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bangtanhoneys · 13 days ago

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GRACE TOUR DIARY: April 11th 2025, Seoul

Note: this is over 10k. I'm sorry for the delays but now you know why, this thing is a monster. I've linked the songs I used and the outfit that AI helped me create. Enjoy! Can’t wait to read your comments 😂

The Seoul Olympic Stadium stood proudly in the background of the morning news broadcast, where reporters captured scenes of dedicated ARMYs bundled in sleeping bags and tents, determined to be the first inside. The BTS tribute concert wasn’t set to begin for hours, but the excitement was already palpable. Tickets for the 90,000-seat event had sold out within minutes, and whispers swirled about the high-profile attendees: idols, actors, politicians, and even foreign dignitaries, all invited by the South Korean government. The statistics for ARMY in attendance showed a high level of Korean fans but also international, including Japanese, American, European and a few others from further afield.

The lineup promised a night to remember, with performances from Tomorrow x Together, Seventeen, Stray Kids, IU and more. Naturally, BTS and their team as well as families would be in attendance, but the biggest mystery remained: where was Grace?

To the public, Grace had essentially vanished. Her last tour stop was in New York and her next stop wasn’t until April 17th, when she would appear on stage in Paris at the Accor Stadium. There were reports she had flown elsewhere, though no one knew where. Theories were rampant, but only a handful of insiders, including Seokjin, knew the truth. Grace’s appearance at the tribute concert was a closely guarded secret, executed with meticulous planning to keep even the rest of BTS in the dark.

It didn’t help when reports came in of Seokjin returning to Incheon Airport, with a suitcase in hand and looking tanned. Clearly, he had been on holiday and returned in time for the concert, but he hadn’t returned with Grace.

Speculation ran wild online. Social media exploded with conspiracy theories: some claimed she was in rehab, others that she was pregnant or recovering from surgery. A few even speculated she had died. None of them were even close.

The government had also kept quiet and with such a star-studded lineup, eager to redeem itself after the debacle in Busan, had spared no expense. While funding came from the state, HYBE and Big Hit had full control over the concert set list (with input from the boys) and creative direction, ensuring everything was perfect for the thousands in attendance and for the millions watching live.

Grace hadn’t had a very good night’s sleep. She didn’t know if it was nerves or worries or excitement—maybe it was a mix of all three—but she tossed and turned. In the end, rather than waking Seokjin with her bad night, she ended up on the couch with a mountain of blankets and pillows. Her cat, Min-ji, had judged her antics with a single glare before retreating to the spare bedroom.

The soft murmur of the television had been her only company as she drifted in and out of sleep. By 7 am, she admitted defeat, taking a scalding shower to wake herself up. By 9, she’d made breakfast - poached eggs, bacon, and toast - and completed a light workout to settle her nerves and get her joints ready for a long day.

Seokjin found her in the living room, sipping tea while scrolling through her phone. He shuffled into the kitchen, squinting at the sunlight. “Rough night?” he grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Try a mix of anxiety, nerves, excitement, and panic,” Grace replied without looking up, her fingers darting over the screen as she texted Sejin for updates.

Moments later, a response came through: Pick you up at noon. The stadium is ready. The crew arrived early this morning. Your rehearsal and soundcheck are at 1 p.m.

Letting out a long sigh, she tossed her phone onto the coffee table and leaned back, closing her eyes. “It feels different,” she admitted. “When we were touring, even now on my tour, everyone knew I was performing. This secrecy makes it... heavier.”

Seokjin, now equipped with iced coffee and looking more awake, joined her on the couch. “That’s the point,” he said with a small smile. “The reveal is going to hit harder because no one expects it.”

He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier. Grace had crafted a careful narrative to keep everyone off the trail. Her short, cryptic message in the group chat—Delayed in New York. It’s been a nightmare getting home—had been enough to stop Jungkook from going AWOL. Sejin had done his part, adding another layer of reassurance for the rest of the group: She’s working hard, and we’re all trying to get to Seoul as quickly as possible.

But now, the charade was almost over. By 6pm, the truth would be out. Grace would face the dramatic fallout of BTS’s teasing and complaints, but for now, all she could do was focus on the task ahead.

“Sejin-oppa will pick me up at noon,” Grace said, breaking the silence. “What about you? What’s your schedule?”

Seokjin leaned back, nursing his coffee. “Meeting the guys at the company around three for makeup, hair, and another briefing. Then we head to the venue around 4:30 for the red carpet and... waiting.”

Grace nodded, her nerves still humming. By the end of the night, everything would change. But for now, it was just another morning.

The morning slipped away in a haze of nerves and preparation. Grace triple-checked her bag as if she hadn’t packed it the night before, to make sure everything was in there - rehearsal outfit, outfit to get changed into after the performance, Seokjin’s lunch he had prepared for her and even a few snacks for the hours of waiting she anticipated. Speaking of the man in question, he had returned from his shower a few minutes ago and was now lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone but Grace could tell he was keeping an eye on her.

“Relax,” he said finally, setting his phone down. “You’ve performed these songs a thousand times before.”

“Not like this,” Grace sighed, zipping up her bag with more force than necessary. “I’m not performing it with seven other people, I’m doing some of the songs on my own as well as staying in the centre spot, doing all the choreography and on top of that, it’s a secret performance dedicated to all of us. The whole world is watching and the rest of the group doesn’t even know.”

Seokjin laughed, leaning back with an air of practised calm. “Well when you put it like that,” he paused and caught the look on her face. “You’ll be fine. And besides, the look on their faces when they see you will be worth it.”

Grace couldn’t help but smile at the thought. She could already picture Jungkook’s wide-eyed shock, Taehyung’s playful outrage, Jimin’s high-pitched noises, Namjoon’s sense of outrage, Hobi’s over excitement and Yoongi’s fake calmness but the gummy smile would give it away.

By noon, Sejin arrived, his usual calm demeanour giving her a sense that everything was alright. “Everything’s running smoothly,” he said as Grace climbed into the back of the car, the bag at her feet. “The venue is secure, and rehearsals are on schedule and all the performers have arrived.”

Grace let out a low and long breath, nodding. She glanced back to the house that she and Seokjin owned, tucked away in Hannam-dong and she could see a hand holding a small paw, making it wave from one of the curtains. A grin broke across her face as the car pulled away.

The drive to the stadium took twenty-six minutes, weaving over the Yongbi Bridge, through Seoul Forest, along the Han River, and across the Jamsil Bridge. Though it wasn’t the most direct route, Grace appreciated the detour. It gave her a chance to soak in the city transformed by the concert. Streetlights and railings were adorned with banners, and ARMY filled every corner of the stadium park, creating an atmosphere brimming with excitement.

No one noticed the sleek car as it sped past, but Grace kept her hoodie up and her posture low, even though the tinted windows offered plenty of cover. Upon arrival at the underground entrance, security swiftly ushered them inside.

The moment she stepped out of the car, Grace was flanked by a team of bodyguards, moving with her and Sejin through a maze of hallways toward the dressing rooms. The energy backstage was electric—staff darted around with equipment, costumes, and stage props while coordinating last-minute changes through their headsets.

“You’ve got about half an hour before rehearsal,” Sejin informed her once they reached the dressing room. “I’ll grab your microphone and earpieces.”

Grace nodded, exhaling deeply as she dropped her bag onto the couch and began unpacking. She laid out her personal clothes neatly, tucked her shoes underneath, and set her snacks on the coffee table. A quick check of the mini-fridge revealed it was stocked with iced coffee, tea, and water.

With minutes to spare, she changed into her rehearsal outfit—leggings, a sports bra, and one of Seokjin’s oversized hoodies.

The quiet was short-lived as Sejin returned with her bright orange microphone and matching earpieces. Right behind him was Hana, her manager, ushering in two makeup artists, a hairstylist, and a stylist. They greeted Grace warmly, their chatter buzzing with excitement as they unpacked their supplies. Makeup palettes, hair products, and her first costume were laid out meticulously, while the rest of her outfits were already staged beneath the platform for quick changes.

Sejin clipped the monitor to the back of her leggings as she adjusted one of her in-ear monitors. With everything in place, she followed him out of the room and down the hallway. The other performers had finished their rehearsals an hour earlier and had been taken to lunch to maintain the secrecy of Grace’s participation.

Standing on stage, Grace exhaled the longest breath she could manage. Even without an audience, the sheer scale of the stadium was overwhelming. The sight always reminded her of the massive crowds BTS had drawn over the years: 90,000 in August 2018, 120,000 in October 2019, and millions watching online during Permission to Dance in 2021 and then in person in 2022.

Now, another 90,000 people were gathered to watch a tribute to BTS, featuring performances from idols, groups, and Grace herself.

The soundcheck went smoothly. An hour was more than enough to confirm the staging, ensure the dancers were comfortable, and perfect the timing for her introduction. By the end, Grace felt ready.

Still, nerves churned beneath her surface. Her hand trembled slightly as she returned her microphone to Sejin and removed her in-ear monitors. As she stepped offstage, the stadium lights dimmed, allowing the crew to adjust for the next rehearsal. She caught sight of Tomorrow x Together arriving for their soundcheck, their cheerful voices filling the air.

Soobin spotted her briefly, offering a warm smile but saying nothing before joining the rest of his group on stage.

Back in her dressing room, Grace had a moment to herself to snack and hydrate before the staff returned. Her makeup was light but designed to withstand sweat, and her blonde hair was styled in soft waves for added volume.

And then, she was left alone again.

The hours leading up to showtime were agonizing. She resisted the urge to bite her nails—painted purple for the event—and ignored the lunch Seokjin had lovingly packed. Nervous cramps churned in her stomach, making the thought of food unappealing.

Performing at her own concerts brought its own set of nerves, but this felt entirely different. Her usual shows were her own songs, and her own choreography, and the goal was simply for the audience to enjoy themselves. Tonight, though, the stakes felt impossibly high: ARMY was watching, along with the world. Cameras would broadcast her every move, other idols and groups were part of the lineup, and she would be performing BTS’s iconic tracks.

The weight of expectation pressed down on her shoulders, and for the first time in a long while, Grace felt truly overwhelmed.

The hours crawled by as Grace waited. She changed into her first performance outfit with the help of the stylist and the make up artist did a quick touch-up. No one needed to tell her what was happening as she could hear the noise from above as the crowd started filling the stadium, the sounds of BTS music videos being played across the large screens and outside of her room she could hear the hustle and bustle of the staff.

“One hour,” Sejin said as he poked his head in.

“Fuck,” Grace quietly swore to herself but from the chuckle off Hana, it meant that it hadn’t been too quiet.

She practised her lines, double-checked a bit of the choreography that had given her a little bit of trouble and tried not to let her mind wander too far. Hana forced her to have an energy bar and a bottle of water, more to get her energy up, which ended up in Grace needing the bathroom for one nervous wee.

The noise was building and when Sejin came to get her, her nervousness had settled into a steady hum. No matter what happened, no matter what occurred, she was going on stage to do her job whether her nerves wanted to or not. The walk to the stage was long and she was surrounded by bodyguards and staff, leading to her changing area where she would spend all of the concert when she wasn’t on stage.

“Here we are,” Sejin said, stopping outside the curtained area. “So quick run down,” he said to Grace, Hana, the stage manager who was designated to Grace only and two of the head bodyguards.

“It’s going to begin with a message from the President, then Bang Si-Hyuk, then they're going to play your message and the performance you did of No More Dream and your introduction to Tomorrow x Together. While they're on stage, we’ll get you to your platform and have you ready, there’s a quick message from BTS and then it's your turn,” the stage manager explained.

Grace nodded, sitting down on the couch provided. Although the space was simple and a little small, it contained a mirror and a monitor, which provided the stage feed, a table with water, and two racks of costumes. Not that she had many, but as they had learnt from her own tour, it was better to have a backup.

The stadium’s energy crackled through the walls, sending a shiver down Grace’s spine. The noise from ARMY was overwhelming and the last few notes from the music video playing on the screen were barely heard over the noise of the crowd. She resisted the urge to look at the monitor, letting the noise above her dictate the moment instead.

The sound of the crowd changed as the announcer said, “Please welcome to the stage, your hosts for today, Yoo Jae-suk and Jee Seok-jin.” Two presenters with close ties to BTS, it seemed practical to have them as hosts for the evening and the crowd’s response to the two men as they walked across the stage to where there was a little podium.

“Tonight, we celebrate not only the achievements of Bangtan Sonyeondan but also the global community they have built,” Jae-suk announced, his voice filled with admiration for a group who felt the same admiration towards him. “Their music, message, and passion have inspired millions worldwide, from all different nations.”

Seok-jin nodded, adding, “It is an honour for us, for our country, to host this tribute to their legacy, and we have a spectacular night lined up for you.”

Grace barely registered their words, her mind too focused on the moment when she would appear on stage to start her own performance. She didn’t even notice when the President of South Korea appeared on stage, delivering what seemed to be a heartfelt speech about BTS’s journey, their impact on the South Korean culture, and their drive which encouraged their fans, who in turn came to the country in honour of their idols. While the government and BTS didn’t have the greatest of relationships, the audience roared in approval, their cheers a powerful reminder of what they felt towards their group.

On-screen, Bang Si-Hyuk appeared to the cheers of the crowd. He remembered the early days, of when he first met all eight members of what was going to be the biggest band in the world, how each of them was different and unique yet their bond was clear from day one. He continued with how proud he was of them as a group, of how they broke records, how their solo careers flourished and how they broke their own records with their solo careers.

“You don’t sell out a concert venue in 10 seconds,” he finished saying on screen.

There was a brief pause, silence and the noise from above caused Grace to wince and adjust her in-ear monitors.

“Dearest ARMY,” she heard her own voice say. “Please accept my sincere apologies for not being with you tonight. I’m unfortunately stuck in New York City and every attempt to make it home has been foiled. So I want to send a little message to you all before we start this concert tonight.”

Sejin grinned to himself from where he watched at the doorway to the small area, eyes on the monitor as he watched Grace pull off the perfect ruse.

“It’s been twelve years since we first appeared in front of you all and I remember when No More Dream was picked as the debut song. I’m sure you can remember the eyeliner, the outfits, how we were a small group from a small company with big dreams. And thanks to you, those big dreams became a reality as we grew. And now, here we are, celebrating those twelve years with some amazing performances. And while I can’t be there in person, I hope you all have an amazing night. I love you all and I will see you soon.”

The screen faded to black.

A split second later, the pounding bass of No More Dream shook the stadium, and the screen lit up again—this time, with a pre-recorded video of Grace performing the track, her movements sharp and commanding. The crowd roared in response.

Beneath the stage, Tomorrow x Together passed by Grace’s hiding spot, heading towards the lift that would take them to their cue. Dressed in grey school uniforms reminiscent of BTS’s MMA 2019 look, they practically buzzed with excitement. This was their moment—not just as BTS’s juniors, but as a force of their own. They knew these songs better than anyone, ready to put their own stamp on them.

As Grace’s video performance ended, her voice echoed through the arena once more:

“Please welcome to the stage, our greatest successes, Tomorrow x Together.”

The opening beats of N.O kicked in, and Soobin launched into the first verse. The crowd’s energy surged again as the group powered through a medley of BTS’s early hits—Boy in Luv, Danger, Run, and finally War of Hormone. Each member owned the moment, putting their own spin on the classics while staying true to the spirit of the originals.

As Danger played, Grace stood, gripping her microphone loosely, her lips silently mouthing along to Jangnanhae neo dodaeche naega mwoya as the audience screamed the words in unison. She had timed this moment in rehearsals down to the second. Across the stadium, multiple screens flickered between past and present—the Danger music video, BTS’s very first live performance, their last time singing it together, and the live stage unfolding now.

It was a perfect reminder that no matter who took the stage, BTS would always be there.

Grace exhaled slowly, her heart thrumming with adrenaline as the final beats of War of Hormone crashed over the stadium. From her position beneath the stage, she could hear the deafening cheers, and feel the vibrations of thousands of voices calling out in exhilaration.

It was time.

With a final glance at the monitor, Grace took a steady breath and stepped forward, her team moving in perfect sync beside her. Her grip tightened around the microphone. Timing, precision, energy—every second had to be flawless.

As the lights dimmed on Tomorrow x Together’s electrifying set, ARMY was still catching their breath when the stadium was suddenly filled with the unmistakable echo of la la la...

The opening drums of Fire rumbled through the arena.

No introduction. No warning. Just that familiar beat—and then, in an instant, the surprise was revealed.

"BULTAOREUNE!"

Grace shot up onto the main stage as flames erupted around her, the explosive heat mirroring the roar of the crowd. The backing track carried BTS’s voices, the chants of Fire! shaking the stadium walls.

The reaction was immediate. The stadium erupted.

There she had stood, as if she did this every day, dressed in an outfit that could only be described as sensational. High heel stilettos and a pair of simple gold earrings were just some pieces to elevate the ensemble - it was the rest of the outfit that had people reacting to it over Twitter. High-waisted shirts tailored for a flatting fit, hugging the waist while providing enough stretch for comfort. Adorned with black and red sequins, ensuring they would catch the light on the stage.

The crop top, something Grace wasn’t exactly used to, was fitted with shimmering black and red sequins, a square neckline and sleeveless, highling her shoulders and collarbone for a sleek, yet edgy appeal. Gold chain detailing trimmed the neckline which matched the ones on her shorts.

Ending it all, was the jacket. Black with bold red embellishments, long sleeves with gold chains and easy to pull off when needed.

The perfect outfit for what was about to happen.

As the echoes of Fire and oh-e-oh trailed behind her, Grace strode the steps and toward seven waiting dancers, their silhouettes barely visible through the haze of pyrotechnics. The entire arena was in hysterics—the biggest dupe had just unfolded before their eyes, and Grace had pulled it off flawlessly. Even in the VIP section, six stunned men sat frozen, jaws slack as they processed what was happening.

Seokjin, however, only smirked.

The camera zoomed in as Grace took her position in the centre of the dancers. With a glint in her eye, she grinned at the lens, mouthing Yoongi’s iconic “Bultaoreune.”

And then—she was off.

The all-too-familiar choreography surged through her body, each movement effortless, ingrained from years of performing beside them and long rehearsals. She held the centre position with ease, her voice sharp and commanding as she launched into Hoseok’s verse, the rock guitars roaring behind her.

The screen behind her flickered to life, revealing the live band, the same one from BTS’s Yet to Come concert in Busan. The added instrumentals made the song even more intense, raw, and alive.

This wasn’t just a performance. This was a statement.

The noise of the crowd was deafening even as they sang along, her in-ear monitors almost useless against the overwhelming roar as she moved into the song’s iconic footwork. With each step, she sang louder to be heard, “Need to burn it down.” The crowd’s approval surged, and without missing a beat, she pushed forward, her voice rising as she belted out, “Ssak da bultaewora bow-wow-wow.”

By the end of the chorus, the stadium was in a frenzy. Fans were on their feet, ARMY Bombs waving in the air as the lights cut out once more. The crowd’s energy didn’t fade, it only grew, as the screen flickered to life.

The crowd didn’t quiet—their energy only grew as the screen flickered again.

A familiar figure appeared.

Namjoon.

His younger self from the Dope era, standing strong as ever. His voice echoed through the speakers, sending a wave of nostalgia crashing over the audience.

“Eoseo wa, Bangtaneun cheoeumiji?” (Welcome, first time to BTS?)

The second the lights cut out, Grace moved. She ran, sprinting toward the thrust stage that led to a smaller, more intimate platform closer to the audience. As the lights snapped back on, she shed the jacket, handing it off to a dancer who tossed it seamlessly to the staff below.

“Ayo, ladies and gentlemen!” she sang, the start of Dope, voice dripping with confidence as she stalked down the stage. The dancers hyped the crowd, amplifying the chaos.

By the time they reached the smaller stage, she was fully in BTS mode, navigating Hobi’s verse effortlessly. ARMY Bombs and phone screens filled her vision, capturing every second of this legendary moment.

She couldn’t see the VIP section. She didn’t know exactly where they were. But she could feel their eyes on her.

Through her in-ear monitors, Grace could hear the audience singing back to her, their voices blending into one overwhelming wave of sound. She powered through the chorus, moving effortlessly into Jungkook and Jimin’s iconic bridge.

“Say what?” she called out, throwing the mic toward the crowd.

The stadium screamed in response, their energy sending a thrill down her spine. A grin spread across her face as she slipped back into position, ready to close out the song.

But it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The unmistakable beat of Baepsae kicked in—

And the entire stadium lost it.

Fans screamed. ARMY Bombs flickered wildly. The energy in the air was almost electric.

Grace didn’t need to check Twitter to know what would happen next. Baepsae had always been a fan-favorite, a performance that never failed to go viral. The reason? Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin’s infamous hip thrusts—a move that had practically become legendary.

And every time the song was performed, fans always pointed out the same thing:

Why didn’t Grace ever do the hip thrusts?

The answer had always been simple.

It was considered too suggestive for a woman in Korea, especially at the level BTS performed it. Instead, she was given a modified movement—a safer alternative that kept the flow of the dance intact without pushing boundaries.

But now? This was her stage.

She stepped forward, locking eyes with the camera, the glint in her gaze unmistakable.

“They call me baepsae,” she sang, standing tall in front of her dancers.

There was no hesitation. No second-guessing. No worrying about the reaction.

This time, she wasn’t holding back.

She could already hear the internet exploding. She could already hear the comments. She could already hear the press and the reactions of the world after that.

The second she rolled her hips forward, the screams reached an ear-splitting level. The bass reverberated through the stage, matching the pounding of her heartbeat as she fully committed to the movement.

The dancers behind her didn’t miss a beat, keeping up with her energy as they powered through the choreography. It wasn’t just a performance anymore—it was a statement. A line crossed. A boundary shattered.

The camera zoomed in at the exact moment she thrusted again, and she knew—knew—this clip would be replayed millions of times before the night was over.

The audience's reaction was instantaneous.

Gasps. Screams. Absolute chaos.

She didn’t even have to look at the VIP section to know what was happening.

