighing when I noticed that Chan and Felix were practically devouring their dishes.

“You see that critic over there?” Changbin asked, and I followed his gaze to a strikingly familiar face. Because it was the same woman who had just eaten at our restaurant several nights ago, and she looked way too pleased with her current meal. “She told me that my chicken was the best she had ever tasted.”

I held my tongue to keep myself from retorting. “That’s impossible,” Felix said over a mouthful of his veal. “Y/N has the best chicken dish in New York.”

“Really?” Changbin asked, leaning down so that he was speaking right into my ear. “Maybe we should put that to the test.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a food competition this weekend on Good Morning, New York,” Changbin said.

“I love that show!” Felix said, and I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary observation.

“They’re inviting local chefs to participate,” Changbin said. “I already reserved my spot, but maybe Y/N could try her luck as well.”

I slammed my fork down against the table. “You’re on, Seo. I haven’t lost a food competition since culinary school.”

“May the best chef win,” Changbin said with a pleased smile. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled, forcing another bite of veal into my mouth because I was growing more and more frustrated with my impending crisis.

The next morning, I walked inside the restaurant to see a group of my chefs crowded around one of the tables. “What’s going on?” I asked, and they immediately began to disperse. “Hold on!” I said, jogging over to grab Felix’s apron sleeve. “What are you holding?”

“It’s nothing!” Jisung squealed from further away, but I still jerked the magazine away from Felix’s hands. It was a copy of the Food Critic Monthly magazine, and they published reviews of the most popular restaurants in New York City.

“Y/N,” Felix said, and his voice was unusually deep. “It’s one person’s opinion.”

I shook my head as I opened the magazine, flipping through the pages until I found our restaurant’s name in the heading. “JYP remains consistent, although they could certainly benefit from a change in their normal menu. I’ll give them a score of 9 out of 10,” I read aloud, fuming when I realized that Dwekki’s review was on the next page. “This hot new restaurant has some of the finest cuisine that I’ve ever tasted, and its head chef holds the potential to be the greatest in New York. My rating is a solid 10 out of 10.”

The room was quiet when I finished. “Y/N?” Jeongin tentatively inquired. “It doesn’t matter, we can impress them next time.”

“Next time?” I repeated with barely constrained rage. “It’s the opinion of one of the biggest food critics in the city!” I retorted. “Of course, it matters.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment to center myself. “Y/N?” Jisung said. “What are you gonna do?”

I looked at him with newfound determination. “Someone needs to schedule me for that Good Morning, New York show. I’m gonna beat him in front of the entire city!”

Jeongin nodded his head quickly. “I’ll make the call, Y/N.”

I rolled back my shoulders, pausing when I noticed that Chan had stopped in front of me. “You’re going too far this time, Y/N.”

“I need this, Chan,” I said, shoving my way past him. “I also need freaking break from this place!”

That afternoon, I sat behind the restaurant with a cigarette in hand, puffing smoke into the surrounding space. Unfortunately, whenever I felt particularly stressed, I turned to the nasty habit that I had trouble completely dismissing from my life. It was truly disgusting, but sometimes these situations forced me to do things that I normally wouldn’t even consider.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

I held the cancer stick up to my lips. “Why the hell do you care?”

“Maybe I think you’re too beautiful for bad lungs,” Changbin said, and I finally met his gaze from across the alley.

“What do you want?”

“To show off?” He shrugged, resuming a business-like demeanor when he walked in my direction.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, watching him as he took a seat next to me.

“Look at this,” Changbin said, holding up a black folder. “We have reservations scheduled for the next month.”

“A month?” I spluttered, taking the folder from him. Sure enough, I ran my finger down the list of names occupying time slots that filled the remainder of June. As a result, I let my head fall back against the brick wall of my restaurant. “This is private property, you know.”

“Oh?” Changbin chuckled. “Look, Y/N, whatever I’ve done to offend you, I want to apologize.”

“Really?” I said. “It doesn’t feel like you care.”

“Actually, I really admire your work,” Changbin said. “I read some of your reviews when I had just graduated school, and I even based one of my dishes from your Parmesan.”

“Fuck that makes me feel old,” I complained, but there was no way that I was more than a few years older than Changbin.

“You might feel younger if you stop with these things,” Changbin said, and I only frowned when he took the cigarette from me.

“I booked myself on that show,” I said. “I hope I don’t offend you when I kick your ass.”

Changbin smirked, leaning in closer with a dangerous smile that somehow managed to send my heart fluttering inside my chest. “I look forward to it.”

Unsurprisingly, Jeongin was a cheerful presence even when the sun hadn’t quite risen above the New York City skyscrapers. He had previously agreed to come with me to the show as a support system, and I could use his infectious energy when it came to my biggest challenge to date. “I even made you a sign,” he said as I drove us along the crowded streets.

I laughed. “I don’t think you can bring those inside the studio.”

“I’ll still cheer the loudest!” he said, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap him into a secure hug.

However, I also had to resist the softer side that Jeongin always tended to bring out in me because I needed to focus solely on this competition. My entire reputation was hanging by a thread, and this show offered me the chance to redeem my dwindling reviews.

Graciously, upon my arrival, I noticed that most of the other competitors weren’t nearly as intimidating, and I offered them polite greetings while doing my best to ignore Changbin and the ridiculous smile that he sent in my direction when I entered the studio. “Keep talking to me,” I instructed Jeongin. “Maybe that will keep Satan away.”

Jeongin nodded his head. “I believe in you, Y/N.”

“There’s a great evil threatening our existence,” I said solemnly. “I just need to focus.”

“Woah!” Jeongin suddenly cheered. “They have soft batch cookies.”

“Hey!” I said. “Are you really letting that distract you?”

“Sorry,” he whispered, bowing respectfully when the Good Morning hosts approached us.

“We’re excited to have you here, Y/N. It’s been a while since you’ve participated in something like this.”

“Well, I need a change every once in a while,” I told them.

“We’ve assigned your station next to Seo Changbin’s,” they said. “You two are the best in the kitchen, and our viewers will love it!”

“I bet they will,” I said, smiling sweetly while pulling Jeongin along next to me. “Let’s make sure it’s spotless,” I instructed him, and we both started cleaning the station with prompt attention.

“Oh, Y/N,” Changbin said from his station next to me. “I saw a comment on social media this morning. Someone said that I shouldn’t even bother wearing anything under my apron. What do you think?”

“Pervert,” I muttered under my breath, wiping down the counter with far more aggression than necessary considering how the surface was practically glimmering.

“Alright, everyone!” a producer suddenly announced. “The show starts in five minutes.”

However, I was unprepared for the way that my stomach twisted uncomfortably because I had never felt this nervous before in my entire life. “I can’t breathe,” I told Jeongin, and he immediately started fanning my overheated skin with one of the frying pans.

“You can do it, Y/N,” he said, and I only nodded in response while I watched him join the crowd gathered behind the cameras.

“3...2...1...action!”

Fuck, why was it so hot in here?

“Good morning, New York City!” one of the hosts began, holding out her arms in grandiose fashion. “We have six of New York’s hottest young chefs ready to cook for us this morning.”

“That’s right, Kathy, and when we get back from our commercial break, we’ll determine the best of the best in a fierce competition. Let’s introduce today’s chefs.”

Kathy smiled in our direction, holding up the microphone as she spoke briefly with each chef in turn, coming closer and closer in my direction. “Mr. Seo,” she said. “You’ve scored tremendous reviews with some of the city’s toughest critics! What inspires you to create such gourmet dishes?”

“Well, recently, I’ve been inspired by someone who managed to capture my heart,” he said, sending a discreet wink in my direction.

I scowled at his blatant sarcasm. “Oh, she must be a lucky lady, then,” Kathy said, taking a long stride to stand next to me at my station. “What about you, Y/N? You’ve been at the top of New York’s finest chef’s list for years!”

I found Jeongin at the back of the room whose sweet smile managed to lend me some semblance of confidence. “I’ve always been competitive,” I said, and the answer summoned a chuckle from Changbin.

“Well, I guess we get to see for ourselves right after these brief words from our sponsors!”

“Cut!” the producer yelled, and I sighed in relief.

But it was a short-lived reprieve, and Changbin leaned in closer to shorten the space separating our stations. “I don’t want to embarrass you, sweetheart,” Changbin grinned, and it took everything I had to resist the temptation to hit that perfect face.

“Shut the hell up,” I muttered, briefly glancing up to see Jeongin offering me a cheesy thumbs up from behind the camera.

Tragically, this time I didn’t feel any reassurance from his warm presence. Instead, I anxiously waited in profound expectation until the recording lights started to flash green, and I put on my best poker face for the camera. “Chefs, today you’ll be making your best dish to impress our judges! We’ll be looking at three categories: taste, presentation, and creativity. You have twenty minutes to finish your dish.”

Twenty minutes?! I was freaking out, running over my best chicken recipe inside my head while the hosts started a vicious countdown that slowly destroyed my resolve. “Go!”

I immediately launched myself into action, running to the fridge to pull out a package of freshly cut chicken. I was relying on years of experience to guide my actions, resorting to my most basic cooking instincts when I cleaned and seasoned the chicken while blocking out the commentary in the background.

Sauté, sauté, sauté, I chanted inside my head while I heated the olive oil and tossed in the chicken strips to cook over the warm stove. Since I had such limited time, I gave each side exactly four minutes to cook before I was moving on to the next step, glancing over at Changbin’s station to watch him slice several ingredients with precision.

Jesus, he looked really hot doing that!

“Stop it, Y/N,” I whispered to myself, rolling up my sleeves while I grabbed my mixing bowl to prepare the honey and balsamic vinegar base for the sauce that I planned to glaze on top of the chicken. I added some garlic to my chicken skillet before stirring in the stock that would elevate the chicken’s natural flavoring.

“Ten minutes, chefs!”

My heart was pounding against my breastbone, and I decided to add rice at the last minute, even though it was a risk since it might not cook thoroughly in time. However, I also knew that it would add some color to the dish, and I was ready to pull out all the risks to reap the benefits.

The kitchen was loud with the sound of sizzling skillets and boiling pots, and I was overheated and flushed because of the rising steam. The smells of intermingling dishes were overwhelming, and I resisted the urge to check on Changbin’s dish because I couldn't handle that pressure.

“Five...four...three...two...one...stop!”

With a long exhale, I threw up my hands and retreated away from my plate. My nerves were still sending trembles along my spine, and I was pretty sure that I could pass out from exhaustion at any moment. Yet, beneath it all, I was also exhilarated from the challenge, and I couldn’t help but smile proudly at my dish sitting at the edge of the counter.

“We’ll let our judges decide,” Kathy said, and several assistants came to collect our plates, bringing them to the panel sitting somewhere off-screen.

I watched their reactions greedily, noting how they maintained neutral expressions for every dish with a certain degree of professionalism. “It was very close,” one of the judges said. “However, we made a decision.”

“The top three,” another continued. “Third place goes to Mr. Lee for his delicious pasta!”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or not, watching one of the hosts place a shiny bronze medal around the young chef’s neck. Surely, that meant Changbin and I were taking the top two positions, but I was desperate to hear them call out my name above his.

“We’ll announce first place,” the judge began, and I was practically hanging from the edge of the counter. “Seo Changbin!”

Unfortunately, there were no words to describe the way my shoulders instantly deflated, and a feeling of existential dread gripped tightly to my heart because of my failure. “Second place goes to Y/N.”

I was shaking, but it wasn’t out of anger for once. I pretended to smile, accepting the medal with a bile taste at the back of my throat. I managed to hold myself together until the show went off air, and I slowly removed my apron while trying my best not to reveal just how affected I was by everything that had happened. “Hey, Y/N,” Changbin said, and I turned around with a sigh.

“Save it, Changbin,” I said. “I don’t need you to rub it in.”

“I’m not,” he said, sweeping his bangs away from his eyes. “Will you just look at me?”

I offered him my full attention. “Well?”

“It was really close,” he said. “You did a good job, and your dish was amazing.”

His words were earnest, and I saw the honesty in his expression. Yet, my pride was still wounded, and I wanted to creep away into the remote corners of my lonely apartment and lick my wounds. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Not everything has to be a competition, Y/N,” he said, giving me a meaningful look that I couldn’t quite understand.

However, if the competition could be considered another step towards my total demise, then I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see the next day’s issue of a popular magazine. “Food Critic Daily,” I screamed, snatching the magazine from a sheepish Jeongin. My eyes grew wider when I saw that Changbin had the privilege of gracing the front cover. “This reviewer insists that you listen to everyone who tells you that Seo Changbin’s dishes are some of the finest cuisine in New York City. Perhaps nobody can compare.”

I dramatically fell back against the counter because it was too much for me to handle. I took a deep breath, channeling that emotion into anger as I grabbed the magazine from the top, ripping it slowly in half while my chefs looked on with barely disguised horror. “The insanity stops now!”

“Are you sure about that?” Jisung asked.

“We just have to try something different,” I said, looking around at my gathered chefs.

“Maybe not right now, Y/N,” came Felix’s gentle response.

“Why?”

“Changbin’s here,” Felix whispered, pointing at the kitchen door.

“What?” I growled, immediately turning around to face my kitchen staff. “Listen up! We have to be on our best game tonight!” I pointed at Felix who immediately froze to the spot. “I’m cooking his meal. Send his order to me.”

Felix nodded, relaying the instructions to our waiter while I approached my station with malice. “Y/N,” Chan said softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I grunted. “I can do this.”

“I didn’t say that I doubted you,” Chan said. “But I’m worried that you’re pushing yourself too much.”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, reaching for my discarded apron.

“Here’s the order,” Felix said, returning promptly. “He asked for the garlic butter chicken.”

I snorted. “Of course he did.”

Nevertheless, I cracked my fingers and got to work, arranging the pots and ingredients across my station. I quietly sharpened my knife, glaring at the revolving kitchen door where I knew that Changbin waited outside in the dining room. Despite the repeated blows to my self-confidence, I was determined to impress him tonight.

After I had sent off Changbin’s order, I returned to the back office to try and rest after pushing myself to the limit. I resisted the familiar urge to grab a cigarette from my bag, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to distract my mind. However, my efforts were in vain because Jeongin eventually started knocking on the door, looking at me with wide eyes. “Changbin said that he wanted to speak to the chef.”

I huffed an annoyed sigh. “That isn’t surprising.”

I slowly lifted myself from the chair, following Jeongin back into the kitchen. I was aware that the other chefs were watching me like I was some kind of wild animal ready to pounce. “Stay here,” I said to Jeongin, pushing my way through the revolving door to enter the dining room.

It wasn’t hard to find him, sitting with his waiter, Hyunjin, at one of the tables near the front entrance. I lowered my head when I started for his section, aware of the weight of his gaze on me the entire time. “You asked for me,” I said, looking down at Changbin with my eyes narrowed.

“My compliments to the chef,” Changbin said. “The food was surprisingly good.”

I chose not to react to his passive-aggressive comment. “Will there be anything else?”

“Just a moment,” Changbin said, reaching into his jacket pocket to produce a folded card. “What do you think?”

I snatched it from him ungracefully, smoothing out the surface before I caught the unforgettable name of Kim Seungmin listed across the card. “The Kim Seungmin?” I asked, and I didn’t bother to hide my excitement.

“I can get you an interview with him,” Changbin said. “What do you think?”

I frowned. “What’s the catch?”

Changbin laughed. “Maybe I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just tell me what you want.”

His smile was gone, replaced by a look that I could only describe as sobering. “You should go on a date with me, Y/N.”

It only took me a moment to start laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Changbin sighed. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” I replied, watching him as he stood from the table.

“I don’t want you to see me as a competitor,” Changbin said. “I think you’re amazing, and we would be so much better as partners.”

Regardless of his kind words, it still felt like he was mocking me, even if his tone suggested otherwise, and I couldn’t swallow down my pride and bruised ego long enough to acknowledge the truth. Instead, I hardened my gaze, looking at him as someone who continued to ruin our business each day I prepared our menu selections in the kitchen. “I think you should leave.”

“Y/N-”

I took a step back, bowing in front of him before I returned to the kitchen with his eyes burning a hole into the back of my head.

After our regular closing hours, I lingered behind in the kitchen office, staring at the blank computer screen. I couldn’t stop thinking about Changbin, and that was a problem. It was his fault that I was feeling so defeated, and I couldn’t imagine allowing him access to my personal life.

Thankfully, the familiar tone of my cell phone forced my attention elsewhere, and I answered the call with a distracted greeting. “Y/N!” an excited voice announced from the other end. “It’s Jeongin!”

“I have caller ID.”

“Oh, r-right,” he stuttered. “Anyway, I just got off the phone with one of my friends, and he said that his company was looking for a place to host their anniversary dinner this weekend. I mentioned our restaurant because I think the attention might help bring some interest back to JYP!”

I listened intently, feeling a familiar spark of hope. “What company?”

“It’s a huge TV network! The same one that programs Good Morning, New York!”

“How many people?”

“Uh, maybe like a couple hundred?”

I hesitated because I knew how difficult it would be to handle that many guests at one time, but I also knew that Jeongin had been right when he suggested that the publicity could be the push that we desperately required. “Tell them we would be more than happy to host.”

I hung up the phone with a loud exhale. What the hell was I doing?

The weekend approached fast, and I was slowly experiencing the numbing effects of panic when I realized that several of my chefs would be unable to help with dinner preparations for the party that we were hosting. “It might be pushing our limits, Y/N,” Chan said, and he stood next to me while I examined our depleted numbers.

“We can do it,” I said. “Everyone, let’s start preparing the main dishes!”

“Yes, chef!

I took a deep breath because we wouldn’t have a single moment of reprieve to accommodate the orders. But I had convinced myself that enough early preparation would help counter our severe lack of help in the kitchen. Subsequently, I was working my ass off to ensure that everything was progressing smoothly.

“Y/N,” Jeongin said. “People have started to arrive.”

“We can start serving soon,” I said. “Tell the waitstaff to get themselves ready.”

Jeongin nodded, but I could tell that he was nervous, and his lack of confidence was noticeably debilitating. Nevertheless, I encouraged everyone to work harder, trying to pay less attention to the accumulating orders. “Y/N, table eight has been waiting for twenty minutes on an appetizer.”

“I got it!” I shouted back, approaching the front counter with the shrimp plate in question.

“Y/N, what about the crab cakes?”

My heart was skyrocketing inside my chest. “It’s coming!”

“We need the chicken for table six!”

“Y/N, people are starting to ask me about the soup?”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck,” I cursed, trying to settle my breathing because there were dark spots building in my peripheral vision.

Chan graciously reached out for my arm, holding me steady with his strong hold. “We’re understaffed, Y/N, and Felix is crying in the bathroom!”

“Just hold on one second,” I said, pacing back and forth nervously across the kitchen floor.

“Y/N,” Chan said, shaking my shoulders. “We have to call Changbin for help.”

“Changbin!” I yelled, gripping the counter. “Are you serious?”

“We need extra hands,” Chan said. “Changbin told me the other night that he really wanted to support the restaurant.”

“He said that?”

“Call him,” Chan insisted, shoving the kitchen phone into my hand. “Please.”

I released a defeated sigh as I dialed his number, finding it listed in the phone book that we kept in the office. “Hello?” a gruff voice greeted me.

“Changbin,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s Y/N.”

“Well, this is a surprise,” Changbin’s smooth voice responded from the other end. “Did you change your mind about our date, Y/N?”

I groaned. “No, but I actually have something to ask you.”

“Really?” Changbin said, and his tone was playful. “It’s always hard to resist you.”

“I need your help Changbin,” I said, but there was a nasty taste left in my mouth after the words had already come out. “I’m hosting an important party at the restaurant, but my staff can’t keep up.”

I held my breath, waiting impatiently when I heard nothing from the other man. “Give me ten minutes,” he replied before I was greeted with the sound of the dial tone.

Changbin’s arrival was, for once, a breath of fresh air, and I ushered him into the kitchen with eager hands. He had also brought half a dozen of his own chefs, and they fell into order with my staff like a well-oiled machine. It was reassuring, and I felt myself grow lighter on my feet as I moved through the kitchen, filling orders at a much faster speed.

“Let me handle that one,” I said, grabbing one of the tickets from Jisung before rushing back to my station. I started cutting vegetables with a speed that I hadn’t seen since my early culinary school days.

“You look sexy doing that,” Changbin remarked from next to me.

I grinned because the comment was strangely endearing. “You’re just saying that.”

“I really mean it,” Changbin said, and his presence was somewhat intoxicating.

“Focus on your work,” I said, but I could feel that I was blushing.

“That’s cute, Y/N,” he said, reaching out to poke a finger against my cheek.

“Hands to yourself,” I added, and Changbin laughed before he grabbed the handle of his skillet to toss the contents of his dish.

“I think we’re finally caught up,” Jisung announced from the front of the kitchen and there was an audible sigh from my staff in the kitchen.

“What, is this a regular thing, Y/N?” Changbin asked. “How have you survived without me for all these years?”

“Perseverance,” I responded, turning up the heat on my grill and enjoying the accompanying sound of the chicken frying in the sauce mixture.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said, and I couldn’t help but shiver while I tried to figure out if he was talking about me or the dish.

Eventually, serving hours were completed, and most of the chefs had started to clean the mess that we had made of our dwindling supplies. Meanwhile, I studied the satisfied patrons from behind the revolving doors, and I felt proud of everything that had been accomplished. Even if that meant finding help in an unlikely ally who was engaged in polite conversation with Chan and Felix.

“Jeongin,” I said, drawing the younger’s attention.

“Yes, chef!” he saluted, and I bit back a smile.

“Find us some champagne from the back,” I said. “Bring glasses for everyone.”

“I’m on it!” he declared, and I watched him hurry to the back while I took one last look at the lingering party guests.

I wandered through the kitchen, occasionally offering to help clean one of the stations. At the same time, I couldn’t resist a persistent desire to glance at Changbin, watching him from the corner of my eye. For the first time since we had met, my attention wasn’t focused completely on the restaurant.

“I think it was a huge success, Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my musings when he returned from the dining hall. “I spoke to the CEO, and he said they would definitely consider us again as a future host!”

“Hopefully, we’ll have more help,” I said, reaching over to pat Jisung on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Are you sick, Y/N?”

“No,” I laughed, and my gaze immediately locked with Changbin’s. “I’m just grateful.”

Thereafter, Jeongin returned with a bottle of wine and several glasses. I quietly instructed him to give everyone some of the champagne. “Make sure the restaurant clears out,” I instructed Jisung who nodded obediently.

Meanwhile, I watched Jeongin flitter between the kitchen staff, holding out glasses and filling them to the very top with delicate bubbles. “Are we celebrating, Y/N?” Chan asked, pausing next to me.

I smiled. “I think everyone deserves it.”

Finally, Jisung made his return after sorting everything out with the CEO, carefully assisting our waitstaff in sorting out the evening’s conclusion. Thus, I held up a glass of champagne since the restaurant had finally cleared out, waiting patiently while the chefs gathered together for a short celebration. “Thank you,” I said. “To everyone because I was really in over my head.”

“That’s an understatement,” Chan snorted.

“Also, I’m glad that Changbin and his staff were able to help us,” I said. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Cheers!” Jisung shouted, and I brought my glass to my lips to enjoy the cooling effects of the alcohol as it slid down my parched throat.

It was late when I started to send most of the chefs home. I made sure to thank everyone again, smiling brightly because I was incredibly proud of their efforts. “We’re almost done with clean-up, Y/N,” Jeongin said, approaching me with an exhausted yawn.

“I’ll clean the rest,” I told Jeongin. “Everyone else can go home.”

Jeongin nodded, looking up at me with sleepy eyes. I grinned as he trudged out of the kitchen, and I took his place at the counter to wipe down the surface until it was spotlessly clean. “This is very dedicated of you, Y/N.”

I smirked at Changbin’s comment. “It’s the least I can do after tonight.”

“Well, you seem like a very ambitious person,” Changbin said, and I could feel him behind me.

“It’s just...been hard lately.”

“Why?”

I closed my eyes. “Honestly? I was a little worked up because we were losing a lot of business to your restaurant. It hurt my pride.”

“The novelty will wear off,” Changbin said. “People enjoy new things, but they always eventually look for what they really like again.”

“Are you trying to be wise?”

“Maybe I’m still trying to impress you,” he said, and the deep tenor of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

“What?”

“I really like you, Y/N,” he said, and I felt his lips right next to my ear and the warm sensation of his gentle breathing.

His hands smoothed down the fabric of my apron, holding my waist with an unrelenting grip. I shivered when his lips found the sensitive skin of my throat, placing teasing kisses wherever he could find space. He eventually turned me around in his arms, and I was lost in the endless pools of his eyes.

