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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years ago

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Paper Cut | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Mentions of injury/blood, describing pain, seemingly near-death experience and talk about death, probably some cussing

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have been to Narnia.

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Every injury your soulmate receives, you also receive. When you finally meet your soulmate, you have a few bones to pick.

A/N: Hello! This is the first imagine I’ve written on this blog, so I decided to do something a little more light-hearted for our favorite just king. I’m also a sucker for soulmate aus. There will be a part 2 for this story :D Feel free to leave requests :) Also, I’ve never been to Cambridge University so please take everything I say about it with a grain of salt lol

Part 2 | Part 3 | masterlist | read on ao3

It’s a common courtesy to try and be as careful as you can when it comes to your body. Not for your sake, but for your soulmate’s. Every papercut, cramp, broken bone, and even every itch you feel, your other half does as well. So, it was common sense to try to be as careful as you could to not inflict pain on them. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought. She spent her whole life dodging anything she felt could cause her harm. This included “normal kid” things like playing on the playground, rolling down hills, jumping off things, or playing sports. Her heart was always in the right place, even if her friends and family called her a stick in the mud for declining their “fun” requests. She could not, and will not, injure her person. When she was around 8, she had been playing with a paper airplane and it just barely sliced her finger. It left behind a pesky papercut that stung. Bad. The small injury left Y/N guilty for days afterward. She has assumed that her soulmate was on the same page as her for the longest time. Aside from a few skinned knees (they were kids after all,) Y/N was left unscathed. She went on her days carefree until she was about fifteen.

It seemed as though Y/N’s soulmate had completely changed their deminer overnight. It started with a bit of road rash on her palms. Y/N assumed they had fallen accidentally. Annoying, sure, but it was more than manageable. Then, her lip split open and bled for almost 15 minutes.

As the week went on, large bruises started appearing on her legs and hips. Maybe the road rash fall was worse than she initially thought. Again, she just rode it off as clumsiness. It wasn’t long until her fingertips started to turn purple. This made Y/N panic.

“Ma’am?” Y/N interrupted her science teacher in the middle of her lecture, “I think there’s something wrong with my hands.” The purple started to spread down her fingers towards her knuckles. They also proved to be getting harder to move.

“Oh, dear, you’re freezing.” Ms. Adamson remarks, taking Y/N’s hands into her own.

“What’s happening? Am I dying?” Her entire hand was now numb.

“I don’t think so, Miss L/N, but, it’ll help you and them out if we warm you up.”

Her toes suffered the same fate, she discovered during a visit to the school’s infirmary. (Which wasn’t even worth visiting in Y/N’s opinion.) The nurse at Y/N’s school didn’t have the “jurisdiction” to help Y/N properly, so she had to settle for a wet paper towel that was warmed in the microwave. Y/N just wished to be sent home instead. By the time she was finally set free, the purple had faded but her skin tone was not back to normal. Hopefully, the paper towel did something for her soulmate cause this sure as hell wasn’t Y/N’s fault. Her parents were flabbergasted when she got home, mostly upset that they made her miss so many of her classes. Neither had any explanation but tried to offer unhelpful comforting all the same.

When Y/N awoke the next morning, all of the fingers in her hand had gone back to normal and she regained feeling. Finally, her soulmate was finally safe.

She spent the day coming up with ridiculous reasons as to why they had almost given her frostbite. Maybe they got locked in a freezer at an ice cream store and had to wait for the store to reopen to let them out. Maybe they live in Antarctica and they got locked out of their house in their underwear. Maybe they were trying to win a bet to see who could stay in ice water the longest. The daydreams were cut short as she was harshly awoken by a searing pain in her abdomen.

Ms. Adamson dropped her whiteboard marker and panicked when she heard Y/N scream. It wasn’t a normal teenage girl scream either. No, this scream was filled with pure agony and distress. It echoed against the walls and vibrated the desks. It sounded as if she was getting murdered. Y/N fell to the floor and landed in a big heap. The scientist hurriedly ran towards Y/N and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the teen’s blood pooling on the linoleum floor. It appeared she had been stabbed, by the looks of it.

Pointing at various other students to do various tasks, call an ambulance, call the office, and to go get another teacher, she took hold of Y/N’s hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” She whispered, “You’re going to be fine. Keep your eyes open for me.”

Y/N felt very odd. Was this what dying felt like? She felt as though she was underwater; she could hear Ms. Adamson but her voice was muffled and she couldn’t make anything out. Y/N felt dizzy and sick at the same time, all she wanted to do was shut her eyes. So she did. Relief filled her as quickly as the pain. Her wound felt cold as if someone was pushing a damp cloth onto it. The pain lessened and lessened until there was none at all.

Five years later she had almost forgotten about what had happened. Almost. In the years that followed the incident, severe gashes and bruises had become a normal occurrence. Her body was riddled with what seemed like battle scars, and she was almost always on edge. She had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her, nor when it was going to happen. This felt really unfair. She had been so careful for them, but they treated themself like a rag doll.

Much to her delight, when she hit eighteen all of the injuries suddenly stopped. The last injury she had received was a dark black bruise that covered her entire side, then nothing. It had been two years and all she got were papercuts and burned tongues.

“Take a break,” Y/N’s roommate grabs the pen out of her hand and places it on the desk. “You’ve been working on that for ages, come get coffee with me.”

Y/N was currently in her third year at Cambridge University, working on her undergraduate biology degree. For her degree, she had to take organic chemistry and it was, in simple terms, kicking her ass. Her professor is shitty, the work was hard and Y/N was losing motivation.

“I can’t. If I stop I’ll fail the final, then fail the class then never graduate.” Y/N mumbles, picking up her pen again and scribbling something down.

“That’s not true, just come with me. Please?” “I said no, Y/B/F/N.”

“What if you take your books with you? A change of environment might help you study.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and looks up at her roommate. Maybe she had a point, it might do her good to get out a little bit. She packs her things and the two make their way to the coffee shop.

The coffee shop on campus was small and always packed. The school preferred to call it “cozy,” but still, it’s small. Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside.

“Most people must’ve already left campus for break,” Y/B/F/N said, seemingly reading your mind.

Only three of the tables had students sitting at them. One in the far corner had a girl who looked to be a very frustrated first year, huddled over a croissant and an English textbook. A few tables down sat four boys and one girl. Each had books open and pens in their hands, but by picking up snippets of their conversation, they were talking about whether Voldemort or Darth Vader would win in a fight. Finally, near the window, sat a boy who was staring straight at her. She recognized him from a few of her general education classes. Y/N had never talked to this boy, but he was rather cute. He was wearing a crimson sweater and ripped jeans with converse, hair messily tossed to the side. Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not he was staring at her or was in a very deep thought so she waved. No wave back.

The two girls get their coffee and sit down a few tables away from the boy.

“Do you know that guy?” Y/B/F/N asks, moving her head towards crimson sweater.

“Not officially, I recognize him. Oh, what’s his name? I knew it at one point…” Y/N reaches into her bag and pulls out her books again, placing them on the table. As if it were a habit, she immediately starts studying again. She glances past her friend; the guy was still staring at that one spot.

Time passes fast for Y/N but slow for Y/B/F/N. She tried to speak with you but ultimately gave up. So, bidding you goodbye, she left to go find her boyfriend. Y/N was kind of relieved, she can finally study in peace. The big group also left, after fighting about whether a time turner should be illegal or not, so the cafe was left with an almost eery silence. So silent that you can hear every pencil scratch, every tap of a keyboard, and every gulp of coffee.

At some point, the boy had gotten up to get another cup of coffee and passed by Y/N. He was wearing a shit ton of cologne, so he left a scent trail wherever he went. Making his way back to his table, he tripped and spilled his coffee all over Y/N’s chemistry notes.

“No, no, no, no, no!!!!!” Y/N screeches, wiping away the coffee with her bare hands. The drink splashes onto the boy’s pants and shoes.

“Oh as- oh fuck, I am so sorry!” He grabs a wad of napkins and tries to blot the paper. She had worked on that study guide for hours, and now it was ruined. There was no way her professor would take it now. Thank god her laptop was still in her bag.

Panicked, Y/N picks up her notebook and starts flipping through it. Her pen marks were bleeding together and there was no way to save them. Coffee crimson boy grimaces and picks up the notebook.

“I don’t suppose this was an art class and you could turn it in as an abstract piece?” He says in a serious tone, though the words were highly sarcastic. Y/N lets out a single laugh.

“I wish it were, but no. O Chem,” Coffee crimson’s face contorts even more.

“Ouch, um, do you have it backed up anywhere?”

“Ah yes, I have my notebook backed up.” The previously broken ice was discarded and Y/N was frustrated again.

“You should have done it on your laptop.”

“And you should watch where the fuck you’re going.” Y/N snatches the notebook from his hand. Coffee crimson notices your tone and quickly backtracks.

“Hey, let me redo it for you then,” He glances at the textbook casually. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“And why should I trust you? I don’t know you and my grade is riding on this.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” His smile was warm. “I’m Edmund Pevensie, I’m in the prelaw program.”

“Oh, perfect, a law student that’s going to attempt my organic chemistry homework. Wonder what could go wrong.”

“I’m sure I can figure it out. Law is hard, maybe a different kind of hard, but still hard. I can do hard.”

“Take a shot every time sweater guy says hard. I feel like I’m at a frat party.”

“I’m trying to fix my mistake here,” Now Edmund is the one that looks frustrated. “Here, take my number. I’ll text you updates and meet you back here tomorrow.” He looks at the clock. Damn, he had a gorgeous jawline. “4:32 pm. Exactly 24 hours from now.” Edmund scribbles his number onto a napkin and hands it to Y/N. As he writes, she can’t help but notice a long, jagged scar running the back of his hand. She scrunchs her eyebrows.

Edmund actually kept his word. Every hour until four am that night he sent Y/N updates. Goofy pictures of him googling stupid questions or him writing. He sent a video that gave Y/N a perfect shot of the scar. Curiously, Y/N looks down at her own hand.

The next day, his photo updates started coming again. This time they were more serious, showing the study guide. He ended up putting his own commentary in the margins; some funny some that made her think of the material differently. Y/N could really tell he was smart, even by his handwriting.

He sent a picture to Y/N at 4:25 of the table in the coffee shop. “I’m early” was sent at the exact moment Y/N opened the door.

“Wow, I’m impressed. I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Y/N sat opposite of him and smiled. He was wearing the same (coffee stained) jeans as yesterday and a button-up shirt.

“I wouldn’t do all that work for nothing,” He smiled again and handed Y/N a new notebook she had never seen before.

As she gripped the pages, the corner dug into her palm and cut her.

“Ow!” The two said at the same time. They both had a thin cut in the middle of their palms. His large brown eyes met Y/N’s and they stared for a moment. Y/N then grabbed his hand and pushed up his sleeve to show the scar going up the back of his hand. Y/N couldn’t look away from his skin; just as she had thought, it was identical to hers.

Meeting his gaze again, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Her hand rested right above a large, jagged scar that didn’t seem to heal quite right. His eyes followed the line of her arm.

“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #soulmate #soulmate au

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waveypedia · 3 years ago

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geez, you’re something to see

Rymin Week Day 2: Love Song

1 4 5 6 7

Ao3

tw for a small amount of implied homophobia and miscommunication

As the late afternoon sun pours in through the van’s windows, Ryan scribbles frantically on the piece of paper spread on the dashboard in front of him.

He’s crouched on the driver’s seat, the heels of his feet digging into the back of the chair. It’s not the most comfortable position, but after a long day of driving, Ryan can’t stand to stay sitting like he was the whole day. Besides, he needs to focus on the task at hand. On the paper, so innocuous and unassuming, that consumes his waking thoughts.

It’s creased and crumpled from days of hiding it away as fast as possible whenever Min comes in the vicinity (which is often, given how small the van is). But now that Min is away, out fetching his and Ryan’s dinners, the paper lays pressed open painstakingly.

I’ll rewrite it to look nice once I’m done, Ryan promises himself. Min will like it better that way.

That begs the terrifying question of whether Min will like it at all.

Ryan drags a hand through his messy hair, tugging on the ends. It’s growing out much more smoothly since Min started trimming it every month or so. Ryan pretends to complain that it ruins his rough-and-rugged rockstar look. But in truth he’d sacrifice much more to keep those nights where Min sits behind him, so close Ryan can feel Min’s breath on his neck. Ryan can’t lose the nights where Min cards his hands through Ryan’s hair oh-so-gently. He can’t lose the nights where Min holds his hair like he’s holding something valuable, instead of strands of hair his family members would disapprove of in length, rife in split ends. Ryan revels in the closeness, the domesticity, of it all far more than he should.

Ryan takes a deep breath and shakes himself out of it. Now is not the time to zone off, to find himself lost in his daydreams of Min (though heaven knows he’s good at getting off track - his parents had been sure he knew). Back to the task at hand.

Ryan picks up the pen he’d subconsciously lost when he started dreaming of Min (again). He twirls it. He caps and uncaps it. He taps it against the wheel.

Nothing new comes to mind. Of course.

Ryan’s never had this much trouble with songwriting before! As he’s famously said before (read: Min constantly teases him about), “You just gotta make it rhyme.” Out of the duo, he’s always been the songwriter of the two, although, like in every aspect of the band, they do their best work when they’re collaborating contributing equally. Hell, he’s been writing songs since he was five. (Whether the lyrics consisted of simply “I’m gonna dress my dog in a toque / I’m gonna dress my cat in a toque” is irrelevant.) Regardless of how nonsensical and wacky his lyrics can be at times, Ryan Akagi is an experienced songwriter with a touring band playing songs he composed for small to medium venues. Writing one single song should not be this hard.

Except he knows exactly why this particular song comes so difficult. While Ryan would never dream of putting anything less than his all into all of the music he writes for Chicken Choice Judy or even just Gage, he’s never held them to the same literary standard. Ryan’s performative music is wild and free, just like himself. It’s his way of expressing himself, of quite literally putting everything he has out into the world and letting it run free.

While Ryan and Min have both been consciously working to reach a middle ground since they got off the train, Min has always been the more reserved of the two. Ryan knows he can’t give Min the same unrestrained beauty in chaos he puts into his band. If Min’s been trying not to limit himself as much, Ryan can compromise. This is his way of not letting himself go so far he’ll leave Min in the dust.

This song is all about being honest with Min, after all. Miscommunication has always been their greatest enemy, and Ryan is loath to fall into the same trap yet again. Past issues aside, Min just… deserves to know. It’s too big of a secret to keep to himself. Ryan is many things but he isn’t a secret-keeper. Not when it comes to big issues.

He just needs to tell Min. It doesn’t matter how it’s received. He just needs to let him know.

It doesn’t matter.

Ryan lets out a frustrated groan, dropping the pen again to tug at his hair. If it’s not already messy, it’ll be positively cluttered by the time he’s finished. His mother would have a field day if she saw him like this.

The door handle jiggles.

Ryan’s head snaps up. He’d been completely caught up in writing (or more accurately, thinking about writing) he hadn’t noticed Min walking back to the car.

Through the window, Min waves sheepishly and holds up a bag of food. Ryan leans over the second seat to let him in.

Min slides inside and sets the bag in the space between the two seats. “Sorry about that,” he says, scratching bashfully at his beck with his free hand. “I forgot my keys.”

Ryan smiles mechanically, waving him off, and shoves the paper into the pocket of his leather jacket. At this rate it’ll be creased beyond recognition by the time he’s finished, even by his own standards. “It’s fine. I do that all the time.”

He will definitely need to rewrite it in a nicer script when he’s done.

(That is to say, if he ever feels confident enough in his work to call it done. Ryan’s sister had called Min a “perfectionist” once, citing his need to keep working on their school projects right up until the deadline because he never felt satisfied. Ryan didn’t understand the sentiment until now.)

Min gives him a curious glance, but says nothing otherwise. He’s likely written it off as just one of Ryan’s quirks. “Yeah, well.” He unhooks his keys, complete with the Dumpy keychain from his days before the train, from the dashboard and tucks them safely in his pocket. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Ryan frowns at him. “Min, it’s fine. I know it’s not something you usually do, but everyone messes up sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Min digs around in the bag for their meals, avoiding his gaze. “Right.”

“Are you okay?” Ryan asks, slightly worried. For a minute, all thoughts of the paper burning a hole in his pocket are forgotten in lieu of caring for his best friend. “You’re acting weird, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Min slips his hand into his pocket, but pulls it back out empty-handed after a minute. Odd.

They eat in silence for a couple minutes. Without the distraction of talking to Min or worrying about Min (although he’s doing plenty of that, don’t worry), Ryan is right back to worrying about his love song.

Well, it’s a good thing Min seems so nervous tonight. Unless he asks outright, Ryan has an excuse not to give him the love song tonight. He won’t add stress to… whatever has Min so worried (and Ryan, by extension).

“So…” Min fists his hands in the fabric of his shorts as if he’s nervous, except that can’t be right, because he has no cause to be nervous. Ryan is the nervous one here, obviously. Except it’s not obvious, because Min can’t know.

Min glances at Ryan, biting his lower lip. “Have you written any new songs lately?”

Ryan chokes and fumbles with his food, nearly spilling it. He knows. He knows. He knows. How could he possibly know?!

Well. It looks like he asked outright after all. Only one thing to do now, no matter how much Ryan would rather dump his food onto the seat, ruining the upholstery beyond what he and Min can pay for cleaning, and run away into the night. Never to be seen again, leaving behind only his precious guitar, van, and a confused friend.

As dramatic as Ryan is, that’s unfortunately out of the question. He wouldn’t do that to Min.

“Min, I…” Well, Ryan is a man of his word. He knows all too well how badly a lack of communication has messed them up before. He can’t keep this secret any longer.

With shaking hands, Ryan pulls the crumpled ball of paper out of his pocket and presents it to Min in a gesture that he hopes is put-together and elegant but is likely more akin to shoving it ungracefully in Min’s face. “Here.”

Min’s face had been glazed over with a sort of set determination, but that mask shatters as soon as he notices the paper. He blinks, mouth slightly agape, hands hovering near his own pocket. “O-oh. Um. Thank you, Ryan. I bet this’ll be totally rad.”

Slowly, as if unsure or confused (or maybe even disappointed? Oh man, that can’t be it, can it? Ryan’s fully prepared for Min’s disappointment, hell, he’s had the same experience with his parents, but Min doesn’t even know the context of his lyrics yet), Min takes the paper and unfolds it.

Time seems to pass much slower than normal, seconds sludging by, as Min reads the lyrics. Ryan tracks his eyes darting across the paper, his mouth opening wider and closing again as he reads and processes the meaning behind Ryan’s grand gesture.

Ryan twists his fingers together. It hurts, but not as much as watching Min read his writing. “Sorry it’s so messy. I was going to rewrite it when I was done, but…”

“Ryan.” Ryan’s mouth snaps shut as soon as Min speaks, and he jerks his head up. Min is staring at him as if he’s a new person, in a new light. “Is this… a love song?”

Ryan nods mutely, his heart pounding in his chest like the drums of an established rock band at a sold-out concert.

Min takes a deep breath. “For… me?”

Ryan nods again, sharp and jerky.

Min stares, frozen in shock, for a moment before bursting out laughing.

Ryan chokes, surprised, and whips his head away. He curls up (or as much as he can manage while sitting in the driver’s seat of his van), pressing his side against the seat and fisting his hands in the seam of his jacket.

He’d been prepared for a negative response, but deep in his heart he hadn’t expected Min to react this badly. Even after his parents had reacted worse.

Of course.

“Ryan,” Min chokes out between peals of laughter. “Ryan, Ryan, oh man. I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”

Ryan turns around slowly, hesitantly. Hope is already building in his chest before he’s even processed Min’s words.

When Min comes into his sight again, Ryan can barely meet his eyes before a piece of paper is thrust into his face. Puzzled, Ryan takes it and reads it over.

It’s… a love song.