The bridge of the song hit, and she owned it, every move precise, every note perfectly controlled. The camera caught her smirk as she moved to the center, leading the dancers into the final chorus with a confidence that could only come from years of standing on stages just like this.

As the last note rang out, the crowd erupted again, their cheers almost deafening. Grace stood there for just a second, chest heaving, taking it all in and then the stadium lights cut out.

As directed by the stage director, the familiar eight members stood together on screen. Another thing they had all pre-recorded together before Seokjin’s military enlistment.

The sight alone sent the audience into a frenzy.

A wave of emotions surged through the stadium—shock, joy, disbelief. The sheer volume of screams nearly rattled the stage as the eight of them stood together on screen, side by side, just as they always had.

The pre-recorded video played seamlessly, their voices filling the air.

"Did you miss us?" Namjoon’s voice rang out first, his smirk unmistakable.

Jimin grinned. "It’s been a while, huh?"

Yoongi, ever so dry, added, "Not that long. But long enough."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Even through the screen, their dynamic was effortlessly intact.

Then, Seokjin flashed his signature Worldwide Handsome smile. "I hope you didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily?"

The stadium erupted again.

As she was escorted down the stairs and off the stage, Grace felt a lump rise in her throat, but she held it back, exhaling slowly as she watched. Even though she had been there when they filmed it, seeing it now, in this moment, with this reaction—it hit differently. Even though they were seated in the seats above, two were already back from their military enlistment and the others were so close to the end, that unshakeable feeling of simply missing them beside her hit like a wave as she was taken to underneath the stage.

It took awhile to get her outfit off but she stood still, watching the screen as the eight of them powered through their message of how they missed ARMY, how they were excited to be on stage again as eight and that it wouldn’t be too long. But for now, while they wouldn’t be on stage, they would be there through the night, in the audience, enjoying their career being played out for them.

As the video of the eight of them played for the arena, the BTS VIP section was chaotic.

Jungkook was gone, half off his seat, hands buried in his hair as if trying to physically process what just happened. His mouth hung open, eyes darting from the stage to the massive screens above, replaying every moment over and over again.

Jimin? Not much better. His hands were clasped over his mouth, shoulders shaking with silent disbelief. “She didn’t—” He turned to Taehyung, eyes wild. “She did.”

“She did.” Taehyung, for his part, looked far too pleased, his boxy grin wide as he nodded approvingly. “And she did it right.”

Hobi, meanwhile, had launched himself back in his seat, clutching at his chest dramatically. “Aigoo—someone help me! I wasn’t ready!” He wheezed out a laugh, nudging Namjoon hard in the ribs. “You weren’t ready either, were you?”

Namjoon was not ready.

His expression was a whirlwind of shock, scandal, and outright horror. He had been gripping the edge of the VIP railing so tightly his knuckles had turned white. “What the fuck was that?” he blurted, looking around like someone needed to explain immediately. “What did I just witness?”

“That,” Yoongi said, smirking as he finally pulled himself from his stunned silence, “was your sister breaking the internet.”

Namjoon whipped around to Seokjin. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

Seokjin was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, the smirk on his face only growing with every passing second. He hadn't moved much—hadn't reacted as wildly as the others—because he had seen this coming.

“Of course I knew, by accident though,” Seokjin finally said, admitting finally to the truth.

Namjoon gaped. “You let her do that?”

Seokjin turned his head slightly, leveling him with a look. “I didn’t let her do anything,” he said, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. “She chose to do it.”

A beat of silence.

And then Taehyung cackled, nudging Jungkook, who was still trying to process. “Ohhh, hyung, you’re so done,” he teased, grinning at Namjoon. “Twitter’s gonna be a war zone.”

“Twitter? Twitter?!” Namjoon repeated, looking increasingly distressed. “ARMY’s gonna riot, the government—”

“And they’ll get over it.” Yoongi stretched, looking far too amused. “This was her moment. And she owned it.”

The stadium was still screaming, the crowd refusing to settle even as the pre-recorded video continued playing on the big screens. The energy hadn’t dipped—it had only escalated. “She knew exactly what she was doing,” Hoseok mused, shaking his head in awe. “She knew the cameras would catch it. She knew how the world would react.”

Namjoon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

“This is going to be a problem,” he muttered.

Seokjin’s smirk widened.

“For who?”

For who, exactly? Because ARMY were still reeling, the rest of the VIP section were muttering amongst themselves about Grace appearing from absolute nowhere and where had she been?! But for who, exactly, would this be a problem?

The answer to that question came almost immediately.

The second the lights dimmed for the next performance, Namjoon’s phone buzzed violently in his pocket. He barely had time to pull it out before Jimin’s did the same. Then Taehyung’s. Then Jungkook’s.

A chorus of oh no’s and shit, already? rang out as they stared at their screens, the notifications flooding in faster than they could keep up. Twitter was already ablaze, clips of Grace appearing from the stage, to her starting to sing Dope and finally, her hip thrusts, spreading like wildfire, each one accumulating thousands of retweets and comments in real time.

GRACE DID THE HIP THRUST. I REPEAT. GRACE DID THE HIP THRUST. WE ARE IN A NEW ERA.

BIGHIT STAFF LEFT THE CHAT.

SEOKJIN, CONTROL YOUR WIFE!

THE CAMERA ZOOMED IN. SHE KNEW. SHE FREAKING KNEW.

Jungkook finally snapped out of his daze with a full-body scream, shaking Namjoon’s arm like a child who just saw their favourite superhero in real life. “Hyung, look at this!” He shoved his phone forward. “SOMEONE ALREADY MADE A SLOW-MO EDIT—IT’S BEEN FIVE MINUTES!”

Namjoon groaned, eyes darting across his screen, the sheer volume of mentions making his head spin. “I—this is—” He gestured wildly at Seokjin. “YOU’RE TOO CALM ABOUT THIS!”

Seokjin, still maddeningly relaxed, simply shrugged. “I told you. I knew.”

Nothing more could be said however as the lights on the stage flickered, a mass of dancers appearing out of nowhere and over the noise, “Seventeen right here.”

The roar of the crowd surged again as Seventeen took formation, their presence electrifying. The opening beats of ON echoed through the stadium like a war drum, a call to arms that sent the energy soaring to new heights.

Yoongi finally spoke, voice low but certain. “This night just keeps getting crazier.”

Beside him, Namjoon exhaled, his grip tightening on his drink. “Yeah,” he admitted, eyes locked on the stage.

And something told him—it wasn’t over yet.

The songs passed by quickly with Seventeen taking control of ON, Not Today, DNA. And then, there was a little break for the hosts to take over again and do some talking before finally announcing the second group for the night.

Stray Kids, dressed in pastel and white outfits, appeared through the lights as the backing track for Boy with Luv introduced them and the crowd for what was to come next. They sang their way through the song, to Need U and Save Me and closed out their set to Butter.

The night was progressing well, ARMY were dancing and singing in their seats, even the foreign dignitaries were having fun as they had been provided ear pieces so someone could translate the lyrics into their ears.

Namjoon had finally relaxed and after a couple of drinks, provided by Jungkook, he had joined Hobi and the maknae line in singing along to Butter. They were getting into the vibe, not caring they could be seen or that they were meant to be the VIPs of the moment. They were just living the moment, enjoying themselves, getting led into a false sense of security.

Underneath, Grace had eaten Seokjin’s lunch and had finally relaxed. She had appeared, done her songs and had gotten changed for the next part of the surprise. As much as she wanted the night to be over so she could be with her boys, she had another three parts to go and the night wasn’t over yet.

The stadium had barely calmed from Butter when the lights dimmed once more, a deep, thrumming bass vibrating through the air. The energy shifted—something was coming.

Something big.

A distorted voice echoed through the speakers, layered over a creeping beat.

"What you gonna do?”

The moment the opening to Cypher Pt. 3 dropped, the crowd lost it. ARMY knew exactly what this meant. A cypher performance? Here? Now?

In the VIP section, the reaction was just as explosive.

“Wait—what?” Jungkook jolted upright, his eyes widening. “No way.”

Yoongi, who had been calmly watching with a knowing smirk, finally sat forward, intrigued.

Namjoon, however, frowned. Something wasn’t right.

He knew this song better than anyone. This was his song.

But that wasn’t his voice.

The stage flooded with red and black lighting, smoke curling along the ground. A lone figure stepped forward—tall, poised, dripping with confidence. The second he raised the mic, it became undeniable.

It was Tiger JK.

Namjoon choked on his drink. “You’re kidding.”

Hobi, eyes wide, smacked his arm. “That’s Tiger JK!”

Namjoon didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He was too busy watching one of Korea’s most legendary rappers spit his verse on Cypher Pt. 3, delivering each line with the same venom and precision that had once made the original version so lethal.

The stadium was a frenzy of disbelief and euphoria. A collaboration no one had seen coming.

And it wasn’t over.

As Tiger JK’s verse ended, the beat transitioned smoothly into the next verse—J-Hope’s

Verse.

Except it wasn’t Hobi who stepped forward this time.

It was Gaeko.

J-Hope screamed.

“He didn’t tell—”

Gaeko, one-half of Dynamic Duo, one of the most respected lyricists in Korean hip-hop, was right there, rapping his part, filling the stadium with his signature flow.

It was unreal.

Namjoon was grinning now, fully enjoying the absolute chaos unfolding in their section.

Yoongi, who had been quiet this entire time, tilted his head slightly, curious.

And then the beat switched one final time.

A slow, deliberate pause.

A lone, familiar voice.

Dressed in black jeans with a black hoodie, the hood pulled up, Grace appeared.

Now Namjoon started to understand why this song had mysteriously been added to the set list. It was a cypher they had last performed in Busan with the government concert and he knew Grace well enough that she would have added this in as another little ‘fuck you’ to the government. And if Namjoon knew Grace enough, he knew what was coming.

“SUGA a.k.a Agust D,” she rapped as the camera panned towards, circling around to show the little cartoon design of Yoongi dressed in his Daewitcha assemble.

If any of Grace’s performances from the night caused headlines, this was the one that would shoot straight to the top.

She delivered every line with precision, her flow sharp and effortless, keeping up with what Yoongi had written all those years ago without deviating from a single word. She didn’t soften it. She didn’t adjust it. She owned it.

And beside her, legends stood in her corner.

Tiger JK and Gaeko hyped her up, their voices booming over the crowd as they urged the audience to make some noise. The energy in the stadium was unreal—every ARMY in attendance screaming, chanting, jumping in sync to the beat as the track powered forward.

Then, as the song neared its end, Grace lowered her hood, locking eyes with the camera. And she didn’t stop.

She took over.

She took Namjoon’s final verse.

And with every word she spat into the mic, the message was unmistakable.

"Haters, I have a lot but no problem, I killThe shovels digging on my career in order to bury meFuck, I don't care, you can't control my shitI became a ninja who has endured distrust and returned again.”

The second she finished, the reaction was instantaneous.

The crowd erupted.

It was deafening—cheers, screams, and the relentless flashing of phone cameras capturing what would become the most replayed moment of the night.

Some would later say this was Grace’s warning shot to the government and the world—fuck around and find out.

Fuck around and mess with her career, with their career, and you’d find out.

She wasn’t just performing. She was making a statement, echoing what Namjoon had felt back in Busan when Seokjin’s military enlistment had been looming, the announcement only days away. That frustration, that helplessness—it was all here, laid bare in every syllable she spit into the mic.

Even the hosts weren’t sure what to say. They tried to keep to the script, to smooth over the moment, but everyone knew. Everyone. They knew what had just happened and the reaction it would cause.

But the show had to go on.

And Grace knew that, too.

She disappeared beneath the stage for another outfit change, vanishing into the shadows just as IU took her place under the lights.

Spring Day.

A single note was all it took.

The stadium fell into a hush, a collective breath held as IU’s voice rang out, delicate but powerful. Every word laced with meaning, every glance at the camera a quiet message in itself. Her subtle nod to the Sewol Ferry tragedy wasn’t missed. It never was.

And nearly everyone—ARMY, idols, staff, even the VIPs—felt their eyes sting.

The night continued with various appearances of idols and groups, each having their own take on BTS’ songs and their legacy. Intermissions were strategically placed so people could go and buy drinks, have a break and come back to have their minds blown with whatever was about to happen next.

The stage had been set in total blackness apart from one spotlight, centered on the main stage as dancers in white did ballet choreography while black feathers rained over the audience.

And with the sound effects of wings, Grace appeared.

Dressed entirely in black—tailored pants, high heels, a lace bodysuit covered by a sleek black jacket adorned with gray feathers along the lapel—she commanded attention. Her gaze met the camera, and the audience held its breath.

“Do your thang, do your thang with me now,” she sang, slipping effortlessly into the all-too-familiar routine, flanked by seven male dancers dressed in white.

As "Black Swan" came to its haunting end, the stage darkened, leaving only Grace’s silhouette before the opening chords of "Blood Sweat & Tears" began to play. The audience erupted, knowing she wasn’t done yet.

She commanded the stage with fluidity, embodying the sensual and tragic beauty of the song, easily reverting back to her character from the BU Universe and WINGS, slipping into that sexiness that sometimes didn’t come naturally to her. By the gasps and reactions of the 90,000 attendees, they had somewhat forgotten how sensual the song was.

As the lights dimmed for Blood, Sweat and Tears to end, Grace slipped off her jacket so the lace bodysuit that had been hidden by the jacket could now be revealed. A sexy top for a tragic, but sexy song as the chords of Fake Love hit ARMY like a tidal wave.

“ARMY, sing it,” she yelled.

“I’m so sick of this fake love,” they sang back to her.

The audience fell into a hushed whisper as Grace softly sang the end, slipping into the centre and holding her hand up as the dancers who each represented one of the boys fell into the ending pose of the song.

There was much time left between the end of the show and as the hosts started to reveal the end of the show, with only three more songs to go, Grace rushed underneath the stage for the final change of the night. The next three songs were going to be the most energetic and with it being the finale, the outfits had to be special.

The dramatic music and entrance of Dionysus, especially when the viewers caught sight of Grace sitting at that familiar table. It was a heavy and busy song, its choreography one of the hardest and it was hard for one member just to do their part, let alone everyone’s parts and sing and do the dance break.

BTS in their section were almost holding their breaths, Seokjin included for he knew just how hard this song went and he knew what Grace would have to go through to get all the way to the dance break, finish that and the finally get to her part of the song which was one of the fastest. Her outfit of choice, the same one from the Melon Music Awards back in 2019, was a sore point for Grace - the first time she had worn it, it had almost killed her but here she was, rocking it again, looking more comfortable than she had been and in more sensible heels.

The noise upped in scale as the dance break finished and Grace leaned against the table, taking a moment to catch her breath before she launched into her part, causing the crowd to almost raise the roof in approval.

At the final beats of the song and on the final high note from Seokjin, Grace sat on the silver thrones and for the first time in the night, took in the crowd. Thousands of faces filled the venue—men and women, young and old, Korean and international—all waving their ARMY Bombs, basking in the music, the moment, the legacy.

She was exhausted, sore, her voice on the verge of giving out. She wanted nothing more than to kick off her heels and collapse into bed.

But it wasn’t over just yet.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jee Seok-jin's voice rang out. "It has been our pleasure to journey with you through the remarkable career of Bangtan Sonyeondan—from their humble beginnings to their latest triumphs, from idols to legends, from one dream to a movement…”

A wave of anticipation rippled through the crowd as Jee Seok-jin paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. The cheers softened into a reverent hush, thousands hanging onto his every syllable.

"This night is more than just a performance. It is a celebration of resilience, of passion, of music that has transcended borders and languages. And as we near the end, we have just two more songs left."

The energy in the arena reignited like a flame catching in the wind.

Beneath the stage and after the quickest change of her life, Grace exhaled sharply, shaking out her limbs. Two more. She could do this. She would do this.

The moment the first notes of MIC Drop echoed through the venue, the crowd exploded. The pulsing bass, the commanding beat—it was a track that demanded presence, demanded power. Grace took her place, the camera focused on her now booted foot, the adrenaline drowning out her exhaustion.

This song had a bite. A message. A testament to every hurdle, every doubt, every barrier shattered in Bangtan’s journey.

The verses hit hard, and Grace delivered them with razor-sharp precision, her voice unwavering despite the strain. Her movements were fierce, aggressive—driven by the raw energy surging from the audience. Every step, every beat, every lyric felt like fire beneath her skin, propelling her forward.

Then came Namjoon’s familiar line:

“Haters gonna hate.”

The entire stadium roared in response, ARMY’s voices rising like a tidal wave, growing louder and louder as the song thundered on. And when Grace placed her hands over the hips of the dancers beside her and executed that all-too-familiar body roll, the eruption of screams shook the arena.

But there was no time to recover—there was no mic drop.

Instead, the electrifying EDM beat of “Oh-oh-ooh-whoa” pulsed through the speakers.

IDOL had begun.

The choreography hadn’t kicked in yet, giving Grace the freedom to sing her heart out as she strode down the thrust stage, closing the distance between herself and the crowd.

“You can’t stop me lovin’ myself!”

She sang directly to them, jumping in sync with the fans who leapt with her, their ARMY Bombs bouncing wildly.

“It’s okay, I’m in love with my—myself!”

Her voice soared, filled with joy, defiance, freedom. Twenty dancers flooded the stage around her, and without missing a beat, she seamlessly slipped into the choreography. From the front row, she caught glimpses of ARMY mirroring her hand movements, their faces beaming.

The heavy EDM bass rumbled beneath her feet, making the entire stage vibrate.

“Sing it!” she shouted, thrusting her mic toward the crowd.

“Oh-oh-ooh!” they sang back in perfect unison, their voices shaking the arena.

Grace grinned, sweat dripping down her temple.

“One, two, three!” she counted down, perfectly timed with the beat drop.

She took off, sprinting back toward the main stage—where everyone who had performed that night was waiting.

Soobin and S.Coups flanked her as she reached them, bouncing on their feet, the adrenaline still rushing through their veins.

Then—the final verse.

“Oh-oh-ooh!”

Everyone on stage sang together, voices blending into one.

With one last spin, they dropped to the floor as the song reached its final beat. The camera pulled back, capturing the entire stage in a breathtaking wide shot—a sea of performers, a sea of ARMY, a night that would never be forgotten.

The moment their bodies hit the floor, the stage lights dimmed, leaving only the glow of ARMY Bombs twinkling across the vast arena. For a few lingering seconds, there was nothing but the sound of thousands catching their breath—hearts still racing, bodies still buzzing with energy.

Then, like the crash of a wave, the cheers erupted.

It wasn’t just applause—it was thunderous, deafening, overwhelming. The kind of sound that shook the soul, that echoed through every heartbeat, every breath. Grace lay on the floor for a second, chest heaving, staring up at the darkened rafters. She felt everything—the exhaustion in her muscles, the sweat clinging to her skin, the ache in her throat from pushing her voice to its limits.

But more than anything—she felt whole.

The stage lights began to rise again, casting a soft golden glow as everyone lifted themselves off the ground. Laughter, grins, playful shoves. Performers clung to each other, sweaty and exhausted but buzzing with euphoria.

Soobin threw an arm around her shoulders, grinning.

“You killed that,” he said breathlessly.

S.Coups nodded, eyes wide with admiration. “I don’t even know how you survived Mic Drop and Idol back-to-back.”

Grace laughed, still catching her breath. “Me neither.”

A booming voice cut through the stadium, drawing attention back to the center stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for a wonderful night. From all of us here at the Seoul Olympic Stadium, to all the ARMY here, to all the ARMY’s watching and to BTS,” Yoo Jae-suk started as he and his co-host, Jee Seok-Jin, stood in front of all the performers who managed to stand up. The camera panned to the seven male members of BTS, all of whom were up and clapping, “On behalf of us all, thank you.”

They all bowed to the audience, to those watching in the stands and to those watching at home, to the crew, to the dancers and finally to the group who made it happen.

As the lights came up to signal the show was over, Grace let out the deepest breath she could and for the first time in the day, she felt relief. It was over, it was done and now she could go and see her boys.

The stage emptied but also filled, with performers disappearing to get changed and to head to the after party. Staff filled the stage and Grace caught the eye of Sejin as he made his way over with Hana and their team of security. A cold bottle of water was given to her and Hana immediately got to work, dabbing away the sweat on her forehead as security led them offstage.

“How are you feeling?” Sejin asked, keeping a steady arm around her shoulders.

“Tired,” Grace all but croaked. “And a sore throat.”

“Not surprising, given what you just pulled off,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “That setlist was brutal.”

They maneuvered through the backstage maze—past dancers, crew, and fellow performers trying to stop and congratulate her—until they finally reached her dressing room.

She should have known it wouldn’t be empty or even just filled with staff. Because standing right there, waiting, were seven very familiar faces.

Seokjin. Namjoon. Yoongi. Hoseok. Jimin. Taehyung. Jungkook.

Two bottles of champagne sat on the table (which was hilarious considering she didn’t even drink alcohol), and judging by the way they were poking around her things, they had been waiting for a while.

“Not even a minute,” Sejin sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “I should’ve known.”

Grace barely had time to process before Jungkook launched himself at her, wrapping her in a bear hug.

“NOONA, YOU KILLED IT!” he practically shouted in her ear.

She winced, but couldn’t stop the tired laugh that bubbled up. There was a clamour from the maknae line and Hobi, each chomping at the bit to tell her which bits were her favourite. Sejin didn’t even manage to get in the door, simply handing the honey tea to Yoongi who passed it to Seokjin who passed it to Grace.

Jungkook, pouting because his noona was distracted by her boyfriend, had somehow found his way to the food table, stuffing his mouth with whatever snacks had been laid out. He looked up mid-bite, eyes widening as he realized everyone was watching him.

“What? I’m hungry!” he mumbled around a mouthful of tteokbokki.

Grace chuckled, shaking her head. “You just watched me perform a whole concert, and you’re the one who’s hungry?”

Jungkook swallowed (barely) before pouting more. “I was stressed! Watching you do all of that on your own made my stomach hurt.”