“Are you going to push me away?” he asked.

“Not anymore,” I replied, and it was nothing short of satisfying when he finally kissed me, and I could feel my head spin while my mind tried to process everything that was happening.

I could feel the counter digging into my lower back, and I hopped onto the clean surface while keeping our lips firmly attached. I also grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him between my legs to sear our lips together in a passionate display that stole every bit of oxygen from my burning lungs. He moaned when I let one hand tease the front of his dress pants through the fabric of his jeans and chef’s apron. “Does this mean I can have my date?”

I smiled, curling my fingers into his hair. “Whatever you want.”

“I just want you,” he said, and I seared our solemn declaration with another heart-fluttering kiss.

One Year Later

I had been dreaming, but there was one person who could always summon me from the clutches of my REM cycle. “Sweetheart,” his gentle voice whispered into my ear.

I groaned in protest, rolling over onto my side to avoid Changbin’s persistent wake-up call. However, it was hard to ignore him when I could feel him pull back the covers to settle between my legs. “Don’t do that,” I whined.

“What?”

“You’re trying to convince me to wake-up,” I said. “Let’s sleep longer.”

“Are we gonna skip the opening tonight?” Changbin asked with a husky chuckle.

I sighed, looking up at him with barely-opened eyes. “It’s still so far away.”

“That’s why I’m doing this,” he said, running his hands along my thighs, creeping past the barrier of my shirt.

“Binnie...”

“Y/N,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck this little pussy, and then we’re getting dressed for tonight.”

My eyes shot open immediately. “You better keep that promise.”

Changbin growled low in his chest, pressing a kiss to the front of my panties, and I curled my fingers into his hair because I wouldn’t be able to walk when he was finished with me.

Needless to say, it was a beautiful day for a grand opening, and I studied the front of our new restaurant with pride. It had been a while since the incident that brought us all together, but I enjoyed every day that I spent with Changbin by my side. I had also met so many interesting new people, and our staff finally felt like one giant family. Therefore, we had agreed to open a place together, equipped with a combination of our best staff and servers, and I was excited to welcome tonight’s guests.

“Y/N, should we start kitchen prep?” Jeongin asked, looking at me from inside the front entrance.

“Sure,” I told him with a nod. He clapped his hands together rapidly, disappearing behind the door with my favorite smile.

“Are you not going to help them?”

His teasing voice only brightened my mood, and I felt his arms wrap around me from behind. “I just wanted to see everything before we opened.”

“What do you think?” Changbin asked, looking at me for approval.

I nodded my head with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids oneshot #skz one shot #skz fluff #skz smut #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #stray kids changbin fanfic #seo changbin oneshot

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dustedmagazine · 4 years ago

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Derek Taylor 2020: We’re Still Here

That’s about the best that can be said for a year that pulled out nearly every stop in a surging sea change to calamity, adversity and tragedy. The number of people lost to a pandemic that now stands steadfast as a monument to the true meaning of American Exceptionalism as the epitome of empathy-eradicating self-interest is enough to negate even the noblest efforts at laughing to keep from crying. Musicians and music persisted though, even in a severely altered performance landscape of shuttered venues and virtual concerts. And recorded offerings new and archival remained plentiful.

When so much about the present feels like a sprint backwards, societally, environmentally and across multiple other measures, music reliably endures as a means for finding both meaning and footing in the world. What follows are 20 capsule vignettes describing selections from the sea of albums circulated this year that kept me afloat, followed by 25 more in list form that did the same. Thank you for reading and thanks for sticking with us.

Paul Desmond — The Complete 1975 Toronto Recordings (Mosaic)

Given the magnitude of hardship this year’s wrought on living musicians, it may appear a bit perverse to lead this list with a dead one. Even so, this immersive set’s become an old reliable when it comes to achieving aurally-sourced solace. Desmond, the arch and affluent altoist, leaning into a Canadian club residency with ace sidemen while making good on his gentleman’s agreement with absent Dave Brubeck to abstain from piano accompaniment. The leader’s lady-killer instincts are assiduously evident in the amorously-oriented song choices as his dulcet, tranquilizing tone seduces and delights, night after night.

Chris Dingman — Peace (Inner Arts)

An intensely personal project where abundancy of content arose not out of ambition but rather necessity and is made all the more affecting for it. Dingman designed and played the nearly six hours of solo vibraphone music on this set for his hospice-sequestered father with sole purpose of providing comfort and calm. Reflection after his parent’s passing moved him to release it into the world with the hope that it could do the same for others. Intention accomplished.

Joe McPhee — Black Is the Color (Corbett vs. Dempsey)

It’s been a distressing year for nearly everyone, but particularly for McPhee, who lost his brother Charlie to illness. Even amidst ongoing emotional tumult, his fecundity felt undiminished. AC/DC on the British OtoROKU label offers another entry with the English organ trio Decoy. Of Things Beyond Thule, Vol. 2 is a smashing CD sequel to its vinyl predecessor with Dave Rempis, Tomeka Reid, Brandon Lopez and Paal Nilssen-Love comprising the super group. A reissue of the seminal She Knows… with Scandinavian power trio The Thing on the Ezz-thetics label and Black is the Color compiling early concert material in surprisingly sharp fidelity from the Corbett vs. Dempsey imprint cover the archival end of things.

Sonny Rollins — Rollins in Holland (Resonance)

The Saxophone Colossus holding court with Dutch compatriots in 1967. Most conspicuous is daredevil drummer Han Bennink, who even at this early stage straddles swing to European Free Jazz from behind his kit. Rollins shifts between comparatively pithy studio salvos and effusive concert excursions that once again cement his supremacy in the strenuous realm of long form improvisation. Seven decades as a musician makes for a bank vault-sized cache of bootlegs, but this one, refurbished and authorized remains something special.

Stephen Riley — Friday the 13th (Steeplechase)

Like McPhee, Riley’s a perennial resident of my pantheon. This date realized a long-standing wish to hear him in the company of cornetist Kirk Knuffke backed by the freeing simplicity of bass and drums. Both men have aerated, instantly recognizable tones and pliancy in phrasing that provides practically endless possibilities in tandem. Riley’s also instrumental as featured guest on Pierre Dørge’s Bluu Afroo, a slightly preemptive Ruby Anniversary celebration of guitarist’s multinational New Jungle Orchestra.

Sam Rivers — Ricochet & Braids (No Business)

The auspicious launch of a Sam Rivers archival series last year was among the Lithuanian No Business label’s greatest achievements. Two more seminal entries came down the pike in 2020: Ricochet featuring Dave Holland and Barry Altschul of particularly fine vintage, and Braids spotlighting another pivotal Rivers ensemble in Hamburg with low brass wizard Joe Daley. There are four more to go, which should target the end of 2022 for the series’ completion.

James Brandon Lewis — Live at Willisau & Molecular (Intakt)

Lewis is the type of compelling artist tapped for accolades like Down Beat’s Rising Star award, despite having been active as an accomplished improviser for over a decade. Delayed exposure is common collateral to a career path in improvised music though, and the saxophonist hasn’t let slow-to-cotton critics slow him down a bit. A deal inked with the Swiss Intakt imprint has so far yielded Live at Willsau, which finds him in fiery duo with Chad Taylor, and Molecular, a studio venture with an all-star quartet that will hopefully become a working band again in 2021.

Susan Alcorn — Pedernal (Relative Pitch)

Pedal steel may feel like a nascent voice in improvised music, but in actuality Susan Alcorn and her peers have been plying it as a viable vehicle for some time. While Pedernal is somewhat perplexingly her first album as clear-cut leader, impediments to an earlier debut seem inconsequential given the ample amount of thought and design evident in the end product. Strings wielded by Michael Formanek, Mary Halvorson and Mark Feldman weave with the wide gamut of Alcorn’s aqueous sonorities across intricate pieces further stamped by Ryan Sawyer’s peripatetic drums. The results are at once daring and distinguished.

John Scofield — Swallow Tales (ECM)

ECM has an enviably accomplished record when it comes to matching the austerity and formality of its sound design to artists’ objectives. Case in point this stark, but not standoffish trio set that’s as much (electric) bassist Steve Swallow’s offspring as it is Scofield’s. Drummer Stewart is the third point in the triangle, but he sagely defers to his elders, leaving them to a dance of differently gauged strings that expertly balances motion and space.

Corbett vs. Dempsey

John Corbett is emblematic of that rare breed of music monomaniac who balances obsessiveness with altruistic generosity. He’s personally responsible for bringing dozens of rare and classic recordings back into circulation, first through the fondly remembered Unheard Music Series and more recently via the CvD concern. This year, another stack was added to that sum with Milford Graves & Don Pullen’s The Complete Yale Concert 1966 (including the rarified Nommo), Alexander von Schlippenbach’s Three Nails Left, Tetterettet by the ICP Tentet, Peter Kowald’s self-titled FMP debut as a leader and the madcap New Acoustic Swing Duo from Willem Breuker and Han Bennink as standouts.

Whit Boyd Combo — Party Girls & Dracula (the Dirty Old Man) (Modern Harmonic)

Vintage skin flick soundtracks have rarely if ever received an even-handed shake in terms of relative artistic merits. Tarred with the same smut brush as the visuals they were constructed to accompany, they’re routinely viewed as just as disposable. The Whit Boyd Combo doesn’t exactly dispel this dictum, but it does lay down some funky and at times refreshingly fractious freewheeling horns over organ, bass, and drums driven beats on this late-60s session tape excavated by the folks at Modern Harmonic. The companion Dracula (the Dirty Old Man) isn’t quite on par, but it’s still a solid vessel for competently crafted fossilized grooves.

Robbie Basho — Songs of the Avatars (Tompkins Square)

Real Gone Music whet the appetite earlier this year with the release of Songs of the Great Mystery, a “lost session” from Basho’s tenure at the Vanguard label. Songs of the Avatars ups the ante substantially by granting outsider access to a six-hour survey of the dearly departed fingerstyle guitarist’s personal tape trove. The aural riches are ample and include Basho exploring familiar proclivities (Indian, Native American and Japanese interpolations) alongside unexpected new ones (ballet and cantata) with passion and conviction to burn along the way.

Jimi Hendrix — Live in Maui (Experience Hendrix)

Posthumous Hendrix is a seemingly inexhaustible resource as each year repackaged and repurposed treasures are released into the marketplace. Fortunately, familial heirs are the ones doing the sowing and this lavish set documenting musical and extra-musical particulars of the icon’s reluctant conscription into cosmic hippie scam does right by him. Given the windswept conditions near the Haleakala Crater it’s a minor miracle that he, Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell mesh as well as they do, and while the footage included can be frustrating in its fragmentary presentation, it’s still a thrill to see and hear them jamming in amiable and ebullient form.

Joe Maneri, Udi Hrant & Friends — The Cleopatra Record (Canary)

Details on this one could easily serve as grist for a credible short film screenplay with perhaps Jim Jarmusch directing. Brooklyn, 1963: A group of marginalized ethnic musicians relegated to playing wedding gigs gets conscripted for an afternoon recording session. The cheaply packaged and provincially distributed results are destined for the anonymity of dime store cut out bins. Except that the band includes two geniuses: Joe Maneri, who would go on to become a master microtonal improviser/composer and Udi Hrant Kenkulian, one of most revered modern doyens of the Turkish oud. Available over at Bandcamp for a pittance.

Ayalew Mesfin — Good Aderegechegn, Che Belew and Tewedije Limut (Now Again)

Adding up Buda Musique’s 30-volume Ethiopiques series and a host of other more modest enterprises, it’s obvious that there’s never been more access to vintage Ethiopian music than now. This trilogy of discs from the Now Again label covering vocalist/keyboardist/bandleader Ayalew Mesfin’s catalog restores one of the last untapped reservoirs to circulation. Tight horns, choppy, fuzz and wah-wah drenched guitars and chugging bass fuel dance floor burners while Mesfin’s pipes work memorable magic on a string of melancholic, melismatic ballads.

Kent & Modern Records Blues into the 60s, Vol. 1 & 2 (Ace)

Ace’s appellation as a music label of enviable reach and import has never been an erroneous assignation. This pair of compilations investigates the urban, but far from urbane, blues scene surrounding Los Angeles as documented by the Kent label in the 1960s. Comparatively longer-in-tooth legends like T-Bone Walker and Big Jay McNeely jockey with younger, fame hungry artists like Larry Davis and Little Joe Blue in negotiating a West Coast argot that’s heavy on electricity channeled through guitars and organs. McNeely’s ripping “Blues in G Minor” is one of several snarling sonic wolves in non-descript sheep’s titling.

V/A — A Stranger I May Be: Savoy Gospel 1954-1986 (Honest Jons)

This astutely-sequenced set stands out in the particularly plentiful playing field of this year’s gospel reissues. The mighty Savoy label started out as a jazz venture before branching out into other African American musical idioms. The compilers at Honest Jons parse the program chronologically across three-discs and leave the heavy-lifting of context and artists biography to a lengthy essay. Choirs, ensembles, bands, and moonlighting R&B singers all make appearances directing their talents to devotional and invocational celebrations of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

Sun Ra

One of the highlight roundtables at Dusted this year was a Listening Post ruminating on the Sun Ra Arkesta with and sans Ra on the occasion of the band’s new release Swirling. I got to play the (hopefully uncharacteristic) part of curmudgeon in those exchanges principally because while I respect the ensemble’s longevity absent their lodestar leader, there’s still an explicit void extant that tends to eclipse my actual interest. The Ra reissue docket for 2020, which included excellent editions of Celestial Love and A Fireside Chat with Lucifer from Modern Harmonic, When Angels Speak of Love on Cosmic Myth, Heliocentric Worlds, Vols. 1 and 2 from Ezz-thetics, and Strut’s Egypt 1971, which collects Dark Myth Equation Visitation, Nidhamu and Horizon alongside a bevy of contemporaneous unreleased recordings, only bolstered the bias.

Fresh Sound Records

Still the standard for thoughtfully and lavishly curated jazz reissues, Barcelona-based Fresh Sound kept commensurately prolific pace throughout the year. Gary Peacock - The Beginnings surveys the recently deceased bassist’s early work as a versatile California-stationed sideman. Remembering does similar service to rare concert recordings by Belgian guitarist Rene Thomas while The Complete 1961 Milano Sessions offers truth in advertising by compiling woodwind savant Buddy Collette’s sojourn on Italian shores with (mostly) indigenous sidemen.

V/A — Sumer is Icumenin (Grapefruit)

An overdue sequel to Dust on the Nettles (2015), which apparently commands on princely sums on Discogs these days, this set encompasses 4+ hours of cherry-picked vintage British freak folk. Second helpings from stalwarts of the style such as Comus, Steeleye Span and Fairport Convention join Albion offerings from obscurants like Vulcan’s Hammer, Mr. Fox and Oberon in celebrating the weird crossroads of ancient Britannic and 1960s counterculture influences. The cant is more to The Wicker Man side of the spectrum with Magnet’s bucolic canticle “Corn Rigs” the ringer in that regard.

Twenty-five more in mostly stochastic order:

Aruán Ortiz - Inside Rhythmic Falls (Intakt)

Brandon Seabrook/Cooper-Moore/Gerald Cleaver — Exultations (Astral Spirits)

Cecil Taylor & Tony Oxley — Birdland, Neuberg 2011 (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Horace Tapscott w/ the Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra — Ancestral Echoes: The Covina Sessions, 1976 (Dark Tree)

Damon Smith — Whatever is Not Stone is Light (Balance Point Acoustics)

Frank Lowe & Rashied Ali — Duo Exchange: Complete Sessions (Survival)

Dudu Pukwana — and the “Spears” (Matsuli Music)

Mary Halvorson’s Code Girl — Artlessly Falling (Firehouse 12)

Burton Greene — Peace Beyond Conflict (Birdwatcher)

Albert Ayler — Trio 1964: Prophecy Revisited (Ezz-thetics)

JD Allen — Toys/Die Dreaming (Savant)

Charles Mingus — At Bremen 1964 and 1975 (Sunnyside)

The Warriors of the Wonderful Sound — Soundpath (Clean Feed)

Kidd Jordan/Joel Futterman/Alvin Fielder — Spirits (Silkheart)

Roland Haynes — 2nd Wave (Black Jazz)

Quin Kirchner — The Shadows and the Light (Astral Spirits)

Thelonious Monk — Palo Alto (Universal/Impulse)

Black Unity Trio — Al-Fatihah (Salaam Records/Gotta Groove)

Gary Smulyan — Our Contrafacts (Steeplechase)

Joni Mitchell — Archives Vol. 1: The Early Years (1963-1967 (Rhino)

Elder Charles Beck — Your Man of Faith (Gospel Friend)

Sarhabil Ahmed — King of Sudanese Jazz (Habibi Funk)

V/A – The Right to Rock: The Mexicano and Chicano Rock ‘n’ Roll Rebellion 1955-1963, Episodio Uno (Bear Family)

V/A – Hillbillies in Hell: Country Music’s Tormented Testament (1952-1974) ~ Revelations (The Omni Recording Corporation)

V/A — The Harry Smith B-Sides (Dust to Digital)

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thegoodprincess · 4 years ago

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Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 2

Author: thegoodprincess

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character

Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au

Word Count: 2.1k [series, ongoing]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of violence [a stabbing occurs]

Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

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(I recommend listening to this song while reading)

Together We are Apart, but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 2. Fate

“Fate has a funny way of intervening in people’s lives.” ― Katie Ashley

It was a few months later in the dead of winter when I was walking near the Han River. Due to the icy temperatures the river was partially frozen. The ground surrounding it was coated in a fresh blanket of snow that came down earlier in the day. A chilly breeze nipped at the tender flesh of my cheek, causing an involuntary shiver to rake down my spine.

Sighing out my condensed breath formed a cloud that mingled with the crisp air. I glanced up at the sky. Overhead the pale moon glowed bright, illuminating the night sky against the backdrop of countless glittery stars. Looking around I stood alone admiring the the way the shadows created by the city lights flitted across the pavement. It was quiet, not eerily so, but in a way that emphasized the bare stillness of wintertime. Most people were at home presumably getting ready to go to sleep as it was fairly late.

I was waiting for my next patron to arrive: a man who was going to be murdered during a robbery gone wrong. This was a common occurrence for me. I was one of many angels of death. I was not a malevolent force. I did not decide who lived and who died, and how the act itself was carried out. I simply collected the souls of the fallen and escorted them to the afterlife.

It was bittersweet condoling the newly deceased once they realized their predicament. I would allow them to say their last goodbyes to loved ones and others they deemed fit before they departed into the light. But it was harrowing having to witness death first hand and being strictly forbid from interfering.

I had seen countless people perish a variety of ways. I had seen it all from natural deaths having to do with diseases or natural processes like aging, to accidental deaths like car fatalities. Suicides and homicides were some of the worst. While death was inevitable, loss of life done by the hands of oneself or by another wasn’t. There always lied a choice, humans just choose to be masters of their own and sometimes other’s destinies.

While I was a creation of purity, I had been become well acquainted with grief. It was almost as if I was stuck in an endless cycle; each time the metaphorical wound was healed it was being habitually ripped open. In the grand scheme of things it was woefully the one major downside of the duty. Tonight would be no different. I would again begrudgingly be a bystander to yet another fateful demise.

As if on cue an older man adorn in designer clothing came into view, walking cautiously with shifting eyes assessing his surroundings. His shoulders were tensed and his pace was quick as he shuffled across the sidewalk. He looked genuinely frightened as if he was paranoid that someone was following him, and I guess he wasn’t wrong.

Then seemingly from the shadows a man wearing a black ski mask and gloves appeared from behind some foliage. He snuck up and roughly grabbed the older gentleman from behind with gloved hands, startling him.

The two men fought for a short while until the masked man managed to get his forearm around the older gentleman’s neck. He began to strangle him. However, I don’t think the masked man’s intent was to maliciously murder him. Rather he was meaning to strangle the older man to the point of him passing out. This would ensure that the masked man could steal his wallet without the risk of being followed and potentially caught.

But nevertheless, the masked man exerted lethal pressure for way longer than necessary to the elder’s neck. The older man’s knees began to buckle and his struggling became less erratic. Regardless of the older gentleman involuntarily becoming compliant, the masked man had yet to let up his hold on him. The older gentleman’s arms dangled limply at his sides. He was dying.

Just then a third party came into view. I was bewildered as I wasn’t expecting anyone else to show up. A young man with a bag slung over his shoulder was inching closer and closer, until his face came into view. He seemed vaguely familiar, the distance between us was making it hard to distinguish certain features.

Then almost instantly I recognized him. It was the boy whose face I had found to be bewitching. He was indelibly engrained into my memory. While I had stopped secretly hoping to catch a serendipitous glimpse of him when I was out, there hadn’t been a day that went by where I didn’t wonder what he was doing, who he was with, or if he even frequented the same places.

He still looked the same dressed smartly in a white turtleneck, tan trousers, wool trench coat, and tartan print scarf. It was apparent that the overcast winter weather had subtly lightened his complexion by a few shades. The only significant difference about him was his hair. His once dark locks had been dyed to a golden blonde hue. In addition to the new color, the parting of his hair now showcased his entire forehead.

Regardless of the butterflies that had erupted in my abdomen from seeing him again, the feeling dissipated all too soon as my stomach sunk. There had never been a greater time where I wished he hadn’t show up, especially considering the circumstances of this situation.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

My veins ran cold, as if the very ice water of the river before us, coursed through them. Every hair on the back of my neck rose on end. I silently prayed he would turn around back in the direction he came from and not involved himself. But I was sorely mistaken. He stopped in his tracks, witnessing the killing of the elder. Swiftly dropping his bag, he ran over to help.

What ensued caused me to let out an audible gasp. The boy threw a hard punch and was able to stun the masked man momentarily, as the criminal fell to the ground. Assuming the masked man to be knocked out, the boy then attempted to help the older man who fell to his knees gasping for breath. Crouching down, the boy pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. But his attempt was short lived.

Rising from his place on the ground a bit disoriented, the robber fumbled around in his front coat pocket and hastily pulled out a small pistol rashly pointing it at the pair with a quivering hand. The older gentleman cowered low behind the younger boy, almost as if he was using him as a shield. The boy’s arms immediately came up to surrender, remaining perfectly still. The gunman agitated at the boy’s heroics fixed his aim directly to the boy’s chest. He was purposely planning to deliver a fatal shot to his heart. All to quickly the gun shot’s sound reverberated off the concrete. I could only watch in horror.

In that moment the world seemed to turn upside down. My mind was reeling. I felt dizzy, bile crept up into my throat while all I felt was I was my heart slamming against my ribcage. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the bullet exited the barrel of the gun. Naturally the boy screwed his eyes shut while he tensed his entire body, bracing himself for the inevitable impact. A second later he flinched backwards.

Shortly after the deafening crack of the bullet penetrated my eardrums, I squinted my eyes to check where the boy had been shot. To my relief the middle of his chest was still intact, but a bright red substance began to slowly spread from his shoulder region and seep down into the area where his heart lay beating. The gunman had indeed missed his intended target, and instead shot clean through the boy’s left shoulder. The boy’s facial expression twisted into a state of confusion, shocked at what had just occurred. I assumed the adrenaline numbed his senses, altering his frame of mind.

The older gentlemen looked like he wanted to help but he remained unmoving still afraid to come out from behind the boy. The gunman tried to shoot again but to some miracle his trigger jammed. Seeing this as an opportunity to escape, the older man quickly abandoned the boy, scurrying off without looking back. But the boy was too weak to follow, he remained holding his shoulder nearly doubled over. The pain was beginning to set in.

In an effort to make due with the boy, the gunman reached into his interior coat pocket to withdraw his hand holding an odd black object. It was revealed to be a switchblade when he subtlety flicked his wrist and the blade sprung out. Since the older man escaped on the boy’s behalf, the masked man felt it was only fair the boy be robbed instead. The boy assessing the situation held out one of his hands as if to plead for mercy. A pained grimace painted his pretty face.

Then I saw the boy’s lips begin to move. The two appeared to be exchanging words. I felt petrified, so I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Their voices came out distorted, sounding more like unintelligible mumbles than any actual language. It was as though they were talking underwater.

In a last ditch attempt to save himself from further harm, I saw the boy slowly reach into his back pocket with his good hand and pull out his wallet. He dangled the wallet in front him to show the criminal before he chucked it into the snow at the criminal’s feet, hoping this would satisfy the man.

The man hastily grabbed the wallet off the ground and excitedly opened it to reveal its contents. But his smile soon faltered, boiling anger brewing in his eyes instead.