It’s a love song, penned in Min’s neat handwriting, with classical notation instead of chords because Min learned music through his viola teacher and not as a self-taught guitarist like Ryan. Min was worried it would be a problem when they started collaborating, but their combined skills in multiple disciples has become one of their greatest assets as a musical group.

But Ryan can’t focus on the notes, however beautiful they may be, because the lyrics are telling a story he’s only dared to fantasize about in his wildest dreams.

“Sorry for laughing,” Min says, still chuckling quietly. “I just… I was trying to create a natural segue into giving this to you, and I… Wow. We’re idiots, aren’t we.”

Ryan doesn’t realize he’s crying until a teardrop lands on Min’s songsheet. He wipes it away and starts to giggle. “Yeah. We are.” He glances up, meeting Min’s eye for the first time since this whole debacle and gives him a wide, teary smile. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t think we’d be us if we didn’t pull some convoluted scheme to get our feelings out. Y’know, seeing as it took getting kidnapped by a magical death train the first time.”

Min snorts and rubs at his eyes. “Don’t remind me.” He crawls across the middle of the van and curls up next to Ryan, wrapping his arm around him. “So, are we good?”

Ryan lets out a wet laugh. “Oh man, we’re better than good. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been hoping for this?”

“Not as long as me,” Min says, grinning mischievously. “I’ve been pining since high school. Take that!”

Ryan lets his head drop onto Min’s shoulder, relishing in the affectionate closeness and warmth of him. “Man, we were such repressed nerds in high school, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe so.” Min leans his head against Ryan’s, chuckling softly. “I’m glad we’re okay now, though.”

“Me too, dude.” Ryan lets out a contented sigh. He still can’t quite believe they’ve gotten here, after all that worrying and stressing over every little detail. “Me too.”

They stayed like that for a little while, half-eaten plates of food forgotten in the back of the van. Through the open windows, the sunset lights up the sky in a fiery glow, with colors gradually shifting from pink to fiery red to deep blue.

Min hums contemplatively. “So, what now? Should we perform these onstage or what?”

Ryan toys with the paper between his fingers, absentmindedly tearing off a corner. “No, I think… I think these should be kept between us.”

“I agree,” Min says, intertwining his fingers with Ryan’s. Ryan’s heart leaps into his throat, and he’s sure his face is burning up.

“I think it would be nice if we… if we maybe wrote a love song together,” Ryan says, a little nervous.

Min smiles. “I’d like that too.”

day 2 is in the books! this one is half me projecting my experience with writer's block while writing this fic and half exploring the love they feel about each other. in their own words, what repressed nerds. love them

a whole lotta headcanons in this one c:

i didn't mean to bring sunsets back again, even for just a small detail, but i guess it's a rymin motif now. maybe i'll try to stick it in the rest of my rymin week pieces, but i won't try to shoehorn it in if it feels unnatural. god i love sunsets this is just more projection isn't it.

title is from home by edward sharpe and the magnetic zeroes! this song, just like its title implies, feels like home. it was a stigma of the songleading group i was in at camp a few years ago so it's very special to me. i'm happy to pass its lyrics on to rymin and give it a new significance for me personally!

i've been really enjoying all the rymin week content so far! good job, everyone! it's so nice to see everyone come together in support of these lovely characters

if you ever wanna talk infinity train, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on my tumblr or my twitter! thank you for reading, and please leave a like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed it!

@ryminweek

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

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Band Sessions: Sungjin

Pairing: Park Sungjin x reader

Genre: band au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2425

Index: Jae | Sungjin | Young K | Wonpil | Dowoon

You paused before you approached the door, quickly checking yourself over. Once you were satisfied with how one could look whilst in their work uniform and inhaled deeply, you marched the three remaining steps towards the studio door. Knocking, you waited for someone to answer it, mentally hoping it was who you had checked yourself over for.

Your smile deflated a little when it was Wonpil. However, the brunette grinned and gestured you inside. “Guys, Y/N is here. Break time!”

Entering the studio always made your heart race a little. Normally because some of the members of Day6 were still hovering over their instruments, music blaring around the room until everyone realised or smelt your arrival. You smiled politely as you set down the bags of food, holding yourself rigidly as they all came in above you like swooping birds pecking away at their orders.

“Oh yeah, this burger is going to be great! Thanks, Y/N!” Dowoon enthused, Brian tipping his pack of fries towards you in gratitude as he stuffed a few into his mouth. Wonpil was busy handing out drinks and Jae was complaining that he spilled the overflowed one on his shirt again.

And then finally, there was Sungjin.

He grinned. “You’re a lifesaver you know.”

“I don’t know about that,” you replied, chewing on your lip in hopes you wouldn’t come across too giddy.

All he had to do was speak and you were mush for this man.

“No seriously, I think if you hadn’t of stopped by right now, Jae might have lost it at Wonpil for missing his cue to sing one more time.”

“Ah, well, I’ll accept my life-saving skills with pride.”

“You should,” he confirmed with a hearty laugh and then frowned at the remaining food. Sungjin looked up at you. “Not staying?”

“Boss is in tonight, there’s no break time for me,” you explained, smiling politely when Brian pointed in your direction.

“You know, that’s illegal.”

“Kind of want to keep my job, all the same,” you replied, darting your focus towards Sungjin.

Because if you didn’t work at their usual delivery store, then you wouldn’t get to cross paths with Sungjin as much as you did now.

Nodding your head lightly in farewell, you backed off towards the door, going to close it behind you when Sungjin followed you over. You blinked curiously. “Did I forget something?”

“No, I uh… you will eat when your shift ends, right?”

You nodded happily. “Of course!”

“Okay good, because eating is important,” he announced, rubbing his neck before chuckling. “Hey, uh thanks again for the delivery. I know we’re only down the street but still, you go above and beyond for us.”

“It’s what I do!” you enthused and Sungjin nodded.

“Well, I guess you better get back to what you do, Y/N. See you next time!”

Your smile dropped as soon as the door shut, slumping in posture.

Today’s visit was far too short.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long until you received another order for a studio drop-off, and like always, you ensured you looked your best, smiling graciously upon arrival. Several more drop-offs happened in this fashion, and sometimes you’d have a quick bite to eat with them and others you would head off early. Either way, you were seeing Sungjin at least twice a week off-campus, which was more than the times you saw him on it. Your timetables, so you had gathered from observation and casual conversations, showed that when you were both at university during the day, you were in opposite directions. Even if you had enough time to cross paths with him, it would take you fifteen minutes to walk over to his department, and by that time, the chance to meet up would be lost.

So the odd occasion when you did match up always startled you more than it should. Sungjin chuckled softly. “Oh hey, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?”

“No!” you whispered hastily, shaking your hands to dismiss his claim, your lips curling up into a giddy grin. “Not at all.”

“That looks like quite the textbook,” he murmured, and you nodded gently. “Got a long study session ahead of you then?”

“Thankfully, I only need to read a few chapters out of it for my assignment.”

“That’s a relief,” he mentioned and then tapped you on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Are you not here to study?” you wondered, your voice a little loud for library etiquette. Blushing, you bowed your head apologetically to those you had disturbed before darting your attention back to Sungjin.

“I uh, came to find a place to relax,” he admitted, rubbing his neck. He looked at the empty chair beside you and you yanked it out, Sungjin slipping into it, placing his bag on the tabletop to rest his head onto. He gave you a quick smile. “Jae and our manager have started using the studio for extra-curricular activities so I figured I can’t go nap there in between lectures.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you before your next class,” you told him and he nodded, pulling out his phone and earbuds.

Sungjin hesitated before thrusting one towards you. “I recorded one of our new songs. Want to hear it?”

Nodding eagerly, you took the earbud and placed it into your ear. Sungjin hit play on the music and then closed his eyes.

There would be no more study for you now. At least, not from the textbook before you. As the music fed your soul, you shifted in your seat so you could have a better angle to gaze at him. Sungjin was so peaceful, instantly relaxed in his position. Placing your elbow up on the table to support your head that fell into your hand, you watched as he rested, imprinting every part of his face into your mind.

God, he was so handsome. You loved the strong arch to his eyebrows, the light forehead crinkles he had as he dreamed. His eyelashes were longer than you had noticed before, and his nose made you smile. Your eyes then transfixed on his lips, wondering if they were soft or not.

You knew it was foolish but you were certain you were in love with Sungjin.

There was nothing to dislike about him, and your crush had dragged out for over a year now. Still, you were aware that it was an unrequited love. Sungjin just was friendly with you, happy to talk about the weather or good recipes. There were no signs that he felt the same as you did, and instead of dwelling on this thought, you simply enjoyed the unreserved moment where you could admire the man before you. You allowed yourself to fantasise that this could be something you did as a couple, Sungjin seeking you out to nap whilst you studied before going off to your respective classes and then meeting back up for dinner. You thought about how supportive you could be to his band on the weekends when they had a booked gig and he could come to your debates. Hand-holding whilst on campus and gentle, soft kisses that warmed you like the summer wind.

It was beautiful and you sighed in content, lowering your head onto the textbook, still staring at Sungjin.

How you yearned for all you had just envisioned.

It was quiet when you eventually sat back up, blinking away your disorientation. You realised you were still in the library and after checking your watch, it was several hours later. Gasping, you then looked over at the empty space beside you, your gaze shifting all around you until you found a note over your pencil case.

Looks like you needed a nap too. I left my phone here with you so the music could keep you company. I’ll be at the studio tonight if you want to return it.

- Sungjin.

Glancing down at your arm, you snapped up his phone that was still playing through the catalogue of Day6’s songs on repeat. You were surprised by the gesture, smiling when you wondered how hard it was to leave his device behind with you. Holding it fondly within your hand, you tidied up your space with the other, slinging your bag over your shoulder and then headed for the exit. Checking the time on Sungjin’s phone again, you hoped he was still where he said he’d be.

“Y/N,” Sungjin greeted when he opened the studio door half an hour later, frowning when he noticed all that you carried. “You went to your work?”

“I didn’t know if you had eaten dinner or not so I got some food,” you confessed, peering around the studio. It was otherwise unoccupied, which strangely made you feel more at ease.

Besides, you had only gotten enough food for two.

“You didn’t have to,” he murmured and you looked up at Sungjin who quickly grinned. “But I was kind of hungry, so thanks.”

“I don’t know what else you eat so I got something I knew you enjoyed,” you replied happily, settling everything down on the table. And then you pulled his phone out of your pocket. “To say thanks for letting me borrow this.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I hadn’t realised I fell asleep staring-” Your eyes widened momentarily as you caught yourself. Sungjin watched you curiously. “Staring at that textbook ha-ha!”

“Right, no, I feel you,” he agreed with his signature chuckle, gesturing you to take a seat.

Unlike you, Sungjin seemed more awkward with it just being the two of you. As you chewed on your food, the silence now stifling any of your attempts to converse with him, you wondered if you had gone too far getting food just now. Maybe it would have been better to just hand him the phone and go.

Except, you were kind of living out your daydream right now. You had both fallen asleep together and met back up to eat dinner. You would humour yourself this one time and then never step over the boundaries again.

“So uh-” “You know-”

Both staring at each other, you giggled and then motioned for Sungjin to go first. He smiled. “So what did you think of the song?”

“The first one?” you asked and he nodded. You grinned. “I loved it. I think it’ll be a great hit at the show next weekend.”

“Oh, you know about that?” he asked and you pointed to the board where the schedule had been written on in detail. Sungjin laughed airily. “Right, of course. What would we do without our manager’s organisational skills?”

“So you are playing it at that show?”

“I dunno, will you be coming?”

You tilted your head to the side, watching as Sungjin’s gaze darted all around the place, flickering towards you every moment or so to gauge your expression. It hit you then that this wasn’t so one-sided after all. You smiled, which soon grew into a grin and for once you didn’t check yourself over it.

Your heart felt full.

“Do you want me there? Because I’ll come if you want that.”

“Yeah, that would be cool,” he breathed, clamping his eyes shut a moment later. “Okay, so that would actually be more than cool.”

“True or false,” you stated and Sungjin finally looked at you again, frowning at your statement. You grinned. “Did you stare at me sleeping before leaving?”

“Well-”

“True,” you announced with a giggle. “At least in my case it was before falling asleep. I gave up studying right away and studied your face instead.”

Sungjin laughed. “True as well for me. I was late to my class because I didn’t want to leave you.”

You were certain your heart was going to leap out of your chest with all the realisations you were having. Connecting all the little moments over the past year – the gestures, the haphazard attempts to keep you around just for a moment longer.

Maybe Sungjin was close to loving you as well.

“True or false,” he spoke up next, shifting closer to you on the couch. “You have wanted to kiss me for more than just today.”

“True,” you breathed immediately, sizing up his lips. “It’s been a year, Sungjin.”

“A whole year?” he repeated and you nodded. “Man, what was I thinking?”

“Can you just kiss me now without thinking about it?” you instructed in a voice a little louder than a whisper, leaning in midway to meet him. You had been wrong; his lips weren’t as soft as you thought earlier. But they were real and firmly attached to yours, sending you into delirium.

And that was more than what you could have ever expected when you fantasised about them.

“Come to the gig with me next week,” he said when he was done stealing your breath and you nodded. “Not as the girl who delivers us food. Not just as a fan of our music either.”

“What as then?”

“My girl. Come as my girlfriend,” he suggested and you grinned giddily.

“Does that mean you’ll make time for my debate club match the week after?”

Sungjin nodded. “Of course.”

“But as the guy I deliver food to?” you teased and Sungjin laughed. “Or as my boyfriend?”

“Which would you prefer?”

You nestled into his side and Sungjin instantly wrapped his arms around you. “You know, when I do have to do my job it’s going to be that much harder to just deliver the food and go now.”

“That’s okay, I’ll have to organise that you receive an extra tip.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, kissing in the hallway should be more than sufficient, right?”

You leaned in and kissed Sungjin again. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to doing that with you so that sounds like a good tip.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at your lips with a hunger that wasn’t over the food he could taste upon them. “But just so we can get accustomed to it, I think we should keep on trying now.”

“It has been a year’s worth of waiting for this.”

“I can see how the studio works for Jae now,” Sungjin murmured, his lips a breath away from yours.

You could tell there would be more opportunity now to see Sungjin. And if it meant he made your heart sing every time you were in the studio with him, you were ready to ensure it sang loud and clear.

You were in love, after all.

_________________

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years ago

Text

Thunder - Chapter 6: Thunder

summary: With the tensions of life and feelings at an all-time high, Frankie and Luciana finally find themselves in the eye of their own kind of storm—and wonder where they can go from here.

warnings: storms, light angst, fluff

rating: R

word count: 5.695k

masterlist

chapter 6: thunder

It’s finally the night before graduation—and Frankie’s a fucking mess.

He’s trying to come to terms with the idea of leaving this house, this life, the girl who lives right down the hall and will be taking his heart with her wherever she goes, and the simple thought of it makes him sick to his stomach. Frankie wants to be able to control it, to keep all of these things the same somehow yet work towards his dream of piloting, but he knows he can’t have it both ways. Some things he can change, but he just doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to.

Still, Frankie wants to try. He thinks that maybe if he had tried harder with his mom, somehow figured out that she wasn’t acting the same before her condition was diagnosed and it was too late, then he wouldn’t have lost her. He hopes that he can prevent the same thing from happening with Luciana. If he tells her how he feels now, before it’s too late, maybe he won’t lose her. Half of him is afraid he may already be too late—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try.

Frankie releases a sigh as he sits up from where he’s been staring blankly at his ceiling, contemplating his next move. Benny’s frat house is throwing a goddamn rager tonight, going absolutely wild for the last night of their college careers, but both Frankie and Luciana aren’t feeling up to it; they know they’d both leave early, anyway. Now, it’s just the two of them in the house, and with the boys having just left, Frankie’s determined to make some kind of move. He forces himself to make his way out of his room and stop at Luciana’s, not even thinking twice as he lightly raps his knuckles against her door. He keeps his gaze fixed on the floor as he waits for her to answer, his free hand tapping against the side of his leg. He’s not sure why he’s feeling nervous—it’s Luciana, what does he have to be afraid of?—but still his fingers work anxiously against the material of his jeans as he waits for her.

The door opens within a few seconds, and Frankie sees Luciana standing there with her usual soft gaze and a raised brow. It almost looks hopeful, as if she’s been waiting for him to show up. The thought makes Frankie smile just a bit. “What’s up, Flyboy?” Luciana greets him, leaning against her doorframe as she looks up at him.

Frankie gives himself a little time to muse on this moment. He loves this position, her looking up at him with such endearment and him looking down at her with the same feeling. He’d kiss her if he had the balls to do it. But the time’s just not right—at least, not yet. Frankie abandons his daydream as he offers her a small shrug. “I know we’re not up for the party, but I wanted to do something,” Frankie explains. “Y’know, for our last night before graduation. I figured we could maybe get something to go and then go to Mayweather.”

Luciana smiles at Frankie’s proposition. Mayweather Beach is a local piece of the long beach that touches the Atlantic Ocean about twenty minutes away from the house, and since it doesn’t allow parties, it’s bound to be empty at this time. “That sounds great, Frankie.” Frankie smiles wider at that. “Gimme a few minutes and I’ll be right down.”

Frankie nods at her, stepping away as she closes her bedroom door. He knows there’s a glow to him now that’d be hard to get rid of as he quickly jogs into his room and gets himself a little bit nicer. He wears one of those button-up tropical print shirts like he’d worn that night to the bar, even opting for some cargo shorts and sandals for easy removal on the sand. Frankie refuses to leave without his signature hat, leaving it atop his head as he reaches for a sweatshirt should the night air get chilly and heads downstairs. He checks his pockets for his wallet and hopes that Luciana’s been wise enough to leave hers upstairs.

When Frankie hears her approaching, his brain almost short-circuits at the way she’s fixed herself up. She wears a long-sleeved white top that wraps around her and ties together in a knot at the center of her chest, the waist of her shorts leaving a reasonable gap of skin as they hug tight to her body. Her hair flows graciously over her shoulders, and Frankie notices how her warm brown gaze sparkles just above the plethora of adorable freckles that line her cheeks. He’s a sucker and he knows it.

“Looks like we both decided to dress up, huh?” Luciana jokes, nudging Frankie’s shoulder as she approaches him and looking him up and down obviously. “I haven’t seen you in something so different since—.”

“—that night at the bar.” Frankie finishes with a smile. “Yeah, funny how that works.”

Luciana bites her smile back and shakes her head. Frankie wants to laugh at how fucking obvious it is that they’re sharing the same thoughts yet saying nothing—but he also wants to cry out at the way they both feel so conflicted about it. If there wasn’t such outside pressure, if there wasn’t an expectation they’d agreed to meet, they could’ve pushed past this weeks ago and started the life together that they wanted to. Instead, they’re involved in this weird tango, dancing around each other and wondering if either one of them is brave enough to step forward and take the other’s hand.

As they leave the house, Frankie locks it behind them, offering a chuckle before looking over at Luciana. “You better not have brought any money.”

Luciana looks up at him incredulously. “You think you’re paying for anything tonight?”

“Everything.” Frankie offers the correction with emphasis as they both get into his faithful truck.

“No, Francisco. I refuse.” Luciana dramatically crosses her arms, giving Frankie a playful side-eye.

“Too bad, Luciana, because we always agree that whoever made the plans has to make the payment—and I just so happened to make these plans.” Frankie smirks as he backs out of the driveway, already heading to the dive where he’ll be getting their dessert takeout.

Luciana fully looks over at Frankie now, her eyes narrowed as she shakes her head. “Fuck you and your rational thinking, Morales.”

Frankie laughs, smiling in victory as he pulls into the roughed-up lot of the dive. “I’ll be back in a few,” he announces, hopping out of the truck and making his way inside. He’s glad to spot Marlena as soon as he walks in, and she immediately heads over to him to get his order.

“Ah, so she’s making you run errands now, huh?” Marlena teases, raising a curious eyebrow at Frankie.

He laughs and lifts his hat from his head, brushing a hand over his hair before setting it back down. “No, no, this was my idea.”