Yoongi smirked, leaning against the counter. “You act like you’ve never seen her perform before.”

“Not like that,” Jungkook shot back. “That was next-level.”

The others hummed in agreement, and Grace rolled her eyes, finally slipping off her heels.

The relief was instant.

“Bloody hell,” she sighed, flexing her toes. “I swear those things were out to kill me.”

Seokjin, not having said a word since she saw him, simply grabbed the pair of slippers that Grace had packed away and helped her slip her sore feet into the fluffiness. There was an instant sigh of relief and Seokjin straightened up, Grace using the moment to all but lean on him as his arm wrapped around her waist.

Jimin flopped onto the couch, letting out a strange noise, completely shattering the moment.

“So!” he chirped. “What’s the plan for the afterparty?”

Grace groaned, sitting down on the couch next to him, tilting her head back against the cushions. “Jimin, I’m dead. You really think I can go out after that?”

Jimin grinned. “Absolutely.”

Hobi laughed, already pulling out his phone. “I mean, it’s tradition. And everyone’s going to be there—HYBE staff, performers, even some industry seniors.”

Grace grimaced. “That sounds exhausting.”

Namjoon, ever the voice of reason, nudged her knee. “You don’t have to stay long. Just show up, say hi, and leave when you want.”

She sighed, knowing she probably should make an appearance. Even if she was tired, having come off her own tour, had a few days of secret rest, done some of the hardest BTS choreography known and had killed it on stage.

“She’s going to need some more energy,” Seokjin simply commented and the next thing she knew, she was being handed plates of snacks. There was a general conversation about TXT, IU, Seventeen and other performers and they all stood about, even as Hana came back in to help Grace change into a simple black dress with flat shoes this time. Her hair was brushed out and her make up taken off, only to be replaced by very light eyeshadow and some lipstick.

“Come on, the quicker we go to this after party, the quicker we go home,” Grace sighed as she watched Hana pack away her things and shoo her off. Her staff would make sure her things returned home and her costumes would be packed away, going into storage apart from those that might not be needed for her tour.

They made their way down the hall, security keeping a quiet but firm perimeter around them as they moved. The afterparty wasn’t far—it was being hosted at a high-end venue just outside the stadium grounds—but the moment they stepped out into the night air, Grace felt the exhaustion hit her all over again.

Seokjin, who had been watching her like a hawk, didn’t miss it.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, just for her to hear.

She shot him a tired smile. “I’ll be fine. One hour, remember?”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue either. Instead, he just stayed close, his presence grounding as they arrived at the venue.

The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The bass thrummed through the floor, laughter and conversation filled the air, and industry elites mingled over drinks and light bites. Performers, producers, managers—everywhere she looked, she saw familiar faces.

A cheer erupted near the entrance as TXT spotted them first, Soobin waving them over. “Hyung! Noona! Over here!”

Grace felt her lips twitch into a smirk as they made their way through the crowd. The younger group was buzzing with excitement, still riding the high from their own stage.

“That was insane,” Beomgyu gushed, eyes flicking between Grace and BTS. “Like, we knew you were gonna be amazing, but that? That was legendary.”

“Literally unreal,” Taehyun agreed. “I don’t know how you had the energy to pull off all that choreography while still being on tour.”

Grace let out a light laugh. “Trust me, I have no idea either.”

Hobi threw an arm over her shoulders, grinning. “She won’t admit it, but she’s basically superhuman.”

“She’s also running on fumes,” Seokjin cut in, giving Hobi a pointed look. “So let’s not make her stand here all night.”

Huening Kai nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s grab a seat!”

The group maneuvered toward a VIP section, a little more secluded from the crowd but still lively. Drinks were poured (non-alcoholic for Grace, per Seokjin’s silent insistence), and the night settled into a comfortable buzz of conversation and laughter.

Grace found herself leaning back against the plush seating, soaking it all in. The music, the energy, the warmth of being surrounded by people who genuinely cared.

Maybe an hour here wouldn’t be so bad after all.

So many people came and congratulated on a performance, how she killed it on stage, etc. All words just flowed over her as she nodded, bowed and thanked them for their kind words. She could see so many familiar faces and she focused enough especially when Big Bang’s own G-Dragon, Taeyang and Daesung wandered over to say congratulations.

But the wariness was getting to her, as was not having enough sleep and the honey tea hadn’t worked as well she had hoped.

Seokjin caught her eye, just as he returned to the table with her water. “Done?”

“Yeah, I think it's time to go home.”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much to gather the boys and they all said goodnight early to the party goers. They managed to pile into the van together, Sejin at the wheel and Grace let out a sigh of relief as her feet met the cool metal of the van.

Yoongi slipped in beside her, closing the door behind them and without thinking, she reached over and rested her head on his shoulder as Seokjin covered her with his jacket.

“Is she ill?” Yoongi whispered to his hyung, who glanced at Grace and gave half of a shrug.

“Exhausted from tonight and her tour I imagine,” Seokjin replied but he made a mental note to see what Grace would be like in the morning.

“Sleep over?”

It wasn’t Jungkook who was suggesting it but rather Namjoon.

Seven pairs of eyes met, the eighth was closed, and they all nodded.

“Your place?” Sejin asked, catching Seokjin’s eye in the mirror.

“I guess we’ve got visitors,” he grinned.

Grace got a burst of energy when she realised she was home and Jungkook reached over, helping his noona and the woman he considered his mother, out of the van. The eight of them piled around the front door as Soekjin put in the security code and they were immediately met with a pair of eyes on the stairs.

“Uh oh, we’ve been out too long,” Grace sighed as the boys kicked off their shoes and she made her way over the stairs, letting her hand smooth down Min-Ji’s fur. “I know, I’m sorry. You’ve got extra people to pester now.”

Min-ji graced the boys with his presence by wandering around their feet. Hobi and Jimin took control of sorting out beds for everyone, Namjoon checked his emails and social media for Grace updates, Taehyung started making everyone hot chocolate and Yoongi & Seokjin almost bullied Grace into getting a shower and changing into her pyjamas.

A hot shower and clearing all the makeup away, Grace found the seven men spread across the various couches with the TV on as the news reported back on the concert. “Are you going to keep watching this?” Grace teased, her throat sounding even worse but she felt more awake and more clearer.

“Hey, let us bask,” Jungkook pouted.

Grace stepped over feet and planted herself between Seokjin and Yoongi, the latter passing her a mug of hot chocolate. It was nice to hear them after all this time, and she hadn’t even had a chance to say how much she had missed Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin with them being away for the military. She saw Yoongi whenever his social work for the military would allow him to and Hobi was busy with his solo projects.

But here they were with her, with Seokjin, as they boasted about her performance, and interacted with fans on the V app, teasing each other for their over-reactions. And as she watched and listened, she settled into Seokjin’s side and felt him press his lips to the top of her head.

She did it, she was home, her boys with her and soon they would all be back together as an eight. She just had her tour left to do, the Paris date was looming but she would worry about that later. Right now, she just wanted to relish in the feeling of having Seokjin’s strength beside her, Yoongi’s silent comfort, Namjoon’s careful watch, Jimin and Hobi’s warmth, Jungkook’s care and Taehyung’s sweetness. They were all home, finally.

#bts 8th member #bts eighth member #bts additional member #bts female member #bts fic #bts fanfiction #gracechu

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mermaidgirl30 · 20 days ago

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✨Dancing With Fire Part 7: Show ‘Em How It’s Done, My Beautiful Swan✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Ballerina Fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’ve been trying to finish this story for months now. All it took was for me to going to a showing of Swan Lake ballet!

Chapter Summary: It’s finally opening night of Swan Lake, and Joel talks you through taking the stage like the star you are.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags: A little angst, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, theater drama, age gap (reader mid 20’s, Joel in his early 40’s) No use Y/N, reader’s nickname is Sunshine

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Your heart thundered in your chest with every tap your dainty toes made against the polished floors. Sweat beaded your forehead as shades of crimson filled your peripheral vision. It’s almost like a ghost walked these dim halls now instead of you, all hushed and meek as the icy hair hit your bare arms.

This place felt like a prison the longer you stood here, fear trembling through your bones. This was it, the moment you’ve waited for since Pierre stepped foot onto this hollow stage.

This is it.

As you waited for Carlotta to step into the auditorium with her overflowing coffee cup and lipstick smeared against the white lid, you felt anxiety like you’d never felt before. And as if Joel could sense your gut-wrenching fright, you could feel his large presence looming over you, making sure you felt safe.

“Easy there. S’alright, I’m right here. Pierre ain’t gonna last a second when he gets here,” he assured you with his large palm caressing the small of your back, making that fear creep away as his warm breath blew down your neck.

“You really think he’ll get kicked out?” you asked with a shaky breath.

He stepped closer and laced his fingers with yours, giving you that gentle squeeze of reassurance you so desperately needed. “If my plan worked and she watched that video, there’s no fuckin’ way she’d let him stay.”

As if right on cue, Carlotta came storming into the auditorium, waving an arm frantically in the air with coffee nearly spilling over the sides. “Pierre! Where is Pierre?!” Her voice was hot and angry, and her face looked as red as the morning sunrise.

Pierre’s murky eyes appeared as he took the stage, and the deep snarl he gave you was enough to make you topple over in fear, but Joel stood firm behind you and became the rock that made you stand tall.

“Little swan,” Pierre growled under his breath as his eyes penetrated your frigid stare. Those cold, dark eyes alone were enough to shake you to the core.

“Pierre, come here!” Carlotta’s scream rang around the expansive auditorium, and you were holding your breath while you watched him turn slowly and parade down the wooden steps, down to where she was holding out her cell phone.

Your eyes went wide as you watched the visual of the recording. The one where Pierre snapped and slapped your face, pushing you down into the hardwood floor as fear smothered your insides.

You couldn’t bear to watch that video again, so you turned and nuzzled your face in Joel’s warm flannel, where it was safe and secure and so very gentle. He slung a protective arm around your back and cradled your skull, letting his thick fingers run gently through your hair.

It’s like his gentle touch and warm presence send a wave of calm waters over your body every time he’s around you, holding you to him like he’s the anchor to your heart. But that’s what he was, what he’d always be. He was yours, and you feared you’d never be able to let him pull from your reach ever again.

“This is not how we treat our dancers, Pierre! Care to explain?” Her voice was icy, just like the chill that ran straight down your back.

Your eyes peeled over to where Pierre stood frozen to the spot, his jaw clenching with fire as if he was the victim and not the assaulter. “I didn’t mean it, I swear! She was driving me nuts and wouldn’t listen to a thing I was saying, Carlotta I…”

Carlotta held a sharp palm up and silenced him. “I watched the entire thing, and it looked like you were the one to drive her nuts. What was your plan, Pierre? What was the point of slapping your partner?” Her eyes pierced daggers into his clammy skin, and your breath caught with how forceful Carlotta was being. She never defended you before, so why now?

“I… I…” He was completely speechless, and he had nothing to say as his murky eyes flashed the color of a damp swamp. He was terrified. Good.

She zipped her lips and pointed a menacing finger his way. “We don’t hit our partners, Pierre.”

“But I…”

“Period!” She glared on and shoved her phone into the pocket of her burgundy Coach pants. “You’re finished here.”

Pierre’s mouth dropped open, and he almost lost his balance standing on solid ground. “You can’t do this! I’m the star of the show!” he shouted with desperation lurking in his frenzied eyes.

“You’re not anymore. So grab your bag and leave. You’re not welcome in this theater anymore. Josh will take your place.” She shooed him off and frantically ran to the back of the auditorium, screaming for Josh to hurry up and get in place; practice would commence in ten minutes.

You stood there stunned, your mouth hanging wide open as you nearly collapsed with relief. He was gone; you wouldn’t have to ever dance with his terrifying face again. Relief started to drip off your heated skin, and your body relaxed like you were floating in a hot tub, Joel still your rock behind you as his large palm sat against your lower back. He was exactly where you needed him most.

Just before you could completely ease up, an unwelcome feeling slipped through your bones as Pierre appeared across the wooden stage and stalked toward you, prowling as his sharp green eyes narrowed into thin slits, sending fire through your lungs.

His footsteps were heavy and blaring across the open auditorium, and his large figure seemed to envelop you in full on terror that consumed you whole, swallowing you into the depths of the shadows that held you in place. You wouldn’t make it out of here alive, not with the way he glared at you with pure hate dripping off his venomous tongue.

Once Carlotta stepped out, Pierre lunged, and you felt as if he’d claw you to shreds, leaving nothing behind but your crimson blood all over the cold theater floor. “Hey, little swan! What the fuck did I tell you? You’re in for a world of hurt now, little bitch,” he sneered violently as he pursued you like a hungry wolf about to devour his shaking prey.

You couldn’t move, and all form of coherent thoughts left your head in a daze. You were glued to this very spot, and there was nothing that could tear your paralyzed form from the hardwood floor.

Just when you thought he was going to attack, Joel stepped in front of you and shielded your body like a big, thick wall. He looked so furious, the way his nostrils flared and dark eyes narrowed toward Pierre. He wouldn’t take Pierre’s shit. No, this would be the last straw.

“Out of my way,” Pierre barked as his brooding form covered the expanse of the stage, but Joel was much bigger, much broader than Pierre could ever be. And if there’s one thing Joel didn’t take, it was people messing with his girl.

“Not a chance. Back off.” Joel growled as he clenched his massive fists at his side, his knuckles solid white as his fingers curled into his palms.

Your breath hitched as you latched onto his flannel and clung tightly to him as you watched your knight in shining honor defend you.

“Get out of the way, fucker. Let me show your girl just what it means if she wants to play with fire. It spits right back,” Pierre snarled with a low rumble in his chest.

Pierre threw a hand up angrily and lunged for Joel. Joel placed a hand out and snatched his wrist quicker than a blink of an eye, and his eyes flared with violence the longer he stared at Pierre. “Call her bitch one more time and see what happens,” Joel dared Pierre with a heated glare.

Leaning forward and scowling, Pierre smirked devilishly, licking his lips as if he was playing with Joel and his tethered patience. “Bitch.”

The next second, Joel’s arm flexed, and his clenched fist hit Pierre so hard in the nose that blood spewed as an earth-shattering scream came from his covered mouth.

“Shit! What was that for!” Pierre garbled as blood continued to pour from his broken nose.

“That was for messin’ with my girl, asshole. Now get. Out. Of. Here.” He punctuated every word with the cut of his sharp tongue. “Now,” he growled, shoving him so hard in the chest that he toppled to the ground like the coward he was, and then he crawled off the back of the stage and made a run for it.

Before he made it out the back door, you heard him muttering raspy words under his breath. “Mark my words, I’ll be back, little swan. One day, you’ll pay.” His promise ran dry as he fled out of the theater in a hurry.

He was gone.

You stood there shocked like lightning just struck your core, electrified by how fearless your protector was. He broke Pierre’s nose, made him pay for what he did to you so many days ago. He got the security footage for you, made sure Carlotta received it, made damn sure he’d never lay another finger on you. He was much more than your protector. He was everything to you, and now? Now you truly saw how much he cared about you, loved you. And God, you loved this man with every fiber of your being.

He was everything.

He stood there staring at the disappearing blood trail, fists still clenched, jaw locked tight with a scowl a mile wide as his eyes darted with vengeance that dared Pierre to come back and mess with you.

Not being able to help yourself, a small smile crept over the corners of your pink lips, and your eyes crinkled with a lot of admiration while you looked at the man who once again saved your life. Joel slowly turned, and when he met your eyes, his softened embers of deep chocolate irises melted, and then his fingers relaxed when he saw your gentle smile.

“Joel,” you whispered quietly, reaching out to curl your fingers tightly around his tanned wrist while his bruised knuckles brushed against your cheek like a feather floating down your soft skin.

“You okay, sunshine?” he questioned, grazing his calloused fingers down the nape of your neck, drawing you in with the scent of coffee and mahogany that wrapped completely around your mind until all you could smell was him.

“I’m—”

“Hey!” The shrieking scream of Cecilia took you out of your hypnotic daze, and then the stomping of feet broke your hold on Joel’s wrist. You whirled around and came face to face with her glaring icy eyes and her perfect blonde hair tucked up in a secure bun. Even her too-tight leotard made you cringe the way she swayed her hips with confidence. “Think you’re so slick getting Pierre kicked out of the ballet? Think your big, strong maintenance man can always protect you? Well, I don’t think so,” she spit out like the bitch she was.

“Watch your mouth,” Joel warned, ticking his jaw up in anger.

You looked from Joel to Cecilia, eyes wide as your heart skipped wildly in your chest. You wouldn’t let Joel fight all your battles for you; this one was yours to conquer.

Taking a deep breath and stepping hesitantly forward, you pushed your way in front of Joel, letting his wall of a body sink behind yours. He wrapped a big hand around your wrist, giving you concerned brown eyes that asked if you were positive about this. You nodded and unhooked his fingers from your heated skin, and then you faced Cecilia and her burning red face that scorched with fury.

Taking a deep breath, you growled lowly. “Give it a rest, Cecilia. He’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Jesus, you’re such a bitch, you know that! You think you own this stage, don’t you? Think you’re hot shit in that feathered swan dress, well guess what? Just wait until I get my hands on—”

You seethed and bit your tongue, tasting metallic blood drain down the back of your throat as rage burned inside you. Nu-uh. Not today, not ever again would you take her shit.

Stomping your heel into the ground, you shot her an icy stare that made her jump back an inch in surprise. This time, she’d be the one scared, not you. “I’m the bitch? Are you kidding me?” You threw back your head and cackled, letting the uproarious laughter shake your core at the pretentious bully that stood sneering at you with her unwelcome blue eyes.

“That’s right, you.” She challenged you with slit eyes that looked like a feral cat taunting a little mouse. But you were no little mouse, you were a lioness, and you’d sharpen your claws until they were cut like glass across her shiny skin.

Joel grabbed the back of your black leotard, holding you tightly in place so you wouldn’t lunge, like he knew you were thinking of it. You wanted to. God, you really wanted to claw her perfect face and show her you were no meek mouse who sat around and waited to be played with by a dumb cat. No, you were better than that, and you’d show her.

“You’re the one who’s been bullying me since the very first day I stepped into this ballet company, so cut the pretense. Just because I got the role of Odette and you didn’t doesn’t mean you can bully your way into my role. I won, Cecilia, not you.”

Her cold eyes crowded your body, arms crossing against her over-spilling breasts in her ridiculously tight leotard that should be two sizes bigger. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes were almost the color of ocean flames. She’d attack if she could, but she knew the moment she struck she’d be kicked out just like Pierre.

Huffing and stomping her ballet shoe into the hard floor, she bites. “Fine, you won fair and square! Happy? But make no mistake, I will wear that feathered dress one of these days, and I’ll snatch that glittery crown right out of your dainty hands you freak,” she sneered.

Joel’s breath blew hot down the back of your neck, and you felt the fury that succumbed to his towering body, just waiting to let it out of his cage. You backed into his broad chest, one hand hanging on his veiny forearm as a way to tell him you were alright. You had this like you had the title of a deed in your hand. And in that moment, you made your choice.

You were staying. This was your chance to shine and light up the stage, and you weren’t giving that up for a mean girl who tried to push your buttons every day. Pierre was gone, and that was one burden off your heavy chest.

You held your chin higher and gave her a sly smile, showing her you weren’t messing around, and then you snapped. Hard. “A freak, huh? Well, if I’m a freak, then you’re just a mean bitch who always got her way. But you know what? This is my stage, my ballet, mine. And I’ll wear that jeweled crown every single night until my contract is up because you know why? I worked my ass off for this role, and I’m not having it taken away by some girl who always got everything she ever wanted. No. This is my time to shine. And maybe one day you’ll get this role, but not this time. So I suggest you take your snotty attitude and go bully someone your own size. I’m done taking your shit, Cecilia. Either you leave me alone and be nice, or I’ll have words with Carlotta,” you promised with the bite of your shiny teeth.

Cecilia’s blue eyes went as wide as the full moon, and her jaw dropped straight to the floor at the threat. She didn’t expect you to snap like that because you never did, but now? Now you were just giving it right back to her. She took a hesitant step back and gulped, flicking her eyes between you and Joel’s glaring eyes. You could tell she was nervous. Good. She should be because that’s how she made you feel the entire time you’d been here.

“That’s my girl,” Joel said proudly, clutching an arm possessively around your hip.

Cecilia gulped and nervously tugged at her tiny leotard, clearly trying to get more air into her filled lungs.

Joel slid his tongue slowly against his bottom teeth and ticked his jaw as he watched Cecilia with a careful stare, letting her know he wasn’t messing around either. “If you ever give me or her any more hell, then you’re next. Remember the cameras, blondie. I’m watching,” he warned, narrowing his eyes into thin slits while she nodded and quickly fled the stage, practically leaving behind a snail trail of fear that crept into her body from the intense reminder to never mess with you again.

“Whoa,” you breathed out in shock. Joel spun you around and cupped your chin, bringing your eyes up to his.

“Look at you, sunshine. My sweet swan’s got a sharp beak on her, don’t she?” he smirked, his chocolate eyes flicking to yours with pride and admiration in those warm irises you so desperately loved.

“You taught me well, Joel,” you teased.

“Guess I did,” he chuckled, wrapping his strong arms around you as he pulled you flush to his strong chest, fanning his warm breath over your lips. “So proud of you,” he cooed, and then his lips were on yours in an instant.

Warm. He’s so warm and tastes like a sip of your favorite kind of coffee. Joel’s coffee.

“Alright, where are my dancers? I need my swan! Josh, get out here.” Carlotta’s booming voice filled the room, and you jolted back from Joel with a sigh, not wanting to leave the warmth of Joel’s arms.

“I have to go,” you mewled as you pulled out of Joel’s warm arms, not wanting to let go. Before you pulled completely away, he leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“Go get ‘em, sunshine. I’ll jus’ be fixin’ up some flooring at the front. You know where to find me.” Joel gave you a gentle smile and nodded your way before he disappeared around the corner.