Originally it seemed he didn’t intended to stab the boy after already shooting him in a fit of blind rage, the knife was just the extra assurance he needed to intimidate the boy into cooperating. But the boy stuck his nose in business that didn’t concern him and ultimately costed the masked man.

Not only did the boy escalate the situation and cause the victim he purposely targeted to get away, but the masked man wasted time and energy grappling with the boy which increased the likelihood of him being seen and or arrested by the authorities. He went through all that troublesome effort and for what? Some chump change he could have easily pickpocketed off someone on the subway. He was throughly pissed.

The criminal was going to teach the boy a lesson. Taking the measly amount of bills out, he hurled what remained of the wallet back into the snow. He stalked closer to the boy ready to attack with a sadistic smirk.

Slowly the boy began taking small steps backwards subconsciously putting distance between him and the impending danger. Unfortunately he was unknowingly inching closer to the water.

But all hell broke loose when the boy accidentally slipped on some dangerously slick ice that caused him to lose his balance. He then clumsily stumbled backwards and plunged into the frigid water of the river, breaking through the ice in the process.

The gunman realizing the gravity of the situation, almost instantly snapped out of his aggressive trance-like state and stood there with a blank expression. It was then that he began to visibly panic, nervously looking around to see if anyone else had witnessed what had just happened. He apprehensively neared the edge of the river and looked as though he was debating whether to help the boy or not. But he knew if he did, it would only further incriminate him.

Deciding to conceal his involvement in tonight’s events, he plucked the jammed gun and wallet from the snow and hurriedly planted the two respective items by the river’s edge.

The gunman made it appear as though the boy had committed suicide by first shooting himself and then falling into the river. He subsequently raked his feet sloppily over the snow in a back and forth motion to disguise his shoe prints. Once he was pleased enough with his work, he bolted off fleeing the scene.

Quickly wrenching myself from my deep stupor, I rushed over without taking a second to assess the severity of my actions and immediately jumped in to rescue the boy.

#taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung x oc #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts army #bts supernatural au #taehyung

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kindofcashton · 5 years ago

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𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 • chapter 15 (Calum Hood AU)

HANNAH AND I must have toured a dozen apartments the next day. We started early in the morning and went all the way through lunch, looking at a bunch of cramped and overpriced places in the city. Even though I wasn’t entirely on board with the idea of moving out, I thought it couldn’t hurt to look. She’d found a bunch of places online and we started ticking them off our list, noting what we liked and didn’t like about each one. Hannah was way more into it than I was, carrying around a small notebook that she scribbled little details into to keep track of our findings.

As I walked through the next apartment, taking in the chipped painted brick and scuffed flooring, I felt what little enthusiasm I had waning even more. While Hannah made a good point that we were both in a place to move out, I still couldn’t pass up the luxury of living back at the house where I didn’t pay rent. Even with my job I’d only just managed to pay off the pipe damages at my old house, and my bank account was tight. I could make it work with some budgeting, but I hadn’t planned on doing that until I absolutely had to.

“Isn’t this natural light great?” Hannah commented, motioning to the big windows taking up the majority of one wall. They provided nice lighting, but I noted the ugly view of a back alley. Not to mention the city was never asleep, so even at night the room would be lit up from outside activity.

“And this couch is just adorable,” Hannah added, patting the cushion of an odd, modern-looking pea green sofa. I rolled my eyes.

“The furniture isn’t included here, Han. Shouldn’t that be written in your little notebook?” She frowned at my statement, and flipped through the pages of her book before sighing.

“Look, I know most of these places are kind of shitty, but at least we’d be living together. Think about it; two best friends living in the city and paving our way through the world. Things might be sucking right now, but we just gotta make lemonade out of lemons, right?”

I chuckled at her joke, and imagined that life in my head. Admittedly, it did seem nice. Living independently, working for a future, maybe even going to school again. The me from a few months ago would jump at this chance, but I was a different girl now. Things changed, one of the biggest being Calum. I didn’t know what our relationship was, but I knew we’d never have a chance to figure it out if I left. I wasn’t ready to sacrifice him, even if it meant facing some challenges.

When Hannah proposed we move on to the next apartment, I begged her to let us take a break since I was ravenous with hunger and it was well past lunchtime. She conceded, and we put our mission on hold to grab a bite to eat. Touring would take up the rest of the day, which was a good thing considering we didn’t want to go home until absolutely necessary. We never quite knew what we’d be walking into.

As we ate our salads at a little outdoor, I remembered something Hannah had said a few weeks ago. “Hey Han, remember when you told me all that stuff about soulmates?”

She lowered her fork and scowled. “Yeah, what a load of crap that turned out to be.”

I frowned. “It wasn’t crap. Didn’t you say that even if you and Ashton weren’t together, you were still meant to be?”

“I don’t know, I know I said that, but...” Her eyes filled with pain at the mention of her ex. “Soulmates don’t do this shit to each other, right?”

She had a good point, but I also knew that their problems had arisen from a place of love. Ashton was just hurt by her lying, which he could only feel if he really loved her. With the right apologies they could move past it, if what Hannah had said was true. Soulmates should be able to overcome anything.

“I didn’t really get it before, but now I believe it. You still should, too.” Her eyebrows raised at my words, intrigued.

“What, is Nick your soulmate or something?” Hannah joked, causing me to bite my cheek as I forced a smile. I was actually thinking of Calum, even though I definitely didn’t consider us soulmates. It just seemed like the universe wanted us together more than we did, and that had to be some sort of sign.

“No, not yet at least,” I bluffed. “I’ve just been thinking about it lately, what with everything going on. It’s comforting to have something to believe in when everything else is failing.”

She nodded, biting her thumb as she became lost in thought. Hannah had her own inner battles to wage, probably similar to the ones I had about Calum. I knew avoiding them was not the right way to handle our problems, but the thought of walking into yet another storm at home discouraged me.

We finished our tours well into the evening, finding each apartment pretty much identical to the last. I made an effort to point out the ones I preferred, just so Hannah saw I was trying a little bit. I made no promises to actually sign any dotted lines, but just saying I would think about it was enough to satisfy her.

We weren’t surprised to see Michael’s car gone when we got home, which meant Luke probably wasn’t here either. But Calum’s mustang was dutifully parked in the driveway, and I didn’t know if my heart skipped a beat out of excitement or dread.

Since it was so late Hannah said she was gonna go crash in the basement, and I agreed. I was tired down to my bones, but for so many different reasons. I was just about to head upstairs when I saw the faint glow of the kitchen light on, and I paused before moving any further. I knew talking to Calum alone was a dangerous game, and that it could end badly in a lot of ways. But there was a tugging in my chest that I simply couldn’t resist, and so I dropped my bag by the stairs and walked around to the kitchen.

He was seated at the table, half empty beer bottle in front of him. His black tee shirt and black jeans made him look like a shadow, barely there and on the verge of disappearing. He didn’t notice me at first, lost in whatever thought had a frown on his face. But then he looked over, brown eyes grabbing hold of me like a vice.

My smile was faint as I folded my arms and leaned against the wall, not daring to get any closer. I had no idea if this stoic expression of his was out of anger, sadness, or just boredom.

“Hey,” I greeted stiffly, deciding one of us may as well talk first. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.” After my talk with Hannah, I’d been worried that Calum was hurt when I didn’t go after him. I waited up anxiously for about an hour, but he hadn’t returned by the time I fell asleep.

He leaned back in his seat, hands toying with the beer bottle. “I didn’t hear you leave this morning,” he countered, relieving some of my tension. He didn’t sound angry, but he still hadn’t hinted at how he felt about yesterday.

“Yeah, Hannah and I left pretty early. She wanted to look at apartments, and I went with her.” I shifted from one foot to the other, anticipating his response. Calum took a swig of beer, still maintaining a steady frown.

“She wanted to look?” he asked, a slight emphasis on she.

“With everything going on, I guess she just wanted her options open,” I explained, knowing the underlying question he was trying to ask but ignoring it.

But Calum clearly wanted it answered. “What about your options?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, at a loss for words. I couldn’t even figure out myself what I wanted to do, let alone tell someone else. I fidgeted, trying to buy myself time to think. “I like living here,” I said after a while, causing him to look over again. Quickly I added, “because the rent is free, and I don’t have a lot of money yet.” I wanted to kick myself after saying this; why did I have to be so defensive? Why couldn’t I have just said I liked living here and left it at that, open-ended for Calum to interpret himself?

He stared down at the table, and I missed his warm brown eyes once he tore them away. “Right,” he murmured. “It’s economically convenient.”

I sighed, detecting his frustration. I hadn’t meant to come off as a cheapskate leaching off of the guys’ kindness, but apparently that’s how he saw it. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just...I want to pay rent, trust me I feel bad everyday for taking advantage, but…” The words escaped me, and something told me Calum didn’t really care about my explanation anyway. In an attempt to salvage this, I stated, “Look, if Hannah finds a place she likes I’ll probably go with her. That way, I’m out of your hair and actually living somewhere I deserve.”

I thought this would please Calum, but instead it only caused his brows to furrow and his frown to deepen. “That’s what you think I want?” he questioned, catching me off guard.

“Isn’t it?” His silent, incredulous stare just made me huff impatiently. “I can’t read your mind, Calum. I have no idea what you want, but I thought that was pretty close--”

“If you think I want you gone, then you’re wrong.”

I froze, suddenly feeling the distance between us shrink. Even though he was across the room, it was like he was right next to me, speaking right into my soul. Almost a minute passed by with neither of us saying anything, and I was so confused I knew I wouldn’t be the first to break the silence. Luckily, Calum seemed to know exactly what he wanted to say, because he stood up and walked over to the sink, placing the beer bottle in the sink and gripping the counter with his hands. He was facing away from me, and all I could see were the tense muscles in his back.

“Don’t go.”

Two words. Two small, barely distinguishable words I had to strain to hear. But those two words carried the weight of the world, our world, and it knocked all the breath out of me.

But naturally, my guard went up. I didn’t trust Calum, and I wouldn’t let his vague request get the better of me. “What happened to not giving a shit about me? I thought I was a liar who drives everybody insane. You said you hated me.” I knew referencing that particular fight was risky, considering what had transpired after it. Hatred had fueled our actions then, the passion an angry one that left me confused and guilty in the morning.

Calum turned around at last, and I saw the intensity in his eyes as he sighed. “You’re right. You are annoying and stubborn and make me absolutely crazy sometimes. But then, when I had stormed out yesterday because I was just so damn angry, I stopped myself. I was just sitting in my car, in some random parking lot, trying to get your stupid voice out of my head.”

My heart thumped so loudly in my chest I was sure it was shaking the whole room.

He shook his head, almost in a daze. “I knew exactly what you’d say. I knew you would tell me it would be okay, and that all I had to do was try. I could picture your face exactly. I even…” The way he licked his lips made my knees go weak. “You might just be the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, but I need you Scarlett. You make me a better person--you force me to be a better person, even when I don’t want to be. No one has ever given that much of a shit about me, or put in that much effort. Most people just...settle with what I’ve got. But you…”

Almost unconsciously my body brought me closer to him, meeting in the middle as the magnetism between us could no longer be fought. We were an inch away, and I was barely even breathing. When Calum lifted a hand to rest on the side of my face, a long-awaited exhale left my lungs.

“I need you, Scarlett,” he whispered. His admission hung in the air between us, the last barrier we needed to break before we could really come together. Feeling the touch of his fingers on my skin and the heat of his gaze on my face, I knew what needed to be done. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

Kissing Calum was a phenomenon I would never get used to. Each time, it was even deeper, even hotter. His lips were so familiar and yet so strange, eliciting new feelings inside of me with every movement. He tasted like beer and smelled like cologne, his scent intoxicating me. One swipe of his tongue across my bottom lip had me melting, and soon our tongues clashed with a new fervor born from the passion of his confession.

He needs me. Calum needs me. I repeated this phrase inside my head as we stumbled through the kitchen, my back hitting the wall and my hands finding his neck for stability. I could feel his desperation in every hot, rushed action he took, from biting my lip gently to skimming his hands down my sides. It was like he would die if he couldn’t feel me, touch me, kiss me.

Fully clothed and fully exposed in the kitchen, I worried for a second that Hannah would walk in on us, but I didn’t want to ruin this moment. Unfortunately, Calum was the first to pull away from the kiss. Our breathing was labored but matched, the synchronicity of our pulses electrifying the room. I scanned his face, frowning in confusion. “Why’d you stop?”

Smiling at my slight panic, he grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up, revealing a few inches of my abdomen and stopping just below my bra. “Because there are things I want to do to you that can’t be done in this kitchen,” he murmured into my ear, and I rolled my eyes back as his warm breath tickled my skin.

We fumbled through the dark house, hands entangled together as he led me up the stairs. Exhilaration coursed through me like a drug, igniting every nerve ending on my body. I couldn’t wait to tear off my clothes and expose myself to Calum and his wicked tricks.

As he closed the door to his bedroom behind me, he watched me whip off my shirt and pretended to pout. “I wanted to do that,” he complained, his large hands grabbing my sides and lighting up the skin that his fingers pressed into. I smiled, giving him a light kiss before leaning back and quirking an eyebrow up.

“There are plenty of other things you can take off,” I replied in a low voice, making his eyes spark as he reattached our lips. He used his body to push mine back to the bed until I fell back, his large frame resting on me in a deliciously suffocating way. I didn’t know why but the weight of him on top of me felt so right, and I pressed my hands into his back to bring him even closer.

Calum felt my hands and ripped his shirt over his head, discarding it beside mine on the floor. His lips traveled down my jaw to my neck, sloppy and wet and riling me up inside. One hand supported his weight while the other rested on my hip, thumb moving to undo the front button of my jeans. In a flash my pants were off, and only my bra and panties covered me. I arched my back in order to undo my bra clasp, and the action pushed my breasts close to Calum’s face, and he let out a groan as his lips dipped to kiss my chest.

“God, Scarlett,” he growled when I was nearly exposed to him, my torso bare and my panties shortly following as I tossed them to the floor. The way Calum looked at me, like he was consuming me with his very eyes and touch, made me feel like I was on fire. His hands drifted over every inch of skin, sliding down my inner thighs and up my waist.

I wrapped my fingers into his curls just as I felt his hand cover my entrance, causing my hips to buck with pleasure. One simple stroke of his finger had me moaning, and my folds were slick with excitement. He worked my clit in circles that had my jaw dropping, and it was all I could do not to scream out his name.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, one of his fingers dipping into my core. “Just like that.” I could tell he was smirking by the way he kissed me, and this amusing arrogance of his only made my stomach tighten further. I couldn’t believe how much Calum affected me, how one simple touch had me hurtling towards the edge. I knew as soon as my toes began to curl and my hips lifted off the mattress I was done for, and his fingers pumped one more time before my orgasm rocketed through me.

Stars swam before my vision as I whined with pleasure, legs shaking and chest heaving with effort. I came down off my high to the feeling of him kissing my jaw, curls tickling my chin. With clumsy movements, I wrestled with his difficult belt buckle, huffing when it wouldn’t come undone. Calum chuckled lowly, capturing my pout with his lips. He kissed me gently as he expertly removed his belt and slid his pants down, boxers going along with them. When he leaned back to pull them off, I got a perfect view of his body. Toned muscles shone in the dim moonlight streaking through the window, and I could just make out how hard he was. His cock looked stiff and I tenderly reached out a hand to caress it, gingerly swiveling up and feeling the hot skin in my palm.

Calum let out a string of curse words at my motions, coming forward again so he was engulfing me with his body. When I rubbed my thumb at the base of his tip, he hissed and grabbed my wrist. “If you want this to last, you’re gonna have to stop doing that, babe,” he told me darkly, the word babe making my stomach somersault. I released his cock and brought my hand to his cheek, kissing him hard and communicating all of my desire in the way my lips connected to his.

The lust in his blown out pupils told me he wanted the exact same thing, and after a minute he reached one arm over to the nightstand. A familiar foil packet was ripped open, and I watched his deft fingers work the condom on until he was lined up at my entrance. His tip just dipped into my folds, and the agonizing tease had my breath erratic.

Our noses brushed as we both waited for the inevitable. My heart pounded in my ears and my senses were overwhelmed by the boy hovering above me, so close to giving me exactly what I wanted. His full pink lips were parted slightly, and I slid my palm along the line of his jaw. Calum read my eyes, surely seeing the craving in my expression. Dropping his forehead to my own, I felt his hips shift as he sank into me.

A cry quickly left my lips after he entered me. My slick folds encased his throbbing length, and he pressed all the way inside until I felt him reach the deepest part of me. The stretch was sensational, and he filled me with every inch of him. I almost didn’t want him to move, in love with the feeling of him fitting so closely. But then he pulled his hips back, almost all the way out, and reentered with a firm push that had me whining for more.

“Fuck,” he swore breathily, eyes closed as he rocked into me. “You’re so tight.” I gripped his bicep, lips lazily dragging across his jaw as his face rested right above mine. Calum’s breaths were shallow and hitched every time my walls clenched around him. I tugged at the ends of his air, causing an impassioned moan to escape his mouth.

This must have snapped something inside of him, because his pace began to increase. Each thrust went deeper, harder, faster. He filled me completely only to slide out and slam back into me. My knees bent and my legs wrapped around his hips, providing a new angle that had his name tumbling out of my lips.

“God, Calum, yes,” I cried, his face burying in my neck. My hands went from his hair to his back to his arms, desperately trying to hang on as my body lost control. We were so in sync, and with each push into me I felt myself falling further and further into ecstasy.

His moans had also picked up speed, growing louder when I bucked my hips into his. “You feel so good, baby,” he rasped, sucking on my neck and massaging my breast with his hand. He was everywhere, in me and on me and around me, and I wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by his embrace.

Calum’s thrusts grew rougher and sloppier, each one coiling up the heat inside me tighter and tighter. I knew I was close when my legs began to shake, and my eyes couldn’t stay open. Colors exploded in a rainbow of pleasure as my second orgasm hit, erupting through my nerves like lava. I was moaning and clawing at his back, and when Calum groaned deeply I knew he was done for as well. We both rode our orgasms with mingled moans and slow kisses, and when I had recovered I felt the weight of him fully on top of me as he rested inside of me. I felt complete, entirely connected the one person I’d been yearning for for weeks. I never wanted him to pull away, to leave me and bring back the empty feeling.

We laid like this for a while, my fingers trailing across his back as he rested his cheek on my chest, breath finally steadying as he exhaled into my skin. When I unwrapped my legs from around him he finally rolled off of me, sliding out of my folds and quickly throwing out the condom into the bin next to the bed. I was sore in the best way possible, and my body felt blissfully satisfied.

Calum rolled back to face me, not hesitating before he pulled me into his chest. I rested against his hot, sweat-glistened skin, savoring the way I could feel his subtle heartbeat under my cheek. His fingers drifted up and down my arm, soothing the burning skin before pulling the covers over us and providing even more warmth. I was scorching hot, and closed my eyes as I imagined how nice it would be if we could melt into one another.

I felt Calum press his lips to the top of my head in a surprisingly intimate gesture, and my heart swooned before exhaustion took me out of reality and into a dreamless sleep.

- - - - -

For once, Calum was awake before me. I woke up to the feeling of his fingers in my hair, running through the soft strands as he gazed down at me. I pressed my nose into the skin of his chest, inhaling as much of him as I could. He smelled warm and sweet and I wondered briefly if I was in a dream.

“You frown in your sleep, you know,” he said softly, causing me to look up at him with a puzzled expression. His smile was faint but his eyes were kind, and I basked in their brown glow. “So serious, like you’re deep in thought even when you’re asleep.”

My lips stretched into a smile, and my hand rubbed his chest lazily. “You’re watching me sleep?”

He shrugged, brushing the hair out of my face and resting his hand on the side of my neck. “I love looking at you.” His simple but powerful statement made my smile grow, and if I wasn’t so tired I would’ve jumped for joy. Drowsily, I leaned up to kiss his lips, barely even touching him but bringing our naked bodies closer once more. I couldn’t help the gleeful grin on my face, and it only broadened when Calum went in for another kiss.

I was about to say something about the way he slept when a harsh and unwelcome ringing blared from my phone. Our little bubble abruptly burst as I scrambled to find the phone, not thinking before I hit the end call button. But I didn’t toss my phone aside before reading the name of the caller, and my blood ran cold. It was Nick.

Sitting on the side of the bed, half of my body covered by the blankets but the other half exposed, I knitted my brows as Calum’s fingers danced across my skin, unaware of who had just tried to talk to me. He must have seen the look on my face, because his fingers stalled their movements.

Frustration and panic and even a little bit of guilt started to crowd my thoughts, as I suddenly remembered I was sort of dating someone that wasn’t the naked boy next to me. I chewed my lip, wondering if it was best to just lie about who had called and not ruin the moment.

No, Scarlett. You can’t lie. I sighed, knowing that I had to fess up. Any more lying would surely destroy Calum and I, and that was the last thing I wanted right now. I brought my hand to his, twisting my fingers against his own in an attempt to connect us in even a small way.

“Who was it?” he asked, tone dry and apprehensive. I bit my lip, praying this didn’t make him angry.

“It was Nick, the guy I...am sort of seeing.” I held my breath as he took this information in. Already his expression grew distant, and I panicked as he pulled his hand out of mine.

“Sort of seeing?” he repeated. I looked away, unable to hold his gaze when his eyes were boring so deep inside of me. The truth was Nick hadn’t even crossed my mind once last night, and I didn’t care. Calum had consumed me in every way, and I knew Nick would never be able to make me feel half as good.

But telling these things to Calum was risky. Too much and it might scare him away. Too little and he might get pissed at me. It was a fine line that I needed to navigate carefully, since our whole future depended on it.

“Sort of seeing as in...I don’t really want to be seeing him.” It was a simple clarification, and I just hoped Calum understood what it meant. Nick means nothing to me, I would give him up in a heartbeat for you. His calculated stare concerned me, and my mouth dried as I worried he didn’t understand.

He lowered his gaze, unable to meet mine as well. “So you’re saying, after last night, you don’t want to be with him.” I clenched my jaw at his infuriatingly vague assertion. If I said yes, he might think I looked too much into the night and thought we were more serious than we were. If I said no, he might think I didn’t care.

I couldn’t bear the space between us, and slid my body right next to his so my head rested on his shoulder. Physical communication seemed a better option than verbal, since I knew I would screw it up. I sighed and closed my eyes, rubbing my cheek against his arm. “I don’t know what it means, exactly. What I do know is...I just want to be here with you. For as long as we can.”

His silence terrified me, and I was about to give up entirely when he twisted his body to face mine, our chests touching gently. I watched his brown eyes closely, trying to decipher the thoughts behind them. Calum paused for a second, and then broke into a crooked smile.

“Well then you better end it with the poor bloke before he gets his hopes up.”

Pure elation washed over me, and my wide grin returned as I launched myself forward to kiss him. He reacted immediately, arms encircling me in a comforting embrace. It wasn’t a definite declaration of any sort of relationship, but it was enough. It was enough to know that Calum wanted to be here with me as much as I did, and the relief I felt was immeasurable.

I didn’t know what would happen after this, but frankly I didn’t care. I only cared about the taste of Calum’s lips and the touch of his hands, passion igniting between us as I kissed him hard. Under the warm blankets, with our bodies glued together and our lips connecting us, we were in paradise, at least for a fleeting instant.

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luhlust · 5 years ago

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Lost but Found a Mystic Messenger Scenario

Pairing: Zen/Hyun Ryu X Reader

Overview: You are a sheltered daughter of a wealthy man who escaped through the help of a red haired hacker with many hidden secrets.

Note: Hello! This is Part 2. PART 1

•-—-•

"Remember, keep your back straight and always smile but make it natural-" your guardian stared at you, supervising and bossing around the other servants while rambling about her silly lectures the whole time you were getting ready. The atmosphere was tense, everyone is clearly serious at the sudden task and you are somehow glad that you cannot really hear her tedious lectures clearly over the sounds of the blow dryer. You really hate being surrounded and being touched by several people at the same time, the whole process of being ready for occasions like this never fails to make you uncomfortable.

Your hairdresser finally sets the dryer off, brushing a few strands of your hair, letting it flow to your shoulder neatly. Your stylists brought out a black dress with a semi-see through laced sleeves that reaches above your knees. You cursed at the lace features knowing how it will irritate you some time later but it is not entirely a bad choice, you took note of how elegant the dress looks and it is not too formal nor it is too casual making the dress in the borderline of the two. You slipped the dress on before sitting back down for them to finish your make up.