Marlena hands the written order off to someone else as she continues to stand by Frankie, one hand on her hip as she looks at him with hopefulness. “You finally gonna tell her somethin’, or what?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, crossing his arms and shrugging. “That’s the goal. But who knows. I’ll probably freak out again and keep it to myself.” Marlena’s been the receiving end of his “relationship” struggles for a few weeks, now, this having been the destination of many of his self-contemplative walks.

“Tonight’s the night for it,” Marlena insists, tapping a straw against Frankie’s shoulder. “Isn’t your graduation tomorrow?”

“It is.” Frankie sighs, giving Marlena a nod. “I know. I’ll try. It’s just—well, you know.”

“I know.” Marlena smiles as she takes the to-go milkshakes from another waitress, putting them in a drink carrier for Frankie. She slides them over and places a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, kiddo. Everything will be alright. Life has a funny way of working itself out like that.”

Frankie smiles back, feeling oddly comforted by her words. “Thanks, Marlena.” He hands her his cash and a big tip as usual, soon heading back out to the truck with the drinks in hand. As he hops up inside the truck, Luciana gives an impressed look.

“That was fast,” Luciana comments, taking the drinks to hold on her lap while Frankie drives. “I’m surprised Marlena didn’t try to hold you up.”

“Oh, trust me, she tried,” Frankie half-jokes, giving Luciana a funny look before he pulls onto the road. For the rest of the drive to the beach, the two talk about their expectations for tomorrow, wondering which one of the guys is bound to do something embarrassing while they walk or which one will yell the loudest for the others. Frankie’s ranking is easy—he’s the least likely to do either. But he knows he can depend on hearing a loud Fish! coming from the direction of his brothers. Luciana can’t decide if the guys or her girl friends are going to be louder. Frankie knows it’ll probably be the guys. It always is.

He’s afraid for the day when that “is” turns into a “was.”

Soon, Frankie’s pulling into the parking lot just along the fence of the beach, grabbing his emergency blanket from the back of his truck and walking alongside Luciana onto the sand. Just as he’d predicted, the beach is practically empty, save for a few who live along the beach going for walks as the sky begins to darken. There’s a few dark clouds in the distance, but Frankie doesn’t worry about that for now. He only chuckles sadly to himself at the irony of it all, as if the dark thoughts of the future he has are already beginning to loom and manifest themselves physically in his life.

Frankie lays out the blanket and helps Luciana to sit, taking one of her hands as she positions herself with the other. She thanks him before he does the same to him, already having kicked off his sandals as he buries his feet in the sand—right alongside hers. They take their respective shakes and start drinking them, sitting in peaceful silence that’s only filled with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. They’re bigger than usual. For some odd reason, it makes Frankie even more calm.

There’s a heaviness in the air, and while it’s extremely humid outside, Frankie knows there’s more to it. There are so many unspoken things between him and Luciana and it’s almost as if it’s creating its own kind of humidity. Frankie knows he should say something, but he doesn’t know what; he’s thought about it for so long, but he still can’t think of anything. Part of him wishes Luciana would do it. The wiser part of him knows that he should. If anything, she’s probably waiting for him on purpose, because she’s the most goddamn considerate and caring person Frankie’s ever known and she knows he has a heart that’s broken and delicate—so she wants him to be the one to tell her that he’s ready. Frankie thinks over all of this and it causes the silence to go on.

“Care to share what’s going on in there?” Luciana finally says, crashing through the quiet like the waves on the shore as she lightly flicks his temple. Frankie looks over to see her gaze twinkling with amusement yet concern, and he laughs softly when she raises an eyebrow. “Holy fuck, I sounded like Dr. Seuss.”

Frankie laughs harder at that. “I guess that’s what your degree’s gotten you.”

Luciana snorts, sipping her milkshake as she looks out to the ocean for a quick moment. “I’d hope my business degree would get me… well, a business.”

Frankie continues looking at her, silently admiring the way her brown eyes flicker so beautifully in the evening light as she observes the crashing waters ahead. “It will, Luce. You’ll have one of the best-running damn businesses this place has ever seen. And maybe I can fly some shipments of shit to you or something.”

Luciana laughs, looking back at Frankie with amusement and gratitude. “Thank you, Frankie. I don’t know if that’s how it works, though.”

Frankie shrugs. “We can make an exception, right?”

Luciana huffs and looks down at her cup, one of her hands fiddling with the straw. “There’s a lot of exceptions I wish I could make.”

Frankie tilts his head down at her, lifting one hand to gently brush against her arm. It captures her attention immediately, and her gaze practically melts into his own. It makes Frankie’s heart race. “I know. Me too.”

Luciana gives him a smile that’s appropriately as sad as his own, and soon her hand slides up until it meets his. She laces her fingers with his slowly—as if she’s absorbing every little touch—and takes a heavy breath, one that weighs just as much upon Frankie’s own chest. There’s no more words spoken for a while, just space that stops existing between them as Luciana’s side is soon much closer to Frankie’s. Once their shake cups are emptied, Frankie puts them in the carrier and sets them aside, and his heart practically jumps in his chest when Luciana’s head softly meets his shoulder.

Hands still entwined, Frankie gives hers a gentle squeeze, opting for that instead of nudging her head with his shoulder. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Luciana’s warm gaze lifts to meet Frankie’s, a slight blush and a small smile appearing. “Did you just call me pretty, Flyboy?”

Frankie feels his own cheeks reddening now as he raises an eyebrow at her. “Don’t act like you don’t know it already, Luce.” She chuckles and shakes her head, causing Frankie’s heart to beat faster at the way he feels the motion against his shoulder. “Answer the question.”

Luciana sighs softly, finally returning Frankie’s squeeze as her gaze looks thoughtfully out at the water. “I was just thinking about tomorrow, of course. And how grateful I am to have had the experience I did. Spending these years with you and my brother and the guys has been just… so amazing.” Frankie smiles at her words—especially at the separation of him from the guys. Luciana’s silent for a moment, and when Frankie looks down at her again, he sees that her gaze is ever so slightly starting to fill with tears. The sight breaks his heart. “I’m really gonna miss it, Frankie.” She looks up at him again. “I’m really gonna miss you.”

Frankie drops her hand to fully wrap his arm around her shoulders in a comforting manner, inviting her to lean into him further as she wraps her arms around his middle. Her head now rests against the inside of his shoulder, her gaze still looking to the ocean for escape as he finds the words to speak. “I’m gonna miss you too, Luce,” Frankie says, running his thumb over her shoulder as he talks, “so damn much. I agree—these years have been incredible. You have no idea how much they’ve helped me grow and move on from… well, you know.” Luciana nods, holding him a bit tighter at that. “But just because this phase of our lives ends tomorrow doesn’t mean we have to.”

Luciana’s gaze floats up to Frankie’s, and once again, he’s in that position where he wishes with all his heart he could just say fuck it and kiss her with all the love he’s holding hostage in his heart. Instead, he lets her search his gaze and find the same desperation she feels also in him. “I don’t know what I’d do without it, Frankie.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Without college?”

Luciana scoffs and slaps his chest with one of her hands. “No, you dumbass.” They share a light laugh before she goes on. “Without you—us.”

Frankie’s heart somehow both grows and falls apart at Luciana’s words, his arm pulling her closer to him as rests his head against her own. “You won’t have to know, Luci. I promise. I’ll do all I can.”

Luciana’s eyes fall closed as she lets her head fall even further into Frankie. “I hope so, Frankie. I really do.”

In the silence that follows, three words tug so viciously at Frankie’s chest that he can barely breathe. They dance along his tongue, which is only bitten back by the clenching of his jaw as his nerves get the best of him. Frankie can’t make a fool of himself. If he says those words, he won’t be able to take them back. And this, whatever this is right here, is so beautiful to him that he can’t risk losing it. Frankie resolves to just live in this moment with the girl he loves, holding her close to him for what could be the last time in a long time—no matter how many promises he makes.

Suddenly, the low rumbling of thunder sounds in the distance. Frankie looks from where he’s been staring endlessly into the horizon to see those dark clouds from before hovering much closer now. The humidity’s only gotten worse since they’d arrived, and Frankie knows it’ll be a matter of time before the moisture in the air turns into real drops of water. A stronger wind starts to blow, one gust nearly knocking the hat from Frankie’s head as it picks up. Luciana finally leans up from Frankie’s shoulder, her brow creasing in worry at their surroundings. Frankie chuckles softly.

“What’s with the look?” Frankie jokes. “I thought you were a pluviophile.”

Luciana nudges his shoulder with hers as she tries to suppress a smile. “Not when we’re about to be in the middle of it, by the fucking ocean,” she scoffs.

Frankie’s about to make some smartass remark when they can hear the oncoming wave of rain along the ocean, causing them to scramble to their feet. Luciana squeals the moment the rain reaches them, starting slow but getting faster quickly. Another roll of thunder sounds from much closer by, and Frankie starts to panic for Luciana’s more exposed skin as he finds his sweatshirt and hands it to her. “Take this!” Frankie exclaims over the sound of the now-pouring rain.

“Frankie, it’s yours!” Luciana tries to argue. “You take it!”

“Just wear the damn sweatshirt!” Frankie insists with a laugh, scooping up the blanket and the trash and taking her by the arm as they run back to the truck. Frankie drops off the trash in a nearby can before he heads in himself, laughing with Luciana as they finally get under some shelter. He looks and sees her hair dampened and sticking to her face, her clothes thankfully somewhat dry underneath his sweatshirt. Frankie’s lost all hope for himself, thankful for his hat that at least protected his hair.

“Holy shit, where did that come from?” Luciana giggles as Frankie pulls out of the parking lot, starting to head back to the house.

“I have no idea. I didn’t even know it was supposed to storm.” Frankie tries not to let the same darkness of the storm cloud his own mind as he realizes his perfect moment was broken. He looks over to see Luciana watching the storm from outside the window, her eyes lighting up along with the flashes of lightning.

Somehow, not even the sight of her enthusiasm can stop his own oncoming storm.

Frankie’s hands grip the wheel tighter as he drives on. All his dark thoughts are hitting him at once. He should’ve used that moment to tell her his feelings. Now, he’s going to lose her, just like his mom. Just like he told her she wouldn’t. Just like he’s been fearing himself. Frankie doesn’t know what the fuck he’ll do without her. The thought of it is filling him with such fear, anxiety, and anger that he’s sure a lightning bolt is somehow going to leap out of him. It’s building up and he can only hope that he can get them home before he lashes out in private, sparing Luciana of his tumultuous emotions.

But then, the truck begins to stall. Frankie’s brow wrinkles together in concern as feels it winding down. He realizes that the leaky radiator he hasn’t had time to fix yet is overheating—and now he’ll have to stop to cool it down if he wants a chance at getting home. Even with the knowledge of that easy fix, Frankie can’t handle it anymore, and his storm begins to rain down just as hard as the one outside.

“Fuck!” Frankie yells as he pulls over, his hand slamming against the wheel as he does so. Out of his peripherals, he can see Luciana’s head turn quickly in his direction, as if the action scared her. “Fuck!” Frankie’s body falls back against the seat as he releases a heavy sigh, his hands still holding tight to the wheel. “Not the truck. You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“What is it?” Luciana asks worriedly, her voice a little more timid than usual at Frankie’s unprecedented anger.

“It’s that damn radiator,” Frankie answers, lifting his hat and running his hand over his hair. “It’s overheated. If I don’t fix it, I’ll lose the truck.” Frankie clicks his tongue, shaking his head before he slams the wheel again. “Fuck!”

“Frankie, it’s alright, it’s an easy fix.” Luciana tries to calm him down, also setting a gentle hand on his arm as she looks at him with concern. “Don’t get so worked up.”

“I can’t help it, Luce!” Frankie confesses, unable to look at her as he watches the rain pour down against the hood of his truck. “I just—this reminds me that I’m close to losing this truck and I can’t. I know it sounds ridiculous because it’s just a goddamn truck but she was my first one. I love this thing.” Frankie shakes his head, tightening his hands even more around the wheel as he pours the words practically from his heart. “I love it and I’m tired of losing what I love! My mom’s gone, you’re off to God-knows-what, my truck’s close to kicking it—.”

“Wait.” Luciana cuts him off, leaning closer to press a hand against his chest. Frankie finally looks back into her gaze, which is now flickering with warmth at his words. “Me? With what you love?”

The realization of what he revealed hits Frankie in that moment, and his mouth falls open in shock as he searches her gaze. He tries to speak, but he doesn’t know what to say. “I… Luci, I—I’ve been meaning to tell you, I thought you might’ve known—.”

“I did.” Luciana’s voice is so quiet now that Frankie can barely hear it over the sound of the rain hitting the truck. Frankie watches in awe as her hand raises from his chest to his cheek, her thumb gently brushing over his cheek. A smile starts to form on her lips as she looks at him in amazement. “And I do, too.”

Frankie can’t even process the words for a moment as he sits there, the ghost of a smile appearing when it finally starts to register. “Really?”

Luciana fully smiles as she runs her thumb over his cheek again. “Don’t act like you don’t know it already, Flyboy,” she uses his comeback from earlier.

Frankie’s hands finally fall from the wheel, resting idly on his lap as Luciana continues to lean over him. He feels as if he’s in a dream and part of him wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not. Still, even with the confirmed knowledge of the love they share, he can’t celebrate. He doesn’t know what to do with this, now. All he can do is hold his breath and manage to speak with whatever he has left. “What do we do now, Luce?”

Luciana’s gaze only trails down his face, following her thumb that continues to run over his cheek before it drops to his lips. She looks back up to meet his eyes, and Frankie can see the same mixture of strong affection and desire he’d seen that night at the bar. “Kiss me.” The words come low and breathless, as if she can barely breathe without his touch.

It strikes something deep within Frankie, and he doesn’t even think twice before he reaches for her face and closes the gap between them. The relief is so sweet that it causes the both of them to sigh into each other’s mouths, the storm outside now mirroring what they’re creating themselves as Frankie pulls Luciana even closer to himself. She ends up straddling him on the seat of the truck, and Frankie swears he’s never felt as complete and comfortable as he does in this moment. His hands glide from her face down to her waist and then her thighs, like he’s known the feeling of her body forever. His stomach is soaring as if he’s already flying, his heart thumping against his chest as his mouth keeps moving against hers. When they finally pull away to breathe, they stay close, and Frankie watches as a smile grows on Luciana’s lips.

“Damn, Morales—if I knew you could kiss me like that, I would’ve asked you to a long time ago.”

Frankie lets out a soft laugh as he starts to blush, brushing his thumbs over the skin of her thighs in just the way she likes. “I can’t believe what I’ve been letting myself miss out on.”

Luciana giggles before she plants a kiss on the stubble along his jaw, leaving a few more there that cause a fire to ignite deep in Frankie’s stomach. “There’s a lot more where that came from.” Luciana lifts her head once again, touching her nose to his. “But if you don’t take care of the truck, we’re gonna be stuck in this storm forever.”

Frankie chuckles and nods, reaching to at least kiss her for another quick moment before forcing himself to pull away. “Alright.”

He helps her to climb back off his lap as he prepares himself to get out into the storm, reaching for the coolant in his backseat and hurrying to the front of the truck. He lifts the hood and takes care of the radiator, his mind going everywhere else except the truck at the moment. Frankie’s in awe of the events that just took place—but he’s also still afraid of what’s to come. Now that they’ve crossed this line, he knows they can’t go back, and there’s going to be consequences to what they’re allowing themselves to do. For now, Frankie doesn’t dwell on those, but he knows he’ll have to eventually.

Once he finishes up, he closes the hood, shocked to see Luciana suddenly getting out of the truck. He shakes his head and points to the truck. “I’m done!” Frankie exclaims to her over the pouring rain. “We can get back in the truck!”

Luciana doesn’t respond as she fully approaches him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. “But you haven’t kissed me in the rain, yet,” Luciana insists, her brown gaze glittering with such excitement and love that Frankie can’t deny her request. He smiles before he kisses her again, amazed at how it still takes his breath away just like the first one as his hands fall on her waist and pull her completely against him. Luciana’s hands glide along his neck and up to his face, admiring his features before they pull away.

“Okay, I’m not letting you get sick,” Frankie states, gesturing back to the truck. “Let’s go!”

Luciana laughs as they hurry back inside the truck, giggling like teenagers in love as they finally start heading back to the house again. Frankie’s hand stays tight in Luciana’s the entire drive back, a peaceful silence falling before he decides to break it with a cheeky smile.

“So,” Frankie starts, giving Luciana a quick look of amusement, “am I really a good kisser?”

Luciana chuckles softly, giving his hand a squeeze as her eyes widen. “Listen, Frankie, I’ve kissed quite a few guys,” she tells him, “and I’ve had yet to experience something that feels like that.”

Frankie snorts and runs his thumb over her knuckles. “That’s good to know. I just…” he sighs, trying to piece his words together, “… I wasn’t sure, y’know?”

Luciana tuts and shakes her head. “You underestimate yourself, Frankie. In so many ways.” She brings his hand to her lips for a moment as she leaves a soft kiss there. “You really think I would’ve fallen in love with someone who wasn’t so kind, caring, and hot?”

Frankie laughs as his cheeks redden again and he shakes his head in slight embarrassment. “Alright, alright. I get it.” He gives her a quick look of affection. “‘Fallen in love’ though, huh? It’s nice to hear that.”

“You better get used to it, Morales.” Luciana’s tone is playful yet serious, her hand only leaving his to brush over his cheek as he drives. “Because I love you and I’ll remind you of that as many times as you need to hear it.”

Frankie’s heart swells at the words, another smile spreading on his lips as he takes her hand and squeezes it tight. “I love you too, Luce. A lot.”

“I know.” Luciana leans over to kiss his cheek, and Frankie’s half-tempted to turn his face so that it lands on his lips—but he knows better while he’s driving.

As soon as they pull into the driveway of the house, Frankie stops the truck, turning to face Luciana with a raised brow. “What now, Luci? Do we just say fuck it and go for this in front of the guys, or go on pretending this doesn’t exist?”

Luciana sighs softly, holding Frankie’s face between her hands as she looks him deep in the eye. “Remember what I told you after Santi talked to us. You’re allowed to feel what you feel, and so am I. We’re allowed to have this and no one can tell us otherwise. But I know that these are your brothers—and mine, too. And if you don’t want to parade this around them, I understand. Just know that any single moment when they’re not looking? I’m gonna be yours.”

Frankie nods at Luciana, absorbing the feeling of her hands on his face. He takes a deep breath and then nods. “Alright. We can try that. It’ll be hard…” Frankie trails off for a moment as his gaze drifts to his fingers, which walk their way onto the skin of her thigh before his gaze wanders back to her eyes, “… but it��ll be worth it.”

Luciana smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss before they resolve to get into the house. Hand-in-hand, they run through the downpour, jumping a bit when a loud roll of thunder sounds but then laughing once they’re safe inside. Knowing the boys are still at Benny’s, Frankie doesn’t have to be shy yet about pulling her body to his, wrapping his arms around her in a lame attempt at warmth as he leaves a kiss on her head.

“You need to warm up,” Frankie instructs her softly. “I know you don’t need me telling you this, but please—for my piece of mind. You can’t be sick on graduation day.”

Luciana looks up from where she’d buried her face in Frankie’s chest, raising an eyebrow as giggles at him. “You’re just saying that because you wanna kiss me and you can’t if I’m sick.”

Frankie shrugs at her. “Maybe. But don’t you want that, too?” He chuckles before he leans down to kiss her again, unable to get enough of the feeling as his mouth moves against hers in such a perfect rhythm.

Luciana pulls away, but stays close, her nose and lips still brushing against his as she speaks. “Sure.” She leaves another peck on his lips before she leans away again. “I guess this means bedtime, huh?”

Frankie nods. “Big day tomorrow.”

Luciana shrugs. “I know I won’t be getting rid of you anytime soon, so I think it’ll be fine.”