You stood there another few seconds behind the crimson curtain, out of the bright spotlight from the main stage. You just wanted to soak up this victory, fill your lungs with new oxygen that wasn’t polluted or tainted. You wanted to smell the roses, and that’s exactly what you smelled now.

Peace.

“Swan, let’s go! We’ve got less than a week to get ready. Josh, take it from the top!” Carlotta’s screeching dragged you out from the curtain and on to center stage, exactly where you’d be just a few nights from now.

“Josh, congratulations! I know you’ve wanted this spot for a while now,” you smiled, giving him a congratulatory hug before you got in first position.

He slicked back his auburn hair and flashed you a friendly smile. “Thank you. This is everything I’ve wanted. But honestly, I’m also kind of glad Pierre is gone. He was really mean to you. I just can’t believe it took Carlotta so long to see.”

You nodded and swallowed back the lump in your throat, pushing back down all the terrible memories of Pierre and his little posse. He couldn’t touch you anymore, couldn’t make Cecelia do his bidding anymore, couldn’t ruin your happiness anymore. But the real reason was because Joel stepped in. He stepped in and physically showed Carlotta what Pierre had done.

Joel was your hero, and you loved that man.

Rehearsal flew by quickly the next few days. Josh made it so easy. He was nice, a gentleman, made your routines lighter than Pierre ever did. You finally felt like you belonged on stage, in the spotlight, as the lead of the show. You finally felt like the white swan.

After days of dancing your heart out and finally feeling like this could work, Friday came around. And suddenly, you felt nervous and completely sick to your stomach. Tomorrow night was opening night, and you didn’t know if you could do it.

You were quiet at dinner, only about to take a few bites before you pushed back your full plate of baked chicken and pasta salad. You suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. Joel encouraged you to eat, asked if you were okay, but you just brushed him off and went to take a long, hot shower, trying to scrub away the pit in your stomach that was eating you alive.

After you dried off, you grabbed one of Joel’s flannels and slipped it on, hugging it around your trembling body as you soaked up his warmth and scent. It smelled just like him. Like a cool autumn day, mixed with the scent of the woods and pine cones. It was your favorite smell because it smelled like the man you loved.

Taking a deep breath, you sat on the edge of the bed and twisted your fingers in the cool sheets, trying to get a hold of your growing anxiety. Tomorrow was the big night—the debut of your dancing career. It made your stomach twist into tight knots because right now at this very moment, you didn’t think you could do it. You couldn’t go out there like this. Maybe you didn’t belong. Maybe…

In the next moment, you heard the door crack open while Joel slipped in the bedroom, his footsteps pacing over to you. You felt right on the verge of tears until he placed a warm hand on your knee and gently caressed your soft skin with the pad of his calloused thumb. And that in itself instantly soothed you.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?” he asked with concern dripping off the edge of his tongue.

“I’m—yeah. I’m okay,” you whispered out, feeling the lie drag against your teeth.

“You barely touched your dinner tonight and have been real quiet. That’s not like you.”

“Just wasn’t very hungry I guess.”

He clenched his jaw and looked over at you with warm eyes. “You nervous ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, barely able to face the man with big brown eyes.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, sunshine. You’ve been practicin’ so long for this. You’re gonna do great.”

“What if I choke?” you bit out, afraid of making a fool of yourself in front of thousands.

“You won’t.” There’s no waver in his words.

“How do you know?” You glanced up and then melted into a big puddle by the way he was looking at you. Love and affection written in his starry eyes.

“I jus’ know, okay?”

“Joel, I’m scared. What if I… what if I fail?”

“Oh, sunshine. Look at me, baby.” He dropped to his knees in front of you, taking both your hands in his, his eyes never leaving yours. “Ever since I saw you up on that stage, I jus’ knew that’s what you were made to do. The way you dance, I’ve never seen anything like that. You’ve got passion and a spark I’ve never seen anyone else have except you. You were made to be the swan, babygirl. This is exactly where you should be.”

He swiped a falling tear away from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, easing you into a calm state. “How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?”

He shrugged. “Guess I jus’ know my girl really well.”

A quiet giggle fell from your lips as incandescent happiness bloomed around you. “I never get tired of hearing you say that.”

“Well, I’ll say it every day then. My perfect darlin’ girl.” He shoved himself up from the floor and curled around your body until you were a blanket around his big, strong arms, melting into his weight. Until you were flush to his chest, snug in the bed.

“I love you, Joel,” you whispered into the crook of his neck as he stroked your hair gently.

“I love you too, beautiful. Now, c’mere.” He pulled you in closer, until there was no air left between the two of you. There was only you and him left. That’s all you needed, all you wanted.

“I just want to stay right here. Right in this room with you. Right in your arms where it’s warm and cozy. This is my favorite place. Right here with you,” you breathed, allowing him to smother you with kisses all up and down your neck.

He brushed a sweet kiss across your forehead and then placed his thumb and index finger around your chin, tilting your head till you were eye to eye with him. “Every time you start doubtin’ yourself or get nervous, jus’ think of me, sunshine. Think of how proud you make me, beautiful. Pretend we’re in this room, jus’ the two of us. And think of how good I make you feel. Always jus’ wanna make you feel so good. My best girl.”

Once you nodded in response, he kissed you like no one else has. No one but him. Sweet, saccharine, gentle kisses that could bring you to your knees. “What did I ever do to deserve you…” you whispered out between kisses.

Joel stopped a second, giving you a once over slowly, until a big smile took over his face. “I ask myself that same question every day, sunshine. What did I do to get the most beautiful ballerina?”

You shrugged, clueless for a second, but then you remembered he saw you at your lowest. He brought you back into the sunshine. “You were there for me when no one else was. You cared, Joel. And you still care. I’m so lucky.”

“I’ll always be there for you, sunshine. As long as you need me.”

“I’ll always need you.” You pulled him close until all you could feel was the warmth from his body pressing into yours. You prayed you’d never have to let him go.

As if he could read your mind, he sighed, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sunshine.” And it was a promise. You’re holding him to that.

Opening night. This was it. This is what you’ve been waiting for your entire life. A spot as the swan queen, your first starring role in a professional ballet. Although things have been patchy and downhill since you’ve arrived in New York, tonight was your night.

Staring at the lit-up stage, seeing props and tapestries being strewn around the theater seemed surreal. But that fear was creeping in again—the one that nearly sent you running for the door.

“Hey,” Joel’s deep voice floated through your ears until your body didn’t feel like an icy lake anymore. And then his big hands were gently massaging your shoulders. “Remember what I said. You’re gonna do great, sunshine. I can’t wait to see you light up that stage as the beautiful swan you are.” His lips brushed your cheek, sending warmth radiating through every joint in your body.

“Thanks for always believing in me,” you breathed out, turning to throw your arms around him. “I hope I don’t let you down.”

“Oh, sweet girl. You could never let me down.” When he untangled your arms from around him, he slowly placed a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles. “I’m gonna be here a quarter till seven. Right in the third row where my seat is. And if you get nervous or scared, just look out to the crowd and find me. I’ll be right there.” And with that, he’s blowing you one more kiss and then disappearing behind the big red curtain, leaving you alone to get ready for the big show.

Blowing your nerves out, you made your way back to the dressing room, letting your hands roam over the white silk of the swan dress. This is it. This is the moment you've been waiting for forever. It’s here. Taking your time, you unhurriedly peeled on your tights, laced up your dress with the help from some of the girls, and slipped on your pointe shoes, tying the silk of the laces into neat bows. Next came the makeup and then the feathery crown, the last piece to the costume that would turn you into the swan queen.

When everything was finished, you looked up into the mirror and gasped. Everything about you screamed you were the swan queen. Winged eyeliner, shimmery red lipstick, sparkles dusted in your neat bun, the silky white fabric hugging your curves, the feathered crown glistening under the dressing room lights. You finally felt like the star you were.

“I’m…”

“Beautiful,” Carlotta called from the open doorway, gazing at you like you were a goddess under the moonlight. When you turned her way, she took your hand and smiled, really smiled. The first genuine one you’ve ever seen her give to you. “You ready to go dance, my perfect swan?”

“I—uhh. Yes,” you nodded with a small smile, thanking the girls before she whisked you out of the room to give you and Josh a pep talk and some last minute tips for your dances together.

“You ready to knock ‘em dead, teammate?” Josh asked when Carlotta was finished babbling.

You smiled and nodded. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

In just another hour, the theater room was packed—bodies lined the red velvet seats, voices traveled all the way backstage, the spotlights dimmed and fell on the orchestra that was just starting their first act songs. And when the first dancers took their places on stage, your heart started racing. Sweat built along the back of your neck, your brain felt all fuzzy, and imposter syndrome took root in your gut.

Just when it was almost your time to step onto the polished stage, when you looked out, fear flooded your insides. That is until you saw him sitting in the third row, four seats away from the aisle. Your heart stopped and everything seemed to slow down. There he was—slicked back hair, an encouraging smile on his lips, nodding for you to take your place. But with one wink your way, he told you everything you needed to know. He was here for you, and you could do anything you set your mind to.

So with one push, you took your place in the spotlight, all nerves seeming to dissipate from your limbs. You finally felt like you belonged in this room, all because Joel gave you the courage to continue. You wouldn’t even still be here if it wasn’t for that sappy, desirable man. You wouldn’t be the swan queen for the season. And that’s exactly who you were. The swan queen.

With your head held high and all emotions laid out on the stage, you did what you did best, and that’s dance. You lost yourself in every move, every beat, every position. You got lost in the lull of the music, let Josh lift you over his head, gliding you through spins and jumps. You’ve never felt so weightless, especially with Joel’s eyes on you. You looked over every few minutes, hiding a blush when you locked eyes with him. Even though the crowd was dark, you could still make out those soft brown eyes. Ones that belonged to a man you were head over heels with.

The next couple of hours came to a sudden halt when the crowd was standing to their feet, applauding the performance of the night. Josh presented you to the crowd, and you bowed gracefully, curtsying as cheers rang loud around the dome of the theater. They ricocheted off you, swelling your chest into a big balloon before Joel’s big smile nearly sucked all the air out of you. With one more group bow, the red curtain dropped, signaling the end of your very first show.

Carlotta came and presented you with a bouquet of vibrant flowers, calling you the most beautiful swan in history. And with one more hug to Josh and the rest of the dancers, you made your way back to your dressing room and collapsed into the white chair in front of the lit vanity, catching your breath as you set the bouquet down next to your dance bag.

Just when you were about to take off your shoes, a slight knock came from the doorway. “Come in!” you shouted, still a little out of breath. You expected it to be Carlotta, but a deep, Southern drawl sounded from the doorway.

“There you are. There’s my little star.” You whipped your head around, and your jaw dropped to the floor. There, standing in the open doorway, was Joel Miller in a tuxedo. Dark, silky black tie, pressed black jacket, sleek black pants, a button-up white shirt tucked in that clung to his broad chest. And his hair—dark locks slicked back with grey strands threaded together. And then there was the bouquet of a dozen roses held against his chest.

Oh my god, he is stunning.

“Joel…” You were speechless, breathless even. You’ve never seen the man look so good. “You look so—good.”

He chuckled, shook his head at the compliment. “No, darlin’. That’s all you. You leave me breathless,” he confessed with a big smile. Holding his hand out with the beautiful bouquet of roses, he nudged closer to you. “These are for you, darlin’.”

You quietly tiptoed over to him, taking the bouquet from his hand while you sniffed the carnations, carefully setting them down on top of the vanity. “They’re so beautiful, Joel. Thank you.”

“Anything for my beautiful swan. Think you deserve flowers every day.”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked as he tugged you into his strong arms, his hands cupping your face, tilting your mouth up to his.

“Yeah, think I might jus’ start from now on.” And then his lips were on yours, pulling you in as you got lost in the taste, the smell, the feel of him.

“Well,” you smiled once you broke away from the kiss. “How about a ballet studio too?” You bit your bottom lip, afraid you jumped too far, but he only smiled brighter.

“Yeah? That what you want?” he asked as he skimmed the pad of his thumb under your bottom lip.

“Mhm. In Florida. When I’m done with my contract here. I want my own studio. I want to teach.”

He toyed with that thought a moment, flipped it through his mind before he hummed. “So, you’re telling me you wanna go back to Florida after you’re finished here? And you want your own studio to teach?”

“Mhm, that’s what I’m saying,” you nodded with a giggle.

“Would this include a house with me?” he asked with an arched brow, pulling you in just a little closer so his big brown eyes could rake over you.

“Mmmm, yes,” you breathed out, letting him wrap his strong arms around your waist until you were flush with his chest again.

“Alright,” he smiled, “guess you’re stuck with me then, sunshine.”

“Promise?” you giggled as he lifted you in his arms, setting you down on the edge of the lit vanity, his hands skimming each side of you.

“Promise,” he whispered. “I’m gonna build you your dream studio, sunshine.”

“I know you will, handsome,” you sighed as he pulled you into a lasting kiss, letting his lips take you to the edge of bliss once again.

“It’s jus’ you and me, sunshine,” he whispered between breaths. “Forever…”

“And ever…” you finished for him as he sucked you into another breathless kiss.

You may have a few more months with the dance company, but you’ll have Joel for a lifetime. And that’s all you could ask for. After your contract was up, it looks like you’d be headed back to Florida. But this time, you’d get to have both ballet and the guy. It’s all you could’ve asked for.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou

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http-paprika · 6 months ago

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There Was Something Here Once but a new day hides that haze

alternative universe / call of duty x female reader / taglist open / wc 2623 / warnings light swearing / no use of y/n / ship not yet decided / no beta, my grammarly hates me

a word from the author- i started classes in August, so I'm not on top of my writing but I started this the other day and wanting to share it with ya'll because it's too good. And for the pairing, I'm between two characters so you'll just have to see how it goes.

Dew clings to the windshield, a heavy fog leaving the morning hazy and gray. Autumn would soon have a firm hold on the small, quiet town of Aberdeen, making the weather impossible to bear if one did not have a good flannel or coat. Which was a new addition to her wardrobe when she made plans to leave the city and hide away. The one postcard sent from her college friend, the one responsible for getting her this new job, boasted a quaint downtown, heavy snows, and an eerie ambiance she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. It was Twin Peaks personified, just lacking David Duchovny and a young Kyle MacLachlan.

The engine of her Ford Bronco sputters and creaks. The old vehicle had spent the whole drive up protesting the hills and winding roads that left her constantly breaking. Now, it seemed her ancient car, that she had served her faithfully through college and early adult years, had decided to kick her in the ass.

“No, no, no.” She groans, hitting her head against the hard steering wheel and instantly regretting it. There’d be a bruise later in the day with her luck. “Not today, baby. I’ve only been at this job a week, I can’t be late already.”

It would be just her bad luck that the car would give out, her luck that the cell service was questionable so she couldn’t even call. But what wouldn’t be her normal bout of unfortunate events was the man who lived just down the road that she’d seen tinkering with an old sports car. She pops up her head, remembering his existence and hurries out into the morning chill.

With her fingers crossed together that the stranger would not be a creep, she walks in a fast pace down the cracked asphalt to the little arts and crafts home that sat at the bottom of the hill. There was a blooming garden out front, despite the change in seasons, vegetable, herbs and a few flowers bursting to life and ready for harvest. The two rocking chairs on the front porch made her a little less nervous. Whoever the home belonged to, they seem charming enough in their landscape and aesthetic.

Hands trembling, she knocks against the screen door, wondering if she should open it and knock directly on the faded blue front door. But after a few knocks, the sound of muffled footsteps reached her ears and soon enough the door was unlocked and opened. Except, the man standing in the doorway was not who she’d seen tinkering with the car, instead, he struck her as a cowboy. Someone who would’ve starred in the western movies her father watched when she was a kid.

“Can I help you?” He asks, a dull but still visible southern twang visible in his voice. Maybe he was a cowboy, his checkered shirt and worn down boots said as much.

“Oh, um–” She pauses, trying to collect herself so as to not sound like a fool. The anxiety of being late and belittled by her unruly coworkers was pressing deep into her skin. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so early in the morning. But I just moved into the house up the road last week and my car doesn't want to run today and I’m going to be late for work. I had noticed in passing before that there’s someone in this household who works on cars and was wondering if he’d be willing to take a look at the engine for me? I’m helpless with mechanics.”

The man nods, understanding her plea for help. “That’s right, John spends all his free time on that hunk of shit.”

“Are you talking bad about my car again, Phillip?” A booming voice asked from inside the house, it caused her to stand at attention being vividly alert. Suddenly, the man she’d seen while driving by is standing over Phillip’s shoulder, hands resting on Phillip’s hips and a tilt to his head. “Hello there, not often we get new people in these parts.”

“She just moved into the Riley’s house, her car is acting up, John.” Phillip tells the newcomer in the conversation. Together, the men made quite a fitting pair, rugged and worn at the edges, with various lengths of facial hair and two sets of blue eyes. Without them having to say it out loud, she could feel the warmth of their shared intimacy, a love she could only envy and never grasp.

“Really? Never thought anyone would be willing to buy it— Ow!” John grumbles, rubbing his side where Phillip had jutted his elbow. “Right, your car. Let me get my things.”

She frowns at the statement the man had begun but been unable to finish. What had John meant by that? Sure, the house wasn't the nicest, there were cobwebs in corners, cracks on some of the window panes, and a musty smell from sitting empty for a while, but it was a nice enough house. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a cozy kitchen that looked out into the woods. It was a quaint cottage that was a dream come true compared to the studio apartment she’d left behind.

John disappears back into the house, leaving her with an awkward look on her face as Phillip stands there. She wants to ask what John meant by it, the curiosity or rather fear of the truth taps insistently against her skull. But she imagined her neighbor would just shut her down like he’d done with his partner.

“If it can be fixed, John can fix it, ma’am. He owns and runs the little auto shop in town, you’ve probably seen it. It’s the only one in this hellhole.” Phillip tells her, breaking up the static silence that had overcome them.

“You don’t like it here?” She raises a brow, surprised to hear it. The few coworkers she had at her new job only sang the praises of Abedreen, telling her it was the greatest little town to live in. But it was clear in Phillip’s tone that he didn’t share the sentiment.

“I like John, that’s enough to take me anywhere.”

There was a faithfulness in his voice she didn’t think she’d ever heard outside of television and novels. Her parents were divorced when she was a girl, all her friends in college seemed to have constant relationship problems and doubts, but there wasn’t a doubt in his words.

“Alright, lead the way.” John reappears behind his partner with a fat toolbox in hand, seemingly unaware of what Phillip had said. But she had a suspicion he knew, because as subtle as it was, she noticed John loop his finger quickly through the belt loop of Phillip’s jeans and tug slightly. And as she turned away to walk off the porch, the smile on Phillip’s face was as visible as the mist that hung in front of her.

The crunching of John’s boots on top of the gravel kept her company as they walked back to the road. There was a clear impression that the man was the less talkative of the couple, using few words to get his point across. Normally, she wouldn’t mind, but his big hulking figure following her like a shadow kept her nervous. While Phillip had reminded her of the movies her father used to watch, John reminded her of her father. Broad shoulders, dark hair covering his jaw, lack of conversation, and intimidating stature. She couldn’t even remember where her father had been born. Somewhere out west, or so she thought.

“So how come you moved to Aberdeen?” He finally speaks up once they’re on the road, headed back up the hill to her new home. “Got family in the area?”

“No.”

“Okay. You don’t exactly strike me as the logging or mining type–”

“An old college friend was from here, and I happened to come across a job position at the library and remember her telling me about the town.” She shrugs, not knowing what else to say without spiraling into the life events that left her desperate enough to start anew in the middle of nowhere, in a town no one seemed to know about.

“Ah.” John responds. She turned to look quickly down at the asphalt, his thoughtful gaze told her more than enough. He knew there was more to the story, and either he didn’t care or he was polite enough not to ask. “Who’s the friend?”

“What?”

“Your old college friend from here? Who are they? I’d probably know them, lived my entire life in the area.” He says, coming to a slow pace as they reached the top of the hill, her Bronco sitting and waiting to be inspected. She could only pray he could tell her it was fixable.

“Um, Beau Ridley. Well, now Beau Mayfield since she’s married.” She rambles off, stopping quickly in fear that she’s being too much. A habit she’d developed quickly in college.

“Yeah, I know Beau– pop the hood for me?” John sets down his tool box and she scurries to follow his orders like a kid finding the right wrench for their dad. Despite owning the car for ages, she struggles to remember where she had to look to open the boot. Finally, the boot clicked open and her view out the windshield was obscured with the metal. From this view, she could see just how badly the paint had begun to fade, and that there was dried bird poop that hadn’t been there the night before.

“Sorry.” She apologizes as she climbs back out of her car, fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt.

“What for?” He doesn’t even bother looking up from the engine of the car as he pokes around. Blinking at him, she realizes he doesn’t care that it took her a bit too long to pop the trunk or that she disturbed his morning. Realizing that makes her shift from one foot to another and drop her gaze down to the dirt of her driveway.

“Do me a favor and try to turn on the engine, would ya?” John asks and she quickly hurries to fulfill that task too. She hated meeting new people and new beginnings simply because it meant she had to work hard to make a good impression, the people here weren’t disappointed in her and expected failure like those she knew before. It was a feeling she hated, seeking approval. Yet she did it anyway.

Propping herself up in the driver’s seat, she fumbles with her keys– the cat keychain she had kept getting in the way– before finally turning the key in the ignition. The rough sound of her car sputtering and struggling, failing to do it’s most basic task of running, causes her to wince. And when she pokes her head out to see John’s expression as she continues to try to make it turn on, she realizes her car is screwed.

“So?”

“Need to get in the shop,” He informs her. John takes his time explaining what he believed to be the problem and it went all over her head, so she simply nodded. She knew how to change a tire, replace the blinker fluid, and even knew where to refill the car’s coolant, but anything more was outside her realm of knowledge. “You didn’t understand a thing I said, did ya?”

“No sir.”

John nods his head in sympathy, probably used to clueless customers in his auto shop. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, John pulls out his cracked phone and types up a number. “I’ll call my tow-guy to come up and take it down to the shop, free of charge.”