They lifted your feet to put on a matching open-toed strapped sandals that added a few inches to your height. Seeing yourself in the mirror, you cannot bring yourself to judge your overall appearance poorly since they did a good job in bringing out your best features and you do look good; sacrificing your comfort seems reasonable now.

"Ah, Lady (y/n), you look super pretty," one of them squealed, boosting your ego and of course, making yourself a little shy but nevertheless, you thanked her for the compliment. "Alright ladies, you did a great job. We have no time to lose, your father is already waiting for you in the car, Lady (y/n)." Your guardian dismissed the others, signalling you to follow her. Your heart skipped a beat, excitement pulsed through your vein, you cannot help but grin with every step you take. Your mind was in the gutter, completely overwhelmed at the thought that for the first time in your life, you will be outside of the mansion.

Guards surrounded you, blocking you from the view of the halls to make it difficult for you to remember the way out, much to your dismay. You sighed in annoyance, your father is really is a detail-oriented man. You did your best to somehow get a little grasp on where you guys are going but with an attention span as big as an ant, you gave up halfway.

After walking for 10 minutes, as you estimated, you came face to face with a steel door that can be opened through a scan of of an eye; the scene looked like it was taken from a sci-fi movie!

"Identity confirmed, Ms. Sae In," your heard an automated voice coming from the small speaker before the door slowly opened. You squinted your eyes at the sudden change of brightness, startstrucked upon seeing the bright blue sky along with the fluffy white clouds that made you want to bite on it like cotton cady. The wind brushed past your face, you cannot help but let out a contented sigh as you continued to walk down the gates, several servants greeted you with a bow, opening the door of the car for you.

"Ah, Sae In, your efforts are commendable today," Your father commented, ushering you to get inside the car quickly. "It was the best we can do in an hour, sir," your guarduan politely dismissed his compliment, giving you a look you know so well. "I got it! Have some faith in me," she shakes her head in exasperation.

"Just try to be normal," you winked at her before the window rolled up, tinting the environment slightly darker in your vision. Your eyes were glued to the window, admiring everything your eyes can spot. It was the first time you see them with your own eyes and not through the screen or a picture. Your father took a glimpse on you through the mirror, he immediately can sense your happiness as it radiated on you brightly.

"Ah, (y/n), there's actually another person I like you to meet. I'm sure the two of you wou-,"your father's eyes met yours, immediately making him cut himself off, "Ah you know what nevermind. I'll tell you when we are there." You simply nodded, completely oblivious to what your father has just said as you were too focus on your surroundings.

It did not ever register to you that 3 hours had passed and you were already at your destination. The car came into a halt, the bodyguards got off first to open the door for you and your father. As soon as the door opened, you looked up and gazed at the tall building.

"C&R..."

You followed your father through the entrance of the building where you came face to face with a brown haired woman wearing a glasses, looking over with some files attached to her clipboard.

As soon as she took note of your arrival, she immediately bowed and introduced herself, "Come this way, we have been waiting for you sir." You took your time in appreciating the interior design of the building. It was minimalistic and clean, whoever was in charge of designing the building deserves an applause.

Your father converse with the woman you now know as Assistant Kamg due to her I.D. laced around her neck. Once the two of you were situated inside the elevator, she pressed on the button with the highest floor. "Ah, right, this is my daughter, (y/n)." You smiled at her and she reciprocated the gesture before the two of you could engage in a small talk, your father immediately directed the attention back to him, "Is the chairman's son available?" You can see how her face contorted in confusion, relaxing after a second before replying, "He is currently in his office but if you are to request his presence, he is flexible."

The door opened with a soft ding, the sounds of your sandals colliding with the floor echoed through the hall. At the end of the hall, you can see a man standing with a sly grin. "My dear friend Choi! I looked forward in meeting you!" He gave your father a welcoming hug. "And who is this lovely maiden over here?" He let out his hand, you smiled at him. "Choi (y/n), sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." You took his hand and firmly shake it, making him chuckle before facing back to your father.

"I see, your daughter has grown into a fine woman! Well, let's have a seat inside shall we." The CEO, you assume, opened the door where a woman you recognize as Glam Choi is seating with a wine between her fingers. The Assistant suddenly went to whisper something in the CEO's ear. "Is that so?" He trailed off, before shrugging. "Well, she is to be part of C&R soon, let her roam around while I have a little chat with Mr. Choi here." Confused at his statement, you looked over at Assistant Kang seemed shocked but nodded in reply.

"Ms. Choi? Here is a pass. As directed by the Mr. Han, you are to freely roam the entire building but please do observe the rules and regulations. I can briefly explain each but it is mostly to not disturb any work and to not go into an authorized room," she handed you a small card that has VIP printed out. "Thankyou, uh...," you looked at her I.D. once more, Kang Jaehee. "Jaehee, I'll surely act in accordance to your rules." She smiled upon seeing how flustered you were. "Here is my business card, if you need anything, do not be afraid to call me. If you are to excuse me..." You bowed at her as goodbye, staring at the small piece of card that has her basic contanct information.

You waved goodbye as the elevator door closed once more. Letting out a breath of relief, although you really like to be more sociable, you did not expect it to be tiring as this. You brought your phone out, feeling a little giddy upon adding the assistant's contact, it was the first ever number you saved on your phone.

Maybe you'll get to be able to talk to her after this day.

Your heart sank at the thought that your time here is limited. You looked at the glass where you can see silhouette of your father, he was the only one wearing glasses so it is not that difficult to distinguish him from the rest. You silently hoped his meeting never ends, being in a new environment sure do bring such joy in your heart.

Slapping yourself lightly on the cheek, you pumped yourself, "Alright! Time to stop moping around and to enjoy the moment."

You didn't really know where you are going so you called Ms. Kang if there's any interesting spots in the building and she told you about the garden in the rooftop. Problem is, she had to cut the call short and did not really specify how to go to the said garden so here you are again, lost in the halls of a building you barely know.

You could have asked other staff that were present but you did not really want to disturb them so you figured you would bump into it soon. Aimlessly wandering, you soon found yourself starinf at a deadend. "Ah? Not again..," you cursed, turning on your heels only for you to stop in your tracks, seeing someone has just blocked the way.

"Who are you? What is your business here?" You looked up, a man in a business suit with stripes and a jet-black tamed hair glared down on you, his raven eyes seemed to attract your interest as you find yourself lost in them, not realizing how you have been staring at him for a minute now.

Jumin sighed, closing his eyes to calm himself, his father has brought his new girlfriend in and is asking for him to meet her along with a new acquaintance plus the issue with the R.F.A. is sure taking a toll in him but being the man he is, he needs to be composed whether this person infront of him is a threat or not. Plus, he is carrying Elizabeth the 3rd as he brought her in the company to compensate for the time he is not able to be with her due to several reasons (R.F.A., MC, and 707).

"Your eyes are really pretty," you said mindlessly before closing your mouth with your palms, horrified that you have just said your thoughts out loud. Jumin did not expect such spontaneous compliment, "A-Ah, I'm sorry! Am I not allowed to be here? I did not see any restrictions signs though." You look around, trying to justify your statement. Jumin took this time to examine you, his eyes immediately focused on the V.I.P. lace. "Ah, I see." Putting the pieces together, Jumin inferred that maybe you are he acquaintance his father wanted him to meet.

"Meow~" Elizabeth the 3rd purred in his arms, breaking his thoughts off, remembering his agenda with his father. Hearing the cat meow, you gushed in your mind how cute the fluffy white cat sitting comfortably in the arms of the man infront of you. You wanted to pet it but you were too shy to ask if you are permitted to do so.

Jumin cannot help but let out a small sigh seeing the sparks in yout eyes as it made contact with his precious Elizabeth the 3rd. He coughed, grabbing your attention. "You must be Ms. Choi, I am terribly sorry for my manners. I assumed you were either an employee slacking off or an intruder. I'm Han Jumin." You shake your head, telling him you did not mind. "It's fine, the CEO told me I am able to loiter around and I was trying to find the garden Ms. Kang mentioned," scratching your cheeks in attempt to make the situation less awkward, your eyes cannot seem to find where to look so you ended up looking at the cat again.

"You seem fixated on Elizabeth the 3rd, I'll take it that you are captivated by her splendor," you chuckled at the fancy name but it somehow suited the cat's appearance. "Elizabeth the 3rd is a nice name! Did you name her?" You questioned, watching the cat licks it paws in an elegant manor.

"No, a dear friend did." He replied, amused to know someone other than him si appreciating Elizabeth the 3rd more less her name, unlike someone he knows.

"It's nice to meet you Elizabeth the 3rd, you are really really really adorable, hey Jumin, can I pet her?" Jumin's eyes widened at how you casually called him by his name. He wanted to call you out about it but, he decided against it. "If Elizabeth the 3rd wont mind, go ahead."

You slowly placed your hand on top of her white head, softly petting her as she leaned towards you more. "Meow~" You giggled at her adorable reaction, it was like you got wrapped around her tail, drawing you closer into her. "Mr. Han! Ms. Choi! Your father are asking for the two of you!" You peeked behind Jumin, seeing Ms. Kang approach you.

"Oh right! Father." You sweatdropped, passing by Jumin until you remembered you don't know how to get back to the CEO's office. "Jaehee, I don't remember the way." You pouted, Jaehee chuckled and assured you it was fine and it is her job to escort you anyways. "Oh, Jumin you're coming too?" Jumin shot you a puzzled look, it was as if you asked a stupid question. Jaehee seemed to sense your question was purely genuine and decided to clear up your confusion. "Mr. Han is the son of the CEO."

You gasped, looking back and forth at the two. If your guardian learned anything about this or worse, your father, you dreaded what punishment awaits you. "I'm sorry Jumi-ah-Mr. Han! I should have shown you more respect!" You apologized, bowing a complete 90 degrees, Jumin is somehow amazed at how you did not recognize him despite his repuatation. "It is not a big of a deal, Ms. Choi. Oh and Assistant Kang, please look after Elizabeth the 3rd for me." Jaehee scowled as the feline was handed to her, her fur immediately sticking to her blazer.

Soon, you find yourself in the office once more, your father laughing alongside the CEO who took notice of your presence. "My son! Jumin! Finally, where have the two of you been?" Your father also seemed to question you mentally by the look on his face. "I somehow bumped into Ms. Choi a few floors below and had a rather short conversation about Elizabeth the 3rd." Jumin stated nonchalantly and you smiled at him.

"Elizabeth the 3rd?" Your father commented, tilting his head towards Jumin. "Yes father! Jumi-I mean, Mr. Han has a beautiful cat named Elizabeth the 3rd!" You made a small jump, happy to remember petting the soft fur of the cat. You always wanted to have your own pet, animals hold a dear spot in you.

"I'm glad the two of you are getting along. You're right, Mr. Choi. I hope their engagement goes smoothly." Engagement? "Dear, did you say engagement? Haha, I though Sarah is to be set up with Jumin?" The woman who you assumed as the CEO's lover interjected, feeling her glare at you, sending chills down to your spine.

"Father, I am not aware of this engagement at all." You tried to keep up with the conversation, not able to understand what is going on. "Wait, who is engaged?" Your father let out a sigh, clearly the situation is getting a little unorganized. "(y/n), we have decided to have you and Jumin be engaged for the sake of our and their company's success."

Your face contorted. "Excuse me?"

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger scenario #zen x reader #707 #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #v #jihyun kim #hyun ryu #hyun ryu x reader #mystic messenger x reader

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knightedrogue · 6 years ago

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Ficlet: Interlude

The HSBCAS called. I responded. :)

“Well.”

Leia looked up from her caf, bleary and sleep-deprived, disappointed to be interrupted from the small reprieve of the turbolift. She’d come in early in an effort to leave the evening free for much more pleasant pursuits with Han, but the workload was overwhelming. The campaign to wipe up the last of Palpatine’s forces near Coruscant was going well, but the pure logistics required to undertake an all-out invasion were mind-blowing. And Leia was one of the few people in High Command with a good handle on Imperial City’s infrastructure, the coolest head to work through strategies that minimized civilian casualties.

And, too, she’d left the sanctuary of Han’s arms far too early this morning. It had been difficult, after such a wonderful night, to get out of the bunk. Part of her, the more emotionally available part, was upset she had had to get up at all. But responsibilities called and if she could just get a handle on the work early, she could leave her office at a sensible hour this evening to see Han again.

Han. The man with a million surprises and a mouth proven to drive her to the brink whenever he damn well chose. What he’d done—what they’d done—last night had been a breathless, insane experience and one that haunted the blurred edges of her focus this morning. The taste of his tongue, the feel of his arms around her, the low groans that echoed in her ear while she’d grabbed her first cup of caf ….

She refocused with a shake of her head.

“Huh.”

She opened her eyes, not comprehending when she’d closed them, and took a sip from her cup. The being in the turbolift with her stood behind her. She did not want to engage, did not care to chit-chat. Her office was on level 200 and she had a long trip to go. Hopefully her companion would quiet and then exit the lift without a conversation, without social pleasantries. Precisely zero parts of her wanted to be social.

The work-life balance thing was trickier than she’d expected. Her parents had always seemed to figure out a way to balance their relationship and her needs with their important work and while they were a great model, they had not been in the middle of the greatest military assault the galaxy had seen in decades. And Han was a general, had his own responsibilities, and she was keenly aware of not wanting to demand too much of his time. She knew he found their time together unsatisfactorily short, even when they spent every night together, when they ate meals together and snuck kisses in unlocked offices after briefings.

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

The being cleared his throat behind her. From the tenor she could tell it was a human male but she was too tired for specifics. The turbolift walls were a matte, dull gray and she couldn’t distinguish his shape from the reflection of the lift’s only glow panel. They were alone; normally she would have extended a polite greeting when she entered, but she did not have it in her today. Between the creeping loneliness at leaving Han so early this morning to flounder around her office and the rather late introduction of her first cup of caf, she just could not do it.

“You’re just gonna ignore me, huh?” he said.

Leia whirled to face him, the broad expanse of his chest, the cocked eyebrow, the low-hanging holster, wondering how the hell she had missed the fact that the object of her distraction was standing right behind her.

“You!” she said, then berated herself for the stupid remark.

“Me!” he echoed with his obnoxious, brilliant white smile. “Funny running into you here.”

She shook her head and stepped into his open arms, careful not to spill the cup of caf. “What are you doing here?”

“Ahh, got a meeting with Carlist and Jan,” he said.

She rose up on her toes and kissed him, her heart jumping in her chest.

“What are you doing here?” he murmured against her lips.

Leia gestured with her cup, kissed him again. Light, soft. Aimless and casual. She loved it. “The caf machine in the admin offices is down. So is the one in the officer’s wing and the one in the mess hall.”

“Criminal.”

“That’s what I said,” she whispered, and then leaned away from him. “Had to come all the way down to the docking bays for caffeine.”

Han leaned over to kiss her forehead and then stepped back, providing polite space between them in case someone else entered the lift. “Worked out nice in the end, though.”

She hummed, looked at him. In the stark light of the lift, he looked tired, too, eyes just a little smaller than usual, lips pressed together and turned down. She blinked and wondered if she looked the same, if their exhaustion would be apparent to everyone. Then she wondered why she even cared if it did.

“Sorry I left so early this morning,” she said. “I would have waited for you but—”

He shrugged, turned a tired smile down to her. “Didn’t panic,” he said. “Thanks for the note.”

Leia smiled back. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Never actually had a morning note,” he continued. “Very responsible. Very domestic partner.”

She switched the cup to her left hand and dug her right elbow into his side. “Don’t tease me. I was worried you would panic.”

“Didn’t panic,” he repeated. “And I liked the note.”

Leia took a sip of her caf, leaned against the back wall of the turbolift.

“Want more notes,” Han added.

She laughed at the light happy tone he used, crossed one foot over the other as he settled next to her against the wall of the lift. “Want more nights like last night.”

Han grabbed her hand, kissed the back of her fingers with all of his characteristic nonchalance. “I think we can manage that,” he said.

She looked up at him, at his tired eyes and happy smile, at the loose roll of his shoulders, the edge of his collar against the delectable skin of his neck. Handsome, she thought. And mine.

“I think so, too,” she said and turned to watch the levels tick up, up, up to the 200 level, relishing the quiet and the calm that came from a satisfying relationship with a man whom she loved desperately.

She considered trying to instigate a daring romantic interlude. It wouldn’t be the first time. They hadn’t been interrupted yet and they still had about fifty floors to go.

And then she remembered the previous night, the heat and the rush and the sweat and how openly she adored the privacy of intimacy with Han. How calm he seemed now, sated and bleary. If she suggested it, he would perk up. She knew he would. Her heart tripped into a frazzled rhythm, remembering the rush of adrenaline and endorphins as he’d used his tongue to render her utterly breathless. Fullness and desire and the most powerful kind of release as he pressed into her ...

But she was tired, and he was tired, and they were tired because of a marathon of sexual gratification that had left them both spent and wordless hours before. And there was something nice about this moment with him. Casual. Open and affectionate. Domestic partners, he’d said, and wasn’t that hilarious? That he’d said that as they went to strategy meetings on a warship to plan the takeover of the galactic capitol?

Tonight. She’d wait until tonight. And she’d damn well remember to leave a note for him tomorrow morning, of that she was certain.

#KR writes #han x leia #non disney canon #post ROTJ

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inkstaineddeath · 5 years ago

Text

OC Biography (and stuff)

I hope Ink has enough originality and depth that she won’t be too taxing to read about.

She dies aged 26, spends about 20+ years as a Wraith and gets resurrected near the end of MKX. Her story really starts first after the death of Quan Chi and her resurrection, then the death of Shinnok, when she finally feels free of any chance of being returned to the Netherrealm.

Name: Cilice Sorokina (a cilice is a deliberately uncomfortable/painful undergarment e.g.: knickers, garter or belt worn under clothing, worn to remind the wearer of the pain that Jesus suffered on the Cross. Often worn by the devoutly religious. I thought the name fitting as her tattoos and feelings of self loathing constantly remind her of her past and own death. Soroka is Russian for Magpie and Cilice being a thief - I thought that fitting.)

Nickname: Ink (given by Quan Chi)

Age: Died aged 26

Height: 5’6".

Eyes: Blue (human). Black (Wraith - as with Scorpion when she starts to lose control to become Ink, her eyes will change to Wraith form).

Hair: Black, chin length messy bob with short fringe/bangs

Body type: Athletic. Loses a lot of weight when she’s struggling with her PTSD, her appetite shrinks and she spends a lot of time in the gym in an effort to distract herself from her trauma.

Partner(s): Wraith - Quan Chi’s lover (as well as his bodyguard, assassin and general dogsbody)

Human – When first joined The Black Dragon she enjoyed a very casual relationship with Kano

Sexuality: Pansexual (preference towards males)

Gender: Cis Female

Ethnicity: Caucasian. English Mother, Russian Father. Born in England. Moves to Russia to join The Black Dragon

Family: Deceased. Parents died when she was very young (car crash). Grandparents (Father’s side) raised her (they died not long before Cilice moved to Russia)

Languages: English (first language), Russian (fluent)

Disabilities/Illnesses/Injuries: Killed by Oni under command of Quan Chi during a mission to retrieve a Kamidogu for Kano

Scars/Tattoos/Distinguishing Features: Quan Chi covered her with mystical tattoos/glyphs that bound magic into her skin. The tattoos have no static form, they move and change. Can control their form through concentration but this becomes mentally exhausting so she instead often hides the tattoos with clothing

Clothing: When on missions/in kombat she wears form fitting black leather/flexible armour. When relaxing she wears looser clothing but still covers her skin. As a wraith, Quan Chi liked her to wear loose flowing silks to flatter rather than hide her figure

Weapon of Choice: Studied Ninjutsu from age 5 (Grandparents thought it would be good to mix with other children as Cilice was quiet and sullen after her parents death) & continued to learn throughout life. As a wraith she trained with Noob.

Quan Chi gave her ‘Ink’ skills: Able to conjure thick black ink to blind, smother & drown opponents. Can change into ink form for short periods of time.

Prefers hand to hand and doesn’t use weaponry unless she feels in danger for her life, but has trained to use swords & daggers

Skills: Thief & hacker. Skilled at stealth, lock-picking/safe breaking. Used by Quan Chi as an assassin, bodyguard and thief.

Likes: Cuddles, long baths, spending time in the sun/outdoors (after being in the Netherrealm for so long), pastries (Grandparents ran a bakery, Dedushka Boris baked & Babushka Mila sold the bread and pastries & did the book-keeping), vodka, comfortable silences, reading, computing & technology, being so comfortable with someone she can wear more revealing clothing without feeling judged.

Dislikes: Authority/restriction of her liberty (anything that reminds her of being under Quan Chi’s control), being too hot (she grew up in England & moved to Russia in her early 20’s so she’s used to cold & rain).

Friends: Kano, Johnny Cage. Has an tentative email friendship with Hanzo (Takeda helps him turn the computer on)

Acquaintances: Special Forces (though she is technically a prisoner of theirs), Erron Black & Kabal (both from Black Dragon days)

Enemies: Netherrealm forces/Brotherhood of Shadows. Special Forces if she goes back to The Black Dragon.

Personality: Before her death she was outgoing, cheerful, sarcastic, loved to party all night and enjoyed casual sexual relationships.

Once resurrected she is much more reserved and quiet, keeps thoughts and plans to herself unless she feels truly comfortable with those around her. Quan Chi didn’t completely take away her own thoughts and control (Wraiths have far more control over themselves than Revenants do), but if he felt she was resisting him then he would punish her first, then enjoy her struggle against his will.

Cilice looks back upon her time as a Wraith with enormous shame and horror. She feels she could have done more to resist Quan Chi and has frequent nightmares back to her past.

She struggles with the changes in technology that she missed whilst she was a Wraith. As she’s with Special Forces she has to covertly retrain herself & relearn to be a hacker again so not to be discovered. This puts her under more and more mental strain.

________________________

Moved to Russia when Kano offered her a job in The Black Dragon. They’d met when he’d been in England on a job and she’d been one of the thieves recommended to him. They’d got on well, both enjoying the thrill of theft, partying, drinking and eventually they fall into bed with each other (as FWB rather than anything serious). They kept in touch for a year, then Kano asked her to come to Russia “and do some proper fucking jobs” with him.

She’d been with The Black Dragon for 3 years when Kano tells her about the Kamidogu. She travels to the Netherrealm via a portal & comes close to stealing the dagger from Quan Chi, but not close enough.

Quan Chi has recently lost Scorpion, Sub Zero and Jax, so is especially angry and has his Oni torture and kill Cilice. She fights back until her last breath, impressing Quan Chi, so he resurrects her as a Wraith to replace Scorpion.

He gives her the new name Ink and has her serve as his bodyguard, thief and assassin, and lover. (This doesn’t link into the MKX comics, this is about 15+ years before they are set. I h/c this is the first time Kano hears of the Kamidogu blades.) Quan Chi doesn’t favour her above his other lovers (he takes any of his bodyguards or ‘minions’ as lovers if he so wishes, however Ink is an unwilling lover/struggles with his hold over her).

She serves Quan Chi for 20+ years, until he is beheaded by Hanzo Hasashi.

Ink and Noob had attempted to rescue Quan Chi after D’Vorah advises them of his capture. They are too late to save him, but as he dies, so does his hold over them and they are taken to the Jinsei by Raiden & Fujin and healed. Bi-Han went back to Arctika with his brother Kuai Liang and the Lin-Kuei, whilst Cilice was ‘taken in’ by Special Forces at the insistence of Sonya Blade because of Cilice’s previous work for The Black Dragon - feeling she can gain info about Kano from her.

Cilice felt she was trading one gaol for another and resolved to not give them any real information about The Black Dragon, though she had been dead for over 20 years so much of her information was outdated by then anyway.

Spent roughly 8 months recovering from the trauma of her death & resurrection by Quan Chi. Declined therapy and instead chose to try to deal with her trauma by herself. Lost control several times.

Was close to suicide until Hanzo Hasashi contacted her and shared his own trauma – Johnny Cage had reached out to Hanzo and promised him over the top favours (as Johnny is wont to do) to get him to help with Cilice. Johnny had first asked Jax, but Jax declined due to wishing to concentrate on his Family and looking back was too traumatic for him. Kuai Liang sent a handwritten letter offering Cilice help. Kuai using a computer is.. well, hilarious.

Once she feels more in control of her past & is not having as frequent breakdowns, she opens up a little to those she feels she can trust most. Mainly Johnny Cage. Special Forces extends her freedom, using her to plan against any attempt from those wishing to resurrect Shinnok. She occasionally joins the SF on missions as she has useful fighting & stealth skills. She likes the ‘Kombat Kids’ but is too nervous to try to make friends with them & finds Cassie in particular incredibly intimidating given Cilice’s crush on Johnny, so instead spends much of her time at a computer screen, or taking sneaky peeks at Johnny’s bum in the gym. She is well aware she is viewed by the SF as a ‘freak’ and not trusted due to her Black Dragon past.