Frankie chuckles as they walk hand-in-hand up the stairs, not wanting to part until it’s absolutely necessary. When they get to Luciana’s room, they stop, and she stares up at him with affection that takes Frankie’s breath away. “Goodnight, Luce. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow, okay?”

Luciana frowns dramatically, putting her arms around his neck as her fingers play with the curls peeking out from under his hat. “Don’t leave me just yet. Lay with me.”

“I wish I could. But you know… the boys—if they come home and they see…”

“I know.” Luciana gives Frankie an understanding nod and pulls him in for one last kiss. “Goodnight, Flyboy. I love you.”

The words still hit Frankie in a deep place that he can’t explain, grinning like an idiot as he brushes a hand over her cheek. “I love you too.” His voice is almost as gentle as the kiss he leaves on her forehead, regretful to leave her arms as he heads to his own bedroom. The entire way there, his smile never fades, and the first thing he does regardless of his soaked clothes is pull out his journal—refusing to dwell on the consequences of his actions as he grabs his pen.

Mom,

I did it. I get to be with the love of my life.

And for the first time in much too long, Frankie sheds a tear that’s meant for joy and not for sadness.

next part: chapter 7: lightning

thunder tag list: @youhavereachedtheendofpie @charmantbarnes @theindiealto @fangirl-and-stuff @phoenixhalliwell @maybege @amarvelousmandalorian @seawhisperer @mrsparknuts @saltywintersoldat @softpedropascal @i-hide-inside-my-head @sunshinepascal @domino-oh-damn @thirsty-flygirl @awesomefandomsunited @ezraslittleblondestreak @b0n-chann

permanent tag list: @mikahid @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann @javier-djarin

#oh my gosh #oh my gOSH!#frankieeeeeeeee stop it i'm soft #sir #frankie morales #catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #thunder fic #dindjarindiaries

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d-ama-ien · 5 years ago

Text

“They’re Cheesy for a Reason”

Written for the First Visitation Day Gift Exchange run by @yancy-support-group

Gift for @breadstickksss , Prompt: soft

Yancy x Reader

Word count: 2626 (I may have gotten a bit excited…)

It's been months since the incident that got me sent to Happy Trails Penitentiary. Sure, adjusting to prison life was a bit rough at first, and I still don't love when the guards are in a bad mood and beat us around, but the kindness of the other prisoners quickly made me realize it wasn't that bad to be in prison. And I was a model prisoner, so I didn't fall victim to the guard's bad moods very often.

Of all the prisoners, I had quickly grown closest to Yancy. He was the head of the family, in a way, so he often took the new prisoners under his wing until they got their feet under them. My feet have been under me for months, to the point where I can even help out new prisoners myself, but Yancy still spent most of his free time with me. It's not like I'm going to protest, I love spending time with him. Anything from mealtime to lifting weights in the yard was a pleasure; it was a surprise just how cute he could be, especially since I had heard from one of the others what exactly had gone down that led to him being sent here.

But, despite all his issues, Yancy was kind to the other prisoners, he valued the family he had built here above everything, he loved singing show tunes, even making and choreographing his own songs. When Yancy found out I was a musical fan as well, he had ranted about the shows he had seen for an hour before realizing how long he had been talking and apologizing. I found it adorable though, loving his enthusiasm, so we continued to talk about that for hours until the guards had to physically separate us for curfew.

I don't see Yancy every day, he has to keep the family in shape, I have my own things to do, my own friends to hang out with, but on those days that Yancy is off with a new prisoner, I can't help but feel a bit moody. Each day, spent with or without Yancy, I'm becoming painfully aware that the feelings I have for him are more than platonic. It gets to the point where I have trouble reciprocating his friendly touches, finding myself daydreaming that instead of a platonic squeeze on my shoulder, he would lace his fingers with mine and squeeze our hands together instead.

Yancy doesn't seem to be interested though, so I keep content with our friendship, enjoying the opportunity to know him any capacity. Sometimes, he makes it difficult for me to remain on the friendly side of things.

It happens while talking about first dates or first meetings in musicals. We were talking about romantic duets from our favorite shows, and the topic shifted to things like the start of the romance versus the big romantic finale when the characters will kiss and live happily ever after.

"I mean, is there anything cuter than I'll Cover You? Angel and Collins are absolutely perfect," I say, sighing as I remember the scene from Rent.

"Yeah, yeah, it's real cute until you remember the reprise that Collins sings after Angel dies," Yancy points out.

"It's still romantic! Depressing and awful, but those two have a love like nothing else, so even the reprise is romantic," I don't bring up how I cry like a baby almost every time I listen to the reprise. I mean, Angel's death and then the funeral and then all the breakups immediately afterward, it's a series of painful scenes.

"What about something cute and not depressing, maybe that Prom show you were talking about?" Yancy was pretty behind on Broadway shows, makes sense since he's been here so long, but I had been doing my best to tell him about the ones I knew.

"The Prom ends cute, but that main relationship goes through some serious problems too. I mean, the one girl's mom is a homophobe and purposefully ruins the main character's prom night, leading the girls to break up. They make up, but you know I cried in the theater because of that moment," Yancy sighs when I explain more about the central relationship I had told him about.

"Is every relationship depressing in musicals, or am I just not thinking of the right type of show?"

"I mean, if the relationships went well right off the bat, then it wouldn't be much of a plot," I point out.

"These musical characters got it all wrong, they just gotta do something simple. I think show writers underestimate the power of something cheesy like a picnic under the stars," Yancy throws his hands behind his head, leaning back casually while speaking.

"Aww, who knew you were an old school romantic," I tease, earning a scoff.

"Stuff like that's only considered cheesy because it works! Youse would agree if anyone did something like that for you," I'm almost offended at the insinuation that no one had ever done something cheesy for me. Still, none of my partners had set up a starlit picnic for me, so he was technically right.

"You got me there, I've never had anyone set up a picnic under the stars for me. But I think a normal coffee date would be the most realistic thing to portray in a show, I don't think picnics are super common anymore,"

"Do ya know what? I'll set up a starlight picnic for youse sometime, then you'll get what I'm talkin' bout," I laugh at what Yancy says, ignoring the stirring of emotions in my chest at the idea of Yancy doing something like that for me.

"Sure, Yancy, we'll see if that changes my mind," I agree.

"But, really, there's gotta be a relationship that goes well for an entire show," Yancy returns to the original train of conversation, and we spend the next hour of our free time trying to spitball shows with a straightforward and completely happy relationship.

After a week, that conversation is basically out of my mind. We have a lot of discussions, after all, and my brain space isn't only dedicated to Yancy, other things are going on around the prison to think about.

One evening I return to my empty cell, my cellmate had gotten parole a few days ago and hadn't been replaced yet. I turn on the small TV, it'll hopefully keep me entertained until lights out at least. The channels are minimal, I end up with some soap opera droning in the background while I take some time to read. They spoil us here at the penitentiary, but we're all about rehabilitation and rewards. Unless you get punished because when they give out punishments, you really suffer. That's why I keep on my best behavior, that's how I get these privileges. I'm just getting invested in a new chapter when the guard on duty stops by my cell.

"It's time for lights out, shut your TV off and get to bed," I oblige quickly, the guard walking away once I put the remote and book down by the, now off, TV. I slide under the covers of the bottom bunk, settling in for another good night of rest.

When I wake up, the cell is dim, I know it's still night, but I heard an unusual sound. I open my eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the near non-existent lighting, and then I nearly jump out of my skin and have to muffle a scream.

Yancy has stuffed himself between the bunk and the mattress, grinning down at me. I cover my face for a moment, taking deep breaths to recover from the scare, before rolling out of bed to wait for Yancy to come out from under the mattress.

"What are you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack," I whisper my complaint, not wanting to draw the attention of the night shift guards.

"Just put ya shoes on, we got a picnic to get to,"

I blink in confusion as Yancy hands me my shoes, not sure I processed his sentence correctly. "A picnic?"

"You thought I was kidding?" Yancy laughs a bit as I slide my shoes on, "I really meant it when I said I'd take you out on a starlight picnic one of these nights," I suddenly recall our conversation from earlier this week, but I had seriously thought he was joking about that.

"Wait, we're in prison. How are we supposed to have a picnic?" It's the middle of the night, I don't know how to wrap my brain around this.

"We're gonna break out," My mouth drops open in shock, I'm about to loudly demand an explanation when he rapidly waves his hands, "Temporarily! We'll come back, we ain't leavin' forever. Just for the picnic,"

I sigh in relief, I was almost sure for a second that this was Yancy's evil twin or an alien imposter and I was going to have to kill him. The Yancy I knew did not want to leave here anytime soon.

"Come on, if youse keep stalling, we ain't gonna have time for the picnic," Yancy nags as I finish lacing up my shoes. "But, before we go, youse gotta promise that you ain't gonna tell anyone the way out, and promise that youse won't go out for no reason,"

"I promise," I intend to finish out my sentence honestly, and while I like the other prisoners, I wouldn't want any of them out in society, so I definitely won't be telling any of them the way.

"Good, we'll skip the blindfold then," Yancy says with a grin, turning to move some of the decorations, revealing a small hole in the wall. He hooks a finger into the hole, apparently the wall here is just a panel that can be dragged open. We go through the tunnels, dodging some insanely heavy security measures that require very odd counting to get through, swim through a sewage pipe, which is as awful as it sounds, go through a series of increasingly complex instructions that I barely follow. Suddenly we're outside the prison gates. Yancy grabs my hand, pulling me along until we're clear of the building's light, walking along the edge of a nearby forest.

I gasp when we come upon the picnic Yancy had set up, a collection of candles surrounding a large blanket, a basket sitting in the center. Yancy smiles at my reaction, dragging me over to the blanket and encouraging me to sit on the blanket while he pulls supplies out of the basket.

"Yancy, where did you get all of this?" I ask, totally delighted as he hands me a glass and pours me some sort of sparkling drink. He pulls out a plate of small sandwiches next, offering it to me before he pours himself a drink.

"Cucumber sandwiches, really?" He even cut them into tiny triangles.

"You just gotta know where the guards keep their personal stash, they got all sorts of fancy stuff there. They won't miss any of this stuff, so we might as well use it," he explains, leaning back to support himself on his arm, watching me with a small smile.

"I can't believe you really set this up," I lean back as well, craning my neck to look up at the stars. They're beautiful out here; there's no light pollution out here, so the night sky is clearer than I've ever seen it.

"I'm a man of my word, and I said I'd set up a starlight picnic for youse. Do youse doubt my word?" I can tell Yancy is teasing, he nudges my shoulder how he usually does when poking fun, but I decide to answer anyways.

"I thought you were joking, honestly. I mean, why would you put in the work of setting all this up just for me?" Yancy's brows furrow at that.

"What do ya mean by that? Of course I'd do stuff like this for youse." Yancy ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, "I care about youse, dummy,"

I wait for the joke or laughter to follow, but it never comes. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest, my cheeks burning red even if I'm sure he meant he cared as a friend.

"I care about you too, I really value your friendship," I reply, managing to smile at him. I swear his lips twitch into a frown for a moment, but it must be a flicker of the candlelight. I shiver a bit from a sudden breeze, Yancy immediately activates his "head of the family" instincts and starts rummaging through the basket.

"I thought it might get a bit chilly," he comments as he pulls out a fuzzy blanket, it's even my favorite color. I accept the blanket gratefully, wrapping myself up in the soft material. I stare up at the stars, trying to pick out constellations that I could remember, and I hear Yancy softly sigh from next to me.

"Hey, Yancy, I've got a question," I glance towards him, waiting for his nod before continuing, "Do you ever… do you ever regret getting sent here?"

It's a sensitive question, one I don't think I would ever ask while in the walls of the prison, but Yancy does not react at first.

"I…. I honestly can't say that I regret it. I didn't mean for things to go the way they did, but this life is better than anything I ever had on the outside. I got a real family here, and… I got youse," I twist my hands in the soft material of the blanket, quietly contemplating his answer.

"What about youse? Any regrets?"

"I miss my family, I guess, but otherwise, I can't say that I regret much. If I weren't here, I wouldn't have met you, and you're probably one of the best things to happen to me," I admit it, at least partially, getting those feelings into the open air under the stars.

"Come here," Yancy mutters, pulling me closer to him until I'm pressed against his side, resting my head on his shoulder. We sit in comfortable silence, relaxing under the stars.

"I think you were right about these picnics," I mumble, sleep starting to take over. I feel Yancy's low chuckle more than I hear it, followed shortly by the press of his lips against my forehead. I doze off, comforted by the warmth of his body and the blanket surrounding me.

The next day I wake up in my usual bunk, half wondering if I dreamed up that whole picnic. That escape situation was ridiculous after all, and I can't imagine anyone, even a guy as strong as Yancy, being able to carry someone through all those security measures. And it's not like I can ask about it- if it did happen, that means we literally broke out of here last night. I shake off the thoughts, deciding to just go to breakfast and worry about it later.

"Hey, youse!" Yancy greets as I walk into the dining hall, "I saved youse a seat," he points out the chair in question, going over to talk to one of the other prisoners while I go and grab a tray of food and take my seat.

"How'd ya sleep?" Yancy questions, winking when I raise my eyebrow at him. His hand finds mine under the table, intertwining our fingers and squeezing when I smile at him.

"I slept great, and you know after last night I just had this strange inclination that you had a point about those cheesy first dates,"

"I told youse, it's cheesy for a reason.”

#visitationdaygiftexchange #first visitation gift exchange #markiplier #ahwm yancy #yancy #a heist with markiplier #long post #so the literal 'soft' is the soft blanket that yancy wraps you up with #but its mostly a figurative 'ahhh soft fluffy fluff' kind of thing #that story about me crying in the theater during the prom is true i was literally sobbing at the fake prom set up #im a sensitive gay okay?#i do also cry every time i hear the i'll cover you reprise #again with the sesitive gay thing #RENT especially bc Angel is literally how I discovered my sexuality lol her death really really hurt #anyways sorry if you aren't familiar with musicals i just needed a reason that he would take us on a starlight picnic #and that reason is we all theater nerds in this joint

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hajimesh · 6 years ago

Text

Unspoken Words (2/3)

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: It had been months since the last time you saw him. What were the odds you’d find him again and not alone?

A/N: part 2 is here! hope you guys like it. feedback is welcome (it keeps me motivated to continue writing). also, the next update will be a thomas sharpe request, so stay tuned. enjoy! *gif isn’t mine*

Part 1

When Loki woke up that morning he knew that something was going to happen, but he never thought that it’d be that: seeing you again. After so many months he finally saw you, beautiful as ever gliding your fingers across the books in front of you.

He remembered how you’d get lost in your own world when you read. He used to love watching your lips, softly murmuring the words written in front of you, your brows scrunched up in concentration and, sometimes, they raised in surprise. He smiled at the memory and felt his heart rate picking up, momentarily forgetting that he was the one to call it off.

It wasn’t because things were going south between the two of you, actually it was quite the opposite so it took you by surprise when he said the words.

“I’d like for us to go back to being friends.”

You had been left speechless, clearly not seeing this coming. You asked him why was he doing this, he only shrugged his shoulders and told you that he didn’t feel like having a relationship at the moment. He assured you that you were not the problem and that he wanted to keep the friendship. So there was nothing you could do, he wanted his freedom and to focus on himself, a bit selfish but understandable and you’d never force him to stay with you, not when he gave you his reasons.

Loki remembered thinking how good you had taken the news. At first you looked stupefied, your face unreadable and stoic. He was scared he had hurt you and that you’d get mad at him, but nothing happened and that scared him even more. Loki thought you didn’t care but oh was he wrong. He realized his mistake when a week passed by and there was no sign of you. Not a single text, nothing.

He was worried so he texted you a simple hello and waited for your answer. It wasn’t until hours later that he got a reply from you, something unusual as he remembered how fast you answered his texts in the past. He let it slide and kept texting you, but it took days for you to answer back. Concerned, he went to Steve for advice, knowing he always knew what to do and perhaps he could tell him how you were doing.

But after visiting Steve he felt even worse. He told him about how you came to him and cried on his arms until your body gave up. The remorse ate Loki alive knowing that because of him you were suffering. Apparently you came to Steve and admitted that perhaps it was your fault, that you weren’t good enough for the God and he didn’t want to make you suffer so that is why he said he wanted to remain as friends. Loki told Steve how wrong you were, that it had nothing to do with you and how wonderful you had always been to him. But Steve made him realize that even then, it wasn’t enough for him to stay with you and he ended up leaving you. Nonetheless, Steve told him to give you time, knowing how stubborn and proud you could be, it’d probably take weeks before you talked to him again.

Loki felt helpless, he couldn’t do anything but wait for you until you were ready to confront him and it pained him. Trying to distract himself, he began to take long walks and going out more, after all it was the freedom he had claimed he wanted when he broke up with you. He realized how miserable it was to do it all without you by his side to share the experiences, he truly missed you.

When he saw you that day at the library he panicked. He secretly hoped to see you there since that used to be a usual spot for dates when you were together, but he had no idea what to say when he saw you.

Clearing his throat he addressed you, feigning confidence.

“I believe you are a bit lost. Want me to escort you back to the kids section?” His teasing voice spoke with a bit of trembling at the end, but you were too shocked to notice.

He watched your eyes grow big once realization hit you. Loki would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart skip a beat at the sight of you. Mouth open with raised brows and wide eyes. You were wearing one of his scarves and that made him smile. Perhaps he still had a chance with you.

He watched as you tried to speak but nothing came, he wanted to laugh but refrained from doing so. It’ll only push you away and he didn’t want that. You seemed to get a grip on yourself and finally smiled.

“Ha-ha, always the joker.”

The sound of your voice sent warmth all over his body. He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, relief washing over him as you actually talked to him and didn’t turn away from him. It took him a while to think of something to say, he raked his brain for something, anything that would make you stay.

“It is nice to see you, love. How have you been? I have not seen you in months.” He tried so hard to get something out of you that would tell him, somehow, that he wasn’t too late. The last thing he wanted was to let you go and loose you again.

You were fidgeting with your hands, a habit that made him know that you were nervous. “It’s nice to see you too, Loki. I’ve been good. How about you?”

He was surprised to hear your voice so composed, a big difference to what your body showed.

“I have been wonderfully good, thank you very much.” He realized his mistake when he saw your smile falter. Fool! He had ruined everything.

“Th-that’s good to hear.”

The faint break in your voice made his heart constrict in pain knowing he was hurting you again. He began to chastise himself for what he did, he really was screwing everything up and if you decided to walk away now he would understand.

“So… long time no see. What have you been up to?” Your voice got him out of his thoughts an he looked at you in surprise. He was so happy, you were still trying to talk to him!

Your sentence made him remember the hobbies the two of you used to share. You always recommended him films and he always ended up loving them. You had a good taste and nothing made him happier than to see you smile when he told you his thoughts about them.

Trying to not scare you away, he replied nonchalantly. “Well, you know the usual,” he winked at you feeling his hopes lifting up again. “I’m still accepting recommendations.” He smiled softly as he waited for you to understand the meaning of his words.

Loki saw your eyes open and gleam in excitement.

“A Star Is Born! Or Call Me By Your Name, or Harry Potter! You must watch those movies, it’s a command.”

You looked so desperate and serious about it that he laughed. He looked at you with amusement, secretly memorizing the titles so once he got home he could watch them. Perhaps he could even coax you to watch them with him?

“All right all right, I will watch them. I am trusting you here, love.” He smirked, loving how your cheeks reddened at the nickname.

He saw you open you mouth to reply but instead, another voice appeared.

“There you are babe! I’ve been looking for you.”

Turning to his side, he saw Thor, his brother but he thought he heard wrong. Did he just babe’d him?

Loki looked at Thor with confusion in his eyes, silently begging for an answer. Thor nodded at you and that was when Loki realized what he did. You looked as if you were watching a ghost, your hands were fidgeting again and you had paled considerably. Thor had used an illusion to look like a random woman, well… more like a girlfriend by the way he addressed him.