“How am I going to get to work?” She suddenly responds, remembering why she’d even gone to John’s house in the first place. There’d always been a struggle for her to focus on what comes after something, stuck in the present unable to look forward to the future. Even if the future is only an hour away.

“Where do you work?” He asks her, putting the phone up to his ear to make the call.

“At the library.” She responds quickly, John registers her words with a nod before turning away to speak to his tow-driver. He barks at the unfortunate driver, seemingly annoyed by his antics until the call finally ends and he turns on his boot heel to look back at her.

“Johnny’s gonna be here in about twenty minutes, he’ll drop you off at the library. If that’s alright with you?” John says, making sure that she was comfortable with the situation. “Otherwise, I could drive you down later once I’m done with my breakfast and coffee.”

“No, no, that’s more than enough.” Her mind keeps going back to his statement, free of charge. How many times had she gotten something in life free? Rarely, if she could remember correctly. “Thank you, John.”

“You’re in Aberdeen. We take care of our neighbors here.” He turns to close his tool box, picking up the metal container with ease. “You fine with waiting on your own–”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s fine.” The thought of inconveniencing John further after he’d already taken time out of his day to help her was too much to ask. Even if she didn’t like the idea of waiting for a stranger to come get her car and take her to work, she’d handle it.

“You sure?”

“Yes, thank you. Again.” John nods, turning to leave with a hum in his throat low in sound but enough for her to hear in the morning. The fog is beginning to dissipate, letting the autumn sun climb through the tall spindly pine trees, the crisp air clings to your lungs like swallowing ice water. Up here, she finds that she can take a moment to breathe. Away from the bustling traffic of the city, the bog that coated the air. The only noise here was birdsong and wind. A bliss that eclipsed her senses before her phone decides to ring– her manager’s number on the caller ID.

Her manager forgives the lateness, and even tried to ask if they could do anything to help her but she declines. Sitting on the front step of her house, the hum of a truck overtakes the sounds of nature. And when the tow truck slows to a stop in front of the cottage, she finds herself biting the inside of her cheek. The sudden realization that there’s a stranger here to get her car and take her to work makes her queasy. If she were still in the city, she would’ve considered taking the spotty public transport over this. But it was too far and difficult of a trek to make with her heavy work tote slung over her shoulders and her loafers sinking into the mud from last night’s rain. She wouldn’t make it walking.

The door of the tow truck opens and the driver climbs out, his back stays turned to her as he reaches back in to grab something. The navy coveralls compliment his tanned arms well, and when he turns to look at her, she realizes they match his eyes as well. Even with his odd mohawk-like hair she finds herself coughing on nothing at the sight of his face.

“You alright, ma’am?” He asks, knitting his brows together in his concern. There’s a golden look in his face,

“Yeah, yeah. You’re Johnny?” She wheezes, struggling to clear her throat.

“That’s right. I’ll have your car hooked up and you to work in no time.” He promises her with a grin, and she fully believes it. Maybe Aberdeen wasn’t the worst little town to exist?

Chapter II

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years ago

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Hit By Fate

a Steve Rogers x Reader life lesson

[This is my own entry for my 1-1-1 Challenge, but also is a very belated gift fic for @itickledthesleepingdragon. May we all remember that we are worth care and consideration!💜] WC 2365

Recommended links: Habibi Through The Years--The Old Guard fandom, Joe/Nicky (Ao3) Invaluable--Star Wars fandom, dad!Obi-Wan

Summary: It's just an accident, and you're totally fine. One handsome man, however, does not agree.

It’s not their fault; it’s just bad luck.

You should have texted to confirm this morning, but since Syd told you she’d text you if anything changed, you didn’t want to pry. Your friends make enough fun of you already for never coming out. You didn’t want to give them one more story in their long list of times you bailed. They already think you’re allergic to fun, so tonight you were going to show them.

You’d rushed to the restaurant after work. You even woke up early to do your hair before work so that you’d still look nice. You brought a purse to transfer your wallet and keys and makeup into so as not to carry your much larger work bag around. You even drank less water the entire afternoon so you wouldn’t be rushing to the restroom and slowing down your cross-city commute.

But then you arrived and there was no reservation.

Not under anyone’s name.

The hostess seemed outstandingly indifferent to your situation. You stepped aside for other patrons, sneaking peeks through the wonky glass dividers to catch a glimpse of your friends at a table maybe, and you texted one.

>>Hey.

<<Whaddup? Tiff replies.

>>You guys here yet?

<<Where?

You give the name of the restaurant and feel your guts crash to the polished wood floor.

<<We were there earlier. Yeah. Why?

Your hands start to shake with anxiety and a touch of rage.

>>I thought we were meeting at 7

The dots show up and disappear. The hostess huffs, staring at you while striking through a line on her paper. You’re blocking one of four total doors to enter the building, but apparently, that’s still taking up too much space.

<<Syd and Karol got off at 4 so we just had drinks early

<<TGIF

<<On a pub crawl now

They know you still work tomorrow. They know you likely would barely drink at dinner. You know exactly why no one would bother asking you if you could get out of work early, and you know they would not try any spontaneous fun for your first time out in months. They didn’t ask because they knew you’d say ‘no,’ or even worse, they knew you’d say ‘yes’ but be uncomfortable the entire time.

You try to call Syd, a last-ditch effort to get a lock on just how drunk or how far away they are. You tell yourself that if they are close and seem relatively coherent (and if the bar serves some small plates of something because you are hungry) then you’ll go. You will absolutely go.

Syd doesn’t pick up. You try Karol. No dice.

Fine. You turn to ask the hostess if there is space at the bar to eat, but she looks at you with such annoyance and a raised finger while she handles a couple who clearly out-rank you in some way.

Defeated, you leave instead.

This whole thing has taken so little time that you’d have to wait another ten minutes for the next bus back. You just walk, staring down at your phone, willing one of them to talk to the other, willing one of them to realize they’ve left you behind.

Do they even care that they’ve done it? Are they even your friends anymore?

The sad part is that you don’t go out much, but these are the friends you go out with the most. It just so happens that’s a few times a year, and that is you trying. This is you pushing yourself.

It’s not good enough.

Just as the WALK sign lights up at the street corner, the dots show back up under Syd’s message, and you shove it closer to your face.

You don’t see it coming.

A cab’s bumper smacks your left leg and bats you sideways. The solid hit feels like a tumble on the ice rink. It spins you, your phone flying out of your hands, and you’re scrambling not to fall. Your muscles tense every which way that’s not natural, probably looking klutzy.

You shoot back up too fast and look around, wondering if people are staring at you now, but the few other people crossing simply walk on by.

The cabbie only rolls down his window.

“You okay?”

Not actively concerned. Not getting out of the car. Not even apologizing.

But if you’d kept walking, you’d be across already. If you weren’t just standing there, the cab would be able to turn and so would the several others behind him.

One honks.

“Fine,” you say quietly, waving him on for emphasis and stepping back to find your phone.

All the effort of the day, all the preparation mentally and physically, and you are stranded on the wrong side of the road, exactly where you started, metaphorically and near-actually run over.

You have to crouch down by the curb and pray your phone didn’t slide into the gutter, wincing at a particular angle that shoots pain up your left thigh. Maybe you aren’t fine.

“Miss?” a tentative, low voice calls above a classic pair of Converses on the sidewalk. “Think this is yours.”

A man in glasses and a ball cap hands your phone back, the screen mercifully intact.

It’s such a tiny blessing in this string of unfortunate events.

The breath you take turns into a whimper and ends in a sniffle. Tears sting your eyes as you start to think about what happened—what really happened—in the past minute.

“Thank you,” you choke out, snatching the device. The gesture seems aggressive after the fact. “Sorry. Thank you,” you try again.

“You okay?” How the same two words can sound so different from two people, you’ll never know, but the difference floors you harder than the car’s impact.

With the utmost care, the stranger’s hands lightly touch your shoulders and guide you out of the road.

“I’m fine.” You’re an automated recording, retreating to a quiet and lonelier space in your mind. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You got hit by a car,” he says bluntly.

“No, just a—“ you look up into the man’s face, his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, his height “—graze.”

“Yeah, you got grazed by four thousand pounds.”

“You’re…” All you can do is point at Captain America’s chest and blink.

He frowns and whispers. “You recognize me?”

Somehow that’s the strange part?

“Shoot. The glasses usually work. Don’t…please don’t make a big deal, but I…I’m sorry I couldn’t pull you out of the way.”

Steve Rogers buries his hands in his jean pockets, folding himself more into the cover of his hoodie and leather jacket.

“You wanted to help me?” you croak.

He ticks his head in confusion, respectfully indicating that you’ve asked the one and only dumb question known to mankind.

“Why?”

You don’t even know what you’re asking about now. Why me? Why today? Why now? Why not? You don’t notice your hands are shaking until he grips them gently.

“I can take you to the hospital,” he offers.

“I’m fine.” The repeat earns you another frown. “I’m not…hurting,” you clarify.

“That’s called shock, sweetheart.”

Steve seems to catch himself and sighs.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is let’s find you some water and somewhere to sit, okay? I’ll check you out then.”

You nod immediately. He’s only half-turned when Steve spins back around.

“Not check you out check you out,” he mumbles, “just like a once over. No, not…” he sighs harder. “I am going to make sure you are alright.” Every word is strategically emphasized.

He leads you to the nearest bench. His head stays down the entire way to a newspaper stand to buy you a bottle of water.

You can tell by the way Steve monitors every move of the bottle to your lips that he fights doing it for you. From his overly attentive posture, you’re surprised he waits a whole minute to ask how you feel yet again.

Still stunned, honestly, but it’s not just your left leg that aches, it’s your whole body. That seems too pathetic to admit aloud, but if you say the ‘fine’-word one more time, he’ll surely carry you to the dang ER. He has that look.

Instead, you admit, “I’m hungry.”

A smile blossoms over his features. “I can help with that.”

The boyish glee with which Steve Rogers walks you (gingerly) to a nearby, hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor is endearing. You’re not a patient for those minutes, and when he orders for you both (there are three lines on the board and that’s the menu) while you claim a teeny tiny booth, you’re not a victim of your day.

When he tells you how he found this place originally, how it’s almost like the pizza he remembers from long ago but better, you’re not alone anymore.

“Were you going to get food when…” Steve trails off.

Maybe it’s the shock wearing too thin to mask the rest. Maybe it’s the hot cheese warming your insides and melting your anger. You spend the next ten minutes blabbing about what happened with your friends and explaining what you were doing when the cab hit you.

“So you weren’t even okay before the car?”

His words throw you for a loop.

“No, I mean, it was just a misunder—“

“You’re doing it again,” he cuts in. “You’re diminishing you in the picture.”

You take a long swig of your soda while staring blankly at him. You watch Steve realize you aren’t even going to impose on him for an explanation. He drops his slice on the plate and holds out his huge hands as props.

“The whole picture of your day, right?” His arms are wide, then he points at things on the table. “You told me about Syd and why it’s ‘fine’ that she changed plans for her own convenience. About Tiffany and Carly—“

“Karol,” you sputter mid-sip.

“Carol, right, sorry. Everyone has a -y in their names now. I just assumed.”

“Karol with a -k,” you add.

Steve…ponders whether that’s some sort of joke before waving his hands to regroup. “You told me how your other friends—using that term loosely—rationalize leaving you to eat or even navigate the city alone—“

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Debatable,” he chuckles. “And then you tell me about how the cab driver probably didn’t need the hassle of dealing with some minor injury he inflicted on—and I quote—‘someone.’”

His eyebrow pops up over the rim of his glasses as if that will drive his point home, but you’ve got nothing.

“Where are you in the picture?” he finally blurts. “It’s your time and your effort and your body and your safety, and you just told me everyone else is more important. They all deserve consideration before you in your own life. Including some driver who could have killed you!”

He’s getting visibly agitated the more he talks, and you shrink in the seat, not out of fear but out of guilt for taking an evening of Captain America’s time to yourself. If your friends couldn’t even stand to spend a meal with you, it makes sense that Steve would be annoyed with your company.

“Wait, there,” he points directly at your face, “what was that thought? What did you just think?”

“I—I’m sorry I—“

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Steve asks bluntly.

He must see your eyes glisten with more unshed tears because his whole body visibly softens.

“You showed up at the place you all agreed on—“ he counts on his fingers “—at the time you were told, and walked across a street with right of way.” He does what you are beginning to think of as his signature sigh. “Am I missing something?”

All you can do is chew on your bottom lip.

It takes you what feels like an eternity to notice. “I could have really been hurt,” you mumble finally. “That’s not okay.”

Steve stretches his long arm across the tiny table, opening his palm to await yours.

“I hate to tell you this. You don’t have to be torn open to be ‘really hurt,’ sweetheart.” This time he says the nickname with firm intention. He squeezes your hand. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d come to the infirmary with me and get some industrial-grade salve on what’s sure to be a nasty bruise.”

You smile sadly, still pushing away errant thoughts that you’re imposing on the Captain.

“And by the time that’s over…it’ll be time for a late-night dessert before I take you home.”

In the fluorescent light, you can see him blush fiercely.

“As an escort—escort you,” he corrects, “to your door, I mean. For safety.”

He shrugs uncomfortably to adjust his layers of disguise, hanging his head, this time to hide his face from you.

“If you ever wondered why I’d go out to pizza alone,” Steve whispers, “wonder no longer.”

He scoots across his side of the booth to stand.

You think for a long moment.

This is important. This is one of the most important men in the country—nay, the world—begging you to be the protagonist in your own life. He wants you to want that.

You deposit the last grease-crumpled napkin onto the stacked plates and clear your throat. “I like this picture,” you say first, but it’s not enough. It’s not loud enough. It doesn’t hold weight or take up its due space.

You try again.

“I like being in this picture.”

He’s tall and his gleaming white teeth are perfect and his bright blue eyes are framed by long lashes and he’s staring right at you. How could you not shoot your shot?

“I’d—“ you fight the urge to look away “—consider seeing a sequel, too.”

Steve pushes up his fake glasses and nods, still pink in the cheeks. His hesitation reads as shy, not polite, not dutiful.

He juts out an average, hoodie-covered elbow for you to balance on.

“S’pose that means I should know your name, miss, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream is.”

Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge Details

A/N: In case you were wondering, the life lesson I wrote Steve Rogers teaching us is one that I constantly struggle with, too. This is an everyday, uphill battle to recognize our own worth and know that taking care of ourselves is not selfish. I hope this serves as a wee reminder!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #captain america fluff

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missywritesfor7 · 9 months ago

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❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

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Ch. 23: Together

The members have been excited about Yoongi’s return since they heard the news. They’ve been eager to see him and how well he’s doing. Taehyung suggested a welcome home party but the rest of the guys agreed that Yoongi probably wouldn’t want them to make his return a big deal. Still they wanted to do something, so with help from Hyeri, they planned to bring dinner to their place to keep things low key.

Yoongi and Hyeri hit the road early in the morning and made it home by mid-afternoon. When he took his first step inside it was like he stepped into a dream. He’d only been gone 2 months, but he feels like it’s been much longer. The first breath he took filled him with the comfort that can only come from being home. He’s missed his home and the safety his heart feels when he’s there.

Before leaving, Hyeri made sure the entire place was perfect. No dish in the kitchen was out of place, no cushion on the couch unfluffed, not even a speck of dust on the tv. The place looks straight out of a catalog, except the random box sitting on Yoongi’s dresser in the bedroom.

“What’s this?” Yoongi asks approaching the unfamiliar rectangular black box. It looks big enough to hold a bottle of something and he’s trying very hard to remember if this is another hidden drink he had forgotten about.

“Yours,” Hyeri says gesturing for him to open the box.

“Mine?” He questions inspecting the box closer. The last thing he wants upon returning home is to find that Hyeri found another bottle of liquor that he didn’t remember he had.

The box is closed with a latch as if it were a treasure chest. Yoongi flips the latch and slowly opens the box hoping he doesn’t need to drive himself 5 hours back to the cabin because he got triggered 5 minutes after getting home.

However, instead of revealing a bottle of alcohol, the box contains a microphone. A black microphone that shines as if it were covered in diamonds, but isn’t. There’s an intricate holographic design of deep green vines with thorns that spirals up and around the entire microphone and shimmers when held under the light just right. At the bottom is a small heart drawn in the same color and holographic material as the vines.

The heart is very unique to Yoongi. It’s the way Hyeri draws her hearts when she writes to him. Usually in cards and handwritten letters she gives him on special occasions and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s different from the simple heart she uses in her autograph, it’s a heart with one side rounded like a normal heart, but the other side pointed like a triangle. The first time she wrote him something he asked why one half of the heart was rounded and the other pointed. She told him it represented them, Yoongi being the bold and brash pointed side, and Hyeri being the soft and more timid rounded side. Like the yin and yang that is the two of them.

“What is this?” He asks already making plans to never use another microphone again.

“A microphone,” she says shyly. “For you. I had it custom made for you.”

“What?” He asks as if he weren’t staring at the obviously custom piece of equipment in front of him.

“I had it custom made for you. The thorns are like…I don’t know, it’s stupid,” she says getting suddenly embarrassed by her thoughtful gift.

“No it’s not,” he objects. “It’s beautiful.”

“You think so?” She asks unsure. “I just thought a lot about everything we’ve been through. I love you so much, but you’ve caused me so much pain, so…the thorns are kind of like the pain. At the end of it is you, like you’re a rose. The most wonderful thing to me…but you hurt so much. I mean, at the time I thought of the idea that’s what I was feeling. Well I still feel it, but not as much as that time you know?” She’s babbling out of nervousness and she isn’t even sure why.

She came up with the idea one night as she had been thinking about all of the hurt she’d been going through. At the time she was only getting daily text updates from Yoongi but she wasn’t responding to them. He sent his usual text telling her about his day and how his session with Minho went. He told her that the conversation they had made him feel like he needed to apologize to her again for everything he’s put her through. He never stopped apologizing from the start, but this day he mentioned Minho talking to him about how his actions need to match his words and feelings and he got to feeling sorry. He told her he never wanted to hurt her, but he realizes that his actions tell a different story and that he would fully understand if she doesn’t believe him because he hasn’t given her a reason to trust his word anyway.

That was one of the moments Hyeri felt he was making good progress, but it still wasn’t healing her wounds. He was right that his actions didn’t seem like those of someone who truly loves and cares for her, but at the same time her heart can always feel the sincerity in his words. His message gave her the bittersweet feeling that manifested into this microphone design. He’s her beautiful, wonderfully sweet, caring rose who’s hurt her greatly the more she held on to him.

It didn’t take long for Hyeri to turn her idea into a design and find someone that could turn it into a reality. When it was completed she held on to it afraid she had made a mistake and wasted time, money, and energy on this when she still wasn’t sure she would be able to continue their relationship. Her anxiety grew more and more up until she saw him yesterday morning looking like the Yoongi her heart had been longing for. She felt better after their talk, but as they drove the 5 hours back home today she began feeling anxious again. She was worried if he would even like it or understand the meaning or even care. Up until this very moment she had been anxious about how he would react. That all finally melted away when he smiled at her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“I love it,” he says squeezing her tight and kissing the top of her head. “I love it so much.”

“You do?” She asks into his chest seeking an extra layer of reassurance.

“Of course, baby.” He pulls her back and looks down at her big brown eyes. “It’s gorgeous and I’ll never use another mic for the rest of my life,” he chuckles. “Thank you. For this and everything you’ve done. Sometimes I feel like you’re the glue that’s keeping me, us, together. You’re so strong and beautiful and thoughtful.”

“Don’t make me cry, Yoong-ya,” she jokes.

“I mean it.” He gives her a soft kiss against her lips. “You’re the best and I’ll make sure you know it every single day. This is the most beautiful gift I’ve ever gotten. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she smiles. Their lips meet for another kiss and the anxiety Hyeri had been carrying about this small surprise finally washes away.

For Yoongi this is one of the most thoughtful gifts he’s ever received. Even if she had only given him a drawing on a napkin with the same meaning it still would have been the best for him because it’s not so much about the object as it is about the meaning. It means the world to him and gives him the greatest boost in motivation. He wants to be the best person for her, it’s what a kind, caring soul like her deserves.

The rest of the members have been ecstatic for Yoongi’s return. They’ve planned a great meal with plenty of his favorite cuts of meat, his most loved side dishes, and his favorite dessert: a large embarrassingly decorated cake. They agreed to keep this low key with the at home dinner, but after some discussion the guys found it was almost impossible to greet Yoongi without doing something a little mischievous and extra. It just wouldn’t feel right to them if they didn’t.

Jimin was all too eager to take charge of finding the perfect cake. Not wanting to get a cake that was too obvious and could possibly tip off a baker with a much too suspicious request, he ordered a large cat cake similar to one Yoongi had gotten before for his birthday, but it’s about 3 times larger and is sitting on a larger piece of sheet cake with plenty of room for all 6 members to decorate however they want.

Jimin picked up the cake and the members all met up at his place to give it their special Bangtan touch. Equipped with various cake decorating materials provided by Jin and Jungkook, the 6 of them get to work. Jungkook used purple icing to write “I love you, hyung” on the cake. When Taehyung saw he got a great idea that they should all write “I love you” on the cake. He knows that would be the most embarrassing for Yoongi, though he’d never admit it to them. So that’s what they all did. In the end the cake was covered in expressions of love, many colorful Hobi drawn hearts, other poorly drawn figures by each member, sprinkles, strawberries, and a single tangerine from Jimin’s fridge used to cover up a spot where the icing pen chose to be uncooperative with Namjoon and unleash an explosion of blue icing on a corner of the cake. It’s the perfect amount of chaos to make Yoongi feel at home. They decided they would keep the cake a surprise until the end of the night. When dinner time came, Jimin kept the cake secure in his car while they all carried all of the food for dinner up to Yoongi and Hyeri’s apartment.