Cilice (of course) immediately liked Johnny, she’d been a huge fan of his (had his posters on her bedroom wall, all his videos) so was excited to have the chance to meet him. They’d been close in age before her death. She develops deep feelings for him but never vocalises them because of her low self esteem and her worry that Sonya would dislike her even more (Johnny & Sonya did not get back together after Cassie defeated Shinnok. They tried again but they quickly released their personalities and different values just didn’t make a happy and stable relationship. So this time it’s much more of an amicable break up).

She contacts Kano (without Special Forces knowledge). Kano of course is immediately distrustful. He suspects she’s feeding Special Forces information, but over times the trust returns when Cilice is able to give him details to evade SF. Cilice refuses to sabotage SF as she does like and trust some of the members, but equally she refuses to give any information to SF, claiming everything she knows is from so long ago to be useless.

Cilice is now at an impasse. Escape SF and run back to the Black Dragon? This will give her personal freedom but she’s not the same person she was before she died, she feels she deserved to die because of her criminal past. But maybe she can’t be anything other than a criminal?

Or, does she stay at SF and try to be a better person, to atone for her past and maybe admit her feelings for Johnny?

There’s also the option of trying to find some way to have her tattoos/glyphs removed, but she doesn’t know where to start with that, is there anyone that powerful alive anymore?

______________

#MK OC #Mortal Kombat OC #Be Kind

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worldwidebt7 · 6 years ago

Text

“Han River, Seoul”

[MEETING YOU SERIES]

》Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

》Genre(s): [Fluff] [Reality] [Slow-Burn] [OneShot]

》Words: 13,338

》Rating: T

》 Warnings: Minimal Cursing

》A/N: Ah, my debut fic! I attempted writing fics before, but it never turned out quite right, so I hope that this will be received well~ It… turned out much longer than I originally anticipated… I’d like to say that it’ll be the longest in the [MEETING YOU] series, but I can’t promise anything. I always get carried away! I wanted to start with Joonie because… well, honestly it saddens me at the lack of Namjoon writings… Plus this was based off of a dream I had, and also written for a friend~ There’s lots of meaning for me in this story, so please read it well!

[SUMMARY] Sometimes the world creates the strangest coincidences— on a day where hoods are pulled up and eyes are cast down, your gaze meets a familiar stranger’s. In that fleeting moment, you thought perhaps you were dreaming; it had been no different from any other day…

For the first time since arriving in Seoul, you woke up without the blaring of your alarm. You preferred this— the natural awakening of your body rather than the jarring coercion of loud ringing frightening your senses to alertness. Today, the sun did not shine cheerfully through your window, nor did the birds chirp their happy songs through the air. No, today there was the gentle patter of rain against the glass at the foot of your bed, more than likely what had woken you up from your slumber.

You loved the rain normally— it was calming and it made the rest of the world smell sweet if only for a moment. But as you sat up, pushing your comforter from your body, you are painfully aware that you do not have a vehicle, and therefore must walk to work in the chilling rain. With a sigh, you tenderly step onto your bitter floor, jumping a bit at the feeling of it against your warm feet. You only pause for a moment though before you’re up and preparing for your day.

You had gotten your license to teach English overseas six months ago and we’re happy to accept a job in the heart of South Korea in Seoul. It had been your top choice after all, you most certainly weren’t going to turn it down. You had been living here for a little under a month now and w still in the process of adapting to life here.

At first, it was difficult— between jet lag and homesickness it had been rough getting settled. But when you began your job two weeks ago it had gotten a bit easier. You were able to connect with some of your coworkers, a few of them being from America or Canada. You were still not all that proficient at speaking Korean, so talking to your Korean coworkers was a struggle; plus you were still relatively new, so you figured they weren’t quite sure what to do with you yet.

So, you mostly kept to yourself, regarding your coworkers with respect when you passed them in the halls and promising ‘next time’ when you were invited out for drinks after work. You knew you should probably accept, make friends and all that, but you were still getting used to your new routine and couldn’t quite seem to shake the exhaustion that slipped over you at the end of every day.

Today seemed like an exception though, as you cheerily tugged your pants on, mouthing the words to “COFFEE” by BTS as it played in the background through your stereo system. You have always been a fan. Since 2014? Maybe even since their debut, you couldn’t be sure. You’ve loved them for as long as your memory would allow, and they were a large reason as to why you wanted to teach English in Seoul— not because you expected to meet them necessarily; but because they had introduced you to such a beautiful language and culture that you would have otherwise written off.

The Korean language was truly beautiful, you couldn’t deny. And their culture was so similar yet so different for that of the U.S. that it had intrigued you the moment you became exposed. You wanted to be a part of it— the culture. You wanted to know the language that so enraptured you. It was a struggle, yes, but you were willing to put forth the effort for the culture you had become so ensnared with. The sacrifice was easy.

Your playlist continued with features such as Zico, GOT7, and BIGBANG gracing your ears, but you had an aching for Bangtan this day, and you found yourself skipping any other artist to listen to their genius, moving to their beats and symphonies like it was your oxygen. You couldn’t explain it, the effect their music had on you. But it made you feel... at peace. Like no matter what else happened around you, this world you had created between BTS and yourself would always be there, waiting for you should things in reality get too much to bear. You loved it, this sanctuary.

You slipped on the matching blazer to your ensemble and hastily made your way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast— a simple berry smoothie with some toast. Simple it may be, but you were thankful to have just that. Money had been tight since moving to Seoul and, as much as you knew it would happen ahead of time, it was impacting the groceries you were able to buy. Rice, frozen fruits, and veggies were your accumulative diet for the last month. You couldn’t complain though— you were in Seoul. There wasn’t much more you could ask for if you were being honest.

After drinking your smoothie and scarfing down your piece of buttered toast you popped in your headphones to begin your commute to the school you worked at, not daring to step foot outside on your long trek without music. On a rainy day such as this, you chose your mellow playlist— consisting of songs such as “House of Cards” by BTS, “Body” by Mino, and “I” by Taeyeon. You had just recently added the entire “mono” playlist by RM, and it was the perfect music for a day such as this. You found yourself putting “forever rain” on repeat as you made your way down the path next to the Han River.

It wasn’t a bad way to get to work, you mused— seeing as you could’ve been forced to take a crowded bus through the city to get to your destination. Walking next to the river was cleansing as you made your way to the strenuous environment of your job. You were able to prepare your mind and soul before walking into what you knew was a class of young adults that really were not interested in you whatsoever.

The rain was light enough that you didn’t feel the need to bring an umbrella, but you still pulled the hood of your jacket over your head to try to salvage what little you did to your hair. You still kept your head up, peering at the uninhabited paths before you. Perhaps it was American confidence that kept your head high— you’ve noticed that it was customary to keep one’s gaze to the ground when walking in public here in Korea. There were some habits you just couldn’t shake.

The sound of the rain was just enough to drown out the sounds of the city, leaving you with only your music and the static noise of the rainfall. As wet as you were, you were at peace, happily making your way down the path next to the river, glancing at said body of water every once in a while, to soak in the sight of it swollen and angry against its banks.

After one particularly long stare you shifted your gaze back to the path before you, catching movement from your peripheral. Another figure stalked casually in front of you, hands in his pockets and sweatshirt hood pulled over a baseball cap. You could faintly see dark hair sticking out from beneath the cap, but there were no other distinguishing features visible from your viewpoint, as he also had a mask covering the bottom half of his face.

He was tall, you noticed— a full head taller than you at the very least, and a bit taller than you expected the average Korean man to be. He had a certain presence about him, as if he were born to stand out as he desperately tried to disappear into his surroundings. It was strange, you thought; why you would be so focused on a man dressed so plainly.

As you got closer you began to notice the shape of his face, round but narrow at the same time— clearly someone thin with a larger frame. His damp sweatpants clung to the swell of his thighs, displaying that he was fit and toned with lean muscle mass. You quickly pulled your eyes back to his covered face, not wanting to linger too long on his built lower half.

Now only feet away, you could see past the bill of his hat where the bridge of his nose laid, still mostly covered by the face mask he wore, but still more features than you were previously able to view, and you suddenly found yourself wishing to make eye contact with him, if only to nod in awareness at his presence instead of simply awkwardly passing each other as if you were former friends who were no longer on speaking terms. With this in mind, you continued to keep your gaze locked on the skin visible between his hat and his mask, hoping he’ll pick his head up in time for you to acknowledge him.

As if hearing your thoughts, before the last moment of passing you he looked up, eyes locking with yours and you stared meaningfully at his eyes. There was something... oddly familiar about them. Something you couldn’t quite place. Was he a student of yours? A coworker? You know you’ve seen those eyes somewhere before... but where? You scanned the rest of his face in urgency, trying to find the clue that pieced the puzzle together in your memory. And at the slight raise of his eyebrows you found it— you did know those eyes. You had seen them many times, but never in person, never right before you.

Your heart rate picked up in realization, and you’re sure your face showed it too as you watched his eyes widen a fraction more. He knew that you realized who he was, and he seemed... uncomfortable with that idea. Luckily for him, you weren’t one to gush or make a scene— even when it came to one of the biggest celebrities in the world. And as you tried to calm your raging heart, you nodded towards him, acknowledging his presence, and giving a silent promise to not reveal his identity, even though there were no other eyes to witness him strolling about.

The two of you never broke eye contact, and with only a moment of delay to ponder your gesture, he too was nodding back, a silent thank you for keeping his identity clandestine.

This moment between you two lasted mere seconds, but an eternity etched into your memory. It was almost like a dream— who, really, could say that they came into contact with one of their favorite artists of all time and had an intimate, wordless conversation with them? It was too good to be true. You had to have been mistaken. It couldn’t have been him... but you knew those eyes... those legs... that walk... that aura. Everything about him was exactly how you’d expected it to be when you imagined what it would be like to see him in person as you watched him on a screen. And the look of slight panic on his slightly exposed face when you assumed it was him was almost more than enough confirmation... No, no... you couldn’t assume. But... what if it really had been him...

Had you really just walked by Kim Namjoon?

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

You arrived at work with a mystified look on your face, walking to your desk with seemingly no purpose. Your coworkers watched you curiously, as it was the first time you had arrived with an unfocused glaze in your eyes. You tried to make a point to be focused on your tasks immediately as you walked through the doors of the school building, but today you couldn’t think much about school. You had a certain member of Bangtan on the brain.

Your coworker, and probably the person you considered your closest friend in Korea, Erin, approached you with caution. “Y/N...” she began, “...you, uh, you feelin’ alright?” She questioned with true concern. You blinked and looked up at her, broken out of your own world.

“Huh?” Was your only reply. She quirked an eyebrow at you.

“You good? You didn’t even say hi when you walked in...” she stuck her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing towards the door. Your eyes flickered to the doorway before resting on her gaze once more. You blinked a few more times before replying,

“Oh, uh, yeah...” you stated unconvincingly, awkwardly looking back at the bag you brought with you as you began pulling out binders and notebooks. “I thought I saw...” you paused again, rethinking your next statement. The reason Erin and you had become such good friends was because you had seen her Hoseok phone case and asked her about her love for BTS. You bonded immediately through the group and she became the easiest person for you to talk to, however she was quite passionate about the Kpop scene. If you told her you thought you saw Namjoon.... “Never mind. It’s nothing; I’m just being an air-head today.” You laughed, tossing your bag beneath your desk.

She continued to stare at you for a moment before shrugging and plopping down at her desk next to you. “Alright... but if you need to talk to someone, you can always come to me, you know that right?” She picked up a mug from her desk and took a sip of what you could only assume to be coffee. You smiled at her— she had a very forward personality, but she had s kind soul, and for that you were thankful. Without her, you would probably never have found a semblance of ‘home.’

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The rest of your work week had gone by without incident, but you found yourself constantly dwelling on the “what if’s” of your encounter a few days before. Now it was Friday, and as you walked to work, as you had every other day this week, you wondered if you would run into the mysterious figure in the baseball cap and face mask. You hoped to get a better look at him this time if by chance you did, but you knew that there were slim odds of encountering him a second time if he were who you thought him to be. If it had been, with his busy schedule, it was probably a rare moment in time where he hadn’t been required to go to the studio. Still, you hoped for it— to be the only one who walked past him knowing his identity, keeping that secret safe within the confines of your heart— you couldn’t have written a better fan-fiction yourself. Just the thought of it made your heart flutter.

Ah... but... perhaps you were getting ahead of yourself. It wasn’t as if you were completely sure it was him in the first place, and you couldn’t forget that you hadn’t actually spoken to him— as much as your silent conversation had left an impact on you, he had probably forgotten all about you at this point.

You tried to shake the ridiculous swell of hope rising in your chest, walking forward with purpose as you reviewed the lesson plan you had created for the day in your head.

There were many other people present on the path next to the Han River this morning; the sun had finally broken and dried the puddles of the rain storm from the other day. Joggers, cyclists, and other commuters passed you now and then, never making eye contact with you as he had that day. Perhaps it had been an oddity, since it had only been the two of you on the path that day. Or, perhaps, it really had been a dream. It had happened so fast, you only remembered the moment of your eyes meeting with precise accuracy, as you would when waking from a dream. The rest had become a blur in your mind, no matter how hard you concentrated on the details.

You found yourself lost in thought as you unknowingly caught up with a figure that had been walking in front of you. It wasn’t until you were nearly right on top of him that you realized there was another presence there. You jolted out of your trance just in time to about flat-tiring the poor man, but not with enough grace that you didn’t manage to trip over your own feet.

“Shit—” you cursed under your breath, reaching out to grasp something to center you once more. Unfortunately for the individual in front of you, he was the only thing around to brace yourself on, and your small hand fisted into the back of his sweatshirt, tugging it down a bit. You could feel him freeze immediately, and for a moment, only for a moment, you were thankful he didn’t keep walking. And then you were nearly too embarrassed to speak. You released him once you had your bearings and began stuttering like a fool.

“S-s-sorry! Ah! No— uh—" your brain scrambled to remember the Korean word for ‘I’m Sorry’ as he turned to look at you. Just as you were able to peer at his face you blurted out what you hoped to be the right phrase. “미안해...요...” you trailed off as you saw that familiar stranger’s eyes, looking at you, wider than before, and your voice caught in your throat in panic. Only one thought coursed through your otherwise blank mind: ‘Oh dear God…’

You’d done it this time— your absent-mindedness had just caused you to embarrass yourself on an unimaginable scale; you had just grabbed the back of, who you believed to be, Kim Namjoon. Fear freezing you at the imminent doom you currently faced, your heart felt as if it were going to burst within your chest and your stomach twisted uncomfortably. Why fate would be so cruel to you was beyond your understanding and you suddenly had an overwhelming need to flee as his gaze burned down on you, not in anger, but in a similar look of awe. Legs tense and shaking, you manage, somehow, to take a step back away from the figure, somewhere in your mind realizing that remaining any longer in this awkward state would subsequently cause a scene and you didn’t want to draw attention to the idol who simply only wanted to blend in at this moment.

You straightened yourself, trying to look relaxed (and surely failing), before giving a slight bow, murmuring another ‘sorry,’ before taking a step around him to continue on your way. His gazed followed you as you passed him slowly, eyes trained on your heated, red face— a furious blush that you were certain had moved over your ears and down your neck. You dared a peek up to make eye contact with him again, nodding as you had the other day. He blinked as if the small gesture had broken a spell before nodding back, then quickly turning on his heel and pulling his cap further over his face, walking in the opposite direction he had been going before you had nearly run into him.

It was a chilly day, yet you found yourself sweating profusely, and even as you left the path that paralleled the Han River to cross the street leading into the city, you couldn’t calm your raging heard that hammered almost painfully behind your ribs. You could hear the blood rushing through your ears— had that really just happened? And why were you reacting like this when you weren’t even completely sure that it was the RM that you saw twice now? As much as your brain tried to reason with you, your heart betrayed all logic; somewhere in your soul you were painfully aware of those eyes. Eyes that you knew well, despite never bearing witness to them in real life.

Being a fan of BTS, it seemed, was never a casual affair. Their intense presence on the internet made them impossible to avoid, and, soon into your rise as an ARMY, every time you logged onto any sort of social media you were (pleasantly) bombarded with their faces. As an international fan originally, you were used to only being graced by them through screens— a sad reality that all international fans were forced to live at some point in time. But you were glad to appreciate them in whatever method you were provided, even if it meant never seeing them in person.

As a result, you had become overly familiar with their faces, but as it was the general downfall for most of the fandom, you weren’t exceedingly embarrassed. You had never expected to meet them anyway, so there had never been any harm intended. You had no delusions about someday falling in love and dating the world-wide idols, and, as nice as it was to daydream of an impossible scenario such as that, you did not pine after them with romantic affections— they were your idol group to love and support with respect. Plain and simple.

Still, the sudden meeting of the leader of your beloved group had your heart racing in a way that you could not have prepared for, and you wondered if somewhere along the lines your love for them had become deeper than you could have ever imagined. You cursed at your over-emotional tendencies as you forced your feet to move faster towards your destination.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Erin was yet again staring at you with interest. You had walked into work frazzled-looking; your cheeks painted in pink, breath coming out in small gasps, and a distant look in your eyes that screamed distress, but in what way your friend could not tell. The rest of your coworkers were oblivious to our state until you slumped down against your desk, hands on your head and foot tapping relentlessly as your eyes remained unfocused. Unable to continue watching you, Erin rolled over to you in her office chair and raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, what’s up?” She said, leaning her elbow against the arm of the chair and perching her chin in her hand. “This is the second time this week you’ve wandered in looking freaked out, what’s going on? It’s like you saw a ghost.” You internally laughed at the comment— it felt like you had seen a ghost. There was no rational explanation for either meeting you had with the man currently consuming your thoughts. You sighed and leaned back in your seat, hands falling to your lap.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” Not that you were particularly willing to let slip that you had run into Kim Namjoon twice yet; you felt like you should keep his secret walks along the Han River to yourself for the time being. You still weren’t one-hundred percent sure it was him for one, and on the other hand if it really was him, you would feel responsible if he were to get swarmed by fans while he was trying to relax should you tell anyone.

At your response, Erin merely shrugged and began scooching back over to her own desk. “If you say so. But if it starts getting worse, tell me, alright? You’re starting to freak me out…” She mumbled, beginning to type on her computer once more. You gave another heavy sigh, before turning your computer on as well to begin working. As you began reviewing your lesson plan for the day, you felt the corners of your lips begin to turn up.

As stressed out about your encounter this morning as you were, you were also irrepressibly ecstatic. And this underlying happiness had your heart beating in a different, more pleasant way. How many fans could say that they’ve met their idol casually on the streets not once, but twice? What’s more, you felt incredibly fortunate to have been aware that it was, in fact, an intimate moment in his life. A moment where he was no longer RM of BTS, but just Kim Namjoon, walking alongside the Han River in Seoul with his thoughts. How often does he get the opportunity to do that, you wondered? He was always in the public eye— always the leader, the speaker, the face of the most well-known Korean boy group in the world. How many rare few moments in his musical career has he gotten to be “Kim Namjoon,” and you had witnessed two of them. You felt entirely blessed for those moments.

You realized that you had a sort of obligation to keep those moments to yourself now. Who were you to ruin the time Namjoon had to just be Namjoon? You glanced at Erin thoughtfully. She’d be pissed for sure if she ever found out you kept this from her, and you would be punished for it in one form or another (she’d most likely begin by screaming animatedly at you and hitting your arm repeatedly to get her point across before making you buy her dinner). You shrugged defeatedly, accepting this fate should she ever find out. You wanted these secret moments to stay secrets for a while longer.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

You had spent the entire day on Saturday writing lesson plans for the upcoming school week cooped up in your apartment. Erin had tried to convince you to go out and get drinks with her and your other coworkers, but you still weren’t feeling particularly social yet and resigned to staying in that night and mindlessly watching some drama with a takeout dinner. Thankfully you had been able to figure out how to set up English captions on your television, even if they weren’t entirely the most accurate. Not that you were truly paying attention— You really only wanted background noise to your constant daydreaming of the peculiar instances where you found yourself face-to-face with someone you only ever dreamed of seeing in person. You went to bed that night feeling excited for the upcoming week, hoping that you would have another opportunity to see the masked man with the intense, familiar eyes.

Your Sunday morning was the same as all the others that you had spent in Korea. Coffee before nibbling on a slightly fancier breakfast of yogurt, fruit, and granola, then some light exercise in the comfort of your own living room. Gyms in Korea were outrageously expensive for your tight budget, so even if you would have liked to go, you simply could not afford it. After stretching you got dressed and prepared yourself for a quick trip to the grocery store to buy essentials that you had run out of over the course of the week, which meant another walk along the Han River. You had never been so excited to buy groceries in your life.

You grabbed your empty backpack and keys and skipped out the door, more pep in your step than you’ve had in months. You knew being hopeful would probably leave you disappointed in the end, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to see him again, even if you would only simply nod in his direction as you had the first encounter the two of you had. Rationally, you tried to calm yourself,

‘Don’t get too excited; you may not see him ever again,’ you reasoned, ‘there’s no excuse to get upset if you don’t see him.’ Still, you knew you’d be disappointed.

The trip to the store was without incident as you walked along the river glancing about at the faces that surrounded you, looking for those familiar eyes among them. They hadn’t been there of course, as you guessed, and you lost a bit of your vigor on your way home. You had bought simple things like vegetables, apples, coffee, ramyeon, and a small jar of peanut butter, all of which you put in your backpack save the apples. It was getting close to lunch time and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it back to your apartment.

Thus far on your way home, you haven’t had much better luck finding those eyes. Thankfully, your hunger was a small distraction from the disappointment swelling in your chest. You knew better than to expect things, but who wouldn’t become hopeful when a wistful encounter turned into something seemingly more than just chance? You sighed and opened the plastic bag holding your apples, digging through it to find a piece of fruit that seemed appealing to you at that moment. As you pulled one out, your clumsiness got the better of you as you nearly dropped it.

“Shit—” You say as you fumble with your damned lunch, barely saving it before it becomes a bruised mess on the ground. You grumbled under your breath as you lift it to your mouth to take a large bite, and as you do so, you happen to flick your eyes over to a figure sitting on a bench on the side of the road. And you’re met with those eyes again. You pause mid-bite to openly stare, realizing he had just seen you struggling with a piece of fruit. He stared back at you with recognition clear in his eyes and a hint of… amusement? You look away, taking in the large mouthful of apple with a bit of struggle and chew quickly before swallowing. Once you’re no longer impaired with apple in your face, you look over again, pink faced and awkward as you adjust the plastic bag in your hands. He has yet to take his eyes off of you and you feel as if your body is on fire.

This time, you offer him a small smile along with your typical nod, which is all you expect in return. The response you get, however, takes you by surprise. You had already started walking again when he quickly ripped his gaze from yours to look at the surroundings and you were just about to look away as well, figuring he was done with you. But at the last moment, he locked eyes with you again and slyly slipped the mask down his face, stopping your heart for more than a beat. He was more breathtaking in person than you could’ve ever imagined, and the small smile that graced his plush lips in response to the one you sent him was almost too much to handle, his dimples becoming visible from the action. The fangirl within you squealed in delight as it was finally confirmed that you had, in fact, been running into the RM, but you did your best to stay composed on the outside. You couldn’t, however, stop the gleam in your eyes and your smile spreading brightly across your face even more.

The corners of his lips twitched up a bit more at your expression and he gave you a nod as well before pulling the mask back up to cover his face once more, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing from the bench. You almost froze in your spot at the movement, but when he turned to walk in the opposite direction as you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Your pace had slowed a bit in the shock of it all, and you could feel your face burning from the smile that was carved into it.

It was him— and he had willingly given you his identity in the open. And that smile! You never knew smiles could be like that! And it was a smile you never thought you’d get to see. You couldn’t stop the excitement running through your veins at the recollection of his face— his dimples, his pink lips turned up into a smile, the perfect bridge of his nose… you repeated it over and over again in your mind, inscribing it into your memory forever. It was the most innocent, yet intimate moment you had ever experienced. It almost felt like he trusted you in some tiny way, and you felt blessed by this small thought.

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Your Monday had flown by in a blur of excitement, the events of the previous day keeping you on cloud nine for a full thirty-six hours. Erin was disturbed to say the least— you had looked like you were on the verge of a breakdown just the previous Friday, and now on Monday you seem to be a completely new you, filled with energy and spunk that the other woman had yet to see from you. She eyes you suspiciously the entire day, asking you what had made you so chipper on such a gloomy day such as Monday.