The past two months Loki had been teaching Thor how to cast spells and illusions, the later claiming that he wanted to improve his battling skills by incorporating his seidr. He was a fast learner, achieving to cast illusions on himself as disguise.

Loki felt torn, he knew this was wrong but he wanted to see how would you react. Would you get jealous? Would you finally explode and yell at him? His selfishness got the best of him and he decided to continue the act.

“Sorry darling, I ran into an old friend. Y/N, this is Bella, my girlfriend. Bella, this is Y/N.” He came up with the name as he saw it displayed on a book behind you.

He waited expectantly for your reaction and when nothing happened he knew he had fucked it up, again. Your face was expressionless, he saw you looking at their entwined hands and blink. When did Thor grab his hand?

He opened his mouth to explain that this was a mistake when you finally spoke.

“Hello.”

Watching you wave your hand at Thor/Bella made him frown. You looked defeated and he could see the tears in your eyes and your deep breaths. Before he could react you turned your back on him and placed the book you were holding back to its place. Loki watched you and waited for you to turn around to explain but the smile on your face stopped him.

“It was nice to see you again, Loki. But I must go.”

He began to panic. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. “What about the book? Are you not taking it?” He motioned for the book trying to buy time. He didn’t want you to go.

“You know I was never good with poetry. Why even bother?” The smile on your face made him remember those times when he read poems to you and you’d listen to him, even if you did not understand a single word he was saying. Loki loved to tease you about it.

“I can’t argue with you about that. You were really bad at it.”

He tried to lift up the mood with a joke that thankfully put a smile on your face. He saw you get lost in your thoughts again, daydreaming about the past. Loki saw how you smiled fondly at the memory and looked at him, and he knew. He knew you were remembering those times when he would tease and mock you, trying to get you mad so he could kiss the little pout out of you afterwards. There was nothing he loved most but nestling his face on you neck, smelling your scent that always managed to make him feel at home.

A cough interrupted your staring and brought you back to reality. Bella, was looking at you with a raised eyebrow. Loki noticed and tried to stop Thor. That oaf was going to scare you away again and he couldn’t let it happen.

Loki saw you grab the book, and how you started to make your way to the door. He felt helpless. Not knowing what to say or do to keep you there. You turned around to look at him and he observed you carefully, as if engraving your face to his mind.

“I guess I’ll give it one last try. See you around.”

He had lost. Your face said it all, you were giving up and he understood.

With a nod he addressed you one last time. “See you around, love.”

You turned around to smile at him and he refrained himself from yelling at you to stay. This wasn’t the time but he knew he would see you again. He would fight for you and win you back because he couldn’t bare to live a life without you in it.

I love you.

And so you left.

Part 3

Unspoken Words Taglist: @llittle-bird @vanessaaaasdfghjkl @orighami @jessiejunebug @sanityisoverrated221b @encounterthepast

Loki Taglist: @slytherins-assemble-tofightsith @memmucci @servamp-addict @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @theworld-is-ahead @crescent-night @godhateskyleigh

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honeybammie · 6 years ago

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2:36am › choi youngjae

↳ in which youngjae repeatedly seeks help from his new neighbor at the most inconvenient times ↳ fluff ↳ sentence prompt: “stop waking me up in the middle of the night.”

Two weeks. He had lived across the hall for two weeks and had already come knocking at my door four times at some unreasonable hour or another, long after I had gone to sleep. Apparently I was the only neighbor who had given him a proper welcome upon his move to our apartment complex, and for whatever reason, he considered this good enough cause to wake me in the middle of the night on a regular basis. Not that I usually had classes at eight in the morning or needed my allotted eight hours of rest.

The first time, I brushed his request for a couple eggs under the rug. Sure. Everyone has made a 2am omelet at some point in their college career. A few nights later, he asked for my salt shaker, which had been placed on my WELCOME mat by the time I left for school. The third occasion consisted of two more eggs, after which he promised he would buy his own dozen, but that didn’t stop him from asking for cocoa powder the very next evening. Or morning. I wasn’t sure which it counted as.

I went to bed around midnight, as per usual, but the familiar knocking returned in the midst of my dreaming. Tap, tap. Pause. Tap. Pause. Taptaptap. He waited a minute, then repeated the pattern. I considered ignoring him, but I imagined his pouting face the next time he’d see me, asking if he had been a bother. It was a Friday night anyway, so I could catch up on sleep later.

“Youngjae,” I sighed upon opening my door to his grinning face. “Stop waking me up in the middle of the night.”

“But it’s important!” he exclaimed. “I need one more stick of butter.”

“It is…” I turned to check the clock. “2:36am! If this was in the afternoon, it’d be fine, but if you’re going to keep this up, I need an explanation. Midnight munchies are one thing, but this is an entirely different ball park.”

“Sometimes I get inspired,” he said, “and I can’t help that it’s at two in the morning. I just moved in, so my fridge isn’t very well stocked, and you’re the only neighbor I know well enough to ask for ingredients.”

“Know well enough?” I asked. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“It’s Choi,” he said. I stared at him for a couple moments longer, speechless. “So can I have a stick of butter?”

“Not until you explain yourself. What do you even mean by ‘get inspired?’ Inspired to make food?”

“Inspired to make cake,” he corrected me. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, or I watch too many baking videos before bed, and then…you know. Cake. I’m just always missing something.”

“This is the fifth time since you moved in. You’re telling me you eat that much cake?”

“When did I say that?” his eyebrows creased together, and I swore if he wasn’t so painstakingly adorable I might strangle him and shove all his vague answers down his throat. “I’ll either take it in to class or take it to my brother or my grandma’s nursing home.”

“That’s so cute I’m almost not mad at you,” I said. “Stay there.”

I walked away while he rocked back and forth on his toes at the threshold, returning seconds later with a stick of butter in hand. “Here,” I said. “Take it and get out.”

He laughed, grabbing my entire hand rather than just the butter. “Do you wanna help?”

“I beg your pardon?” I leaned an ear towards him to make sure I heard him right.

“Come on,” he said, shaking my arm in excitement. “It’ll be fun. What do you have to do that’s more important than helping your favorite neighbor bake a cake?”

“Literally anything,” I answered. “Particularly sleeping. You should try it sometime.”

“You’re missing out on a once in a lifetime opportunity,” he warned, taking the butter and walking an entire five feet across the hall. When he opened his door, I was still standing there, and he glanced over his shoulder at me with a grin. “Last chance.”

“Fine, since you’ve taken all the food from my cabinets and fridge, I might as well see the cause I’m donating to.” I pretended to begrudge, rolling my eyes as I joined him in his apartment, still mostly bare, with the exception of essentials—his couch, TV, coffee table, video game console. I assumed the boxes on the floor contained all the odds-and-ends, and I wondered what kind of souvenirs or photographs they contained.

“This way to the kitchen,” he interrupted me from daydreaming. Already, he had set out all the necessary tools and ingredients. “We’re making chocolate. It’s my cousin’s favorite, and her birthday is soon. My cake is her favorite—for obvious reasons.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Where do I begin, chef?”

“I’ll mix all the dry ingredients. You—” he handed me an index card with detailed steps written in smudged handwriting. “Wet ingredients.”

I read over my list and eyed the foods in front of me. “You didn’t even get out the milk,” I said. “Which I hope you have, because I’m actually out of that.”

“In the fridge,” he said, already busy measuring out the flour. I opened the left door, glancing the shelves up and down. “Other side,” Youngjae interjected after a moment. “Next to the—wait! No, no, no, n—” he set down his measuring cups and waylaid me, pushing the right door shut as I stepped back to stare at him.

“What? What?” I asked, his panicked eyes unnerving. “I only wanted some milk. What do you have in there? A human head?”

He thought for a moment, still pressing himself against the fridge. “Uh…yeah. I’d rather go with that, honestly. I can get the milk.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said, shooing him out of the way. He didn’t budge at first, but with some more prompting moved, retreating to the corner of the kitchen to hide his face in his hands.

“What were you saying before? It’s next to the—” I stopped when my eyes fell on the gallon of milk, directly next to a package of butter. I opened the box, counting four remaining sticks inside, and turned to him. “You had butter?”

“Huh. Would you look at that?” He scratched his chin, the tips of his ears redder than cherries. “Guess I didn’t look hard enough.”

“But you knew where it was.”

He opened his mouth, but instead of making up an excuse, nodded.

“Do you care to explain, then, why you woke me up in the middle of the night for the fifth time claiming you were out of butter?” I stood with my hands on my hips, feeling somewhat like a mother scolding her child.

“I never said I was out of butter. I said I needed one more stick,” he countered.

“What about all the other times? Have you just been…mooching off my stuff so you’d have more of your own for later?”

“No, no, no, not at all!” He shook his head. “The first time I needed eggs wasn’t a lie. I was actually out of eggs, but all the other times I said I needed something, I may have already had it.”

“Why?” I asked, on the verge of a headache.

He shuffled his feet, watching his socks instead of daring to look at me. “Just…because. Thought it might be…fun, or something.”

“Fun to wake me up repeatedly? To take my food?” I asked. “Youngjae, I’m too tired for this. I should just go back over.”

“Okay, okay, I lied. Wait a second, please.” He reached for my hand, and I didn’t pull away. “You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Why would I make fun of you?”

“Just promise. Please. For my sake,” he said. “I’d rather you not say anything and just walk out than make fun of me.”

“Alright, I promise. Out with it.”

He took a deep breath, gathering as much composure as possible before looking at me. “Okay. So. Ever since you first came over to tell me hello the day I moved in, I’ve thought you are the prettiest person I have ever seen. I spent the first couple days trying to think of any excuse to talk to you, or hoped I’d coincidentally run into you on the elevator.

Then I got started on a cake one night but didn’t have any eggs, and I thought why not ask you? I ran out to the market in the morning and got all the groceries I needed for the future, and I had no plan to make it a regular thing, but then it seemed like the easiest way to talk to you. And you’ve been so nice about it! But…I…I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll reimburse you for all the things I took, and I’ll never bother you in the middle of the night again.”

I tried not to smile. Like, really tried, but my lips kept betraying me and breaking out into fractioned parts of a grin. “You have a crush on me?”

He whined, completely tortured by the situation he’d gotten himself into. “Could I have spelled it out any more clearly? Of course I do. I think you’re great, even if you didn’t know my last name until a few min—you promised you wouldn’t make fun of me!”

“I’m smiling, Youngjae. I’m not making fun of you,” I said. “Do you know why I’ve been so nice every time you’ve shown up, no matter what time it was or what time I had to get up in the morning?”

“Well, because you’re a nice person, I assumed.”

“No one is automatically nice when they’ve just been woken up,” I stated. “If it’d been anyone else, I’d kick them out in a heartbeat, but I always thought you were the most adorable guy, and I had no idea what you were up to, but you seemed so excited about it that I didn’t question you.” I paused. “Was this your way of asking for a date without really having to?”

“Not…entirely. It gets lonely baking cakes by yourself every other night, and company is always appreciated. We could, uh, call it that if you wanted to, though.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think I’ll have to make you ask me out on a real date. After you give me your number.”

“Does that mean I’m still allowed to wake you up in the middle of the night?” he asked, hopeful.

“On reasonable occasions, like weekends. Or Wednesday nights, since I’m not at school until noon on Thursdays. And you’re not allowed to ask for ingredients anymore, unless you’re actually out.”

“Deal,” he said, shaking my hand. Both of our faces showed hints of pink, but I didn’t mind. “Think we should finish what we started?”

“I believe we should,” I said, and the two of us worked in tandem over the next fifteen minutes, sitting on the counter during the half-hour the cake was in the oven and trading memories and jokes and flirtatious one-liners.

“Your cousin is gonna love it,” I declared after he covered the top in frosting. “But now that it’s done, I should head back to bed.”

“Thank you. For the help, and the, uh…” he trailed off.

“You’re welcome,” I said, laughing and leaning in for a hug. His body was warn, and we stayed there for several moments before breaking apart in slow motion. “Goodnight, Youngjae.”

“Goodnight. Sleep tight,” he called after me.

I woke up in the morning to a text that I would find a surprise outside my door, and sure enough sat a cake on my welcome mat, topped with a sticky-note.

For waking you up in the middle of the night five times. (And counting.)

a/n: i wrote this a while ago & i’m posting it while i work on some ~other~ ideas. also don’t tell me youngjae wouldn’t do this bc he absolutely would

#got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 drabbles #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop drabbles #choi youngjae #got7 youngjae #got7 fluff #kpop fluff #youngjae fluff #got7 choi youngjae

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kindasortaameyzing · 7 years ago

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happy holidays @kaisder!!

@kaisder MERRY CRISMIN BINCH ITS ME!!! YOUR SECRET SANTA!!!! BET YOU NEVER SAW IT COMING HAHAHAH!!!!!

Anyways here’s the soulmate fic you only kind of asked for, whoops, it’s a little bit self-indulgent on my part and very badly written and much longer than I meant for it to be but oh well. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!

EDIT: this fic is inspired by this post with @nicolewrites

Most kids didn’t really scribble or draw on their own bodies. They mostly settled for walls or desks as canvasses, preferring the crayons that wouldn’t leave a mark on skin. Middle and high school was mostly the same - the occasional harried note on the wrist, a little doodle on the elbow - but everyone liked to use planners instead, trying to be more responsible than they actually had to be.

College, however, being such a total shitfest, was chock-full of people who barely had the energy to even write down half the assignments they had. As a result, everyone practically had shirtsleeves of ink.

Of course, the fact that your soulmate’s marks on their body showed up on yours could have been cute if it didn’t just confuse everyone all the time. Despite the marks fading after a couple hours, since most people’s soulmates were close to their age, it often meant double the schedules, double the notes, double the scribbles, and double the confusion.

That was the silver lining Iko always told Cinder, anyways, and the latter always just laughed. It was only when the perky best friend had left the room would Cinder look at her forearms, so blatantly full of nothing, not even her own scrawling handwriting. She’d valiantly attempted to communicate with her soulmate when she was younger, scribbling all over her arms, but the disappointment and the lack of faith had set in before long. She’d been so disappointed for so long she couldn’t even feel it anymore - it was more of a detached pity, looking at her tanned arms and the metal hand at the end of the left one, glinting at her.

Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t have a soulmate - she didn’t want to disappoint someone else, too.

Cinder nearly dropped her pliers on her foot when Iko barged into the mechanic shop.

“I’ve arrived!” Iko announced, in tandem with the bells chiming over the door. “And you won’t believe what Emilie wrote to me today!”

“Let me guess,” Cinder grunted, trying to twist in a final bolt, “It’s something so cutesy it’ll make me barf.”

“For your information, it was,” Iko scoffed, then leaned over the desk partitioning the workshop from the front, “And I know you’re a huge softie for cute stuff anyways, so nice try.”

Cinder laughed in concession.

“Cinder! Your poor soulmate is probably getting grease all over their arms!” Iko reprimanded, sliding over the desk and maneuvering through oily machinery strewn around her.

“I don’t think it works like that, Iko.” Cinder said, sighing. “Besides, we’ve been over this.”

Iko huffed and brushed away dirt on a stool before she sat on it, a vain effort to keep her pants clean that Cinder had given up on entirely. “Yes, we have. Just because your soulmate doesn’t write anything -”

“- Doesn’t mean they don’t exist, yeah, got it,” Cinder said detachedly. She almost felt numb saying it, having repeated it to herself for so long it didn’t have meaning anymore.

Iko opened her mouth to say something but got cut off by the ringing bell at the front.

“Hey, Cinder! I just met your soulmate on the street, he’s got no teeth and lives in his mom’s basement, a total catch -” came a loud voice from the front.

“Shut up, Thorne,” Cinder said, “I’ve already met him, and he spends his life mansplaining on tinder.” She swiveled on her chair, met with Thorne’s incessant grin.

“Oh, Cinder. You sure we’re not soulmates?” Thorne pouted, perched on the desk at the front. This had been a running gag ever since they’d met, when she’d fixed his car and he’d told her the worst pickup lines known to man.

“Let’s check, shall we?” Cinder grabbed a pen and drew a quick doodle on her forearm, pointing with the tip to Thorne’s blank one.

“A tragedy,” Thorne said, leaning back dramatically with his hand on his heart.

Iko tsked as she took Cinder’s arm and peered at the drawing. “Really, Cinder? Real mature.”

Cinder tilted her head. “If I actually do have a soulmate, I think they’ll appreciate it.”

“First year of college, Cinder, aren’t you excited?” Iko crooned, swinging her purse and twirling on the rain-drenched pathway to the entrance.

“Sure,” Cinder grunted, pulling her bags as well as her friend’s, “It would be if I didn’t have to work my ass off for every second I stay on campus.”

“Oh, pfft.” Iko said, waving the very thought off. “Everyone has to do that.”

They stilled as a black limousine pulled up to the curb, photographers materializing next to it. A chauffeur got out, opening the door to a figure blocked to Cinder’s view by the paparazzi.

Cinder nodded in the car’s direction. “Not that kid, I bet.”

A sudden weight landed on Cinder’s shoulders, making her wince and grounding her to a full stop. “Those douchebag trust-fund rich kids, am I right?” Thorne said, fingers tapping on Cinder’s collarbone. “Insufferable.”

“You’re a douchebag trust-fund rich kid, Thorne.”

“Well not anymore I’m not.” Thorne clenched his jaw. “Dad cut me off after I quit the ROTC.”

“Oh. I - I’m sorry, Thorne.”

Thorne shook his head. “Nah, don’t be. I have my ways.”

It was just then that the photographers cleared a hole and she managed to get her first glimpse at him.

Iko’s gasp was almost exactly what her heart felt like. “Oh, my god. I think - I think I’ve seen him somewhere. Quick, Cinder, do you remember that guy on that magazine -”

“I don’t,” Cinder said, forcing herself to rip away her gaze from him, “ and you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Thorne grunted. “Looks like I’ve got competition. He’s going to be a problem.”

Cinder sniffed, shouldering her bags. “Whatever. As long as he’s not mine.”

As it turned out, this kid very much was her problem.

He was in her political science class, sitting at the very front while she perched herself at the back and to the far right. Once class begun, she wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that she had a clear view to him and his stupidly captivating expressions whenever the professor talked about something he seemed to like.

She decided it was a curse when she left the class and realized that she hadn’t paid attention to a single thing the professor had said except that it was all critical information for a quiz next week.

But she couldn’t get rid of him. He showed up in her bioengineering class, clearly completely out of his element. Shooing away the chauffeur - or maybe a personal secretary, or something - he slipped into the seat next to hers, shooting her a quick smile before opening up a sleek, state-of-the-art laptop.

She resolutely ignored him, as well as the fluttering feeling in her stomach, until he tapped her on the shoulder at the end of class.

“Hi, uh. Could you - help me?” He said, eyes large and pleading.

“Well that’s quite an introduction.” Cinder mused, smiling slightly, stuffing her left hand into her pocket as discreetly as possible.

“Sorry. I’m - I’m Kai.” He stuck out a hand, his smile blinding despite the guilty look on his face.

“Cinder.” She waited as he stared at her for a moment, stuffing her hand in deeper out of reflex. “Sorry, um, what did you need help with?”

“What? Oh,” Kai shook his head out of his reverie and chuckled, “Well, to be frank, I didn’t understand a single thing of what went on in that class. And you seemed to know a lot, so -”

“You’d like me to tutor you.”

“Well,” Kai said, rubbing his neck, “Um, yes.”

Cinder tilted her head, scrutinizing him. “Okay. Sure”

He perked up immediately, his eyes lighting up. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, um, what should I pay you? Sorry, I’ve never really -”

Cinder thought about it for a moment. She’d never done this before either, but it could be a way out of long, sleepless nights at the workshop and odd jobs done just to scrounge up some money.

Then she felt like she was some sort of charity case and decided against it.

“Actually,” she said, “I have a proposition to make. I tutor you in bioengineering - and you tutor me in political science.”

He processed this for a moment. “Sure.”