Hyeri told Yoongi the guys were coming for dinner so their arrival was no surprise to him. He’d been excited all day wanting to see his brothers. Just like with Hyeri, he’d missed them a lot during his time away, but unlike Hyeri his contact with them was much less frequent. Being openly and enthusiastically affectionate with them isn’t typical for Yoongi, but he almost wanted to run and jump into their arms when he heard the 6 of them come barreling through the door with their arms full of food.

“Hyung!!” Taehyung shouts being the first one inside. He puts the food he was carrying down on the kitchen counter and runs to Yoongi with his big boxy smile painted across his face.

“Taehyung-ah!” Yoongi smiles as he’s pulled tightly into Taehyung’s arms. Before he can say anything else or pull away, Jimin runs up and wraps his arms around Yoongi too.

“I missed you, hyung,” Jimin says.

“I missed you too!” Jungkook shouts adding himself to the group hug.

“Yoongiiiiii!” Hobi shouts wrapping his arms around wherever he can in the mass of 4 bodies.

“Ya!!” Yoongi shouts starting to turn red from embarrassment.

“Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon squeaks as he barrels into the group hug.

“Wait,” Yoongi laughs trying to maintain his footing.

“Yoongi my bro!” Jin shouts. “Did you miss us?” He asks adding himself as the final piece to the big Bangtan hug.

“Yes,” Yoongi responds still laughing his way through this embarrassing show of affection though deep down he loves the comfort his heart feels at the warmth of his family. “You’re going to crush me.”

“Good,” Jungkook laughs.

“We’re going to crush you with our love,” Taehyung teases.

“Yaaaa!” Yoongi protests again.

They all laugh and finally show mercy and release Yoongi from his embarrassment. There’s more planned for later anyway.

They all help getting the food set up on the table while Hyeri gathers drinks for everyone. They all agreed they wouldn’t have alcohol around Yoongi, so Hyeri stocked the fridge with sodas, juices, and teas for everyone before she left to get Yoongi the day before.

It looks like a holiday feast laid out on the table. Everyone digs in and instantly begins catching up on everything going on with them. Talks of solo projects, song features, and variety show appearances makes Yoongi feel like he’s missed a lot in a seemingly short time, but he’s happy to hear that everyone has been accomplishing great things. He’s even more happy once they start discussing group work. All 7 of them are eager to start their next era of music and touring and for the first time they feel like they can truly look forward to it without worries.

Everyone is happy and excited and once they finish their meal Jimin and Taehyung slip away to get the cake out of Jimin’s car. Yoongi noticed them sneak off, but Hyeri and the rest of the guys kept him distracted before he could question anything. When the pair return they carry the cake in singing “Happy health” to the tune of happy birthday.

“What…?” Yoongi asks as everyone else joins in and sings along. He notices the cake Jimin and Tae are carrying in and his cheeks immediately flush red.

“Our beloved Yoongi, happy health to you!” Everyone sings crowding around the table to see his reaction to their heavily decorated masterpiece.

“Why did you bring a cake?” Yoongi asks in embarrassment. “You didn’t have to bring a cake,” he smiles reading the words of love written all around the cat cake. “Guys…”

“Of course we had to,” Hobi laughs.

“What else did you expect from us?” Jimin giggles.

“Guys,” Yoongi repeats. He’s suddenly hit with a wave of emotions as a montage of his memories with the members flashes before his eyes. Each sloppily drawn “I love you” on the cake brings more tears to his eyes. “Isn’t this too much?” He chuckles trying to mask a sniffle.

“No,” Jimin smiles. “I don’t think it’s enough.”

“Stop,” Yoongi says trying to fight the tears.

“We love you, hyung,” Namjoon says.

Namjoon’s soft and rare show of affection finally breaks Yoongi. He buries his head in his hands and begins sobbing. The overwhelming amount of love he’s received from the 7 people he knows he hurt the most is just too much to fathom. He feels they should have given up on him a long time ago, but here they are celebrating his new beginning and showing him so much love. His shoulders bounce as he sobs even harder.

“I love you guys,” Yoongi sobs. “I’m so happy to have you all in my life. I’m…fuck why do you always do this to me?” He jokes.

“Because we love you,” Jungkook smiles wiping his own tears with his shirt sleeve.

“Stop it,” Yoongi laughs through the knot in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says breaking his smile briefly then quickly lightening his tone. “You guys mean so much to me, I just…”

“It’s ok,” Taehyung says. “We’re family. We’ll always be here for you through the good and bad.”

Taehyung’s words draws tears from all of them, whether they were already crying or not. Yoongi feels so unworthy of the amount of love they give him, but each member can think of numerous times where Yoongi was there for them when they thought no one else was. It’s a touching moment that has all of them crying tears. Not tears of sadness and not even tears of joy. They’re all crying tears of love. Pure unfiltered love.

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xbalayage · 1 year ago

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if you’re inspired, silvio + insomnia ily

7. INSOMNIA : for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am.

It was late in the night, and definitely not planned for. Time had escaped him during a scheduled inventory sweep of a recent shipment; due to an injury caused by a worker of his, failing to follow safety protocols, the anticipated time ended up taking longer. Luckily, instead of it escalating any further than needed, Silvio was able to talk the guy into his silence and sent for a physician to check on his injuries which ended up not being life-threatening. He heaved a big sigh, brushing his hands together at a job well done, everything accounted for and a bullet dodged all in one night — all he wanted more than anything now, was just to lay up with the woman he loved and hadn't seen since early morning.

As the days grow by of finally accepting his feelings, you filtered through his mind more often than before, always wanting to spend every waking minute with you and as much as he love nothing more than that, he had responsibilities that needed tending to that he trusted no one else to perform than himself. Giving the dazzling sea of stars a glance over, he strode back towards an already called upon carriage to head back to his home of a palace. A home he shared with you.

Once arriving back, you've made him hyper aware of how his steps carry through the halls and the sounds of his jewelry echo with each step, so in times he comes home late like this, he tries to be sufficient at lessening those sounds; partially because surprising you was a fun endeavor as well, getting to see the sudden smile breach your features made his long day worthwhile.

Some nights, it was hard to really give a certain time of when he'd be back home, so you'd often stay up, awaiting for him to enter the doors to your shared room, curled up warm by the candlelight with a new book in hand and the moon's caress shining from the windows onto your body. He could already picture the beauty of the sight now— his ethereal, bookworm looking goddess. The sight was even more pleasing when you didn't hear him coming.

So when he approached the doors, he went to open them quietly. However, to his surprise, the butterfly feeling in his stomach twisted to a gut wrenching one when he didn't see you in bed, in the bathroom, or on the balcony. Anxiety and panic suddenly flooded his rational thinking, leading his thoughts into multiple directions: did you finally get tired of him, were you hurt somewhere alone or had a kidnapper come to use you for ransom? He had to shake his head and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Stop being pathetic and think. She wouldn't just vanish on ya even if she was tired of you. She'd give me a piece of her mind before that. There's no way in hell she's hurt, I have the best people to watch over and treat her in a worst case scenario. And if someone had the brain the size of Glumskull's, they'd leave a ransom note at least and I don't see shit anywhere. Think; where else could she be this late at night?

And that's when it hit him.

He didn't leave any more time to think and acted, making quick work leaving the room and heading down the hall with a mission in mind, not paying any mind to his footsteps and the jingle of his necklaces. He just hoped he learned you enough and his intuition was correct.

Once pushing the door open, he hadn't realized his heart had been racing as the minutes passed but it finally relaxed and fell to a soft rhythm again once his eyes reached your form in the corner of the library, curled up by a single light of a candle with your nose in a book. It must be a good read because you didn't even notice him enter the room, your eyes probably adapted to only the area around you. It was a little chilly tonight, why weren't you wearing anything more to warm yourself?

He mentally clicked his tongue, immediately moving to undo his cloak as he approached you, wrapping it around your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden presence of another person, finally relinquishing your gaze from your novel to look up at the man you'd been awaiting for his return. He could tell from the look in your eye that sleep was teetering at the seems and you had been trying hard to fight it back.

"Why didn't ya bring a blanket? Are you tryin' to get sick? How come you came to the library? The bed's more comfortable and warm than this cold room."

You rubbed at your eye and allowed a yawn to escape your lips. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable you were being.

"The bed was lonely without you. I was just trying to pass the time until you came home, I didn't want to go to sleep without you."

Ah, damn it. A blush crept to his cheeks upon hearing your honest words. It was crazy how bad you were for his heart. Without a second more, he scoops you from the ground and into his arms which you gladly allow him to do, finding yourself comfortable in his embrace. You breathed in a deep whiff of his scent before adjusting deeper into his arms. "Mmm.. I missed you."

How can you still say such embarrassing things? You say them even more when you're on the verge of sleep too. He hopes you know that one day, you were going to be the death of him. He couldn't help his smile. You were like a vulnerable child in his arms; so honest and innocent. He leaned in, leaving a loving kiss to your forehead that lingered a few seconds long before speaking once more.

"Ha, I missed you too, silly. C'mon, sweetheart, let's go to bed."

#silvio #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #ikemen prince silvio #ikepri #ikemen prince #asks.#fics.#my fics.#ikemenlibrary #I MISSED WRITING SILVIO I FELT INSPIRED TO WRITE TONIGHT AND I'M SO GLAD I DID #TUMBLR I WANT OTHER PEOPLE TO ENJOY SOFT SILVIO WITH ME fhdjsakfd

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spooky-all-year-round · 2 years ago

Text

Battle Confession

The prompts: "I thought I'd never see you again" and "You said... 'I love you'."

SFW G/n Reader x Ominis. This takes place post-game, I left it open for what the situation could be but if the triwizard tournament happens their 6th year then this would be in their 7th. Cause Hogwarts can never have one peaceful year. =)

Trigger warnings: hints of violence, anxiety, sad ominis, but it's happy I promise!

You were running flat out, students were being ushered out of the castle in droves. You were forcing your way past and between them. You had to get to the fight. You rounded the corner and spotted blonde slicked back hair and a robe lined with green. Slamming to a stop you shouted his name, grabbing his left hand with your right and placed your left hand on his right arm to stop him fully. "Ominis i need to tell you something." You were desperate, he had to know.

"What? Tell me later, we need to leave! The teachers said we all need to get off of school grounds! Its not-" he started.

"Ominis I dont know how this will all end. But I need you to know that I love you!" You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before taking off again. His shouts were quickly drowned out between the distance and the sounds of everyone leaving. All you knew is that you needed to save everyone. You needed to save him. Even if it meant you couldn't stay by his side.

You awoke a week later in the hospital wing early in the morning. Matron Blainey filled you in on your injuries and what she has done to heal them and on all the gifts that were left and visiors that had come by. Most notably one Mr.Gaunt, who came daily and for as long as he could. After all was said and done she stated she wanted to keep you overnight for observation and gave you a potion to help you sleep some more.

When you woke up this time it must have only been a few hours later. You could feel drops hit your hand and just as you wondered how there was even possibly a leak in this castle, you began to notice things. That hand was warm, clasped between two of someone else's. And there was a soft hitch in breath before more quiet shuddering breaths came. "Please, you have to come back. You cant leave me." A stiffled sob. "I cant lose you. I wish I had stopped you. Dragged you out of the school myself. I cant believe I froze. That I let you run off into danger again."

You're heart ached he couldnt possibly blame himself. You body was sore and so tired but you had to push through. You had to let him know it wasnt his fault. Sweet Ominis, sitting here crying, blaming himself for your reckless heroics. Had this been what he has been doing every day he visited?

You started trying to push yourself up but only managing a few shifts thanks to the sleeping potion weighing your body down. But it was enough to catch his attention. Because he let out a small gasp and a whisper of your name as if he couldnt believe you were awake. You slowly blinked your eyes open squinting at the sun coming from the other side of the room. His face was one of shock, his beautiful icy blue eyes looking in your direction, even from this angle you could see the beautiful star burst pattern in them. He stood up while reaching for his wand, ready to grab Matron Blainey. He stopped short when he felt your hand tighten around his as you begged, "No please, let me be with you for a moment. I spoke with her earlier." He sat back down obligingly, you could now see his puffy eyes and the hint of red on his nose and cheeks from crying. Slowly you reached up with your other hand to gently hold his face. Another tear started to roll down his cheek. "Ominis my dear, please dont blame yourself. I had to do it. I had to save the school, I had to save you."

He shook his head. "To hell with the school. The teachers could have handled it. You've saved it before so why must you again? I should have stopped you. I should have begged you. Anything to get you to come to safety!" His words were cut off by another sob and you took the chance to stop his spiralling.

"They needed me, they needed my powers. They're strong but they needed my magic to put a stop to it. I'm sorry I didn't explain more but I had to go. The longer i took the worse the aftermath wouldve been." Your voice was almost a haze as you did your best to keep yourself from crying.

"You said ...'I love you'." His voice trailed off with that statement. It hung in the air like a question, a plea to know what you meant.

"I thought I'd never see you again. I wanted you to know for a while now. We became so close so quickly and I fell so hard. I couldn't ever get the courage to tell you, I didn't want to lose you over it. But knowing there was a good chance I'd never see you again... I had to tell you." The words just came spilling out. You were anxious to explain, not wanting him to cut in.

He was silent for far too long, his tears had stopped at some point, but your's were welling up. The panic set in, your heart going both too fast and too hard. It hurt so bad, like your heart might break your ribs. He didnt return your feelings. Here you were, ruining one of the few friendships you had because you just had to spill your heart out. Your whole body was trembling and now your tears were streaming non-stop down your face.

He chuckled before bringing your hand to kiss the back of it. "You couldn't find the courage? Well I don't feel like such a coward hearing that. My darling, I have been infatuated with you for so long. I don't know when it turned to love, but it has been that way for a while. You are the warmth of the sun wrapped up as a person. The sweet melody that gets caught and stuck in my head. A cold drink on a hot day. A comforting story after a terrible nightmare. I have bent to your whims when I was solid as stone to others. I would find a way to give you the universe if you so much as hinted that you wanted it. I would do anything if it made you happy, regardless of how it made me feel. I dont know why but something in you pulls me harder then any accio that could ever be performed. I have heard of soulmates and it would be the only explanation I could give right now. I never wish to lose you and it killed me to think I almost did. You feel like safety and comfort to me... I love you so much."

His declaration knocked the wind out of you. How could you respond to that? So you did the only thing you could think of within your physical abilities. You pulled his hands back towards you and kissed both of them. "How could i go anywhere when the one place i want to be is with you?"

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis #ominis x reader #ominis imagine #ominis one shot #sfw #ominis sfw #ominis x you #ominis x mc #ominis x y/n #g/n reader

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vawilcox · 2 years ago

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*Authors note* As requested, Shoto Angst!

Now with a happy ending!

Married life with shoto was a dream. Until it was only a dream.

Your hot hubby was so cute when he shyly accepted your feelings. Adorable when he blushed and handed you your favorite flowers with a ring wrapped around the stem of the largest one in the middle... dreamy and steamy in the bedroom for the first week of married life... but then you came back to the real world. One of the top heroes, he barely had time to eat a meal once or twice a day, he almost never came home, his sleep was always in a vehicle while on the way to another crime scene. He never answered your calls and replied to your texts only once every few days. You thought he was just busy, until one day when you were out shopping you saw him fly by in an emergency hover craft overhead.

At first it made you happy to see the love of your life. And he was smiling, that smile that was only yours. Then the smile died on your face. He wasnt smiling at you, but at a female hero that was riding with him in the hover craft. It was designed to get heroes to and fro quickly, She must have been working with him this whole time! What else was she doing with him while he ignored your calls and only gave you perfunctory replies to your texts!?

Immediately calling him up, he didn't answer. Your heart broke, realizing you were replaced.

With a heart full of anxiety and pain, you finished your shopping early. Mascara streaming down your tear streaked face. You couldn't think. Numbly walking out into the road from a crosswalk with a mind full of the image of your super shy and reserved husband smiling at a woman you never saw before. A truck screeches to a halt, narrowly missing you. Dead inside, you numbly curse inside that it didn't hit you. Then it strikes you. Why should YOU be the one in pain!? HE'S the cheater. HE SHOULD HURT.

When you get home, you take all the special things you've made for him, the first picture you took together, he had framed and put on his nightstand. The nightstand that he's not used in over a month.

You smashed it to pieces and tossed it into the pile of broken sentiment. A mug he bought you on your first date, the shirt you wore on your third night out with him he said he loved seeing you wear. Everything smashed, ripped or shredded.

It was cathartic. After nearly an hour of fury, you finally started to recover. Slowly converting the immense love you had for him into hate.

You were brought out of your little vengeful world by the sound of the door opening followed quickly by the sound of shattering glass.

Shoto stood in the doorway with a frozen look on his face. His quirk clearly starting to go out of control as he cried.

Steam on one side from evaporating tears and frozen teardrops falling to the floor on the other.

His gaze fixed on the horrorific sight of the destroyed heap of his most precious things destroyed and the woman he loved most in this world looking at him with hate filled eyes.

At shotos feet lay a shattered crystal vase with your favorite flowers tumbled out in disarray. His hands still clutching a movie case in one hand and a box of your favorite chocolates in the other.

"Placating me with flowers, chocolates, and a movie!? YOU CHEATING SCUM BAG!" You roar. Grabbing up the shattered picture frame and hurling it at him.

You're normal really bad at throwing so you didn't think much about it as you spun away to run to your room, slamming the door behind you and locking it.

You didn't notice that the frame spun like a throwing star straight for his face. Nor did you see him stunned too much to even dodge it.

The frame cutting deep into the scar next to his eye. He didn't even react for several more minutes. Too dazed and hurt to even move. A steady stream of blood leaking down his face as he stood in shock in the doorway.

The next morning, when you woke, you looked down at your pillow, noticing the tears and makeup staining it. You had buried your face in as you cried yourself to sleep the previous night.

You thought back on how shoto was the one who bought this pillow for you. It was a very expensive pillow but it was perfect for you. You had hurt your neck sleeping on the previous one you had.

The thought instantly made you angry again. You lifted it to throw it against the wall but hesitated. The pillow didn't do anything wrong.

Clutching it to your chest, you start to cry again. Pretending the scent of shoto's cologne that you had spritzed onto it a few days prior didn't give you comfort.

When you finally left the bedroom, you noticed shoto asleep on the living room floor. He didn't even have a pillow or blanket.

*serves him right* you thought.

He had something clutched in his arms, but you just didn't care about the cheating scum bag.

Too depressed to do anything, but the minimum, you quickly used the bathroom and realized you hadn't eaten since the previous morning, you were just too miserable to eat since you caught him cheating.

You quietly made your way to the kitchen to make some toast and noticed shotos home phone had a missed call. He had placed this so he could keep track of things when he came home since he never had the time to keep track of phone calls and voice mails while working. Plus he said he kept breaking the phones in his fights.

Suspicion rose in your chest. Hoping by some chance you'd be able to catch some proof of his cheating you listen to the recorded message.

Your heart froze. The recording was from a womans voice you'd never heard before. The hussy actually had the gall to call him at his home the day after their last adulterous encounter!

*Hey hero! It's me! Black Adder! I hope I didn't interrupt anything. I waited until morning to call since I know how much you were looking forward to 'spending time' with your wife. I know you said something about wanting to watch a movie with her she was wanting to see but I'm not dumb. I know what you REALLY wanted to do with her. Did you get ANY sleep? I hope you don't miss the cruise because of your late night activities! Anyways, I just wanted to call really quick before you take your month long vacation and tell you one last time that you can leave everything to me! I'll keep the area safe! Promise! Thanks again for showing me the ropes yesterday! It really helped! Considering you couldn't wipe that stupid grin off your face and couldn't stop talking about your wife, I know that it was hard to work that last day, thanks again for your sacrifice.

Enjoy your wife for the next month and don't even think about work. I have things covered.

Cya round you wife obsessed hero!*

With that, the click of the recording ended and your heart stopped. It was all a misunderstanding!

A pain even deeper than what you felt earlier gripped your heart as you looked over your shoulder at the man you loved sleeping on the floor all night after every terrible thing you did to him yesterday.

Your eyes widened as you noticed a dark bloodstain on the carpet beneath his head. You rushed over to him, fearing the worst.

Both relief and further agony tear into you as you realize he's still breathing. You noticed the deep cut on his forehead and can see from its shape its obvious how he got it.

In his arms he clutched the picture frame, blood still on the corner of it. His face streaked with old tears as he slept miserably on the floor.

You cursed yourself for jumping to conclusions. You hated yourself for your own jealousy. With a fanatical determination, you went about making it right.

First, you rushed to get the first aide kit, quickly bringing it to his side. Using your quirk you put him in a deep sleep and gently start to clean the injury. Your heart aching every second you look at the wound you inflicted on your deepest love.

After a few minutes, his wound was cleaned, disinfected and bandaged. You had previous medical experience before retiring to be a house wife to one of the top heroes.

Feeling miserable, you find your hubby's phone and call Black Adder. Heart aching from guilt. You never even met this woman. But she could tell from the tone of your voice something was wrong, and you ended up crying your eyes out to her as if she was your big sister.

Just like a sister, Black Adder listened with understanding and patience. "Oh, sweetie, I am so sorry I put you through that." Black Adder gently apologized. "Look here, honey, gimme your address and I'll come over and help you. I have an idea that will make things right. Your man is totally in love with you. There's no way he won't understand."

With that, you quickly gave her your address and within a few minutes you hear a familiar sound outside. Black Adder was outside of your balcony window, once again inside of that emergency hover craft from the other day!

She got out along with two sidekicks and ran up to you. Giving you a huge hug and telling you she was the cause of the misunderstanding and that she would make it right!

You had already told her that you used your quirk to help him sleep while you cleaned up the cut on his head, and she told you with a mischievous tone to keep him sleeping.

The side kicks put him on a gurney and strapped him in like they would any unconscious patient. Black Adder grabbed your hand and pulled you up to the vehicle, hovering right outside of your balcony. The side kicks brought your hubby on board. With that, they closed the sliding door to the craft and Adder sat you down next to her and revealed her plan. Inside your chest a glimmer of hope started to burn.

The next few hours were chaotic. Black Adder was very resourceful. She was also very stubborn and determined. But you could tell towards the people she liked, she was the sweetest and most loving person in the whole world.