You wanted to tell her, you really did, but a larger part of you wanted it to stay unknown. This was a moment that you had shared with Namjoon, a moment that no one else needed to be privy to. And you were perfectly content with that, the memory becoming like your own happy pill to give you energy when you felt you were lacking.

It was the end of your workday now, and Erin still refused to let up on your blissful state, saying it was unnaturally cheerful.

“Seriously Y/N,” she pressed, “what the hell happened? Your mood swings are seriously freaking me out!” The two of you were back at your desks in the teachers’ office space, shutting down your computers and packing your things. You looked over at her and rolled your eyes, chuckling at her dramatics.

“It’s really nothing, Erin.” You told her, repeating what you had been telling her the entire day. She was a persistent one, that was for sure. But you were stubborn enough to withstand it. She let out a groan and threw her head back, crossing her arms and looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had just about tuned her out when she let out a loud gasp, making you jump. You turned to her to see her staring at you with wide eyes. “What?!” you asked in exasperation.

“You met someone!” She exclaimed, and you froze. Quickly, you realized she meant someone as in a ‘romantic interest’ and not the leader of world-wide idol group BTS, so you let out a sigh that turned into a relieved laugh.

“No, Erin, I didn’t meet anyone.” You shook your head and slung your backpack over your shoulder. She eyed you with a crinkle in her nose, seemingly not believing you.

“Well somethings going on with you…” she muttered, gathering her things as well. “I’ll figure it out eventually.” You laughed again as the two of you made your way out of the building. You parted ways when you turned to the sidewalk that would take you to the pathway parallel to the Han river. You said goodbye, Erin promising to figure out your secret as you wandered off with a wide smile on your face. She seemed adamant, but there was no way she could guess what actually happened. You fell asleep that night as happy as when you woke up.

The next morning, you woke to the familiar sound of rain against your window. Gradually coming out of the grogginess of sleep, you slowly smiled, remembering what had happened the last time it rained. The grey skies seemed more welcoming than they ever had before, and the rain seemed to call you out from beneath your blankets as you sprung out of bed. You threw on your favorite playlist and began to get ready for the day, singing and dancing about your apartment, not even pausing when you needed to brush your teeth. You were a ball of wonder that could not be contained, and, honestly, you couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy before in your life. And it was all because of a small smile, from a familiar stranger.

You made your way out of your apartment, still bopping to the music playing through your headphones as you made your way outside. If it wasn’t for the face that you were on your way to work and needed to keep up a professional appearance you wouldn’t have even put your hood up this time, finding it a perfectly pleasant idea to feel the rain on your face. You stepped onto the path leading you to work down the Han River and you found yourself alone on the path as you had the previous week when it was raining. Seeing this, you had little reserve when it came to humming and skipping along to the songs that played, randomly singing out the lines that you knew in English and Korean alike.

So lost in your own world, you didn’t notice that someone had come up beside you, keeping pace with your chipper steps. When you did notice though, you nearly jumped out of your skin, releasing a squeal and flailing your arms a bit in surprise. Your head whipped around and you stared wide-eyed at the man next to you, knowing immediately who it was from attire alone. You halted in your tracks, still in awe at what was happening, and after a few steps, he slowed and looked back at you, clearly amused at your antics. He continued walking, but raised an eyebrow at you, as if asking you if you were going to continue on as well. You quickly follow, wordlessly following him until you were in-step with him again. You both broke your gazes, him looking forward while you took to looking at your feet. It was silent for a moment, and you turned down the volume on your headphones so you could hear his footsteps falling next to you.

Again, your heart picked up a wild pace, violently aware of his close proximity and the fact that he was voluntarily walking beside you. You tried to walk naturally, but you found yourself having difficulty remembering how to breathe properly, let alone how you normally walk. What was happening right now? Were the two of you really walking side by side like… like friends? Your brain began getting fuzzy, but your trance was quickly broken by the sound of his deep voice—

“You recognized me right away, didn’t you?” –speaking perfect English nonetheless. You suppressed the urge to choke in response to hearing him speak, and simply snapped your head around to look at him with eyes the size to saucers. Your breath hitched as you tried to formulate a response when he spoke again, “Thanks for not… uh…” he waved his hands around a bit as if trying to describe an action as he thought of a particular word. Realization lit up his eyes as he continued. “…freaking out.” He finished, looking down at your shocked face. You saw the cloth of the face mask shift a bit and you assumed that he was smiling. You swallowed your nerves best you could to try and answer him because— dear God— Kim Namjoon was trying to have a conversation with you and you’ll be damned if the best you could do was stare at him like a deer in headlights!

“Uh, y-yeah, I mean, n-no problem.” You squeaked out with some success while managing to slide a smile onto your lips. Was it just you, or was the rain suddenly boiling hot? Like really, really hot? He gave you a small nod before releasing you from his gaze and you let out a shaky breath as you looked at the path in front of you again, trying to get your heart to beat regularly again. He gave you no opportunity to recover, however.

“So…” He started again, hesitating a bit. You looked back up at him; he wanted to talk with you more? “…you know me…” He said, as if it wasn’t an obvious fact already at this point. “…can I…” He hesitated again, looking at you briefly before shyly turning away. “…know… you…?” Holy shit— what kind of magical alternate universe was this? You blinked at him, catching onto the timid tone of his voice, as if he was uncertain of his wording or the question itself or possibly both. Either way, your face immediately flushed red. Kim Namjoon was… bashful? You couldn’t comprehend how absolutely endearing that was and it took you a little longer than you would have liked to formulate a response. You felt the energy around him tense in nervousness and you realized that you had just been staring at him silently. You responded in panic—

“I’m Y/N!” You said quickly, and you watched his shoulders relax a bit at the sound of your voice. You swallowed again, not knowing what else to say, but determined to make him feel at ease with you. And that’s when the word-vomit began; “I-I’m sorry for being so awkward. It’s just that I’m— and you’re— and— y-yeah…” You wanted to smack yourself in the face for not being able to form a proper sentence. “I j-just… never thought that… uh…” You were suddenly nauseous as you felt the embarrassment rise into your throat. ‘Shit.’ Your mouth was abruptly dry and you babbling making you cringe visibly. “I-I just w-want you to b-be comfortable…” You said in a voice barely above a whisper. You glanced back up at him to see him looking at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Comfortable?” He repeated— not in a ‘what does this word mean’ kind of way, but in a ‘what do you mean’ kind of tone. You bit your lip in contemplation, still not fully believing that you were having an actual conversation with Kim-motherfluffing-Namjoon.

“I-I didn’t— don’t— want you to feel like you can’t come back here,” you gestured to the river with you hand, “just because I know who you are…” You chewed on your lower lip some more, feeling his gaze on you still. “J-just because you’re… well… you’re human too… so, you don’t have to worry about me.” You finally get out in spite of your scrambled thoughts. None of what you have said to him has been a proper sentence, and you’re not even speaking Korean— you’re speaking English, your native language, which you’ve been speaking your entire life. How is this single man able to erase your brain by simply walking next to you? “I won’t tell anyone you walk here.” Finally, a complete sentence. You let out a breath and smile at him.

He blinks at you before he looks forward once more, also letting out a breathy sound that resembles a relieved laugh, the cloth of his mask crinkling again as if he were smiling. He fidgets with the bill of his cap as he cutely watches his feet and you feel your heart swell at the sight. You can’t stop your smile from growing into a wider, more relaxed state as you let out a light giggle. You knew he could be cute, but for him to be abashed like this in front of you… was he trying to get you to fall in love with him?

Before you knew it, you were where you needed to veer off towards the city, and you regarded the sidewalk with utter disappointment. You looked over at him, still surprised that he had walked with you all the way here. Lightly clearing your throat to get his attention, you pointed at the sidewalk as the two of you approached it.

“Ah… t-this is me— I-I mean this is the way I need to go.” You internally groaned at yourself; why couldn’t you stop stuttering? You watched as he eyed the adjacent sidewalk in front of you and then returned his gaze back to you, only to nod a bit, stuffing his hands into his pockets. You nodded back with an unsure smile, trying to find a way to will yourself away from the beautiful man that just walked with you all the way through the part of your commute next to the Han River. Your resolve to go to work was wilting quickly. “I-I…” You shifted to face him completely, getting a good look at his frame for the first time since he walked up beside you. You smiled warmly, “I’m really happy that I got to talk to you.” And you genuinely were. This small conversation that you had with him was more than you could’ve ever asked for. He let you see a bit of himself that is saved for his life outside the cameras and the lights and the cheering fans. And for him to give you that… it was a feeling indescribable. You gave him the slightest bow to show your appreciation, one last smile, and then turned around to begin the rest of your commute to work.

But with your back turned, you had been unable to see him nervously shifting on his feet and rolling his shoulders. He messed with the cap under the hood of his wet sweatshirt again, clearing his throat before quickly speaking.

“Uh—!” He started, loud enough to catch your attention as you whipped around at the sound. He stood a few feet away, looking rather uncomfortable with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing his neck in a nervous fashion. He looked at the ground for a few seconds, “Can we… can I…” he cleared his throat again, then finally looking at you, those familiar eyes boring straight into your heart. “…can we… walk… together again…?” He sounded so uncertain, so nervous, so small, that your heart nearly burst. Did he realize what he was doing to you? From the looks of it, he clearly didn’t; he seemed just as anxious as you were. Your face picked up color again as you blinked, coming out of the trance he put you in. And you couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face.

“Yes! Ah—” You shifted a bit in embarrassment from your outburst, glancing down at your feet before looking at him with a softer, yet no less bright, smile. “I-I’d like that.” A silence fell between you, but it was far from uncomfortable as you watched his eyes crinkle up and his mask crease from a wide smile that you knew was gracing his full lips. Again, your heart fluttered and your smile turned into a full grin that you ultimately failed to contain. You were even more unwilling to go to work now, but you knew if you didn’t then you’d end up standing in front of this perfect man grinning like a complete fool. So, against everything screaming for you to stay with him, you gave him a friendly wave, which he curtly returned, before turning and nearly bouncing away in happiness.

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When the next two days passed and your new— friend?, acquaintance?— was nowhere to be found, ‘disappointed’ was nowhere near a big enough word to describe how you felt. Not that you were expecting to see him every day, but your hopes had soared to a new altitude and was now impossible to keep in check. Kim Namjoon, the Kim Namjoon, wanted to walk with you. Although you were still uncertain as to what that included— would you also be talking? Getting to know each other? Or did he really just mean walking next to each other when you made your way to work? One thing that worked in your favor with not seeing him the last couple days was that you now had an opportunity to mentally prepare yourself for whatever these future meetings between the two of you would offer. You played scenarios in your head, acted them out in the mirror, and practiced ‘normal’ things to say to him.

You didn’t want to treat him like a celebrity— that first time the two of you spoke had caught you completely off-guard and you were a little dissatisfied in yourself. You didn’t want to play yourself as a fan talking to their idol, you wanted to be able to talk to him as just a regular person that you met along the Han River. Yes, a regular, beautiful man that made your heart want to leap from your breast. Totally normal.

And suddenly it was Friday again, and your morning routine was mundane as usual. You ate your plain breakfast, dressed in your plain work-clothes, and walked out of your plain apartment to see the usual plain road you take next to the river every day. And there, sitting on a plain bench was a not-so-plain man, dressed in jeans, a high-neck sweater, and an un-zipped hoodie while donning his usual face-mask and baseball cap. You inwardly swooned, seeing him sitting there staring out at the water.

You slowly approached, but were unsure as to what was expected of you. Do you walk right up to him? Or do you acknowledge him as you pass and let him catch up? Oh God, you didn’t prepare for this part of it! Why was something so simple so complicated in your head?! As you were caught up in your thoughts, your eyes locked on to the figure on the bench, he by chance glanced up, catching your gaze in the deep of his eyes, which were much less a stranger’s now.

At your advance, he stood from his seat on the bench to wait for you. Your face flushed in response and you sent him a smile, feeling more and more nervous the closer you got. He really was something else; he wasn’t dressed in an eye-catching fashion, or standing in an attention-grabbing way, but the space around his form had a pull about it, as if everything around him gravitated towards his being, including you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, even as you strode up beside him and paused, smiling shyly. He smiled beneath his mask as well,

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice sending electricity through you and throwing your heart into overdrive. You gave a small giggle— and God you couldn’t believe you giggled in front of this man— as you shifted slightly trying to regain your composure.

“Hey,” you said back in a quieter, lighter tone. You were suddenly wrought with nerves as you tried to think of literally anything else to say to him. What happened to all of those lines you practiced in the mirror of your bathroom? Gone— your mind was a complete blank. “Ah— s-shall we…?” You wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear. However, he just nodded and gestured outwards with one of his hands, indicating that you should lead the way. You smiled gratefully and took a step forward, Namjoon following suit. For a moment the two of you walked in silence. You would have started the conversation if you were sure he wanted to talk. Or if you could fish through enough of the static in your brain to find a comment comprehensible enough to actually speak. If you had been sitting, your foot would have been going into fidget-overdrive. It was then that the man beside you cleared his throat and slipped his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Um, so…” He didn’t look down at you this time, but as you peeked up at him you noticed a pink tint on the visible skin of his cheeks. “You’re American?” he asked, even though you guessed he probably already knew that you were. He must’ve asked simply… because he wanted to talk to you. Your heart stuttered and you let out a breathy laugh,

“Yeah,” Finally, a response where your voice didn’t shake. “I’m from New York.” You weren’t sure what else to say, seeing as the last time you tried to fill the silence between the two of you, you had ended up babbling incoherent nonsense, and you weren’t particularly looking to repeat the same humiliating performance. So, you put on a tight smile and shot quick glances up at him, hoping he’ll catch your hint. He bobbed his head a bit in a nod, registering your response.

“I really like New York.” He replied, then silence again. You both began to fidget at your own awkwardness and it was then that you heard a deep sigh followed by yet another grunt of his throat clearing. “Sorry…” He said, reaching up with his left hand to rub his shoulder slightly. “I wanted… to talk to you, but…” He let out a breathy chuckle. “…this is awkward, isn’t it?” He shifted his eyes to you for a split second before gazing back at the road. You didn’t know if you should feel bad, or elated that he felt the same way you did. You didn’t want it to be awkward, it’s just that you yourself was awkward and it seemed to manifest every time you tried to make a good impression. So, in light of the awkward atmosphere, you decided to play off of it, hoping some humor at your own expense would lighten the mood.

“Not as awkward as me almost falling on top of you the other day.” You cringed lightly at the memory, but let out a soft laugh and grinned through it. You began to relax when you heard him mirror your laugh and saw his face mask crinkle again. You let out a sigh of relief that turned into another laugh, finally feeling as if you’ve said something right.

“I was so… shocked,” He said, and you could hear the smile he still held on his face. “I thought a fan had grabbed me.” He shook his head as if to illustrate how unnerved he had been at the time. You smiled and bit your lip,

“Technically, a fan did grab you,” You shrugged playfully, slightly raising one of your eyebrows when you looked up at him. His deep laugh hit your ears again, more pronounced this time, and you felt your cheeks heat up and your heart skip at the sound. You couldn’t help musing on how beautiful it was.

“You’re right, you’re right,” you could see a playful glint in his eyes when he peered down at you, and you were glad to see that he was relaxing too. “But since it’s you… it’s okay.” If your face hadn’t been pink before from the sound of his laugh, it was brighter than a cherry-red Ferrari at the utterance of those words. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs and you found yourself short of breath. Oh sweet Jesus— was he doing this on purpose? He was an idol, it was his job to know how to rile up the fans, but something about the way he stared at his feet daring only to glance at you for no more than a split second at a time made you believe that he was indeed being sincere. And you were sure you were about to have a heart attack. You exhaled a silent breath to sedate your heart’s nervous thumping before speaking again.

“I really am sorry about that…” As if you hadn’t already made it obvious from the profuse apologies that had left your lips at the time of the incident. You were of mostly clear mind now, so you could better express your remorse for having accidentally yanked on the back of his sweatshirt that day. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” You fiddled with the bottom of your shirt, trying desperately not to re-imagine that time. He laughed again, and you found yourself wishing that your days could be filled with that sound.

“It’s okay,” the smile under his mask was obvious now, and a light blush dusted at his face. “You were… your Korean was… cute.” He muttered, shrugging as if trying to act like the statement was nonchalant, but the almost unnoticeable twitching of his fingers in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he nervously picked at the inside fabric told you he understood how those words could be interpreted. And it set your body ablaze. You could feel the fire rushing through your veins as your palms began to sweat and your body tensed, trying not to show your reaction to his sudden comment.

“I-I’m not very good at Korean yet…” stammering as usual, your earlier confidence streak came to an abrupt end when the word ‘cute’ slipped through the lips of the man walking casually beside you. He looked down at you, and you’re again made aware of just how much taller he is of you.

“It’s good I know English, then, huh?” He teased, and God your heart should have stopped. How you were still breathing was beyond you and— wait, you were breathing right? As if to check your lungs, you discretely but a hand near your diaphragm, relieved to feel it shift beneath your fingers shallowly. Quickly nodding in response, you smiled at him before realizing you were at your destination to depart from the road along the Han River. Your destination where you were forced to part from Kim Namjoon. He noticed as well and slowed his pace as the two of you neared your veer-off point. You hesitantly looked at your feet and came to a stop in front of him, turning to face him in order to part. “Ah, this is where you leave…” He muttered, glancing around a bit as you nod at him. He pauses a moment before reaching up and sliding his mask off his face and under his chin, letting the elastic bands behind his ears do their job. Your voice caught in your throat at the sight of his face bared to you once more and you tried to soak in the sight of it once more. Surely someone so beautiful couldn’t be standing in front of you, smiling down at you as if you had known each other all along?

Your eyes snapped to his mouth when his tongue flitted over his lips to moisten them. Sweet Mary Mother of God, he wasn’t thinking about kissing you, was he? Why were you thinking about kissing him? He’s an idol for the love of God, there’s no way he’d kiss you! You felt panic rise in your chest, but it was immediately squelched by his soothing baritone voice. You weren’t much too surprised to find a twinge of disappointment when a kiss didn’t come, but your daydreams expected too much from reality. “I’ll… see you again?” He asked, as if he were nervous that you wouldn’t want to spend time with him once more. Your eyes lit up at the question and you sent him the brightest smile you could muster.

“Yes!” the cheer in your voice almost made you cringe, but you were pleased to see his face brighten at your answer. Ah… could he be cuter? Such an expression on such a manly face was more than you could handle and you felt your brain turn into euphoric mush at the sight. He embarrassedly looked down at his feet, trying to rein in his smile before slipping the mask back up his face to rest on the bridge of his nose. He looked back at you, his eyes still shining. You were doing no better trying to control your appearance as you laughed lightly, waving at him as you took a few steps towards the path. He pulled his hand out of his pocket to return the wave and it was then that you slowly turned around to continue your walk to work, where you knew you were going to be more than a little bit distracted.

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Over the next week and a half, you saw your new, secret idol friend often on your way to work. It wasn’t every day, not that you had expected it to be, but the days where you did see him were better than the last. You would step onto the path at around 6:15am every morning and immediately look to the bench that you had found him waiting on after he had asked to walk with you. Some days it was vacant and other days there were strangers relaxing in the brisk morning air. But on the days you loved most there was a familiar figure, wearing familiar clothes, with a familiar baseball cap and face mask covering his stunning features. He would look up at you when he noticed your approach and stand, patiently waiting for you to reach his side before falling into stride with you.

He always waited for you on that bench— it had quickly become your marker on whether or not you would be graced by his presence that day. And you always hoped to see his lean figure lounging back looking out at the river or hunched forward tinkering on his phone as he awaited your appearance. It didn’t take you long to recognize the bench as the one he had been loitering on the day he saw your small skirmish with the apple, and had even brought it up in one of your conversations:

“I remember this bench,” you had said to him thoughtfully during one of your morning walks. “You got to see me nearly fist fight an apple.” You shook your head laughing, even though you were embarrassed by the ordeal still. He laughed too, remember the shocked look you had on your face as said apple hung out of your mouth.

“I remember.” A deep breath escaped his lungs. “Actually—” he started, fidgeting a bit and looked over at him with a puzzled expression. “…I was waiting for you… that day too…” He lightly cleared his throat out of awkward discomfort and his cheeks were painted over in pink. Needless to say, yours were too.

You had also mentioned to him one time that you also walked this same path Sundays when you were going to purchase your groceries for the week, and he put forth the notion that he would meet you on Sundays as well. You told him that he didn’t have to once learning that some weeks it was the only day off he was granted, but he simply shrugged, explaining that it was relaxing to be with you. You pretended to hesitantly accept his offer then, excitement growing within you as the two of you set a time and you couldn’t help but think that it sounded much like planning a date. You met on the next three Sundays at the same time.

To say that you were not just walking, but living on cloud nine was an understatement. No daydreams or fantasies could have prepared you for the events of your life in Seoul. Erin still badgered you about your constant chipper mood, demanding to know who it was that was making you so happy— you had even gone out with her and your coworkers a few times in the last couple of weeks. Only on Friday nights though; Sunday mornings were reserved and you didn’t want to have to be nursing a hangover during one of your walks with Namjoon. One night your friend had managed to get you intoxicated enough that you almost spilled your secret, but your heart was thankfully stronger than your brain that night and you had simply held out a drunken finger to her lips and shushed her, shaking your head and saying in slurred words “It’s a secret.”

That indefinitely set her off for the next week, and she constantly hounded you, trying to guess who it was. But the truth was far more unbelievable than anything the imagination could come up with, so you always simply laughed and managed to hold off her curiosity until the end of the day. It wasn’t until recently that you realized that you had already been in Korea for three months; two of which were filled with memories of walking alongside the Han River with the BTS idol.

Over the course of your meetings, you had become accustomed to the sound of his voice, his stride when he walked, and small mannerisms that made Namjoon, Namjoon, and after your initially star-struck mind had cleared enough to notice these things, you never truly felt like you were talking to an idol. He was just a man that you were slowly getting to know, and slowly falling in love with.

The moment you felt the twinge in your heart become a full-blown ache, you knew you were in trouble. Early-on in your meetings, you had made yourself promise that there would be no romantic feelings attached. You should have known better than to make empty promises to yourself. How could you not fall in love with him? Especially once you had the opportunity to learn about him yourself on a personal level— it had been inevitable.

You had to constantly remind yourself to quell your feelings for him each morning before you knew whether or not you’d be seeing him that day. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable with obvious affections towards him. Whatever fragile friendship the two of you had created the last two months would surely be over if he caught any indication that you were interested in him as more than a friend.

There were times though that you saw a small glimmer on his face that made you wish that he felt the same towards you. Wished, hoped, that he could possibly regard you in the same way. Alas, you knew better. Any rational human being would know that Kim Namjoon is an exceptional man with exceptional talents and who deserved an exceptional woman. You, much to your chagrin, were not exceptional. You knew that you were not a good fit for the beautiful idol, no matter how much you longed to be. And even in the small moments where you see the little gleams within the dark depths of his eyes when they looked at you, your brain was quick to remind you of this fact and the disappointment set into your gut immediately.

You never let these emotions deter you from enjoying your time with Namjoon, however. Every moment with him was pure bliss and you never once found yourself dwelling over your disappointment when in his company. He was an easy fellow to talk to, to laugh with. He was witty, funny, and awkward in the most endearing ways a person could be. His personality meshed alarmingly well with yours; almost like the two of you had been destined to be friends. And you were content with that.

Today was Sunday again, and at 7:30am you made your way to the bench where you know he’d be waiting. You hummed happily, wondering what the two of you would be talking about today on your slightly longer trip to the market. You had allotted about twenty minutes of your morning before leaving your apartment to do your routine emotion-check to make sure you had the ability to mask them well enough to keep them from the man you saw sitting comfortably on the wooden bench overlooking the river. You smiled as you picked up your pace to a light jog before stopping in front of him where he was still seated. ‘Odd,’ you thought, ‘he’s usually standing before I can get to him.’ You tried not to let it bother you too much, but you had a habit of over-thinking things. You tried to push your concerns to the back of your mind, telling yourself that everyone has their off-days. Luckily it wasn’t too long after you planted yourself in front of him that he looked up at you with smiling eyes, mask crinkling in a similar fashion, and stood up.