As Cinder walked away a few minutes later, his number burning in the contacts on her phone, she couldn’t help but feel happier than a normal person would after agreeing to give up 9 hours a week at the library.

“So, essentially, the wire has to be calibrated to the frequency of the electricity going through your neurotransmitter.” Cinder pointed at the textbook that Kai was squinting at.

“Oh - oh, I get it. Alright.” He leaned back, satisfied in his eureka moment.

Cinder’s watch beeped. “Well - my one and a half hours are up. Time for politics.”

Kai grinned, rubbing his hands together in mock anticipation as Cinder brought out the textbook from her bag. They were only a few pages into the chapter when Cinder stopped paying attention to the words and started paying more attention to the look in his eyes as he explained it to her.

She was so lost in her daydream that her elbow knocked a lamp over, and she shot out a hand to catch it reflexively.

She didn’t realize that she had used her left hand until Kai was staring straight at it.

She cursed, retracting her hand, but Kai caught it. “I didn’t know you had a metal hand.”

Cinder sighed. If he was going to run away revolted, she might as well give him the whole reason. “Half of my left leg is, too.”

Kai furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s -”

Closing her eyes and biting her tongue, she closed the textbook and shoved it into her bag. “Disgusting, yeah, I know. I don’t need the reminder.”

“No, I - where are you going?” Kai looked up as she stood, hefting her bag on her shoulder.

“Well, I figured you didn’t really want to work with a - well, a -”

“A really cool girl with a really cool hand.” Kai raised an eyebrow, smirking. “The only reason I’d be mad at you is because you’re practically cheating at bioengineering.”

“I’m not cheating!”

“You’ve got half of the concepts attached to your arm!”

Cinder smiled, the tension releasing from her shoulders. She found herself happier than ever to open the textbook and start studying, ignoring the fact that it was maybe because her chair had shifted closer to his.

Cinder woke up to rain hitting her window so forcefully the frame nearly shook. Checking her phone on reflex, she didn’t even fully comprehend the time that was glaring back at her until a few seconds later.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Cinder said, hastily removing the covers and getting up before taking another look at the darkness outside her window.

“Screw it,” she said, opening her messages instead. She’d only just sent the apologetic text to Kai, saying she couldn’t make it to the library, when someone knocked on her door.

Half expecting it to be Kai, she whipped the door open to find Iko, bouncing on the tip of her toes.

Before Cinder could even open her mouth, Iko started. “You know that guy you’ve been tutoring? Kai? Well, it turns out his dad is a super famous lawyer and politician - like, extremely influential - and Kai’s super famous too and -”

“And he’s coming over in a couple minutes,” Cinder murmured, reading his most recent text on her screen.

“He’s - what?” Iko screeched, “And you look like that?”

“I think I look fine.” Cinder quickly looked up and down at her sweatpants, ratty bun, and oversized t-shirt. “Nevermind.”

“Quick, change before he -” Iko was cut off by knocking on the door.

Cinder almost winced as she opened the door and Kai gave her a small wave. “Sorry this was so last minute, but my dorm is just next door, so...yeah.” He shrugged, smiling.

“No, it’s not a problem. Sorry that I’m, ah, such a mess.”

“No, you look - um -” he looked her up and down, an inexplicable red rising in his cheeks, “you look great.”

Cinder scoffed. “Yeah, alright.” Feeling Iko creep up behind her, she moved aside. “This is Iko, my friend.”

“Nice to meet you, Iko,” Kai said, offering a hand.

“And you,” she said, taking it and shooting a quick thumbs-up at Cinder behind her back.

As Kai stepped into the room, Iko slinked out.

“Iko? Where are you -”

“Oh no, I’d rather not be in there when you two start doing some, ah, not-so-PG stuff.”

Cinder felt her face heat up. “Iko!” She yelled down the hallway.

Iko just winked in response.

Cinder walked into the library to find Kai wearing a large, slightly oversized hoodie over a mustard-yellow sweater and nearly choked on her coffee.

“You look like a hobo.” She giggled, the laugh burbling up her throat until she nearly started tearing up.

“Well, I’m cold!” Kai said defensively, the whine in his voice just making her laugh harder.

“Alright, alright.” Cinder said, not able to keep a smile off of her face as she sat down and opened the textbook, smoothing out the page. As Kai stared at the page, she murmured “It looks cute, anyways,” under her breath and prayed that he didn’t hear - but the pink blooming at the tip his ears made her think he did.

---

“I’m sorry, I - I don’t get it,” Kai grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Cinder bit her lip. “Okay - let’s try this.” She rolled up her sleeve and placed her forearm in the table, only slightly recoiling upon realizing it was her left arm. Surprisingly enough, she found she didn’t care enough to retract it completely.

Grabbing a couple pens, she began to draw on her forearm. “Look,” she said, drawing a blue line from her elbow to her wrist, “This would be ulnar nerve, connecting to the upper wire. And this,” she said, using a red pen this time, “would be the median nerve, connecting to the lower wire - that one, right there.” Biting her lip, she continued drawing nerves and wires, concentrating on her arm, until she realized Kai was looking at her, not her arm.

She turned him, making him jump. “Kai?”

“Sorry!” He said, ruffling his hair. “Sorry. I was just wondering - do you have a soulmate?”

Cinder’s outstretched hand clenched into a fist. “Well, I - it’s complicated.”

“Oh. Sorry for asking, I didn’t mean to -”

“No, actually, I - I don’t mind saying it.” Cinder needed someone new to say it to, and Kai didn’t seem like a bad audience.

“I’ve always tried talking to my soulmate, you know, doodling on my arm and all that. But they never replied, so I just stopped. Either I don’t have one, or - or they don’t want me.” Cinder looked down at the grain of the wooden desk, following the pattern.

“I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want you.”

Cinder’s head shot up, looking at Kai wide-eyed, before his face turned a light red and he put his head down on the desk.

“Sorry, I -”

“No, it’s -” Cinder bit her lip, fiddling with her sleeve. “It’s okay. Do - do you have a soulmate?”

He waited a moment before shifting his head to face her. “Yeah.”

Cinder felt her heart sink and gulped, shifting in her seat.

“I do, but I honestly haven’t heard from her in a while. Only the occasional scribble or doodle, and it’s not even meant for me, it’s just reminders for her. I don’t think - I don’t think she’s entirely fond of me.”

He licked his lips and continued. “But the worst part is I can’t even write back to her. Ever since I was a kid, actually, because being the kid of a politician - and a future politician myself - I don’t really have the space for romance. Any marriage, any relationship, could be better used as a tactic. So I just - I don’t write back because people are more likely to make these kinds of deals if they know I’m not attached. And I don’t write back because then I will be attached.”

He let it sink in for a moment in the heavy, quiet air.

“Well that’s bullshit.”

Kai laughed at Cinder’s resolute statement. “Oh, it is. Absolute bullshit. But that’s politics.”

“You should write back to her. Just - anything. You could even explain everything.”

“Yeah, that’s - that’s not a bad idea. Thanks, Cinder.”

Cinder smiled, trying to hide the lump in her throat. “No problem.”

For a couple days after, she checked every inch of her skin for a message, a stray ink mark, anything, but the only response she got was her heart sinking further.

“Alright, so then this -”

“Relays the information to the secondary joints, yes.” Kai finished, nodding.

Cinder looked at him, examining him. “Why am I even tutoring you anymore? You’ve got all of this.”

Kai nudged her shoulder with his. “Sure, but I may not in the future. You never know.”

Cinder nudged him back, stifling a smile.

In the past couple of weeks, they’d gotten closer and closer. Kai, in particular, seemed a lot more - physical, sitting closer to her or placing the occasional hand on her back as he opened the door for her. Maybe she was just imagining it all, but even if she was, she certainly didn’t mind.

But in the middle of the tingles that ran up her arm every time they accidentally brushed hands came that sudden, sinking feeling that he wasn’t her soulmate, that his messages were appearing on someone else’s skin, not hers.

She decided she’d enjoy it while it lasted, because it wouldn’t last long, not after his soulmate started replying.

She cleared her throat, anxious to change the subject. “Why are you taking bioengineering anyway? It has nothing to do with being a politician.”

He shrugged. “Well, no, but this region has a lot of engineering and science-related facilities. If I’m to govern properly, I should probably know a little about it, right?”

Cinder was impressed up until the moment when he leaned closer and said “That, and I picked a random science course to fill up the requirements.”

She laughed, only noticing him looking at her after a full 10 seconds.

“What?”

“Oh! Nothing. Sorry.” Kai shuffled in his seat. “I just like your laugh.”

Cinder felt her face heat up again, brushing one stray hair out of several behind her ear. “Th-Thanks.”

After a few moments, Cinder found herself speaking without meaning to. “I’m not actually studying bioengineering for a major, just engineering. Specifically focusing on aeronautics and mechanics.”

“Like - rockets?” Kai said.

“Yeah. I want to work at NASA and all. I know it sounds stupid,” Cinder said, rubbing her shoulders, “my stepmother told me it was an idiotic pipe dream. At least, she said it until the scholarship came through.”

Kai frowned and rubbed her back. “It isn’t stupid. Or a pipe dream. I think it’s fantastic, and frankly, I don’t think there’s anyone else more qualified.”

Cinder smirked. “I literally haven’t even seen a rocket yet, Kai.”

“You will be, one day.” He smiled, and even that smile was enough to light her heart up.

She didn’t even notice his hand was still on her back until it dropped.

Cinder was walking through the grounds, umbrella clutched in her hand for the perpetually rainy weather, when a hand landed on her shoulder.

She gasped, ready to scream and throw fists, until she realized it was just Kai, face shadowed by his hoodie.

“I need your help.” He was gasping for air, looking like he had run all the way from his dorm.

She chuckled. “You know that’s the first thing you said to me, right?”

He smiled. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Cinder turned, facing him. “Anyway - what did you want?”

He took his hood off and she held up her umbrella wordlessly to cover his head. “Well, I was watching Mulan -”

“Mulan?”

“Yeah, and you know that part when the emperor is like ‘ she’s a blooming flower’ or whatever the hell it is -”

“That’s - that’s not the line at all -”

“I don’t know what it is, okay, I’m just rambling, I’m -” he sighed, dragging a hand through his slowly dampening hair. “Okay, let me get to the point. I just - I just realized I couldn’t let my soulmate get away, you know?”

Cinder felt her heart harden. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Yeah. So -” he looked at her, pleading through dripping bangs, “What - what do you think?”

“Think about what? I agree, you should ask her,” Cinder managed to get through clenched teeth before attempting to stalk away, but Kai caught her by the hand.

“Well I - I asked. She just hasn’t answered,” Kai insisted, but it just made Cinder’s heart turn into stone.

“That’s great. That’s just fantastic, Kai. Just wait a bit, I’m sure she’ll respond,” Cinder said as sardonically as possible, spitting the words out.

“No, Cinder,” Kai said, “You’re the one who was to respond.”

She stilled, her grasp loosening around the umbrella. “Wh - what?”

“You have to respond,” he said, holding up his hand to see a hasty question scrawled on his left hand, “Because you’re the one I asked.”

Cinder blinked, struggling to understand. “But you asked your soulmate. I’m not your soulmate.”

“Yes, you are. Look, just - look at your left hand.”

She held up her left hand, the metal harsh and dull and plating her heart.

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, drenched in rain, before Kai started laughing.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I’m an idiot. A complete idiot.” He chuckled, covering his face with his hands.

Cinder just put her hand down and clenched her jacket instead, ignoring the biting disappointment she thought she was immune to.

“Cinder, you didn’t get any of my messages because I’ve been writing them on my left hand, and yours - it’s metal hand. It’s not biologically yours.”

And finally, finally, as the rain slowed to a stop, it dawned on her.

“Oh. So you mean - oh.”

“Remember that time you drew nerves on your arm? Well it -”

“Came on yours too.”

“Yeah.”

“Why - why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I just - didn’t have the guts.”

Cinder sniffed, not letting herself believe it until she could see it. “Prove it, then.”

Kai frowned. “What?”

“Prove it. Prove that we’re soulmates, right now.”

Kai fished a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on his hand before realizing his mistake and writing on his forearm. As he did, Cinder felt a faint tickling sensation on her own forearm. She pushed back the sleeve, almost scared of what she’d see, but was met with a black ink slowly appearing on the tanned skin.

When he was finished, she laughed.

“You drew that months ago, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Incredibly mature of you.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it.”

He laughed. “I did.”

The clouds broke as she looked up at him, taking him in like she’d never seen him before.

He sensed her hesitation and held out a hand. “Hi. I’m Kai. I’m your soulmate.”

She took it. “Hi. I’m Cinder, and I’m yours.”

A/N: She drew a dick on her arm, if you couldn’t tell.

#kaider #tlc fanfics #kaider fanfics #the lunar chronicles #tlc fanfiction #the lunar chronicles fanfiction #linh cinder #kai #soulmate au #kaixcinder #kai x cinder #binch

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seriouslyhooked · 7 years ago

Text

Some Call It Magic (A CS AU) Part 17/17

When Killian Jones moves to Storybrooke he instantly senses something strange about this little town in Maine but he’s willing to overlook all the bizarre signs for one reason: the single Mum living next door to him. There’s only one problem. Killian is nearly positive she’s a witch, a brewing potions and casting spells witch. But when true love is involved, does a little thing like magical powers really matter? Story rated M.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16. Also On FF Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So I am back with the last official chapter of Some Call It Magic (though I do have an eventual epilogue crafted in my head already, so not to worry, the fluff is not completely over it will just take some time to get here). It picks up a few months after the last chapter and includes some of my favorite elements of CS happy endings that I have written many times before. I am sure some of you have guesses of what those might be, but nevertheless I hope that you all enjoy and thank you so much for reading!

Since landing here in Storybrooke all those years ago, Emma had grown accustomed to the seasons. The summers were warm but breezy, though a serious heat wave or two did show up once or twice. The autumn, her favorite time of year, was pure magic, but often over too soon thanks to their northern region’s propensity for the cold. And the winters… well they usually seemed to drag on forever. There were no mild March days, heck, there were usually still snow storms in April, but the long slog of winter had come and gone just as quickly as all the other seasons of late, and suddenly spring was here with the flowers and the sunlight and the renewed hope that life and vibrancy and joy were back within the natural world once more.

Of course Emma hadn’t lost any of that sense of warmth during her winter months, instead finding a comfort and a solace that she cherished more and more with every passing day. Things were good – no, things were fantastic – and they were only on their way to getting better. In a little over a month the day she and Killian had been waiting for what felt like forever for would be here. Their wedding was drawing closer and closer, and on the summer solstice (chosen specifically because Henry insisted it would bring good luck) Emma would be walking down an aisle dressed in white and saying ‘I do’ to the only man the world over who could ever entice her into such a life. She was ready for it too, more ready than she’d ever been for anything, and it was hard to find the patience for that next step, though the happiness that she and her kid and Killian had already found was the surest cure to her wishing for more. Things were damn near perfect in the Jones/Swan household and Emma truly appreciated just how lucky she was to have any of this at all.

“If you keep daydreaming like that I’m making you put a dollar in the jar.”

Ruby’s teasing voice cut in from across the kitchen and Emma grinned as she looked up from the cookie dough she’d been absentmindedly tossing together, not bothering to argue that she had been distracted. It was just so easy for her mind to wander towards how good things were, and if that meant Emma had to fork up a few extra bucks a day and put them in a jar that Ruby had designed so that they could raise the funds for them and all their friends to go on a trip next year, then so be it. As far as Emma could tell it was a win-win: she got to linger in the happiness that was her life and invest in a vacation for all their friends that had been years in the making.

“Didn’t I hear you on the phone earlier?” Emma asked with a knowing smirk. “You know technically the rules include stolen conversations with your husband as being jar worthy too.”

“Fair enough. We’ll call this one a draw,” Ruby acquiesced and Emma only laughed, glad for the humor of it all and the genuinely joyous fact that Emma wasn’t the only one with a happily ever after to keep her occupied. All of her friends had found loves to hold and keep forever and that was a special thing indeed. “That being said your time is up, Ems, and Mary Margaret is adamant that we get our asses out there. Also apparently if we fail to bring chocolate cake there will be hell to pay.”

“What else is new?” Emma joked as she grabbed the treat for their weekly lunch and followed Ruby out into the café. Little did she know that this gathering was about to reveal quite a few new things all at once.

“Wait, so Will is moving here? Just like that?” Ruby asked, playing up her shock when Emma knew she was anything but. Everyone had seen how swiftly the connection had formed between Killian’s friend and Belle over the Christmas holiday and in the months following. It was just a matter of time before one of them relocated, and since Belle had always loved this town and her friends and family here, Emma had never imagined that she would be the one to leave.

“Yeah, just like that,” Belle said with a cheerful smile. “Can you believe it?”

The friends all agreed that they could and offered their congratulations to Belle. Emma was actually even more excited if it was possible, not just because Belle had found her special someone, but because this meant that the last piece of Killian’s old life that he really valued would be coming back into place. Having Will in Storybrooke would no doubt be a comfort to him, and now that she thought about it, Emma doubted there was any way Killian hadn’t already known his friend’s intention. She made a mental note to ask him about that later, but then Elsa had some news of her own to share which distracted Emma from the personal musings.

“I’m going to ask Liam to marry me,” Elsa blurted out before anyone else could fill the silence, and at the proclamation and all the friends’ jaw’s dropped. They were each of them stunned into silence, a rare state for most of them, and it was obvious to Elsa that she’d truly surprised them all with her intentions. “What? I love him guys, you know that.”

“We do, Elsa, and he loves you too,” Emma said, finding her words first and trying to soothe the anxiety that their collective shock had sparked for Elsa. “We’re just surprised. Are you sure you want to be the one to ask? If Liam is anything like his brother – which we both know he is – then he’ll have it all planned. It’ll be perfect.” The other friends nodded their agreement but Elsa just sighed.

“I know, I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to wait anymore. All this talk of Emma’s wedding has just made it more and more clear to me that I want that too. So why wait? Anything could happen, so why waste time when we know it’s right?”

“You’re right, Elsa,” Belle agreed, taking her hand in a supportive gesture. “If this is what your heart is telling you to do then you should do it.”

Everyone else agreed with the assessment but there was one noticeable silence in the group and it came from a source usually filled with commentary, especially when it came to Elsa’s love life: Anna was currently sitting there fidgeting in her chair and avoiding the eyes of everyone, but most noticeably Elsa, and if that wasn’t a dead give away that something was afoot Emma didn’t know what was.

“Anna?” Elsa asked and Anna let out a flustered sigh before the walls she’d had up came crashing down and her words came flooding out.

“Oh God I swore I wouldn’t say anything, because Liam wants things to be a surprise, but if you ask him then it will mess things up and you really don’t want to mess this up, Elsa. He told me his idea and it’s like the story Mom and Dad used to tell us about Dad’s proposal only somehow sweeter. Trust me, sis, just a little more patience. If you can wait – oh sheesh, well I guess I’m giving it all away anyway. He’s proposing tonight. There I said it.”

All of the reactions of the friends ranged at that point, with Mary Margaret falling victim to those happy tears she was famous for and Ruby laughing boisterously as she claimed that she ‘knew’ there as no way that Liam wouldn’t be the one to ask. Meanwhile Elsa looked like she was walking on air, her smile was so wide and then she was standing up, probably on her way to go look for Liam when Emma pulled her back down.

“Not so fast, girl. This isn’t the kind of thing you want to rush. Let me send Killian a text. He’ll know every detail I’m sure, and we can maybe tell him to get a move on without totally giving away that you’re in the know now.”

“Thank you Emma,” Elsa said gratefully as Emma smiled and sent the text, hoping Killian would give her good news to give Elsa.