It was nighttime. Yet she managed to make a stylist, a tailor and a spa open up their doors for you. They doted on you, giving you the treatment of a Goddess, all while Black Adder was sitting by your side, telling you of all the stories of her working with your husband, the people he had saved, and all the things he said about you, which you found out was almost all the time. It made you blush.

You realized he was still madly in love, just over worked. And she said more than once that she felt she already knew you because of how much she had heard about you. She loved you like a sister and didn't want to mess anything up.

Several hours later you were back on the craft. Adder had her sidekicks pack your bags along with Shoto's. She had a hero with a healing quirk come over and see to Shoto's head, a repairman with a repairing quirk repaired the vase, and she also had one sidekick replace the frame for the picture.

Everything was prepared. Adder flew you to a cruise ship Shoto had planned on surprising you with. You were already going to be in one of the best rooms on their. But Adder managed to get you guys upgraded to the presidential suite.

After getting you both settled in, Shoto still sleeping from your quirk, Adder gave you a giant hug and told you she'd be just a phone call away if there was anything else you needed. She and her sidekicks left.

Taking a deep breath, you arranged the vase, the frame, new chocolates and the movie at the foot of the bed. And deactivated your quirk. He woke almost instantly. Sitting up suddenly due to the unfamiliar bed under him. He saw you standing there, at the foot of the bed, as soon as your eyes meet, you started crying. And he started crying too.

"I'm so sorry, Sho..." You start. But you can't continue as you break down, huge wracking sobs of grief overwhelm you. He takes in the repaired vase and picture frame and realizes you were trying to apologize. He quickly rushes over to you and takes you into his arms.

He drags you to the bed and holds you silently until you're ready to talk. You fall asleep in his arms. Shoto notices a text he got from Adder while you sleep. She explains everything. What you thought, how she figured out the truth and how desperate you were to make it right.

After he tells her you're in his arms asleep, Adder grins on the other end of the phone, and begins to suggest to Shoto her next part of her plan to fix things, so you wouldn't hurt anymore either.

#mha fanfiction #shoto torodoki #mha shoto #angst #heavy angst #heartbreak #misunderstanding #romance #relationship #shoto x reader #shoto x reader angst #happy ending #marriage #frienship

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makesometime · 1 year ago

Note

fic thought prompt for Diina and Star: has he ever braided her hair for her? with or without the flavor of "elves take hair braiding extremely seriously romantically and/or like a marriage proposal", your choice :3

I’ve already told you this BUT I am terribly weak for hair-braiding proposals. Like. Utterly beholden to them. So this prompt made my entire day.

(G-rated, ~1200 words, named female drow Tav, hair braiding)

So little of him has changed, over the years. Regardless of his ability to see his reflection, he knows this much is true. His hair has never grown longer, his skin never able to tan. Each hurt heals outside of his scars, and he remains as he was the day he crawled back out of his grave.

It surprises him, then, to recognise that Diina is not as immune to time’s effects.

The first time he watches her tut and tie a leather strip around her hair to pull it up into a ponytail, fanning the back of her hair with a little scowl, it hits him all at once.

Her hair has grown.

It looks lovely on her, softening some of her sharp edges in a way that makes his heart feel uncommonly full. He watches her ponytail sway as she walks off into the garden and has to shake himself out of his own head, only noticing that one of the cats is busy trying to climb his leg once her distracting form is out of sight.

The thought of it compels him over the weeks to come, as her hair passes the line of her shoulders and she starts to style it in new ways. He feels a familiar itching in his fingers, a desire to touch, and can’t quite make sense of it.

One morning - one of their mornings, at least - Diina sits at her little vanity, combing her hair with tender attention. Astarion walks up behind her, watching her content little smile widen as he slides his hands over her shoulders, invisible as ever in the reflection.

“It’s a good thing I know the patterns of your movement, my love.” She hums, turning her head to kiss his fingers. “Or else I think you might send me to an early grave with your ability to sneak up on me.”

Astarion smiles, pulling up a chair and sitting himself down behind but a little to the side of her, so that she can still see him if she turns her attention. He watches as she puts her brush down, then smoothes the strands of hair that hang down beside her face.

“May I…” He starts, before he can think better of it, the itch back in his hands as he flexes them against his thighs. “Darling, might I braid your hair?”

Diina looks deep into the mirror, precisely where his eyes are. She just knows somehow, senses what she needs to do to look him in the eye like this. “You know how?”

“I think I remember.” He smiles, reaching out to tug gently on a stray curl. “From a life long passed.”

There’s not even the barest hint of hesitation in the way she responds.

“I’d love that, Astarion. Please.” She says. “I was just thinking how tired I am of it this long and that it might be time for a cut, but—,”

“No!” He interjects, too quick, too obvious. “I-I mean… I think it’s lovely, darling.”

Diina’s laughter washes over him, lulls him into a quiet satisfaction and effortlessly eases away his anxiety. “But. If you’re going to offer to braid it for me more often… I could be convinced to keep it this way for now.”

Astarion narrows his eyes. She might not be able to see it but he knows from the way she chuckles that she’s entirely aware of his reaction.

“Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves, pet.” He says. “I haven’t even started yet.”

It shouldn’t surprise him that there appears to be some sort of muscle memory involved, as Astarion combs his fingers through her silky hair and starts to section it out, deciding to work on something intricate along the side of her head. A challenge, for the wispy memories that are trying to work their way to the surface.

Diina’s breathing slows as he works, a peaceful contentedness settling over them.

“Where did you learn to do this?” She asks, tipping her head a little when he pushes encouragingly just above her ear.

Astarion shrugs, concentrating on getting the braid to curve as he wants it to, sighing in frustration when he has to undo some of his work. “I don’t really know.”

It’s not a lie, but there’s certainly a hearty omission there - he didn’t learn braiding from Cazador, after all. So it must have come from…

“I think my mother must have taught me.” He says, grateful that she can’t see whatever that admission does to his expression. He doesn’t want to know either. “Perhaps I watched my father. It’s a tradition, you see. At least as far as I remember.”

Diina’s reflection wears a soft, pleased smile. “So I’ve heard. For drow, it’s rather more… functional. Entirely lacking in tradition. I prefer the sentimentality. I never expected to allow someone else to do this for me.”

Astarion nods, stroking his fingers over the plaited strands of her hair and nodding in satisfaction. He stands, moving his chair behind her and pulling the rest of her hair into his hands. There’s a comfort in less intricate work, his fingers moving easily to build a thick, wide braid down the back of her head.

He gathers the strands at the end of the braid and looks up, only to find Diina’s already holding up a leather strip for him to take.

“Much obliged.” He smiles, wrapping it around her hair a few times and then tying it off tight enough that it won’t move all day.

Diina admires herself once he’s done, turning her head to the side and tracing her fingers over his work just as he had. “Is there a meaning to this?”

Astarion shrugs, squeezing her shoulders and standing up. “I don’t think so. Not that I remember, anyway.”

“Well, it’s beautiful my darling. Thank you so much.”

Astarion kisses her cheek, smiling at the soft feel of her fingers stroking his cheek as he pulls back. He leaves her to the rest of her morning routine and finds his way to his office once he’s fed the cats, settling down to a few pieces of business.

But her question lingers. He can’t shift the thought that he should know the answer, that it’s buried somewhere beneath centuries of trauma if he only puts the effort into digging it out. It’s not long before he’s thinking far more about that than everything else he wants to get done, and he shoves his chair back from his desk with a screech of wood on wood.

He makes his way over to the bookcases that take up an entire wall of the room, scanning the spines. There must be something. He has quite the collection built up now.

Eventually, he lights upon a tome on elvish tradition, snatching it up and skimming through in case there are any illustrations. When he spots something relevant he stops, spreading his hand over the picture and smiling at the proper implementation of what he’d attempted to do with Diina’s hair.

He scans up the page to look for further details… and nearly drops the book at the sight of the section’s title.

Betrothal braids for your beloved

“Ah.” Astarion says. “... Shit.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #baldurs gate 3 #this was so much fun to write - thank you <3 #welcoming other prompts still!

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 2 years ago

Text

ibiza night fever | chapter 01

pablo gavi x original female character [+18]

synopsis: to celebrate her recent freedom, sofie’s best friends invited her to spend the summer in ibiza. after four years, a tattoo and countless fights – sofie was single. she was dumped on her 22nd birthday; now all she asks for is a calm and relaxing vacation with her girlfriends – no boys allowed. warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, smut, angst; minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Chapter 01 | Baila Conmigo

“Bebé, no sé si habla' mucho español

Si entiende' cuando digo "Mi amor"

(...)

Bésame, solo una vez

Así tengo un motivo pa' volverte a ver”

“There’s no better cure for a broken heart than Gin Tonic and Spanish men.” Rebecca was wearing three different sunhats and every single beach robe she could find. They were sitting crossed legged in Sofie’s bedroom floor, packing for their upcoming trip. It was Rebecca’s idea, of course. She has spent every summer in Ibiza since she was old enough to get on a plane by herself, and has begged her best friend to come with her every year since. But Sofie had Thomas and they spent all the summers with his family in his hometown.

“I do like Gin Tonic.” Sofie giggled. “But no men on this trip. All I want from Ibiza is a suntan and a light hungover.”

“You should still pack some lingerie, just in case.”

They were leaving the next morning, with Chiara and Luisa meeting them at the airport. Out of their gigantic group of friends, they were the only ones single, so it was natural for the girls to feel responsible for Sofie. She had a lot to learn, they said. She got added to their private group chat, ‘single girls club’, the day after the breakup. Even now, a couple weeks later, she hadn’t felt lonely, not even for a minute.

“And you need new sunglasses.”

The anxiety only hit her when they landed. The realization of what she was doing. She was a free woman now, whatever that means. It started to feel like a big weight to carry, the sole responsibility of making herself happy. It was so easy to give that up before, in the name of love. Now she doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Let’s get mimosas, like, immediately!” Luisa was the most outgoing one in their little group, and not up for debate she was also the prettiest. Long wavy blonde hair, bambi blue eyes, greek goddess-like body. She was a natural leader. Her confidence made it easy to follow her, and that’s what Sofie decided to do.

“Yes, please!”

“The fact that I’m not wearing a bikini already is a crime.” Chiara was the youngest but still a lot more experienced in those adventures than Sofie. Chiara’s mother was a successful supermodel in the early 90’s and she inherited her mother’s best features. Straight brown hair, light tan skin. She was the fashionista of the group.

Rebecca was the more centered, mature, mother-like personality of the four. She had the best taste in music and always had a great new book recommendation. It seemed like she was always worried about something more important than everybody else. She was the smart one.

Sofie was the new girl, and had yet to discover her place in the entourage.

The girls rented a luxurious and isolated villa in Sant Josep. Four spacious bedrooms, an infinity pool and cozy patio were privileges their parents credit cards were able to pay. They all came from rich families, their friendship was as written in the stars as carefully planned by their mothers. They met on play dates when they were little kids. They had ballet and foreign language classes together. As teenages they learned how to lie to their parents together. They went to college together. Now, as brand new adults, they were learning how to be women together.

“Okay, what about this one?”

They were in the villa living room, after a few mimosas, choosing which pictures to post. That was an important part of the single’s business. It was crucial for your thirst traps to look as hot as possible yet tasteful and lady-like. According to Luisa, you want to look like a duchess and a slut.

“Yes, post it.”

Chiara then turned to Sofie. “Okay, so, our itinerary only starts tomorrow, but you want to let people know you’re in town.” They had plans for the next day, party with people Sofie never met and concerts of artists she never heard of. She tried not to show how uncultured and naive that made her feel. “You should post this one. And tag the village.” It was a pic of Sofie in a bikini, she was posing in front of the infinity pool. It was a milestone, really. Her first insta post as a single woman.

In the afternoon Rebecca decided to take Sofie on a walk.

“Let’s take it slow on the first day, maybe do some shopping.”

At that point everything sounded like a good idea. Sofie could feel her cheeks burning red with excitement. Ibiza was as beautiful and as interesting as expected. The streets were cloaked in flowers and vines. The sound of birds humming and the clashing waves in the distance made just walking around the island a magical and spiritual experience. They entered a number of small stores, smelling, touching and taking pictures of everything they saw. It’s always a good feeling to be a tourist in a beautiful place.

“This place looks nice.”

It was a bar, semi-open with a pitched bamboo roof, located right in front of the beach. The stone walls and greenery created a peaceful and inviting view. That, and the orange from the sunset on the horizon. Becca seemed to agree and without another word the girls entered the bar. They ordered local craft beers and tapas and sat down in silence for a few minutes to simply rest and enjoy the view. With the moonrise, the glow of fairy lights started to illuminate the bar.

“How devoted are you to that ‘no men’ rule?”

The girls were sitting facing each other on the table closest to the sea and Rebecca leaned over, almost whispering her question. Jazz music playing in the background and a bottle of beer in hand, Sofie frowned.

“We literally just got here. I would say pretty devoted.”

“Okay, well, look, it’s just those guys are totally checking us out.”

Sofie looked in the direction her friend’s eyes were aimed. Two boys, to be more precise. A brunette and a blonde, if Sofie had to describe.

“They’re cute…” They really were cute.

“Pick one!”

“What?”

“Pick one! I’ll take the other.” Rebecca winked.

“What did we just talk about?”

“Sorry, got distracted. They’re super cute. Sorry.”

“Also, the brunette.” Sofie giggled. The brunette looked older and charming, deep brown eyes– he was just her type.

“Oh my god, they’re coming over.”

It became obvious very quickly that the boys also took their pick, and it didn’t match theirs. The charming brunette looked head over heels for Rebecca, while the blonde one stared awkwardly at Sofie. Pedro and Pablo, they introduced themselves. Chip ‘n Dale, Sofie thought to herself. After only a few minutes Pedro and Rebecca’a chemistry was flooding the table. Their giggling and flirty stares started to become uncomfortable for the other two.

“Do you want to take a walk?” It was clear they got abandoned by their friends, so Sofie did the polite thing and offered Pablo a way out of that conversation. The boy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He had beautiful eyes and Sofie blushed with the thought. The boy nodded in agreement.

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asked, partially worried she was being a bad friend and partially hopeful. Sofie almost rolled her eyes.

“Yes, pretty sure.”

“You’re a professional football player?”

“Yes.” Pablo laughed at the sound of shock in her voice. Sofie then stopped herself to stare at him for a second, examining his features. They were making small talk– how old are you; where are you from; what do you work with. His answer caught her off guard.

“I used to love football.” She said softly, smiling at herself. “When I was a kid my dad would take me to every single Benfica home game.”

“What happened?” Pablo frowned. “You don’t like it anymore?”

“My dad passed away.”

“Oh. Shit.” There was an awkward silence. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, really.” Sofie giggled at the boy’s scared look, she seemed it before and was already used to it. “It has been a while. It’s just, football was our thing, you know?”

“Do you miss it? Nevermind, that’s a stupid question!”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She had a hand on his shoulder. They have been walking for a few minutes and even though they were in an isolated part of the beach, they could hear distant edm music; very different from the sound of birds during the day. The moon was high in the sky at that point. “I do miss it. A lot. But it’s been a long time, and with every passing season there’s more to learn about the game. I don’t know how to go back into the loop.” She didn’t even know who he was, that’s how ‘out of the loop’ she was.

“I guess you just do. If you wanted. I guess you just come back.”

He was right. She heard that before, from her therapist. Going back to doing the things she loved. Instead she decided to quit therapy and keep herself in the denial phase of grief. But Pablo was right. And he looked beautiful under the moonlight. His hair waving with the ocean breeze, his eyes shining brighter than the paper lanterns around them. She wanted to hold his hand. Her whole day felt like a fairytale after weeks of nightmares and she didn’t want to talk about her father or football anymore. She wanted to kiss him and end her day on a win. Later she would blame her overly confident behavior on the mimosas.

“Do you wanna go back to the villa with me?”

#ibiza night fever #pablo gavi #gavi fanfic #football fanfic

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hime98 · 2 months ago

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Lonely Escape in Seoul (Lee Dong Wook x Y/N)

Chapter 10 - Silence and Darkness

Y/N's POV

The day had never felt so long.

I woke up early, the pale morning light filtering into the flat, and immediately felt the weight of the day pressing down on me. Today was the day I was leaving. Today, I’d have to say goodbye to this place that had started to feel like home.

To him. To Dong Wook.

I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at my packed suitcase beside me. It looked so final. Cold. Like it didn’t belong here—like I didn’t belong here anymore.

Where are you now, oppa?

I kept telling myself he’d come back soon. He had promised me last time, that he’d be here to take me to the airport. But as the hours ticked by, my anxiety began to gnaw at me.

By 10 AM, I distracted myself by cleaning. I swept the floors, wiped down the counters, and folded the throw blanket on the couch—all to keep my hands from shaking.

I made two cups of coffee like I always did. One for me, one for him. I sat on the balcony, the mug warming my hands, and watched the morning clouds drift lazily across the sky. I kept glancing back at the door, expecting it to swing open, expecting him to walk in with that easy smile of his.

But the door never moved.

By noon, I gave up pretending I wasn’t worried. I checked my phone, again and again, looking for a text, a call—anything.

Nothing.

I sighed deeply and stared out the window. The city was alive and busy, but I felt completely still—frozen in this quiet space I didn’t want to leave. I knew Dong Wook’s shoot had gone late the night before, so maybe he was just resting. Or maybe he was too busy to come.

Or maybe he wasn’t coming at all.

I shook that thought away. He wouldn’t do that. He promised.

By 3 PM, I sat on the living room floor with my suitcase open in front of me, slowly unpacking and repacking it just to kill time. I folded each piece of clothing carefully, trying to distract myself from the tightening feeling in my chest.

I looked around the room and remembered every small, beautiful moment we had shared here.

The nights when we sat on the balcony, sharing quiet thoughts under the stars. The mornings when he teased me about staying in bed too long, his laughter echoing through the flat. The small dinners, the way he’d pour water into my glass without even asking.

Every little thing made my heart ache.

I picked up the charm he had given me days before, running my thumb over it.

“Oppa,” I whispered, biting back tears, “where are you?”

By 6 PM, the sun had started to set, painting the sky in a wash of orange and pink. It was beautiful—painfully beautiful.

I sat on the sofa, staring at the clock. Four hours until my flight.

I thought about calling him. I picked up my phone and hovered over his name, my thumb hesitating. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What if he was busy? What if he didn’t pick up?

Instead, I put my phone down and stared at the front door.

“Where are you, Dong Wook oppa?” I whispered again. My voice trembled, but no one was there to hear it.

By 7:30 PM, I was out of hope.

I sat quietly, hugging my knees to my chest as the light in the flat grew dim. The silence felt heavier now, suffocating. My suitcase was zipped up and ready by the door, and I had nothing left to do but wait.

My chest ached with every breath I took. As soon as 8 PM hit, I stood up, picked up my suitcase and head towards the door.

Lee Dong Wook’s POV

The director’s voice sounded distant as he called out, “One more take!” I felt my blood boil. How many more takes do you need?!

I checked my watch for what had to be the fiftieth time that day. 6 PM.

Y/N's flight is in four hours. I had two hours to get back to Seoul, but traffic would make that impossible if I didn’t leave now.

I clenched my fists, frustration threatening to boil over. I’d been patient all day, but every minute that passed made me feel like I was losing her.

The moment the director finally said, “Wrap it up,” I didn’t wait for anyone. I ripped off my mic, ignoring the startled looks from the crew.

“Hyung, wait—you need to change your clothes!” Chang Hee yelled, running after me as I stormed out of the set.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My chest was tight, my pulse racing.

I slid into the car, started the engine, and sped off without looking back.

It was a two-hour drive back to Seoul, and every second felt like a countdown to something I couldn’t bear.

My hands gripped the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The city lights blurred in the distance as I pushed the car faster, ignoring the pang of guilt when I ran a red light.

Please, just let me make it.

7:10 PM.

She was probably waiting for me. Maybe sitting on the sofa with her suitcase ready. Maybe staring at the door, hoping I’d walk through.

My throat tightened. I couldn’t let her leave without seeing her one last time. I couldn’t.

I realized then—I couldn’t lose her. If she walked out of my life, I’d lose my mind.

By 8:35 PM, I was sprinting through the building lobby, ignoring the stares from the security guard. My chest felt like it might burst as I punched the elevator button repeatedly, muttering under my breath.

“Come on. Come on.”

The elevator doors opened, and I jumped in, my heart pounding against my ribs as the numbers climbed—6, 7, 8.

I ran down the hallway as soon as the doors opened, my footsteps echoing loudly. My keys fumbled in my hands as I threw the door open.

“Y/N!” I shouted.

Darkness.

The flat was dark and cold, the air eerily still.

I froze in the doorway, my heart dropping. It felt empty—too empty.

I stepped inside, my breathing ragged, my mind reeling. Her suitcase wasn’t near the door anymore. The sofa was empty.

I’m too late.

The realization hit me like a wave. I stumbled forward, feeling like the walls were closing in on me. Alone again. I had let her go.

I dropped on my knees. I can't breathe. I can't even hear myself crying out loud but I can see my tears dropping continuously on the floor. I was too late.

But then—

“Oppa…”

Her voice was soft, faint, but it was enough to shatter me.

I turned sharply, my heart stopping mid-beat.

There she was.

Y/N stood by the window, bathed in pale moonlight. Her hair framed her face softly, tears from her eyes reflecting the light on the moon making it look like gems falling— even when crying, she still looks ethereal.

I let out a shaky breath, my vision blurring.

“Y/N…” I whispered.

Her lips curved into a faint, tearful smile.

“You came.”

(To be continued)

Previous — Chapter 10 — Next

#lee dong wook #lee dong wook x y/n #lee dong wook story #lee dong wook x reader #lee dong wook fanfic #dong wook #fanfic #fanfiction #fiction #imagine #story #kdrama #drama #reader #y/n

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fentitrbl · 2 years ago

Text

Tell Me You Love Me

"I don't regret telling you how much I loved you."