“Ready?” He asked, to which you smiled and nodded. As the two of you turned to begin your stroll, you took a quick once-over at his attire for the day, noticing that it wasn’t his usual laid-back lounge clothes. He was in a long black sweater that reached about mid-calf and beneath it he wore a simple white tee that was tucked neatly into black ripped jeans. A statement belt adorned his hips and clearly expensive grey Timberlands gave his look a clean feel to it. His usual baseball cap was replaced by a black snapback with ‘YOUTH’ written across the bottom of the bill, leaving the only thing you recognized was the white mask covering the better part of his face. He looked good— very good. You almost pouted when you tore your gaze away from him. Still, dressed like that, was he going somewhere?

“How was your morning?” He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him, trying to register the question he just asked you. Your mouth moved before your brain could come up with anything cleverer—

“Good, the usual,” You almost groaned at the simple response. It’s been two months, why were you regressing in your communication skills with him? But as you glanced back over at him, you took in his outfit again. “You’re dressed nice today,” you spoke, blushing a bit at your own compliment. “Are you going somewhere?” You blink at him with curiosity when he pauses longer than usual. He looks hesitant to answer, but gives a light sigh when he seems to realize that he can’t avoid having the conversation.

“Yeah, actually,” He started, his shoulders slumping a bit as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I… ah…” he tilted his head to the side and his brows furrowed a bit. He still hasn’t looked back at you. “…I wanted to tell you sooner, but…” Another sigh. “…we’re… I’m leaving. To America for a tour.” He finally glanced at you, the look in his eyes slightly solemn as he tried to express his melancholy about the situation. You felt your heart drop into your stomach like a rock at the thought of him leaving, and you knew that your face mirrored your distress. You tried to recover quickly by sending him a small smile.

“That’s good though, right?” You tried to cheer him up by pointing out the pros of the circumstances. “You’ll get to see your fans in America— they love you.” You almost wanted to add in ‘me too,’ but decided strongly against it. “Plus, you can do things that you can only do in the U.S.” He nodded in agreement, but he still seemed conflicted. You hummed a little, trying to come up with another positive point, but another question nagged its way to the front of your mind. “Um… how long are you going to be there?” And now you were hesitant with what you said, mirroring his uncomfortable guise and looking at the ground.

“Ah… a month…” Another rock hit your gut. Four weeks without your walking buddy? Four weeks without the person who made your heart beat erratically with adoration? Four weeks without Kim Namjoon? You tried your best to hide your distress, but knew you were failing at it when he withdrew his hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck.

“Oh…” was all you could say. You tried to breath normally, but panic was setting into your bones and you tried to calm yourself by releasing a shaky breath. “W-when do you leave?” You almost didn’t want to hear the answer.

“This afternoon…” He gazed at you apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” You were upset, how could you not be after finding out that he was leaving for a month in mere hours? Though to be fair, the two of you hadn’t known each other for very long. It wasn’t like he necessarily owed you an explanation, and you understood that. It was his courteous nature that made him tell you in the first place, and that same nature that lead him to feel apologetic for only telling you now. You kept your gaze to the ground, almost afraid that you’d start to tear up should you see his face. When did you become so emotionally involved with this man?

“It’s okay,” your voice was quiet, but resolved. It was okay, really— it wasn’t like he had much choice having to leave, and it probably wouldn’t have been easier for you had he told you earlier if you were being honest. You peeked up at the road in front of you, seeing where the path took you upwards on a flight of stairs towards the direction of the grocery store. This is where you left him. But this time it wasn’t for a day or two. No, today, this is where you would leave him for the next thirty days. Or more, even. Who knew when the next time the two of you would be able to see each other? Or if you’d ever see each other again?

Thinking about it was doing you no good, but you knew that the time to say goodbye was here. You chewed on your bottom lip as you worked up enough nerve to turn to him and he mirrored you, hands still in his pockets for the time being. You both stood in silence for what seemed like ages, neither one of you wanting to sat those dreaded words. As each second ticked by, you could feel yourself becoming more and more emotional and you knew you would burst into tears in front of him if you didn’t walk away soon. You looked at the ground again as you pushed pebbles around with the tip of your shoe.

“I guess…” you started, hoping that your voice wouldn’t crack or get stuck in your throat. “…have fun in the states…” You smiled at your shoes, wishing that you had the courage to send that smile to him. Wishing you had the courage to tell him that you didn’t want him to go. Wishing you had the courage to tell him those taboo feelings that squeezed at your heart this very moment. But all of those things would make his leaving harder, and with one last small surge of bravery, you took a step around him, muttering, “…I’ll see you around…” even though you knew you wouldn’t. Goodbye was just too hard to utter.

As you ascended the concrete stairs leading away from the Han River and Kim Namjoon, you didn’t see that after only mere steps, said idol stopped walking and turned back around to face the direction you were walking. You didn’t see the nervous shuffle of his feet, or the way he lifted his snapback briefly to run a hand through his dark hair in frustration. And if it weren’t for the hurried footsteps following you up the stairs, you certainly wouldn’t have seen him climbing after you.

“Y/N—” He said in a flustered tone. You whipped around to look at him, shocked to hear him so close to you. He was taller than you, but being a few steps behind you left him at eye-level, and you were able to easily peer into his brown orbs, widened slightly in panic. You were both frozen for a moment, mutually a bit shocked at his actions. After the silence dragged on for a second too long you spoke up,

“Y-yeah?” was all you managed. You heard him inhale deeply before he reached up and yanked the mask off his face to have it rest beneath his chin. He had a hint of worry in his eyes, but the over-all expression he showcased to you was serious, confident; the way you imagined he would look on stage. He had been so goofy and bashful most of the time with you until this moment, this was a new expression. And it sent heat to your core immediately.

“I…” he swallowed, “I want to see you again… keep seeing you… after I get back…” Another wave of shock numbed your body— this… did he really say that? You opened your mouth as if to reply, but you quickly shut it when you realized that no sound was produced. He continued, “Can I… meet you there again?” ‘There’— you knew he meant the bench. His bench. You continued to stare.

“Y-you…” your stuttering has seemed to come back in full force much to your disdain. “…yes…” You managed to squeak out softly. Yes, you wanted that. You wanted that more than anything. You wanted to ask him about his tour, how it went, if he had any difficulties, if he had fun. You wanted to keep learning about him, laughing with him. You wanted to keep falling in love with him, even if he never returned your feelings. “Yes; I want to see you again, too.” Your voice was firmer this time, fractionally mirroring the look on his face.

Relief washed over the concern in his eyes at hearing the response he had hoped to hear and you had been glad to give it to him. A small smile spread across your lips as the corner of his turned upwards. And you thought that you could contently stare at his smile forever, but in a split second, you were seeing stars instead.

You hadn’t seen it coming— it was too abrupt, too unexpected, and you were caught completely off guard. He had taken one quick step forward, leaning towards you in the process and catching each of your hands in his before pressing his plush lips to your cheek. Your mind reeled at the sudden and new development, and all you could focus on was the warm tingle that spread from his soft lips to your skin.

He, Kim Namjoon, was kissing you— granted, it wasn’t a kiss that could be shared between you, but it was one that he was giving, which was just as precious an act. The combination of the kiss and the way his hands gently held yours seemed to say ‘thank you’, ‘I’ll come back for you’, and ‘you are precious’. Your heart was just about to leap from your chest when he detached from your cheek; but he never let go of your hands. He stared into your eyes, abashed at his own forwardness, but his gaze was intense nonetheless. You couldn’t feel it, but you knew that your face was sporting a strawberry-esque color and a shocked expression. Your lips twitched into a smile. This was, to a degree, an affirmation of the impossible— this extraordinary man, a man of many talents, of many names, but, ultimately still, one Kim Namjoon, harbored affections towards you. To what extent, you couldn’t be sure, but this was more than you could had ever imagined possible. And you didn’t need a confession of undying love; an act as simple as this was bigger than words.

“I’ll do that properly next time…” He said, his voice deeper and smoother than it had been a moment ago and it sent chills through your body, the implication of ‘properly’ going over your head in your shocked state. “I have to go,” He said, giving your hands a light squeeze. “I’ll see you soon.” You gave little squeeze in return before he stepped back and his hands slipped from yours. He smiled at you; a pure, genuine smile, with warmth flooding his eyes before he tugged the mask back up his face and turned around to descend down the stairs. He looked back at you only once when he got to the bottom and gave you a small nod, much like the ones the two of you had exchanged in the beginning of this rather odd relationship. You smiled brightly at the gesture and nodded back, after which he gazed at you only a moment longer before turning and walking away.

You watched him leave, studying his retreating figure and recording it in your memory. You never thought it would have ended up like this, your life in Korea. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought a situation like this possible; not for you. Yet, here you were, watching Kim Namjoon walk away after placing the most meaningful kiss to your cheek and promising a future reunion. ‘Next time…’ you thought to yourself. Ah, what would ‘next time’ hold here at Han River, Seoul?

[END]

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buckyswinterchildren · 6 years ago

Text

With All My Body

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A story about how Bucky falls over and over again for you, from the very first time he meets you, with all his senses.

Words: 4k

Warning: smut (well, it is not actual smut, just a slight few paragraphs about it.)

A/N: For you to know, when I wrote about the orchestra I didn´t have in mind the typical orchestras we all know, but the one that works with Hans Zimmer. (If you don´t know who he is, I really recommend you go and check his videos. He makes music for well-known movies and the songs are wonderful.) So, yeah, I have that image of an orchestra in mind.

(Credits to the owner of the gif.)

The night is covering the city and the powerful lights of buildings and of propaganda signs dominate the sight.

As everybody knows, the city of New York does not sleep and today is not the exception. If one stands in the middle of a street, any crowded street, he is going to hear music coming from bars, horns and brakes of cars and busses, the voices of the thousands of people passing by his side. The continuous vivid noise of the city is an essential factor for considering New York "not for everyone."

However, in one of the theaters of the American state, the environment is peaceful, calm. Only whispers among the audience can be heard.

With his ear as trained as the rest of his body and with the help of the serum, Bucky can hear most of the whispers without having to do any effort at all.

His seat is on the second file of the theater, right in front of the fancy stage which has heavy red curtains hunging from the ceiling down to the floor with a huge screen on the back. The file is also occupied by some others well-known citizens: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff and the man who was born for being on the spotlight, Tony Stark.

One of the most respectable orchestras of New York is now playing a series of concerts in the city after returning from a two-month tour in Europe around the most refined theaters of the old continent.

Being Tony Stark "friend" of half of the city, of course he knows the director of the orchestra. Therefore, after receiving a call from the director himself inviting him and the rest of the Avengers to the concert, Tony could not say no and Steve, Bucky, Sam and Natasha could not avoid not coming.

The warm lights of the theater are now gone and the only area which continues illuminated is the stage where two huge grades for the musicians are standing and a shiny dark brown piano in the middle of both grades can be seen.

A wave of applauses arises as the musicians appear one behind the other as they position themselves on the grades. The applauses do not cease when the last musician is on his place since the director appears and raises his hands to wave the auditorium. Then, he sits in front of the piano as he looks at the rest of the musicians, making sure they are ready to begin.

The stage lights only illuminate the director. He puts his hands above the keys of the piano, like caressing them with an extreme delicacy before starting playing with them the first chords of the song. The beautiful and delicate sound that comes from the piano is enough to move the audience.

After a few seconds, the bass accompanies the piano and immediately after, the cello starts playing, becoming, together with the piano, the main instruments of the song.

That is the reason why the light above you starts illuminating only you, one of the cellists of the orchestra. You are standing, together with two other violinists, on the left side of the stage.

In the meantime, Bucky has been paying attention to the piano. It brings him back memories of his time in the first decades of the twentieth century. He could not avoid thinking about the occasions in which he used to go to bars and on the small stages, there always was a man playing his piano.

Bucky realizes that the melancholy that has arised in him is even stronger when he hears the cello. Still, he cannot move his eyes from the piano and so, from the memories of his older self, of the James Barnes who did not know what true pain was.

The sound is beautiful, he thinks. How is it possible that the sound of strings can cause him to find feelings and evoke memories that he had buried down in his mind?

Bucky closes his eyes and lets his ears be the channel for the melody to fill his body that has already provoke so much on him. Those piano keys that are being played and the cello, oh, that powerful cello that makes him wanna cry. How can an instrument produce so much things in Bucky? How is it possible he starts playing in his mind moments of his life just by the waves of sound travelling on the air? Bucky stops asking himself all those questions and only enjoys the sounds that have drown him.

For a moment, he lets himself get lost in the music he is hearing and go to wherever his mind wants to take him.

When he opens his eyes, the other light of the stage, the one above you, is the one that calls Bucky´s attention. His eyes leave the piano and now, they are on you.

And they remain on you the rest of the night.

He hasn´t heard you talk yet, but the way you play the cello is enough for him to fall in love with the sounds you emit. He can hear you speaking through your cello and for Bucky, it is enough.

Bucky is not sure if it is the light and the shadows that seem to play in your face that make you misterious, or if it is because of the way your body moves as you play the instrument... He does not know why but he cannot take his eyes off you because he finds you fascinating, seductive, outstanding, enigmatic.

He looks at your hair and how it falls from one side to the other as you slowly move your head at the sounds you are creating and that are filling the theater. Just the movement of your body makes it possible to perceive that these sounds travel from your ears to your veins. He looks at your hand holding the bow and moving it from left to right. He looks at your left hand, the one on the neck of the cello and he sees how you make that technical move as if it were shaking so as to make the strings vibrate and create that special effect on the strings.

Bucky stares at you as a painter stares at the canvas in which he just finished painting the piece of art that, in his opinion, is the best he has ever done. He stares at you as a astronomer stares through the microscope the universe and its infinites galaxies. Bucky stares at you with admiration, intrigue, fascination.

His eyes look for you even when the lights are gone from the stage. He tries to make his eyes get used to the temporary darkness so as to distinguish your form behind your cello.

Bucky does not even know your name yet but you have already enchanted his ears and his eyes.

The next time Bucky sees you is at Tony Stark´s wedding, nine months after he saw you for the very first time at the theater.

The extasis and excitement he felt when he saw you for the first time lasted days and weeks. The idea of you as a mistery is what kept that extasis not to vanish for quite a long time.

He was sure that maybe he could google you just by writing “orchestra of New York” in the searching bar. Just maybe, your picture would appear together with your name. However, not only did Bicky find it creepy, but also, he still has some old manners. Being a man from the 40´s, he still considers that the best way to get to know someone is when you are face to face, not when you google their names and get information about them while the other person knows nothing about you.

So, for him, you are just that, an enigma. And just like any other enigma, he wants to know more about you, to discover something, anything about you.

It is a shock when he sees you standing there, making delicate movements with your hands while playing the songs you were asked by the bride, Pepper Potts.

------

Bucky leans on one of the two doors that faces the green surroundings of the party room. From where he is, he can appreciate what seems a never-ending field of grass, a huge tree on his left and a wide path made of stone —not comfortable at all for those wearing heals.

He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the air that blows directly on his face. He can hear the rattle of heels from behind him and then, right next to him. He opens his eyes and he sees you walking by his side.

His breath stops for a second when he realizes it is you and, with guts that seem to come from the old Bucky Barnes — the flirtatious and outspoken Bucky of the last century, he says all of a sudden and without thinking his words: “Good show.”

““Good show”? Really, that´s the very first thing I have to say?” he thinks, wanting to punch himself.

You turn your head to look behind you as you hear a voice but you are not sure if the person is actually talking to you. When you see that the man is in fact looking at you, you reply: “Why, thanks!”

Bucky can finally hear your voice, but he will think about the pitch and the tone of your voice later on, when he is back in the tower, because right now, his mind is focused on actually talking to you.

“I saw you,” Bucky clears his throat and continues, “I saw you some time ago playing in here at David Geffen Hall. You were really good. You all were really good,” he rapidly corrects himself.

“Thanks again.” You are now facing him.

“I really like that you have incorporated electric guitars and basses to your orchestra. I´ve never seen that before.”

“Yeah, it´s innovating. They make our sound pretty unique and —“

“Y/N!” A voice from inside the party room interrupts you.

“Tony, what happened?” you ask as you see him approaching. The truth is, if it were for you, you would call him “Mr. Stark” but the times he went to your rehearsals with Pepper, he made clear he wanted you all to call him Tony. “Mr. Stark sounds as if I were your boss, or if I had seventy years old, so forget about it,” he told you.

“They have already warned me about you. Come on, join the party.”

“I can´t. I really can´t. It´s not professional to stay in here.”

“Come on, you are a guest to the wedding too. Staying the night, eating and drinking after your performance is not going to make you any less professional. There are other people of the orchestra in there,” Tony says as he points out to the inside of the room.

“I —”

“It´s not weird for any of us to see the musicians who just played walking and eating around the room. Is it?” Tony asks Bucky, who has been listening to your conversation but with his eyes stuck exclusively on you.

“No, it´s not,” Bucky rapidly answers back.

You look at Tony and sigh. You know that even though it goes against your rules, and the rules you´ve been taught when you were a teenager when rehearsing, that you cannot win a conversation to Tony Stark. So you just say: “Ok, I stay.”

“Great to hear that, Y/N!” Tony claps his hands twice. “I see that you already met Barnes. I´ll leave you with him while I go back to entertain my guests.” And just like he appears, Tony leaves both of you in an instant.

“I guess I´m going back inside, then. Are you staying here or are you going there to dance?” You ask Bucky as you start walking towards the crowd.

“To tell you the truth, I´m not much of a dancer.”

“Don´t worry, me neither. That´s why I dedicate my life to play an instrument and not to actually dance. I can stay here with you, if that´s fine for you.”

“Sure, I don´t mind your company.” Of course he doesn´t.

You end up sitting in the stair of the door where you´ve been talking, almost invisible for the rest of the guests who are dancing and singing out loud the pop songs the DJ plays.

Bucky finds out that you are actually a person easy to talk to. Of course you do not talk much about your personal lives, being still strangers with each other. But it is not a boring conversation and the few inevitable silences that arise are not uncomfortable at all; you always find a way to fill them and surprisingly, so does Bucky.

Having you so near him, Bucky realizes that you are as beautiful as when he saw you on stage. Of course the lights many times tend to create certain “illusions” on people, but for him, you look as he saw you for the very first time.

This time, however, what awakes one of his senses, his nose to be precised, is your perfume. He can smell it every time you move your hair to your right as you talk, and every time you make that movement, your aroma goes directly to his nose.

Just as he did when he listened to the piano and cello being played, he closes his eyes to let your aroma fill him and appreciate it as much as he can. Because, it seems, when you have your eyes closed, your other senses become more intense.

The next time Bucky gets to know you through his senses is when his lips are on yours.

You have agreed on meeting at a café, not too far away from David Geffen Hall, where you are rehearsing, and nearby the Tower too.

After Tony´s wedding, you two have kept in touch —and for Bucky´s surprise, it was Tony who helped him and made easier for Bucky to keep in contact with you.

When you arrive and open the front door of the café, you can see that Bucky is already at a table, checking his phone.

“Hey, Bucky,” you tell him as he raises his head and a smile appears on his face. You take off your coat and your scarf and hang them behind your chair before taking a sit. “I´m sorry, coming here took me longer than expected.”

“Don´t worry, I´m glad you actually come,” he answers as his eyes spark of actual happinness for your presence.

You don´t say anything outloud, but you take notice of what he just said. “I´m glad you actually come”? Poor Bucky, you think, because you are sure that behind that phrase are hidden the times in which he was stood up.

And you are right.

“Where´s your instrument?”

“Oh, you were expecting me to break the peaceful atmosphere of this café by carring the cello, weren´t you?” You joke as you tuck your hair behind your ear. “We can keep them in there, those of us who have these huge instruments.” You try to change the subject and actually focus on him. “How have you been? How was your day?”

They are just simple, common questions but Bucky doesn´t remember being asked any of them. He appreciates your interest towards him, considering he has always thought of himself as someone who is not worth anybody´s time or interest.

Two hours. Two hours at the table of a small café surrounded by people walking by your side, entering and leaving the place... but none of you seem to notice any of them. To qualified the date as pleasant and comfortable is not enough.

“Do you have anything to do now?” you ask Bucky as you leave the café and put the red scarf around your neck.

“Not at all —“

“Do you want to, I don´t know, just walk? You interrupt him. “I´m having a great time with you.”

The feeling on his chest when he hears you say those final words can only be compared to the feeling of his lips on yours.

You end up standing in one of the thousand of corners of Central Park.

“Thank you for today and thank you for waiting for me at the café. I know you were there much more earlier than I.”

“How do you —?”

“The cup of coffee that was on the table when I arrived was empty and when I took it to accomodate what we order, it was cold.”

Bucky chuckles. “Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn´t have missed it. I know we just met by I wouldn´t have missed the chance of seeing you again.”

Words have the power to heal, hurt, please, comfort, scare, destroy, create... Right now, your words are healing, comforting, hugging Bucky. He wasn´t expecting in a million years to hear those words directed to him. He wasn´t expecting words with a positive connotation to be said to him.

Without thinking it twice and leaving now behind all the nervousness and fear he had, he tucks your hair behind your ear and his hand remains on your ckeek. Bucky looks at you and your eyes confirm him that you can feel everything but horror and disgust of being here with him, especially with someone like him.

Bucky leans forward and you end up closing the gap between both of you. Your lips collide and what he is feeling inside when he touches your lips with his is indescribable.

The tender of your lips, the delicacy with which you kiss him as if he were so delicate you may break him... Just one kiss and you make him feel alive for the second time in his long, long life.

They tend to say that when you kiss someone, you feel like melting. On the contrary, the mere sensation of your lips crashing with his makes Bucky feel elevated, as if he were in another dimension.

As he is still kissing you, Bucky thinks that he wants to kiss you again and again; he wants to feel your lips every single time it is possible. Your mouth has suddenly become the source for Bucky to keep feeling alive, wanted, loved, real.

Bucky cannot believe it all started over a year ago, when he assisted to the recital your orchestra was playing. The truth is, he went because he wanted to appreciate how the orchestras of nowadays sound like.

During the 40´s, he remembers he got lost in the records he listened to. He wanted to connect to his past, to his old self, in some way, by listening again the music he used to listen to.

What he didn´t expect was to find you. However, at the beginning, it all turned out to be a platonic love, exactly as the crushes people have almost everyday of their lives at the subway, the bus, on the street with people they know most probably won´t cross paths with again.

However, he didn´t expect to find you at Tony´s wedding. Bucky did not know until the moment he saw you standing there, at the stage of the huge room, that you were playing for the wedding.

Bucky was not aware that he was going to find love and to rediscover this part of himself he one considered death, gone. It is not that he wasn´t his intention to find someone and fall in love with her, but he didn´t expect his mind and the chemicals within his mind could segregate the love he feels with so much intensity. He was sure that, after a life of suffering and living under a totally hopeless darkness, the only sensation he could feel with all his body was hatred and resentment.

But life has showed him that, as long as he is and feels alive, he would still find himself with emotions that make his heart pump of excitment and profound happiness.

And right now, Bucky feels more alive that ever. Right now, Bucky is feeling you with all his senses.

His hands on your body, more precisely on the curves of your naked body. His nerve endings of his right hand and the special, artificial nerves created specifically for his left are make it possible for him to feel your skin and he trace it as it he were appreciating velvet.

The delicacy of his touch can be compared to the delicacy with which you play the strings of your cello, careful enough not to break any of them.

Not only his hands, but the feeling of your legs around his waist while he thrusts into you takes him into a state of ectasy that is hard to compare to any other sensation.

Bucky kisses your parted lips and you open them even more to welcome his. You then find his tongue in your mouth and you crash it with yours instantly. The exquisite and exciting sensation of your tongue caressing his is beyond words.

The feeling of your pulse when he kisses your neck; the smell of your perfume, that characteristic delicate aroma in your neck and wrists that Bucky loves so much.

Hearing you moan, saying his name outloud like a prayer, and all those sounds that come from your throat are one of the best sounds he has ever heard. If you stole his heart the moment he listened to you playing the cello for the very first time, then hearing you produce all these more intimate sounds feel like a warm bullet that has just exploded into a million pieces in his chest.

Seeing you with your eyes close, your lips partly open trying to breath and get back all the air your lungs have missed because of the kisses and the moans, the veins of your throat when you involuntarily tilt your head back because of the pleasure your whole body is feeling.

However, what makes Bucky fall apart is hearing you say “I love you. I lo- love you so much, Buck,” as you try to control the pitch and the clearness of your voice as he thrusts into you.

“I love you too, doll.” “You make me feel alive,” is what he intends to say but his lungs does not have enough air to release any other sound and his vocal chords seem not to respond to his brain, they are static.

Not in a million years would Bucky have imagined that it is possible to fall over and over again for you, when all his senses are involved.