“Wow, so this is kind of a big day? Anyone else got any other announcements. Now’s your time,” Anna joked and at the same time Mary Margaret and Ruby began speaking, then they laughed and both told the other they should go first. In the end it was Mary Margaret who shared her news first.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, looking happier than she’d ever been and all of the friends burst with their excitement. For over a year she and David had been trying, and there were a few times when Emma had thought perhaps the stars were aligning and Mary Margaret was getting her wish, but to hear that she was really getting it now meant so much to every friend there. For Ruby, however, there was a different kind of reaction as she gawked for a moment before sharing her own news, which was that she too was expecting. One baby was one thing, but two new additions on the way left all of the friends completely floored and then all freaking out at once.

“Holy crap, seriously?!” Belle asked as her hands clapped together. “That’s amazing!”

“It really is,” Elsa agreed with just as much happiness as she’d shown at her own incoming proposal. “But you guys being pregnant at the same time? I mean, what are the odds?”

“Well I’m thinking they were better than normal since I made it my New Year’s wish at the ceremony,” Ruby admitted, reminding them all of the protective spell they’d placed on the town and the people they loved as the new year rang in.

All of them had participated in the new year ritual as they always did, but their usual goal of protecting the town and its citizens then ended with each of them offering one silent wish of their own as well. Now, all these months later, it turned out some of those dreams were coming true. In fact, it turned out that Mary Margaret had made the same wish, Elsa had wished to marry Liam, Anna had wished to see her sister as happy in love as she was with Kristoff, and Belle had wished for a way forward with Will. The coincidence was too much, but then everyone looked to Emma expectantly wondering what she wished for.

“So, what was it Emma?” Ruby prodded and Emma shrugged.

“I just wished that we’d all be happy and healthy and safe. I feel like I already have so much, I didn’t really think to ask for anything more.”

As she said the words though, Emma remembered one small part of her wish that had seemed almost trivial at the time. In the little fantasy that had played out in her head, the one where she and Killian were together with Henry as a family, it hadn’t been her house that they were living in. It was the big yellow Victorian not too far from the center of town that had long been a favorite of hers. Maybe it was silly, but she’d always pictured that as the setting for a perfect kind of living. She’d never been able to justify trying to live there if it was just her and Henry, and the owners had never given any indication that they were looking to sell, but now that Killian was a part of this family too and there was a chance that someday their family might grow, Emma couldn’t help but picture it and want to know if maybe the magic of the new year had blessed her over too.

Standing suddenly, Emma offered an apologetic look to her friends and said she’d be back after she went to check on something, and as they looked after her Emma moved through the door of Stay a Spell and headed off towards the house in question. It wasn’t a long walk by any means, but Emma felt this charge of energy coursing through her and she didn’t know if it was hope or anticipation that was getting the best of her, but she knew in her heart she had to come here. Maybe if she spoke to the current owners and just mentioned that she’d be willing to buy if ever they were looking to sell it would ease this sudden want in her, but as she turned the corner and her eyes fell on the house, the initial calm that it inspired was crushed by the sight of a big and bold SOLD sign out front.

“I’m too late,” Emma whispered and her stomach sank as the hope she’d just been feeling faded away.

Standing in front of this place that had long been a cornerstone of her secret dreams for a future life, Emma couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that came. She shook it away as best she could, knowing that it would never matter where they were, as long as she and Henry and Killian were together that would be the perfect home. Still, if ever there were a place to spend forever, to share a life, to raise a family… well this was the fantasy, and it had been for Emma for years now. Giving that up, even if it had never really been hers to begin with, was harder than she expected. All she could hope at this point was that the new owners would treat this place with the love and care that it deserved. Emma hoped this house held the happiness she’d always pictured here, and then she accepted the fact that next time, if a dream like this presented itself, she’d have to strike faster or risk losing out once more.

As that idea of letting this home go began to settle, however, Emma watched the front door of the house open up and two people exited onto the expansive front porch. To say they were the last two people she would have ever expected was an understatement, and then a prickling feeling of almost-awareness moved through her. Killian and Henry weren’t here by coincidence. Something was up with those two, and where they’d teamed up in the past, Emma had only ever found the most beautiful, thoughtful, and glorious results.

“Oh shoot,” Henry said a second later as he descended the front steps of the house and made his way to Emma’s side, but even as he said it, her kid shook his head and smiled like he wasn’t really shocked to see her at all.

“Henry?” Killian asked, after having locked the door behind him, but when he turned and saw Emma, Emma knew in her heart what was coming. “Emma! What’s brought you out this way, love?”

“It’s kind of a long story. We were all at the café and then I just ended up here…”

“Should have known we’d never keep the secret long,” Killian said with a chuckle before coming down and taking Emma’s hand in his. “Henry and I had other plans on how to tell you, Swan, but it seems that plan must change.”

“I still don’t understand,” Emma said, even though she followed enough to realize that this house she’d always loved was about to be theirs.

“Operation Our Home is a go, Mom. Killian and I agreed we needed a new place for all of us to build our new memories together, and we figured the best way to get you on board was to pick a house you couldn’t say no to.”

Emma worked hard to keep the happy tears at bay, but her throat was tight with emotion at the lovely sentiment. And they were absolutely right. She would never say no to this place because it was one that she loved so much. She just couldn’t get over these constant grand gestures. Yet even as she thought that Emma knew they would be a constant. Loving a man like Killian who was thoughtful and kind meant that she’d always feel this way. He was a man with his heart set on one thing, making her and her son happy and building a life with them, and as such Emma knew she was in for years and years of similarly spectacular moments.

“So what do you think, my love?” Killian asked as he pulled Emma into his arms, kissing her temple softly. “Can you picture forever here with us?”

“Yes,” she whispered before looking from the house back to Killian and then down to Henry. “Forever with you two is all I could ever need.”

So with that affirmation from Emma, the three of them all headed back into the house to take a look at the new home that was now theirs. As expected, it was gorgeous and filled with possibility, and over the next few weeks the three of them all crafted a plan for the beautiful future that would be had here for now and always. They added their little touches and unique imprints to make their new home all that it could be, and the best part of all was that Emma knew this house was destined to change and grow in the years to come. For this would be a house for a lifetime, a home for a family, and a place where she’d know the peace love and magic that she’d always wanted her whole life long.

…………….

Holding his wife as the swayed upon the dance floor the night of their wedding, Killian could safely say that he’d never known a joy quite like this.

True, he’d been saying that since the very first moment that he had met his precious Swan, but today had been different even by their incredibly high standards. For today, the two of them had stood before their friends, their family, and practically all the town and vowed to love each other now and always. They’d promised each other a partnership and passion the likes of which so few people would ever experience, and Killian knew in his heart that there was more to this than luck. This was, as Henry liked to say, fated from the start. He was meant to find Emma and love her always, and now he would finally have his chance.

As the music played around them, Killian hummed the tune, much to the amusement of his wife, but the soundtrack of his evening wasn’t the funny irony of Frank Sinatra singing about love and witchcraft. It was a loop of the vows they’d exchanged just a few hours before. All he could see was Emma in that transcendent moment when she became his and he became irrevocably hers. Dressed in the ivory lace gown she still wore currently, her golden hair pinned back but with loose tendrils in the front, and her eyes filled with happy tears that made those jade pools he was constantly lost in shine even brighter, Emma was an angel made real. She had been a true vision in the moment they were wed and remained so all evening long, making Killian keenly aware that he was the single most fortunate man the world over.

“Killian, for so long I was scared to even dream of letting someone into this life I’ve made for Henry and me. My past had taught me that love like this wasn’t in the cards for me, and so I shied away for it for a long long time. But thankfully my heart knew better – heck my kid knew better – and because of that faith and a little bit of magic, here we are.”

Those words had caused a stir amongst their audience, who had hardly been contained as the ceremony went on. Not that Killian was surprised. Between the noisy but thrilled tears of half of Emma’s friends and the commentary streams from Ruby, Henry, Liam, and the others it hadn’t been the solemn, sanctified wedding of tradition. But it had been perfect all the same, and Emma had let out a giggle at their antics that Killian still felt deep in his soul as she continued.

“Since meeting you, I’ve felt a change within me and I’ve sensed a shift in this life I always swore to protect. I thought before I had more than any one person could ever need, but I was so wrong. You’ve shown me the light that love brings in, and that magic can be more than I ever thought possible. Together I know we will build a life truly worth living, a life filled with love and laughter and today I get the realest blessing of calling you my husband. I couldn’t be happier for that, because it means I get to walk this path and start this journey with you, the man I love, the man who makes my dreams come true. I’ll love you forever, Killian Jones. Forever and then a little more.”

In the face of her sweetest words and promise of love Killian had been choked up himself, but despite what tradition might dictate, he was unable to simply dive into his own prepared words. Instead he’d pulled his almost wife and better half close for a kiss that wasn’t supposed to take place just yet. The hoots and hollers of their friends reminded them of that, but as he’d broken away and told Emma that she was everything to him, he knew the woman who held his whole heart so gently in her hand didn’t care about tradition. The happiness in her eyes was testament enough that they were in this together and making their own way, no matter what others might think or feel.

“Emma, from the moment we met there has never been a single second where I wasn’t sure that you would change my world. In an instant you anchored a restless a soul that had been wandering too long. I was lost out in the world, but the greatest cruelty was I didn’t even see how much I was missing until I was led here, to the home I so desperately needed.”

“See! He gets it,” Henry had whispered to Liam loud enough for everyone to hear and another laugh was shared throughout the space.

“Aye, lad I do,” Killian responded, turning back and nodding at Henry before looking back again to Emma and proceeding on.

“At first I thought the town itself held something special, something different. But you were the change I needed, Swan. You were the love I’d never hoped to find and through all you are and all you’ve given me you have made it impossible not to love you. In truth, I can’t express just how deep that love goes, for words cannot contain all that I feel. Just know that with every passing moment my love for you grows, and every day I thank God for all we have because you were willing to take a chance, and because fate intervened and showed me the way to the only life I could ever want. What we have here is more than magic, Emma. It’s something meant to be, and I swear to you that I will cherish you and our family for this day and all my days forever more.”

With those sacred vows now out between them, Killian hadn’t feel any less charged with emotion, and that was only made more real and tangible when Emma too broke form and pulled him in for a kiss before their officient could give them both permission. It was perfect though, every single detail of it, and the party that followed with all the well wishers in their life was beautiful too. It was an evening under the stars, lit up by lanterns and twinkling lights in the same glen on the property of their new home where Killian had proposed at Christmas. Here now wildflowers blossomed, some from the summer season itself, but others magically crafted by Emma and her friends. Fireflies too flashed in the wooded area just beyond, and the subtle sound of waves upon the shore sounded from the beach not too far away.

This was, by every kind of measurement, a runaway success, a wedding to remember, but the only thing that gnawed at Killian was that in all of the festivities Emma and Killian hadn’t had the chance to really be alone. It had been more than twenty-four hours, in fact, since he and Emma had spent the night before their wedding apart, and though he was assuaged on some level by holding her in his arms as they swayed across the dance floor, his heart yearned for the chance to steal Emma away and show her just how much he loved her.

“How much trouble do you think we’ll get in if we make a run for it now?” Emma asked, her voice trickling into Killian’s thoughts and so closely resembling his own line of thinking that he had to grin as he pulled back to look into her eyes, his hand cupping her jaw as his thumb traced gently at the corner of her mouth.

“I’ve been assessing that very question for some time, my love.”

“And have you found any answers?” Emma asked, pulling him in closer by the dress shirt he was wearing so he was only a whisper away. “Because I’d really like to start my wedding night with my husband right about now.”

“Say no more, Swan,” Killian replied before surprising her and lifting her into his arms to carry across the dance floor and from the reception. The cheers that went out at the action were of a raucous if well-meant variety and after a brief check in with Henry, who was staying the night with Liam and Elsa, Killian brought his wife up the pathway from the meadow where they’d just held their reception and to the new home that they’d found together and crafted into a place perfect for them.

Tonight would be the first time that they’d spend in this house despite their owning it for about a month now. They could have moved in sooner, but Emma had made mention one night as they lay in bed together in her old house of how romantic it would be to have their wedding night be the first one spent in the place they’d be building their lives from here on out. Killian had decided in that moment that that was exactly what they’d do. He had no desire to deny his bride in any way, not when his surest form of pleasure was seeing Emma satisfied, but before he could take her upstairs and make love to her the whole night through, there was one last thing he needed from the woman he loved – and he felt his hands begin to shake after he’d carried Emma through the threshold and put her down in their home.

“There’s just one thing left, Emma, and I know it’s a little out of the ordinary in terms of a wedding present, but I was hoping I might ask for mine specifically.”

Emma looked a little puzzled at his words, and then looked surprised when he pulled out a file of papers from a drawer there in the living room, but upon reading what they said, tears filled her eyes and a small smile graced her lips before her hand flew up to cover them. She scanned the lines, trying to be sure of what she was reading, before looking back at Killian with so much love it almost hurt to see it and not sweep her upstairs right now.

“Today you’ve already given me the world, Emma. Becoming my wife, joining our families, it means everything to me, and I never want to pressure you or Henry, but just as my love for you sprang from our first encounter, so too did my love for your son.”

“Our son,” Emma said happily. “Killian this is – God it almost feels like too much, but it’s not, it’s perfect. I know Henry would love to have you as his Dad officially, and nothing would mean more to him than to be a Jones too.”

“You really think so?” Killian asked, hopeful that Henry would be amiable to the idea but never wanting to take the boy’s approval of him for granted.

“I know so,” Emma said with a firm sense of assurance that couldn’t be denied. Then she put the papers back on the side table next to them and pulled Killian in close once more. “And I also know that I can’t wait another second to be with you, Killian. So please don’t make me wait.”

“Never,” Killian promised before they made their way upstairs and to the master suite all laid out and arranged for this evening and the life they’d share here.

Part of Killian felt like the familiar dance of stripping off the layers between them moved too quickly even as it seemed to take an age to reveal his wife to his hungry gaze. With deft fingers Emma had removed all the garments that kept her from him, but when it came to be his turn Killian tried to take it slower. He wanted to commit every element of this to memory, from the way Emma’s wedding gown slipped off her a little more when each button was undone, to the reveal of the barest scraps of white lace underneath that left him even more crazed for her. Every second that past was another moment to hold close forever, but perhaps none struck his heart as surely as when Emma flashed him a knowing grin as her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She had never looked more poised and confident and sure of herself and of him, and that was all he’d ever wanted since meeting this remarkable woman all those months ago.

“Much as I love the way you’re looking at me, I can only take so much waiting tonight,” Emma said, moving back into the bed and bidding him to follow like a moth drawn to a flame. “I need to know that this is real. I need you to show me.”

“Nothing’s ever been more real than this, Emma, and I’ll spend the rest of our lives and then some proving that to you.

Killian punctuated each of those words with kisses against her skin, first at her lips then down her jaw, trailing a teasing path that didn’t exactly hurry, but built momentum towards what his wife ultimately needed. Emma thought hard and fast was the answer, but with a whole life ahead of them Killian had no intention of speeding up the clock. He’d savor every moment, taste every part of her, and sate every need his Swan could possibly conceive of, and then he’d do it again and again before the sun was up. That was his duty as her husband, and Killian would never back down from his honor and his right to lay the world at Emma’s feet.

With the aim of satisfying both of them in mind, Killian found the balance between sweet and torturous tension that would soon lead to release. He let his hands roam across the expanse of her soft skin, tracing underneath the flimsy bra that she still had on her and feeling her intake of breath. Moments like this were intoxicating, stronger than any high he’d ever felt. Some might say it was like being caught up in a spell that she had cast months ago, but Killian had never felt freer or more alive than when he had Emma in his arms like this. Feeling her writhe beneath him as he stripped her of the garment that stood between them and brought his mouth to her breasts, Killian held back the moan at the back of his throat that came from Emma’s earnest pleas. Hearing his name tumble past her lips over and over mixed with words of her love and her need were almost too much to bear, and when he knew he had her frenzy building higher and higher his hand trailed down, slipping past the lace between her thighs and sinking home to her waiting sex, finding Emma already at the very edge of climax.

“Killian.”

His name this time was barely more than a whimper, caught up in the feeling as she was and Killian looked up to find her eyes closed as she chased the feeling of bliss that would come when he let her fall apart. Perhaps a stronger man would have waited, would have prolonged that state for the sake of more payoff down the line, but Killian couldn’t. Instead he swirled his thumb against her clit with just the right amount of pressure to have her clinging to him as she broke apart in his arms, reveling in how freely Emma gave herself and how undeniable her trust was that he would never steer her wrong.

Seeing Emma in such a state only fueled the need within Killian further. He was aching for his own release, but unable to comprehend it just yet. If this was going to last and he was going to get his fill of his beautiful wife he needed to be patient and draw this out. He did this by slowing back down to a languid speed, kissing his way down Emma’s body and leaving the faintest of marks as he went, much to Emma’s pleasure. Sated as she’d seemed a few moments before, it didn’t take long for Killian to rile her back up again, and by the time he was positioned between her thighs ready to take her with his mouth her eyes had filled with that same glint of need and her skin flushed pink with heat and desire. Then he ripped off the last remaining piece of lace keeping Emma from him and she swallowed harshly, fighting to find words because even in their most intimate moments her wit couldn’t be contained.

“And to think I thought you’d like those…”

“Like isn’t the word I’d use, love, but they were in my way and you know I don’t stand for anything that keeps us apart.”

With those words spoken between them and the responding look in Emma’s eyes that said she felt the same way, Killian descended towards her slick flesh and Emma caved to the sensations in an instant. Time had taught Killian exactly what his Swan desired and every flick and suck and lick was purposefully meant to stoke the flames she felt within. It was all done in the hopes of watching her shatter again, and by God he did, but before he could send her tipping over for a third time she pulled him back with her hands in his hair and shook her head, trying to silently say what she needed before she found her words.

“I need you with me this time, Killian. Please.”

That one word rendered him powerless to resist Emma’s wishes, not that he’d ever want to. He was at the edge as it was, but when he’d slipped home and filled her in one solid thrust that state of mind-numbing lust shocked his system once again. She was so damn tight it cast out all other thoughts from his consciousness. They fit together like they were made to be one and every time they made love was more powerful than the last, but tonight was different. Tonight they were man and wife and the comfort and peace that came from that was matched only by the adoration Killian always carried for Emma and the endless love he felt for the woman who had transformed his whole world.

Eventually, despite his plans to make this last as long as could be, they came together, crashing into ecstasy side by side and panting for breath as they did, but they both knew it was just a short reprieve. They’d be like this all evening, wrapped up together, neither of them letting go when all they wanted was this closeness. If they slept at all it would be a miracle, but who needed sleep when they could have a love like this instead?

“So… is this the part where the guy and the girl live happily ever after?” Emma asked, her cheek resting on Killian’s shoulder as her fingers traced a delicate design along his chest. Killian smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before replying.

“Aye, love. That’s typically how these stories go. At least that’s what they tell me.”

“According to Henry our story has a few more characters on the way,” Emma said thoughtfully and Killian felt his heart skip a beat at the mention of more children. He hadn’t wanted to say anything or push Emma to go faster than she was willing, but by bringing it up he had to believe she was more ready for that step than he’d originally anticipated and God knew he was just as willing to start that journey together.

“Well it is our destiny it seems. And if we’ve such a destiny ahead of us then perhaps we better get a move on,” Killian murmured as his fingers trailed up Emma’s stomach lightly, bringing out goose bumps as he did.

“We actually might already be there,” Emma whispered and Killian’s eyes flew up to hers, searching for an answer. “I haven’t taken a test or anything, but I’m a few days late and last night I had the strangest dream…”

“A dream, eh?” Killian asked, biting back a smile since dreams seemed to have a very powerful implication in this family.

“Yeah. It was eerily similar to some I’ve only ever had once before.”

“And when was that, love?” Killian asked, though he already knew in some way where Emma was going with this.

“When I was pregnant with Henry. Before all of this I might have thought it was just a coincidence but now…”

Would wonders never cease? Killian couldn’t imagine how one day could bring all of this joy into an already happy life, but here he was feeling like the universe just kept on giving. A wedding, a wife, a son, and possibly another child on the way… Could there be anything to describe this other than that he lived a charmed life?

“But now,” Killian said as he took Emma’s hand in his and kissed it lightly. “Now we know not to question your magic, my love.”

“Or the magic we make together,” Emma said with a laugh and Killian couldn’t stop himself from laughing too as Emma clarified her statement. “Okay I’ll admit that was cheesy, but I figure we get a pass because it’s true love right?”

“Aye, love, the truest love that love can be.”

And the beautiful thing was that it was a pure and unyielding kind of love, the likes of which are ripe for magic and joy and every good thing. Years would come and years would go, and in the life that Emma and Killian built together, their love, and the magic it inspired, always seemed to follow. Good things came, and trials came too, but in the end it was a happy union that the two of them shared together, and thanks to the strength of their love and the unbreakable bond they’d created by saying yes to their hearts’ desires, that magic would never die and never waiver, instead extending to their children and their children’s children for generations and generations to come.

Post-Note: It is always so bittersweet to come to the end of a story, especially ones like this one where not only was it a joy to write, but it clearly was a new favorite for a lot of my lovely readers. So I just want to thank each and every one of you who reached out about this story in any capacity. Whether it was reviews, comments, messages, or what have you, you guys fed the muse even through the driest spells of my PhD program and for that I am so grateful. As I said before, there will undoubtedly be an epilogue (or a couple epilogues) to come for this story, because how could I ever not show a better glimpse into the happy ending a few years down the line? But I just don’t know when that will be at this point. It might have to wait until my next school break but it will come. Anyway thanks again, I really hope you all have enjoyed and be on the lookout because I have plans for a new AU coming out in the new year and many more oneshots to boot. Thanks again, and happy New Year!

#captain swan #captain swan au #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut #cs wedding #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #emma swan #killian jones #henry mills #the whole storybrooke gang #ouat au #cs multichapter #some call it magic #some call it 17 #some call it au #real world magic

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meliecho · 7 years ago

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Kimi no na Wa fluff needed! Taki and Mitsuha's actual first date! Disaster or success?

((Ok, for this one, I recommend listening to this on repeat. Katawaredoki))

MUSUBI

He knew her name.

Somehow, in that fateful moment on the stairs, she knew his as well. But she didn’t know Taki Tachibana at all. Or at least that’s what she thought when she walked home wrapped in a blanket of weightless fluff. Its origin confused her. Of course she didn’t know him, but at the same time, his voice, dark blue eyes, smile, physique, even the way he stood with is weight shifted slightly to his right foot were among the most familiar pieces in her life.

Mitsuha Miyamizu made it back to her apartment, dropped her keys on the table, and flopped face down onto her bed.

“Taki,” she mulled his name over and over. “How do I know you?”

He’d summoned up the courage to ask her to coffee at a local cafe tomorrow. She’d answered ‘yes’ with tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. If he’d asked her to fly to the moon, she would have agreed without hesitation in the same way –anything to keep his face always in sight, to never lose him again.

Again…

She sat up and pressed her hand to her heart. Had she lost him before?

Her fingers curled into the fabric at the lingering sense from their meeting. For the first time in eight long, difficult years, after holding her breath for an eon, she felt like she could finally exhale. She fell back to her pillow with a wistful smile. What an amazing feeling.

Her eyes suddenly shot open.

“What on earth am I going to wear?!”

* * * *

The small bell attached to the cafe’s glass front door tinkled when she entered.

They’d agreed to meet around 10am. She’d taken the day off from work specifically for this reason, and told her boss that it was a personal matter. Since she’d been employed at his company for five years, she’d gained his trust a while ago, so she was granted as much time as needed without any problems. It was a relaxed office anyway –the kind where she could work in jeans and kick her shoes off.

Mitsuha scanned the room. He wasn’t here yet. She checked her phone for the time. It was only ten minutes ‘till. Of course he wasn’t here, he still had time. He wasn’t as retentive about scheduling as she was. She chuckled softly, though paused. It wasn’t right to make assumptions about people.

“Hi.”

She squeaked in shock at the sudden voice from nowhere and spun, nearly dropping her phone.

“Sorry,” Taki apologized. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” she immediately defended out of natural habit. “You just caught me off guard.”

He smiled. “Ok. Sorry anyway.” He glanced around for an open table and found one near one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows curving around the dining area. “There’s a table over there.”

They moved through the sparse morning crowd, making them feel like they were the only ones, and took their seats.

Mitsuha peered at the menu with blinders on and tucked her index fingernail between her teeth. It was a habit she’d gained in her second year of high school for some odd reason, and never dropped it. She knew she should let it go, however it was soothing. She didn’t want to.

She was too nervous to think straight, so went with her usual order to keep things simple. Her eyes drifted up to the man across the table, who’d taken on an identical studious pose over his own menu. They mirrored each other perfectly. A slight giggle left her before she could stop it.

Taki glanced over the menu. “Hm? Is there a joke on this menu I missed?”

“No. I just thought I was the only one who did that. No one else in my family, and none of my friends bite their nail. I don’t know where I picked it up.”

“Huh. I’ve kinda always done this.” He shrugged, then realized he’d become too relaxed. “If it’s bothering you, I’ll stop.”

“It’s fine, It actually makes me feel less weird.” She sent him a disarming slight smile.

Taki didn’t know why he was examining the menu so closely. He came here all the time. He’ll just go for his usual. It’ll be easier that way. “I’ll have a strawberry crepe.”

Her eyebrows lifted a little. “Me, too. With chocolate. It’s my favorite here.”

“Same. I come here all the time; normally for breakfast.”

“I can never make it until after work. This place is on my way home. They have–”

“–the best coffee,” they both said simultaneously.

It brought their conversation to a halt. They stared at each other for a moment, unused to someone outside of family finishing their sentences.

Taki was the first to break it. “Jinx! You owe me a soda.”

“What? You can’t jinx me,” she defended, enjoying the mirth of their conversation, and the bite in their retort. “We’re on a date, you nerd. Jinxes have no effect.”

“You made that up.”

“Oh really. Ok, so how are you going to prove it?”

“I… Well, there’s… it’s…” air hitched in his throat, then he resigned in a soft breath. “Ok, you win this round. I’ll get you next time.”

“Good luck trying,” she laughed.

He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. Her laughter rang like golden bells in the twilight.

The twilight… Thinking of it brought another word to mind he hadn’t thought of in a long time: Katawaredoki. It was in a different dialect, and it wasn’t a word he heard on a normal basis, so how did he know it?

Their food arrived. Taki and Mitsuha enjoyed their breakfast strawberry crepes with small talk in between about each other’s lives.

Time flew away from them, leaving them in their own bubble of frozen infinity.

They left the cafe, chatting about their work, their families, and their crazy friends. The whole while, Taki felt like he was hearing these stories from an old childhood companion.

Their meandering took them to a Lord’s Garden a couple of blocks nearby –the same one Taki’s apartment looked out over.

They walked along a manicured dirt path beside a pond where cranes drifted lazily along the sun-sparkled waters.

“It’s odd, but,” Mitsuha began, “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” She paused under a cherry tree. Soft, pink blossoms drifted around them.

“Yeah. Me, too,” he agreed. He wanted to tell her he felt more comfortable around her than he did around his closest family members and friends. There’s no way that should be possible with a total stranger. Then again, Mitsuha wasn’t a stranger anymore. He’d known her name the day they passed on the stairs, but had no way to explain how.

She reached out her palm to catch any wayward petals in her palm. “I love cherry blossoms; The scents on the breeze, the feeling of life it gives off. They’re ephemeral, but every year, they keep coming back no matter what. They kind of remind me of home.”

“Where’s home?” He asked.

A breath of memory followed her answer. “Itomori.”

He blinked. That was the name of the town he was obsessed with for a while in late high school for reasons that confused him and his friends. The sketches remained tucked into an art book on his desk. “You’re from there? Wow.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. Her fist clenched. Why was she telling him this? Things like this were not topics to be brought up on a first date.

Her memories of the summer comet strike were hazy, and included a black-out point for nearly the entire day before the comet struck. She could understand being traumatized by the event that wiped her home off the map –the meteor’s ground zero was her family’s ancestral shrine, after all–but the events before hand of daily life, and the shrine’s matsuri should be normal.

That night, she’d ‘woken up’ on the road covered in scratches, not knowing why she’d run down the mountain, or why she was crying. But what left her with the largest unanswered question of her life was the mystery of who left one simple phrase written in black marker on her right palm; ‘I love you.’

She opened her fingers again to stare at her clean hand, clearly imagining the quickly-scrawled handwriting once more. Instead of her own voice, however, the voice that echoed through her memory…was his.

“Are you ok?”

She’d been caught daydreaming again. How embarrassing on a first date. She nodded and smiled. “I’m fine. It’s getting late. I should head home.”

“Wow, we’ve been out here all day. I completely lost track of time.” He cringed. “If you had anything else planned, I…”

“It’s fine. I had today cleared.”

They lingered silently in each other’s presence for a few moments. Neither wanted to back away from the other.

Taki’s chest pained at the idea of going back home to his empty apartment.

Mitshua’s desire to always keep his face in sight fought with her will power.

“Hey,” Taki began. “Can I…see you again?”

Mitsuha nodded. “I’d like that.”

He felt relieved. The empty apartment awaiting him instantly became a stay-over location until he could be with her once more. A idea flared to life. “How about tomorrow? There’s going to be a cherry blossom viewing here. They hold it every year.”

“I know. I watch it from my balcony.” She pointed to a nearby apartment building at the end of the street. “I live over there.”

His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. I live about three blocks that way,” he thumbed in the opposite direction. “So, between us is the cafe and park.”

“Weird,” she mumbled. “But…convenient.”

Mitsuha thought she chose to live here because it was a close bike ride to work, when in reality, she’d been drawn to this area, this park, and this cafe. Every time she walked through it, she felt like she was approaching a calm in her personal storm without ever finding the source no matter how many times she wandered these garden paths.

He stood before her now, the epicenter of that calm.

“So,” he wheedled into the stillness, nervous about asking her on a second date, “how about noon? We can get lunch, and join up with some groups from there?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m off tomorrow. Yeah. I’ll be at the cafe. Don’t be late, ok?”

“I still have to get you for that dodged jinx.”

They shared a light hearted moment, lingering even more as twilight waned.

“Well…”

“Well…” Taki rubbed the back of his neck. He’d dated before, and been nervous before, but with her –even with the level of comfort he felt–he didn’t know how to end this. Honestly, he didn’t want it to end. Taking the initiative, he lifted her small hand in his….. and froze.

And image of her in a school uniform looking back at him from the mirror of a traditional-style room he didn’t recognized flashed through his mind.

She slipped her hand away and stared at him. His face surged forward from her memory looking back at her from the mirror of a tiny apartment bedroom. Uneasy at what just happened, she slid her foot back. “I… I gotta go.”

“Mitsuha…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Taki. Don’t be late,” she repeated, and jogged down the path toward her building.

The sun set. Twilight had ended.

Taki could still feel the warmth of her skin against his own. He was confused by what he remembered, but given hope by it as well.

Whatever he needed to do to ensure he could see her again day after day for as long as he drew breath, he would do.

He would not lose Mitsuha Miyamizu again.

——–

End.

#kimi no na wa #your name #taki x mitsuha #taki tachibana #mitsuha miyamizu #comet #katawaredoki #Taki and Mitsuha's first date is awkward #a normal date for an abnormal couple #I wish I could go on a first date like this #I wish I could find love like this #windryder1

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onestowatch · 7 years ago

Text

Q&A: Corey Kilgannon Acts as a Mouthpiece for Disillusioned 20-Somethings in ‘The Hollow II’

Singer/songwriter Corey Kilgannon is a descendent of artists like Noah Gunderson and Penny & Sparrow. With his most recent release, The Hollow II, Kilgannon reveals himself as a brave and lovable cynic. He leaves each listener challenged and, at once, understood, acting as the mouthpiece for a generation of disillusioned 20-somethings.

Fully embracing of humanistic inquiry, Kilgannon begs some of the most pressing, universal questions in his work: Why are we here? Who are we? What are we capable of? Kilgannon manages to avoid the cheap, trite answers which would make his music seem reaching and (no pun intended) hollow.

Accepting that he does not know the right answers, Kilgannon’s work is refreshingly humble. The Hollow II is best described as a series of small epiphanies, with every enlightenment leading him toward even more unanswerable questions. What also makes his work so inspiring is that he leads us on his journey toward maturity while avoiding pretension. Kilgannon simply invites us along, acting almost as a selfless spiritual leader, a guru to the lost. His work allows even the most callous of listeners a gateway to empathy.

One of his hallmarks as an artist is his ability to accurately transfer the emotion of his recorded works to a live setting. None of the impact is lost in the translation. With a new tour commencing in late March, Ones to Watch sat down with Kilgannon to talk about his upcoming tour, his side project, his sister and more.

OTW: What are you most looking forward to on your upcoming tour?

CK: This next tour is going to be a real treat! I'm ecstatic to return to Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas as I've had some really fun crowds in that part of the country over the years. It's also really special to have Oh Jeremiah out as the opener, my music is just getting to the place where I can offer friends opening spots on tours and such which is really special. I have to admit, I'm probably most excited/nervous to be opening a few shows for John Paul White in Alabama and Florida. I saw him play in the Civil Wars years ago and still remember their "Live at Eddies Attic EP" to be an enormous influence on my early years of writing songs. It'll be a dream come true.

OTW: What was the intent behind your new side project, Radiant Phaedrus?

CK: I really just needed another outlet. We had been working on The Hollow II for several months with no end in sight, and I ended up having to move home to Florida for a whole slew of interpersonal and financial reasons. While there, I had a lot of beautifully healing experiences through meditation, yoga, and the light use of marijuana/psychedelics that really opened up a fresh spring of creativity for me. I knew I didn't want to hard turn the record we were making, and felt deeply like there was some other voice I had tapped into, so I started up a side project. I do those records back at home, and as the music under my given name has grown in popularity, I love having this other project I can keep as fun as possible. I recorded opera vocals in the back of my van, layered a voice memo of me arguing with a bar door guy under a song, and wrote possibly the most tongue in cheek bitter Christmas break up song out there. I'm having a blast with RP, and will likely do a more full band record with the project in 2018.

OTW: I think some of the most impactful lyrics in your last project, The Hollow II, are “Love is getting your hands dirty/ Love is bleeding all over each other / Love is sharing the same burdens” What was the inspiration behind those lyrics? What do those lyrics mean to you?

CK: These lyrics are actually the bridge from my song “23 Years” off the first EP, The Hollow, so including them in the bridge of "Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid" is actually supposed to call to mind some of the ideas from that first EP. I actually remember jotting those lyrics in the back of my notebook years ago while daydreaming in a Biology class while still a student. I've always been pretty contemplative, sometimes just writing down thoughts in my head without much rhyme or reason. Those are the types of words that the more I've thought about them, the more poignant they have become. It was written in the wake of my parents’ separation, and to me it just reflects on the dualistic nature of loving another human being. I wrote the instrumental opening of The Hollow II the day their divorce finalized, so including those lyrics over it was a reminder to myself and to any listener that in the depth of the pain we cause each other, we can be silent and still love. Perhaps I wished I had never really written such an accusatory song as “23 Years” and included it as reparation; I still have a lot of processing to do about how I feel on this record, that truthfully I've been pushing off. It's very heavy stuff.

OTW: Your music is known for his honesty and intimacy, what subjects are most inspiring to your work?

CK: I'm inspired by everything! My early work is certainly riddled with commentary on grief, love gone wrong, and personal melodrama. I went through what was I guess 3-4 years of stacked tragedies, and lyric writing was my survival mechanism. I'm doing much better these days, and I've written songs about anything from 1920s era Florida crime families to my beloved Mexican restaurant down the street from my house in Jacksonville Beach, FL. I'm also predictably a romantic, so I write a lot of songs about me trying to figure out my own relationships with girls I've dated, an admittedly unstable journey. The best writing advice I ever got was simply, "Pay attention." I try to really notice how I and others feel, and to see the simple beauty in everything. Definitely expect the next work to be more varied in subject, but to retain an openness to the depths of the weirdness in my noggin. We are all going through the same stuff, and I experience a lot of freedom by daring to share some thoughts I'd perhaps prefer to keep hidden. This, by the way, is another reason for Radiant Phaedrus. I'm excited to share some ideas within the protection of it not being so directly tied to my name.

OTW: What has been the most rewarding part of being a full-time musician and songwriter? Obversely, what has been the hardest part?

CK: I quit school five years ago to drive around the country playing house shows with my friends, the richness of experiences in my travels is deeply rewarding. I've gotten to see most of our country and a few others, pay my bills, make sincere friends, and open for a whole plethora of my heroes, all thanks to a few acoustic guitar tunes that seemingly come to my brain out of nowhere. To be honest, though, when those experiences fade from memory, I think the songs themselves are enough reward for me. I am obsessed with songs and structures, and very thankful for a small niche of people that track with anything I have to say. At least a few times a week I get a fairly lengthy email detailing how something I wrote stuck with and impacted a person. I have these songs in my life, these cornerstones of word and music that I can run to when I need an escape. What could ever be more fulfilling than somehow providing that space for someone else? It is so beautiful.

There have certainly been hardships along the way. I've played to many a noisy-crowd, slept with a pizza box for a pillow, and worked a few pretty tough odd jobs to keep the wheels on the dream spinning. The hardest part is definitely without proper label help, knowing what to do next. I've felt a lot of freedom to make EPs and do house shows and build this thing up from the ground, but with that freedom comes the occasional terrifying notion that nothing I'm really doing will amount to much. Thankful for friends and family that keep me on track!

OTW: What is the story behind this series of songs all titled “Sister?” Does this reference your own sister and frequent collaborator, Shayla Kilgannon?

CK: The sister songs are released every year on September 29, the birthday of my frequent collaborator/best friend/angelic sister, Shayla. I can remember when I first started writing songs having Shayla come into my room to show her. She's always been a huge inspiration to me, and my first year of college she jokingly said I could write her a song so I wouldn't have to buy a present. The next year I was feeling more sentimental and wrote her another tune, and it’s just kept coming since then. Every year I think to myself that I'll be done with it, but over the summers we usually get to spend a lot of time together, and I keep feeling inspired to catalogue our relationship. It’s really special to me, and since you asked, you should be on the lookout late 2018 for her to release some of her own music!

OTW: You seem to be on the road quite a lot, are you able to write while you are on tour, or do you mostly focus on the performances?

CK: I think I do my best writing at home simply because I can turn it into a routine which allows me to see more clearly into where a song should go. Lately, I've been trying to learn to use my iPhone as a tool for creativity instead of social crutch, which has increased my writing on the road a lot. I just journal and write down experiences on the go, and then later when I have a moment I can hash out some chords and melodies. There is a process, but it is fairly chaotic these days. I just let the songs come when they come, and work on the ones I've already got. Writing is certainly not the first thing on my mind while touring though, I do try to be as present as possible and enjoy the trips/people.

OTW: Besides your upcoming tour, what can we look forward to from you?

CK: Lots more music coming up soon! I am finishing up a B-Sides/acoustic record that should come out this summer. Its a lot of simpler version of the last record and a few extra tunes I had lying around. I wrote short essays with most of them, so be looking for extra goodies and stories about the tunes. Beyond that, I've got a ton of material I plan to spend the summer sifting through, gearing up for several more releases in the next year or so if things stay on track. It's a short life and I've got a lot more to sing about!

OTW: Who are your Ones to Watch?

CK: Love this question, I spend a ton of time listening to my friends’ music. Check out Mr. Manager's last release Rose, Nemo Bathers has an EP coming out which I helped with, that will be spectacular, and absolutely add Matthew Wright's Everybody is Doing Better Than Me EP to your heavy rotation. This isn't musical, but the last art to really blow my mind was a collection of poems by Seth Kennedy called "Home-Cures for Hangovers.”

#corey kilgannon #interview #folk #indie #the hollow II

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