Bucky loves you when he hears you playing your cello, when he hears you singing any song stuck in your mind, when he hears you saying his name.

He loves you when he smells your perfume everytime he kisses your neck and when he leans his head in yours and he perceives the aroma of your shampoo.

Bucky loves you with every cell of his body when he sees you playing your cello at the stage, when he sees your body moving at the rhythm of music and you completely disarm him every time you look at him while you´re performing, or when you open your eyes after you come undone, or when you just turn your head and look at him over your shoulder with a smile on your face.

He loves you when he can feel you with his lips, when he kisses every inch of your body or when his tongue tastes the sweetness of your perfume on your throat every time he licks it.

And Bucky loves you because you are real and he can reaffirm it every time he touches you, when you hold hands, when he just feels the tender touch of your hands in his hair, your arms around his neck when he needs you the most.

Bucky loves you with all his body and he knows you love him with yours too because you have shown it to him since the very first time you kissed.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james barnes fanfiction #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #james barnes fic #Avengers writing #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #marvel writing #marvel fanfiction

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janiedean · 7 years ago

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Why is Kylo even considered abusive tho

...... hahaha. uhm. this is gonna be fun.

(ps: anyone who hates kylo or reylo pls skip this post okay? k.)

people have decided that any relationship (not even romantic, any) that’s like, even moderately problematic or not healthy or in between a villain and a hero is inherently abusive, because of course EVERYTHING is abusive now, and villains that aren’t, er, how we shall say, Approved By Tumblr Standards, are inherently horrible abusive people;

kylo is, sadly, technically a mix of All the things tumblr finds automatically problematic in someone, ie that he’s: a) white, b) a cis man, c) comes from a **privileged background** (let’s just say that for the sake of simplicity), d) has obvious anger issues, e) a villain, f) heterosexual as far as we know (or better: we don’t know he’s not, but you know that for people on tumblr when they hate someone and their sexuality isn’t specified straight becomes the default because obviously if u r evil then you have to be straight. ofc kylo could be bi for all we know, but never mind that, right?), g) not conventionally attractive (or, in tumblr lingo, UGLY, because of course everyone’s canon of beauty is the same!!), which means that given point one above, he’s of course abusive, not even a shred of doubt given. (of course if one or more of these fail to happen, tumblr does the contrary and excuses whatever the bad person does but I’ll shut up before I say things I’ll regret.)

which means that of course any rship he could have with rey is abusive when it’s fucking dumb because in order for a relationship to be abusive you actually have to know that person and be in a relationship of any kind with them - your parents can be abusive (but they’re your parents and you grew up with them), a friendship can be abusive (but then you have had to know this person and be friends with them), a romantic relationship can be (but you have to actually be in love with them or at least be together), and kylo and rey have no such relationship because they met, he captured her, they had their mind-force argument where he tried to get inside her head and she got into his (compare that with what happened with poe I mean XDDD) and then they fought and the next time they met each other it was through the force bond and then you can say they developed a relationship.... where she was the one pretty much taking the first step most of the time and where she saw that there was some good in him? I mean, there’s no bloody way any of that falls under abusive relationship. is it problematic? obviously it has problematic elements because any relationship you have with a dude or woman you fought with/tried to kill/is on your opposite side of the fence can’t not have problematic elements. is it 100% fluff unicorns and rainbows? no. but like, from that to say he’s abusive in general is ridiculous, at most he could be to hux but I mean kylo and hux are generally terrible to each other in turn and that relationship is your usual rival/hateship that’s been around since the beginning of times. at most it’s mutually toxic if you ask me, and anyway no one who ships either reylo or kylux goes around saying it’s The Purest Ship, or at least no one who’s not the usual bad apple that you find in any shipper group.

this also is a perfect mirror of how people on tumblr can’t distinguish what’s coded as abusive and what’s not, because if there is one relationship in the new trilogy that’s explicitly coded as abusive it’s.... snoke and kylo, and kylo is not the abusive part, he’s the abused part of it. I mean, tlj made it overtly clear and the point is that whether you like it or not this guy has been groomed/tormented/lied to by snoke (who is, uh, THE BONAFIDE BAD GUY I mean guys it’s star wars being the palpatine stand-in in the dark side part should say everything really) same as palpatine did to anakin and guess what kylo wants to be anakin/thinks that he’s honoring his grandfather’s footsteps it’s kind of heavily implied, and while obviously there’s no overt sexual subtext because it’s still a disney movie made for kids too I’m fairly sure it’s kind of very subtly implied and other people wrote about it more in-depth than me, but tldr: kylo’s issues (he’s unstable, he’s angry, he doesn’t really know what he wants, he’s volatile and blah blah blah) are all direct consequences of a) being heavily force sensitive, b) feeling like his family failed him (and luke AGREES because wow what did he do before they fought in tlj? apologize to him for failing him, and if you don’t think that han let him kill him also because he thought he failed him idk what movie you watched), c) being groomed and lied to by the evil bad guy of the situation for most of his life, which makes... him... an abuse victim.

of course, tumblr has a really unhealthy approach to how you get to be an abuse victim, which is a whole other wasp nest, but basically on this bloody website anyone who doesn’t meet the Good Victim Standard (ie: they fight against their abuser immediately, they do Good Things, they Show Clear Morals and it’s obvious that They Are Good Guys) is automatically Not A Good Victim and is therefore denied any basic empathy/decency, and anyone who tries to be nice to them or to help them out is there to help the villain’s storyline HOW BAD, OR, if the Bad Victim dares being a man, of course it’s all OH MY GOD CHARACTER X IS GETTING SACRIFICED ON THE ALTAR OF Y’S STORYLINE AND THEIR MANPAIN, because of course if you’re a man you can’t, like, suffer, without it being manpain and not, like, legitimate feelings. which means that poor kylo cannot win because even when the story is coded otherwise and rey helping him out/wanting to reach the good part of him/seeing him as ben solo/etc people don’t see it as, like, rey being a good person and regular character development (nvm that the entire point of the light side in SW is, like, forgiveness, but okay then), but as her character being sold off for the male’s development or whatever else they think it is. which is obviously not true, but the fact that you take a character who has being a decent person in their basic traits and think that in order to Be A Good Person they should want to murder their adversary who is most obviously coded as someone who needs help and has issues but not as the ultimate bad guy rather than, like, did what rey did in tlj ie trying to help them out, says more about whichever anti thinks such things (ie: nothing good) than about the sw writers or whatever. I mean, I unfollowed people for reblogging fanart where rey killed kylo and finn/poe were doing the cheerleading and not just because I don’t want that kinda toxicity but also because it’s absolutely OOC that finn, poe or rey would cheerlead each other over murdering anyone that’s not snoke or the likes -

ah, but wait, who killed snoke?

I mean, given that kylo killed the guy who abused him for years because he threatened to murder the one person who had taken the effort to be nice to him and see his side of the story I think that it’s fairly obvious that he’s not abusing anyone himself and that next movie he’s going back to the light side no question also because they’re not gonna kill the last character with direct skywalker lineage around.

but of course most people around here can’t see past their own preconceptions and don’t understand that if you want to care for mentally ill people/abuse victims you also have to give a fuck about the kylo rens and not just about the finns. let’s just put it out there, I care about finn more than I care about kylo and I’m light side trash so of course I’m into the character and I love that finn understood at once he couldn’t kill people and defected and I love the journey he had, but you can’t just support the people that immediately see the way out and do things the way Good People Are Supposed To Behave. because if you support the finns but ditch the kylo rens then you really will end up with horrible people, because if someone who has the potential to not be a terrible person is left to their own thing without anyone trying to help them out of course they’ll convince themselves they’re not worth it and the more time passes the worst they get. and you can’t go around parading that you care about victims/mentally ill people/abuse victims/whatever if you only think the good ones are worth it. it’s such a calvinist way of thinking that makes my skin crawl tbh but then again tumblr is puritan calvinism hell so what do we even expect.

tldr: because tumblr is calvinist af without knowing it and because people have decided to give up on text comprehension for the joy of being asses to anyone who actually enjoys fictional villains, characters who aren’t necessarily the heroes and the likes.

and before anyone decides to murder me for the above and thinks that I’m a ride or die kylo fan or whatever, I’ll close this saying that: in tfa I really couldn’t care less about kylo (really, I was 100% indifferent), my favorite new trilogy character is actually poe which I find way more interesting/relatable/whatever than i could find kylo, my main ship investment in the new trilogy is finn/poe and before tlj I couldn’t care less for reylo (after... well it’s obvious I’m shipping it, but I started when it turned out to have infinite h/c potential/redemption arc potential because that’s what appeals to me in ships, I don’t care for mutual rivalships/hateships or villain/hero ships just for that, I only am into it if there’s the whole potential h/c angle so I wasn’t into it from the get-go). but I’ve liked enough characters who had stuff in common with kylo to at least recognize the pattern and I’d be fairly not coherent if I stanned theon and hated kylo on principle. ah, and I don’t find kylo particularly attractive either (honest I’d take oscar or john over adam any moment if I had to pick based on attractiveness level to me), but I also don’t feel the need to shame poor adam driver over it, especially when I think it’s a very good thing that people find attractive a type that’s not very hollywood-common and that’s actually considered not pretty/beautiful by canonical standards, so I mean, who cares. but it’s a question of intellectual honestly. *shrug*

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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sensationalscenarios · 7 years ago

Text

Sleeping Dogs: Chapter I

AU: Based on my SF9 as Mafia au found here

Chapter One TWs include: blood, death.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Sleeping Dogs has officially begun. Any and all feedback is appreciated and I hope you guys enjoy!

+ admin L

Prologue | II

i. incipience

Situated in northern Gangnam-gu, right along the Han River lies a small section of warehouses; some old and abandoned, others moderately new and used only for storage purposes. In one such warehouse, with it’s worn concrete exterior blending into exposed brick, a lone man waits with his hands and feet bound and his mouth gagged. He observes his surroundings, and notes the layers of dried blood on the concrete floor, with some spots darker than others. Those were the most recent ones and it’s not long before he panics, realizing that he’s going to be contributing to the gruesome painting beneath him.

The row of lights above him do little to reveal anything, and he struggles to distinguish the shadows past the circle of light he sat in. It wasn’t long before the sounds of footsteps reached his ears, and he panicked even more, knowing what his fate would be. The first blow comes from behind, and it’s not one he expects as he tumbles forward, feeling something warm dripping down the back of his neck.

His vision is blurry and he blinks rapidly, trying to refocus as a pair of feet come into his view, the owner crouching down. The cool metal of a gun is pressed beneath his chin and lifts his head upwards, forcing him to look into the eyes of death itself: a Red Dragon.

“You’ve created quite the problem for us, Mr. Jung. Youngbin isn’t very pleased with your recent...activities.” The man said, pressing the gun harder against his skin as he removes the gag from Mr. Jung’s mouth.

“P-please...have mercy.” Mr. Jung whimpered.

“Mercy? Mercy was us granting you an additional two weeks to secure the goods we had paid for in full. Mercy was us letting you conduct business in one of our establishments. Not only did you fail to deliver but you had the audacity to lie to us about reporting to Seven Star, and you want us to show you mercy?”

“How-how did you-” Mr. Jung visibly paled at the mention of Seven Star. How could they have possibly found out that he sold the goods over to them for a higher price?

“Did you really take us for fools Mr. Jung?” Another voice spoke, one that sent chills down Mr. Jung’s spine.

The second man walked around and stood behind the first, and the way in which he looked down upon Mr. Jung made him feel as he were as insignificant as a speck of dust. There was no emotion in his eyes, no indication that the man would feel even the slightest bit of remorse in killing him.

“N-no of course no-”

“Shut up. He didn’t say you could talk.” The first man spat, striking Mr. Jung’s face with his hand.

“It’s quite alright Seokwoo. After all, letting someone have their last words is the proper thing to do isn’t it?”

Rowoon raised an eyebrow at this, feeling a small amount of pity for Mr. Jung at the moment. Youngbin only ever used his real name in front of people when it was a guarantee that they would not walk out alive. Sighing, Rowoon knew it would be his and Hwiyoung’s turn to dispose of the body and scrub away the blood (well as best as they could anyways), and while it took little effort to do so it was extremely tedious. The one good thing though, that Rowoon enjoys about this part is that he is able to freely address Youngbin by his name rather than ‘Boss’ or something of the like and watch as the color drains from the victim’s faces.

“Of course, Youngbin.” Rowoon gets up, and bows slightly to the elder as he steps back and watches.

Mr. Jung’s eyes widened as he spluttered, several pleas leaving his mouth in a desperate attempt to save his own life; pleas that fell upon deaf ears. Youngbin sighed, rubbing his temple as he did so. He could feel a headache coming on from Mr. Jung’s talking, and quite frankly it had been a rather long day with little good news. All Youngbin wanted was a hot shower and dinner with his brothers; his one true solace.

“Mr. Jung.” Youngbin spoke, cutting off the man’s ramblings. “My patience has been very thin today. Two weeks ago I had agreed to let my boys give you more time to work in our establishment to secure the goods, which I believe, we paid you well for. Under normal circumstances I might have considered giving you another day or two, had Rowoon here not reported to me that you were conducting business with Seven Star and informing them of our business deal. In my opinion that is just absolutely disrespectful, and I will not stand for it.”

Youngbin sighed once more. “Rowoon hand me my gun.”

“You got it.” Rowoon passed him the gun he had been holding, his lips curling into a small smile in anticipation of what would come next.

“Looks like I’m going to have to clean out my pistol tonight, unfortunately. Consider our contract terminated, Mr. Jung.” Without another word Youngbin fired, and watched as the blood dripped down from the center of Mr. Jung’s forehead as his body fell backwards. The back spatter from the shot covered Youngbin’s gun, with some of the blood landing on his chest and even his chin. Unfazed, Youngbin brought out a napkin from his pocket and wiped himself off as best as he could. “Rowoon would you mind-”

“You don’t even have to ask. Hwiyoung is on his way over now, just head home and we’ll meet you there.” Rowoon said.

“Thanks.” Youngbin smiled at the other, though there was a hint of sadness to it. “It’ll never get easier you know.”

It was Rowoon’s turn to sigh this time as he looked at the elder. “Youngbin we’ve had this talk a dozen times already. You don’t have to worry about us. We chose this life, we chose to fight with you and all these people we kill? They fucking deserve it for all the shit they’ve done. Even though Hwiyoung and Chani are young, they still understand. Just, go home and shower. I don’t want you smelling bad at dinner tonight.”

“Alright.” Youngbin knew it was pointless to try and argue further with Rowoon, or with any of the others for that matter. He simply patted the younger’s shoulder as he walked by, muttering a quick ‘thank you’ as he made his way outside.

The sun had long set, though it was still too early to see the stars Youngbin noted. Looking at his watch Youngbin was pleased to see that it was only eight o'clock, meaning this would be the earliest they’ve had dinner together in a while. It was difficult most times, to have everyone at the table as their jobs were quite unpredictable and the few times that they were able to eat all together were the most precious to Youngbin.

He hopped onto his motorcycle, a black and red Hyosung GT250R (it certainly wasn’t the best bike out there, but it was enough for him) and made his way home. Weaving through the streets and in between cars, Youngbin relishes in the feeling of the wind tugging on his jacket as the world passed by in a blur of lights. It wasn’t long before he arrived in front of two white buildings connected by an enclosed breezeway. Pulling up to the black gate surrounding the building, Youngbin rests one foot on the ground as he turns his earpiece on. “One-one-two-three.”

A click sounds as a section of the gate slides open. Youngbin makes his way through and moves toward the smaller building on the right just as the garage door on the side opens. He quickly parks his bike inside next to the four others. Hwiyoung must’ve taken the SUV for disposal with Rowoon tonight. Youngbin thinks as he scanned the room. The rest of the garage, which also functioned as their workshop, was empty. There was no one cleaning or making repairs to their equipment on the long table on the opposite side from where the bikes were, nor was there any sign of Inseong or Chani at the corner desk to the right of the table; even the computer monitors at the moment were on ‘Sleep’ mode. Looking upwards, Youngbin also notes how Dawon isn’t at his usual perch on the catwalk, where he would normally practice his aim. Even the practice dummies in the center of the garage were spared at the moment, their limbs all still in tact.

Walking towards a smaller desk situated between the table and Inseong’s computers, Youngbin places his bag on top and pulls out a few manila folders; files he would need to look at later, and plops them down on the desk. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he makes his way through the breezeway to the main building where they lived. Pulling open the door Youngbin was greeted by a scene that warmed his heart. Jaeyoon was in the kitchen on the far side preparing dinner while Rowoon gave him instructions over the phone; Taeyang, Chani, Dawon, and Zuho were sprawled out on top of one another in the living room, shouting as they played some video game, and Inseong was sitting on the couch behind them reading a book, though now and then he’d glance upwards at the tv to look at the score, a smile on his lips.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey Youngbin.” Inseong was the first to greet him as the others continued their game. “How’d it go?”

“Terminated his contract.” Youngbin shrugged. “If he can’t figure out who he wants to do business with then he might as well not do business at all.”

“Hm, I see.” Inseong closed his book. “I found out where our shipment of goods is. Turns out Mr. Jung hadn’t delivered to Seven Star yet so it’s still up for grabs.”

“We can deal with that later.” Youngbin said. He all but flops onto the couch next to Inseong, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “For now, let’s relax and wait for Rowoon and Hwiyoung to get back for dinner. What’s the score?”

“Chani and Taeyang have won four matches so far, Zuho and Dawon have won three.” Inseong answered. “I placed my bet on Chani and Taeyang.”

“Smart move.”

“You know, the lack of faith really hurts. I think my heart is broken now.” Dawon spoke up.

“At least your accuracy in real life makes up for how bad you are at this game.” Chani grinned as Dawon elbowed him.

“Watch it kid.” Dawon grinned back.

The next hour or so passed like this, with Hwiyoung joining the fun as soon as he and Rowoon got back. Rowoon on the other hand, went straight for the kitchen and he, along with Jaeyoon’s help were able to finish dinner, placing a large bowl of kimchi stew and a plate piled high with galbi on the table.

“Alright kiddos, time to eat!” Jaeyoon called out.

Cheers echo throughout the room, the video game long forgotten as everyone settles at the dinner table to eat. For a while everything is okay, everyone is laughing and joking, sharing stories of their misadventures so far this week, and it almost feels normal. They’re able to forget, at least for a little bit, about the people they’ve hurt or killed this week alone. In this moment, they’re no longer the Red Dragons, but just a group of boys forced to grow up too fast at too young of an age, but still enjoying their time together.

Youngbin feels content, he always does when all nine of them are together, and grabs the last piece of galbi on the plate while the others argue over who gets it, subtly placing it on Chani’s plate before setting his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “In the time you guys were arguing, Chani here already grabbed the last piece.”

Whines and protests arise from the boys, but eventually smiles are on their lips and the laughter returns to the table once more, with Chani happily eating the galbi. Everyone already knew what would come next. They would all head into the workshop, preparing for the work that would keep them out late tonight. Dawon and Rowoon would be needed at their nightclub to oversee business, Zuho and Taeyang had a couple of clients to meet with, Jaeyoon and Hwiyoung had a supply run to make, and Inseong and Chani would remain at home with Youngbin to monitor everyone as well as go over the files on Youngbin’s desk. It was sure to be a long night, but a profitable one as well.

“Earpieces on at all times. Understood?” Youngbin called out, not looking up from his papers as the others readied themselves. A chorus of ‘Yessir’ and ‘Understood’ bounced back as they all left in their respective pairs. Inseong situated himself at his computers, switching out his earpiece for a different one that came with an attached microphone. Within a second he was busy typing, each screen coming to life before him. His eyes darted back and forth as he picked out the most optimal cameras through which he could observe the others.

“Okay, we’re good to go.” Inseong said, turning in his chair so that he was facing Youngbin. “Until something exciting happens, why don’t you tell me about those files?”

“Well, these two folders have everything on Mr. Jung, but I need you to make sure he’s not in the city’s system anymore. Jung Sunwoo can’t be considered missing if he never existed.” Youngbin handed the folders over to Inseong, who immediately typed in Jung Sunwoo’s name and began deleting every digital file he could find on the man.

“And the third folder?” He asked, eyes still on the monitor.

“Just a missing persons case Rowoon caught wind of at the Agency. It’s no one special but…”

“But a missing person on our turf spells out trouble for us one way or another.”

“Yeah.” Youngbin sighed, running a hand down his face as he does so. “Look into this one if you can once you’re done with that.”

“You got it.”

A soft ‘Ow’ from the work table causes the two eldest to glance over, amused smiles on their faces at the sight of Chani sucking on his thumb as he frowns at his contraption. The boy had taken to building things using odds and ends he’d pick up around the city whenever he tagged along on jobs. His ‘toys’ had proved to be useful on more than one occasion, aside from the onion bomb that was a little bit too potent in such a small room (the smell of onion powder didn’t wash off them for at least two or three days). The toy he was currently working on looked like a cross between a sniper rifle and a crossbow. How on earth Chani managed to get crossbow parts Youngbin will never know.

“What are you working on this time?” Youngbin asked.

“A sniper crossbow for Dawon. What he really wanted was custom bullets but that’s above my skillset. At least with this I can actually make different bolts for him to use. Knowing Dawon though, I’m only giving him bolts that shock and detonate like a flash grenade but on a much smaller scale. Inseong do you think it’s possible to put trackers on these suckers in case we get another surveillance job?” Chani asked as he rummaged around his toolbox for a pair of tweezers.

“Yeah I think I could make trackers small enough. Can you make sure they won’t get smashed to pieces on impact though? Dawon...well it’s Dawon we’re talking about.”

“I can try? No promises though.”

~~~

The next few hours passed by with very little to no problems. They’ve had successful nights before, so it wasn’t too surprising that Jaeyoon and Hwiyoung were able to bring back enough bandages, syringes, rubbing alcohol and other medical supplies to last them at least three months, Zuho and Taeyang had managed to secure the five million won they were owed, and nothing worth noting happened at the nightclub while Rowoon and Dawon were there. However as they all gathered in the workshop, none of them could fight off the sense of unease that clung onto them. It was all too calm, too peaceful, and in their business, good things never followed.

“Looks like you guys were right to feel off.” Inseong frowned. “I played back the video footage from all three locations you guys were at tonight and look at this.”

Inseong had paused each monitor, the time stamps nearly matching one another perfectly. In each frame, a figure in a long jacket with the hood covering their head could be seen. They were standing so far off though, that Inseong had initially disregarded their presence earlier, barely even realizing that they had been at each one. “I don’t know why I didn’t connect it. Someone was watching you guys tonight. This one was sitting at the cafe across from the building Zuho and Taeyang went in. He was chilling in one of the booths of the club. This guy was straight up sitting outside the hospital.”

“I thought it was just some college kid looking to get wasted.” Dawon muttered.

“We didn’t even pay attention to the cafe…” Taeyang stared at the screen.

“Inseong is there anything you can get from these guys? Can you see where they went after?” This was the last thing Youngbin needed. They didn’t look like undercover cops, which only worried him more because if it’s not the cops watching them then it had to be another gang. Another gang meant unnecessary trouble. “Could they be some of Seven Star’s guys?”

“Doubt it. They don’t look like anyone Seven Star would employ.” Inseong brought up several other cameras at different angles, though none of them showed a good enough view of where the hooded guys went. “I can’t really get anything at these angles.”

“Well if it’s not Seven Star then it’s probably some new gang trying to climb ranks in the Underground. Kids who think they can build their reputation by poking at us. Now that we know, we can keep an eye out for them. If any of you see them on your next job, feel free to toss them around a bit for some information.” Youngbin said.

“I guess it makes things a little more fun.” Dawon grinned, stretching his arms over his head. “Well I don’t know about you guys but I have a lovely date with my bed.”

“We should all get some sleep actually.” Jaeyoon said. “It’s nearly six a.m. I’m pretty sure the sun’s starting to come up.

Murmurs of agreement could be heard as everyone got ready to head back to the main house. Though, just as Hwiyoung had reached for the door, Youngbin’s phone rang. Everyone paused, staring at the device as if it had just caught fire.

“Isn’t that your personal phone Youngbin?” Rowoon asked.

“It is.” Youngbin grabbed the device, an unknown number displayed on the screen. “Inseong.”

“On it.” Inseong hurried back to his computer, quickly plugging in a long cord to his monitor. Youngbin handed his phone over as Inseong plugged it onto the other end of the cord. He brought up a recording program as well as a tracking one. “Try and keep the call going for thirty seconds, I might be able to trace it after.”

Youngbin nodded and silence filled the room as he answered the call. “Hello?”

“Have you seen the gift I left for you?”

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