Word Count: 2,132

Chapter Four

Jasmine

July 20th, 2018

8:00am

It's been a few days since I last saw Harry at my job for his little incident and within those few days, I haven't mustered up the courage to text his number that was now saved in my phone. I have been nervous to send a text but I want to. I've even updated Lily on what happened at work and she thinks I should message him and ask when he's free for lunch. I think I will but what if he doesn't answer, what if he gave me a fake number, what if he's some super secret star that gave me a number so we couldn't meet in a public setting. Though I highly doubt it, it is still a possibility right or maybe I am just thinking too much hence the reason I'm up at 8am writing in this dingy journal.

I closed my journal and slid it back onto my dresser along with a few books I had taken from home for decoration. I had been sipping on a cup of tea from the moment I rolled out of bed this morning to try to soothe my anxiety about this whole situation. It is all I have been thinking about since the day he left the office.

I plopped out of my bed and into my kitchen to clean my mug. As I finish drying the mug, I set it aside and head into the living room. I fixed myself onto my couch where I then turned on the TV.

I picked up my phone and texted Lily. I knew she'd be up since our schedules at work typically start early in the morning.

"I think I want to text him."

a minute or two went by before I got a notification came up

Lily(imessage)

"if you are thinking about it this much, maybe you should;)"

I looked at her message and immediately went to Harry's contact, hesitantly pressing the message icon. Without replying to Lily, out of impulse I started typing.

"Hey how bout that lunch today?" I looked at my message then erased it. I thought to myself that is a little too straightforward. I tried again, "Hey how is your ankle doing." I then scratched my head and said to myself that this could work but it is also dodging his offer to lunch in a way by changing the subject to his ankle.

I then decided to slap some sense into myself and stop thinking too hard about texting him because I know for a fact that Lily would be disappointed by how much I am freaking out about this. Instead of putting too much thought into it i went all in.

"Hi." I hit send and then immediately closed the window in fear that he would either text right away or not at all.

I texted Lily back instead, "EYE TEXTED HIM???."

She immediately texted back

Lily(imessage)

"FINALLY??, I don't know what you were waiting on. LET ME KNOW ASAP WHAT HE SAYS."

I laughed slightly before putting my phone down and proceeding to get up to put my hair up and start the shower. Typically, I start my mornings very early even on my off days to avoid having to get ready later in the morning. I left my phone in the living room since I expected to go back there once I finished up.

45 minutes later

I waltz out of my room with a casual outfit on and hair slightly curled at the ends. I decided to go with a lace black long-sleeved top and some black denim jeans to match and light makeup for the day. Approaching the living room, I picked up my phone and to my ultimate surprise there was nothing from Harry. I wasn't too disappointed since the made-up scenarios in my head were starting to not sound delusional after all.

I sighed, as I grabbed my blanket on the couch and tuned into a comedy movie marathon that had been playing since the early morning. As time went on I started to get a little sleepy so I didn’t fight it and nodded off.

10:00am

As I opened my eyes, I looked out to my balcony next to my couch and saw the sun was out much brighter then earlier causing me to groan. I wasn’t a fan of the sun since I was so used to the sun back home. I slowly let my eyes adjust to my surroundings and sat up letting the blanket fall to my lap. I then saw my phone light up and immediately reached for it as I saw Harry’s name flash across the screen.

Harry (iMessage)

“Hey, I was still sleeping when you texted.”

I immediately became embarrassed because now that I think about it, 8am is way too early to text anyone other then Lily.

I debated on if I should text back right away or wait some time but knowing myself I texted back.

“Hi, sorry. I tend to get up early because of work! it’s a habit of mine.” I texted back eagerly

To my own surprise he texted back right away

Harry(iMessage)

“It’s okay! hey I was thinking how about we meet up at Rachel’s for lunch at 12:00?? I just got up but I’m starving, my belly is screaming at me.”

I wish I could say I was surprised by how straightforward he is being but I’m not all that surprised since he flat out asked me out at my job.

“Yes definitely I’m hungry too all I had was some tea this morning :( I will see you there?”

a few minutes went by before my own stomach started growling at me. I hopped up and went to my pantry where I pulled out some club crackers to snack on to keep my hunger at bay. Just as I went to grab another I got a text from Harry.

Harry(iMessage)

“trust me I’ll definitely be there. :)”

12:00pm

Right at 12, I’m briskly walking up to Rachel’s where it seems to be very quiet for a lunch hour. There isn’t too many people parked outside the restaurant which is surprising because Rachel’s is a very popular place to eat lunch and brunch in London.

I greet the hostess at the stand as I look around for Harry but, I didn’t seem to see him anywhere.

She led me to a table for two tucked away in a corner of the restaurant that was some distance away from other guests that were there. I sat quietly as I observed the restaurant more in hopes that Harry would pop up but, as I looked at my phone 5 minutes went by.

I started to think about all of the possibilities of what could’ve happened. Did he stand me up? Is he just a few minutes late? Was this a set up? Slowly, the questions started to diminish as I calmed myself down and chose the optimistic approach. Maybe he’s just late I thought to myself.

I looked over my menu the hostess gave me and right as I focused on the details of an asparagus salad, I felt a warm presence approaching the table. I looked up from browsing and there he was.

He was wearing a flannel with the buttons undone and a beanie to cover his messy curls. He smiled at me as he came to the table to sit across from me.

“Sorry, had to run to the restroom.” He said quietly.

As I admired him, and hyperfocused on his tattoos that were on his arms and peaking out his shirt on his chest, he then reached for his phone and silenced it.

I was struck by how polite he was, most guys I’ve dated either were glued to their phones or texted throughout the date. Harry on the other hand slid his phone into his back pocket and stared right at me as if he was waiting for something.

say something jasmine, I thought to myself.

“No, it’s okay I wasn’t waiting long, I just got here right at 12, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long for me.” I said, shyly.

he then quickly answered, “It doesn’t matter, I’d wait for you regardless.” Before he could reply I chimed in.

“How’s that ankle doing? I see you aren’t hobbling around like you were a few days ago.” I said, slightly chuckling.

He then shot me a look from looking at his menu and said, “my ankle is pristine, thanks to you.”

We were quickly interrupted by our server who asked us if we were ready to order in which we were. Seems like Harry already knew what he was getting since he didn’t look at the menu long. While I picked a salad and fries to share for the table, he ordered a grilled filet fish with vegetables.

“So, is there a reason you picked a table in the corner of the restaurant?” I asked, pointing out how now one was sat in our section except us.

He then looked around at what I was jestering at and then quietly muttered, “I asked them not to do that.”

This stood out to me compared to the normal conversation we were having throughout lunch. “What did you say?” I said with my eyebrows slightly raised.

“Oh I meant, I picked it to give us some privacy, it is our first date you know. Wouldn’t want anyone to suffer from second hand awkwardness.” He joked while sitting up

He was dodging my question, I thought to myself. That was weird.

He then went on, “I know if I was a bystander I’d feel weird being sat next to a first date.”

I then joked along with him, “Who said this was a date?” as I sipped my white wine he ordered for us.

He then came closer into the center of the table making direct eye contact.

With the biggest smirk on his face he spoke

“I did.”

Instead of backing away from him I stayed in my spot and looked him in his eyes for a short amount of time before our food came and interrupted us yet again.

As we ate, I decided to ask him some questions to see if he’d crack and open up to me.

“Are you originally from here Harry?” I spoke quietly.

He looked up slightly at me as he stuck his fork in his mouth. He paused before answering, “Actually I’m from a a smaller town around London, I used to work in the bakery where I’m from.” he said as he covered his mouth chewing

“Bakery boy Harry?” I said with a grin, “who would’ve known you’d be a bakery boy.” I laughed

He then put his fork down and turned his full attention to the conversation.

“Believe it or not, I was the best cashier in our town, I had women swooning over me.” he said, confidently.

I wiped my fingers with the tablecloth and then said, “yeah I’m sure you had all the old ladies swooning over you.”

“Hey!” he warned warmly.

Right as we were picking up our conversation and finishing our food, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, someone staring from across the restaurant.

It looked to me like a group of girls who were giggly and smiley as they gawked at Harry.

At first I thought nothing of it, but as time went on, I noticed one of them getting up and walking straight towards us.

I got quiet as she walked to our table.

“Harry?” she said politely.

He looked up at her with a slight look of uncomfortableness.

“Uhm Hi.” He replied looking away from her eye contact.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch but is there any way I could get a picture with you.”

My eyebrows immediately raised and my eyes widened.

“A picture?” I questioned while looking at Harry

He then looked from me to her and spoke quietly, “If you don’t mind, I don’t think now is a good time I’m sorry.”

She nodded her head and apologized while walking back to her table.

I looked him dead in his face while he tried to avoid eye contact with me.

“Harry..” I said.

“What was that about are you some celebrity or something.” I said as I joked around. Though he didn’t laugh along with me. It was silent.

Our server walked up to our table and took our plates, then he spoke “Check please?”

I looked at him in confusion as he spoke again

“I’ll explain but not here.”

let me tell youuuu writing this out was a struggle but I was waiting for the results for the poll. Jasmine being a simp per usual and Harry being sus at the end?? like what are you hiding?? and the fact that he didn’t laugh.. the silence was so loud. Also, do you guys like that I’m portraying him in a different light other then sweet, unproblematic Harry?? because if we are honest I kind of want him to be problematic.. idk yet? Since I want drama but maybe not? The indecisiveness is killing me. I hope you like it. 🫶🏾

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#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry styles smut

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fandomsnstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Day 1: Refuge

It’s @blupjeansweek 2023! How does 3.6k sound to kick it off?

Read it on AO3

Summary: Barry gets caught in the rain and takes refuge in the first house he comes across.

The midnight sky is pitch black in the countryside. Even the moon and stars are missing, covered by dark storm clouds. Barry trudges along on the muddy road created by the downpour. He has his arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to keep warm, but it’s futile. He was soaked to the bone within minutes of the heavens opening up. Even now, in the early days of summer, the rain chills him to the core. His feet and knees and back ache. He longs for nothing more than to stop for the night, but he wildly underestimated the amount of civilization out here. When he set out from the last town this morning, he thought he’d at least come across a barn he could crash in, but it’s been nothing but empty fields for hours.

Except.

In the distance, he can see a glimmer of hope. He can’t make out much through the dark and the rain, but he can see windows with lights on. He keeps his eyes fixed on that warm glow and imagines a fire and a soft bed and maybe even a good meal.

After an immeasurable amount of time, Barry stands at the end of the path that branches off the main road. He can see the home a little better now. It’s a stunning mansion, clearly old and just the right amount of gothic. If he’s honest, it’s a little creepy how it seems to loom over him from the slight incline between him and the front door. The lights are still on, and he can see silhouettes in the windows. It occurs to him that it’s strange that these people are living out in the middle of nowhere, with the next closest person being hours away.

Barry’s anxieties start to take over, and he’s trying to rationalise how sleeping in a storm wouldn’t actually be that bad, when a flash of lighting illuminates the black sky in a vicious mockery of daylight. Thunder cracks so loudly it may as well be right on top of him. It propels him to walk up the muddied drive. Under the protection of the front porch, rain clatters loudly above him, and he can truly feel how soaked through and cold he is. His clothes stick to him uncomfortably, water drips off his hair into eyes, and his glasses are dotted with water, blurring his vision. Thunder cracks above him again, and he knocks quickly before he can lose his nerve. After a few agonising moments of silence, the door swings open to reveal the most beautiful woman Barry’s ever seen in his life. She has piercing eyes that stare him down, tan skin and blonde hair, she’s tall and lithe and wears a blood red dress with a slit so high some might call it dangerous.

He clears his throat. “Hi, uh, sorry, I- I’m sorry. I don’t want to intrude, but- it’s raining pretty bad out here, I was just wondering if-”

“Of course,” she says smoothly. “You poor thing, come inside. We’ll get you warmed up.” She steps out onto the porch and takes his elbow, guiding him inside. He sighs as the warmth of the house hits him. The entryway is just as opulent as the mansion’s exterior. “Taako,” the woman says, “we have a guest.”

Leaning against the railing at the base of the grand staircase is a man, clearly very closely related to his hostess with the same tan skin and blonde hair. He’s wearing layers of robes that seem to shift in colour every time he moves. He glares at Barry as he’s guided past him and up the stairs. “I want him gone by morning,” he says. The woman waves him off and they continue on down the hallway.

“Don’t mind my brother,” she says, “he’s not a fan of strangers.”

“And… you are?”

“Sure, especially when they’re handsome.” She winks at him and Barry almost chokes. Him? Handsome? The sad, wet, sorry excuse for a man that knocked on her door in the middle of the night? The one that’s got mud on his jeans nearly up to his knees and hasn’t taken a proper shower in a few too many days?

"Guess I'm getting murdered tonight," he thinks. There can't be any other explanation for the immediate welcome and flattery.

Realising he’s been quiet for a little too long, he spits out, “Barry.” She looks at him curiously. “I’m- my name, it’s Barry.”

She smiles, “Lup.”

“Lup,” he repeats. It’s a strange one, but yet it fits her perfectly.

She takes him into a massive room. It’s got a king size bed on one wall, and a few plush chairs with a small table in front of a fireplace on another. There’s a large window with heavy velvet curtains pulled shut, and an attached bathroom. “Take a hot shower,” Lup says, “I’ll start a fire for you and see if I can find you some dry clothes.”

“Thank you, this is… this is incredible.”

She squeezes his arm again and lets go to lightly shove him towards the bathroom. It’s fancier than any bathroom he’s seen before. It has two sinks, a claw foot bathtub and a separate shower. He puts the shower temperature as high as it’ll go and peels off his waterlogged clothing, draping it over the edge of the tub to dry out. He revels in the hot water, letting it thaw him from his stint in the rain. When he comes out, steam billows into the room. A fire crackles pleasantly in the hearth, and there’s a folded set of clothes on the bed. He’s expecting something out of a movie, like silk pyjamas with a crest embroidered on it, but instead he finds typical plaid pyjama pants and a plain grey t-shirt. He’s a little worried, at first, about if they’ll even fit, considering the siblings hosting him are both taller and thinner than he is, but he finds that they’re actually just a little big on him. They smell like fresh cut wood.

Barry lowers himself into one of the chairs by the fire with a groan, thankful to take the pressure off his poor aching feet. There’s still a slight chill deep in his core, but he’s just glad to be able to sit down. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, just listening to the fire. If he's going to get serial killed here, at least he'll die in luxury.

He’s unsure how much time has passed when there’s a knock on the door. It opens and Lup comes in with a tray. She sets it down on the small table between the two chairs and sits across from him. “Dinner,” she says.

He doesn’t expect her to stay, but she sits and watches him eat.

The tray has a plate with meat and vegetables and potatoes and sauce and it smells divine. “I think it’s a little late for dinner,” he jokes, picking up the utensils and digging in.

Lup laughs, “a midnight snack, then.”

“So what brought you all the way out here?” She asks, linking her fingers together and resting her chin on them.

Barry stills. Oh, you know, just running as far away as I can get because I have nothing left. “Just trying to… see the world, I guess.”

He can feel her looking at him. She hums. “That might be good for you, you don’t seem very travelled.”

“That obvious?”

“Did you even have an umbrella? Or any way to make a camp?”

His face flushes with embarrassment. “No. It was… I was a little spontaneous when I was leaving. I didn’t think it through much, so I didn’t leave with a lot of stuff. I’m usually more for planning.”

Lup cocks her head, evaluating him. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” His blush deepens and she smiles, silently laughing at him. She stands and says, “finish your food and go to bed. I’ll get you set up with some proper travelling gear before you leave in the morning.”

“Okay, yeah, thanks. Thank you.”

Then he’s on his own again. He eats, douses the fire, and climbs into the bed, letting the covers engulf him. It’s much more comfortable than cheap inns or bales of hay. Even with his brain's valiant attempts to come up with every worst case scenario that could happen in this house, he falls asleep to the ambient sound of rain and thunder.

When he wakes the next morning, he feels like he got run over. His body aches all over, and he feels like he’s on fire. Then he sits up and almost coughs a lung out. He must’ve caught something after his hours-long trek in the storm. Or the dinner he was served was poisoned, he could go either way. But he can’t overstay his welcome, so he reluctantly drags himself out of bed. He’s about to trudge his way to the bathroom when he notices that the tray from last night is gone, and in its place is another folded set of clothes. He checks, and they’re his clothes from last night, perfectly dry. He blushes, embarrassed to think that Lup snuck in here to dry these for him. He changes as quickly as his aching body will allow, pauses to cough up another lung, makes the bed, and leaves the borrowed pyjamas folded on top.

He heads back to the main entryway. It’s dimly lit, the front windows that had acted as Barry’s beacon last night are now covered with heavy curtains identical to the ones in the guest room. He makes for the front door to slip out and make his escape, when his name gets called and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns, and Lup’s walking up to him. She’s dressed more casually this morning in a simple soft shirt and pants. “I made breakfast,” she says, “come and eat.”

“Thank you, but I should really get going.”

She tuts. “You haven’t overstayed anything, you need to eat if you’re going to have enough strength to make it to the next town over.”

“Really, I’m fine, I-” he’s cut off as he starts to cough up a secret third lung he had hidden in his back pocket.

Before Barry can process what’s happening, Lup’s hand is pressed against his forehead. It’s pleasantly cool, and the relief it provides makes him sigh quietly.

“You’re burning up,” she says, frowning.

“Probably just a cold, I was out in the rain for hours last night. I’ll be okay.”

“Nope. I’m not sending you out there like this.” She grabs his elbow, more forceful than she was last night, and starts dragging him further into the house, “you’re eating breakfast then going back to rest.”

“Wh- what about your brother? He said I needed to be gone by morning.”

“He’ll get over it.”

She takes him to a dining room with a large table in the centre. There has to be at least 12 chairs around it, but there's only one setting at one of the corners. Lup shoves him down into the chair and points at the array of toast, fruit, and waffles, and says, "eat."

Not wanting to incur a wrath that Barry can only imagine burns with a fury, he eats. Lup sits in the chair at the head of the table, adjacent to him, but he keeps his eyes down on the plate.

"You don't have to look so nervous," she says. He finally looks up at her and she grins, "I don't bite."

Barry swallows. "I'm- I'm sure you don't. It's just a little odd, finding people who live so far away from anything else."

She shrugs. "It's nice out here. We like the quiet and don't get bothered by anyone."

"Except old guys like me who get caught in the rain."

She laughs, but before she can respond, the kitchen door swings open and her brother walks in. "Hey Lulu, have you seen my-" he cuts himself off when he sees Barry, and his face sinks into a frown. "Lup."

"Excuse me," she says sweetly, pushing herself up from the table and following her brother out of the room.

Now, Barry doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but the twins don't seem to be aware of how well sound carries in this old house.

"What the fuck is he still doing here?!"

"Oh, my bad, god forbid we let a guy eat breakfast."

"Fine. So he's leaving as soon as he's done."

"..."

"Lup!"

"He's sick, Taako! I can't let him go back on the road like that!"

"He didn't look sick to me."

"Well he is, and he needs to rest and heal before he can go back out."

"He can't be here."

"So you get to keep one and I don't?"

"That was a completely different situation and you know it."

"I'll keep him out of your way and as soon as he's well enough to go, I'll let him go."

There's a few agonising beats of silence. Barry tries not to hold his breath.

"...fine."

Barry exhales deeply. Now that he's really thinking about it, he doesn't think he'd last on the road in this condition. He longs to go back to bed. He's only picked at the breakfast laid out for him, but he's not sure his stomach can handle much more.

Lup comes back out alone, and notices he hasn't eaten much. "Do you not like it? I can make you something else-"

"No," he says, "it's delicious, but… you were right, I'm not in great shape."

She smiles softly and links their arms together. "Let's get you back in bed."

He sleeps late into the day. When he wakes, Lup brings him soup. Then she shows him to their massive library and lets him wander and choose any books that grab him. He pretends not to notice her subtly guiding him away from a section in the back corner. She even takes him on a walk around the grounds. The sun's gone down already, but the storm has passed, so the gardens are illuminated by the silvery light of the full moon.

"It's amazing how much food you guys grow here," he says.

"We have to be pretty self-sufficient out here." A wolf howls far off in the distance. Lup smiles. "The woods are good for hunting, too. And foraging, if we're feeling up to it."

"You hunt?"

She leans in close and says, "you have no idea what I'm capable of."

It's like she has him in a trance, and he can't find any words to say. Lup holds him there for a few long moments then steps back and says, "let's go back, you'll get a chill."

The days go on like this. He sleeps in their house and eats their food and reads their books. He goes on walks around the halls and the grounds with Lup. She's wonderful company, they talk about novels and science and the world for hours on end. If they run out of things to say, they sit in amiable silence. Her laugh is like music to his ears, and he wants to hear it as often as he can. Her hands are a comfort whenever he starts hacking up one of his spare lungs. He loves the way his name sounds in her voice.

Problem is, as the days go on, he only seems to get weaker. Their walks get shorter, he sleeps longer, the coughing fits become longer and more frequent, and he's having a harder time catching his breath, he has to sleep sitting up. His fever hasn't broken either, and Lup's cool hands barely offer any solace whenever she checks his temperature.

But she still keeps him company. She sits on the bed with him and talks or reads to him. So when the door opens one night and Taako walks in holding a tray, his face falls a little.

"Well don't look so disappointed," Taako says, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Where's Lup?"

"Out. She'll be back by tomorrow. She asked me to make sure you don't die before then."

"Thank you for letting me stay."

"I'm not letting you do anything. Lup decided you were staying, so you were going to stay, and there was nothing me or you could've done about it." Taako sets the tray down on the table by the fireplace and turns to face him. "Are you able to get over here? Because I'm not doing that lovey-dovey feeding you shit that Lup does."

Barry coughs and pretends his face is flushed from the fever. "Uh, yeah, for sure."

It takes some effort, but he manages to move from the bed to the chair. Taako sits in the other one and watches as he slowly eats the fresh soup. Once he's finished, Taako takes the tray and stands, "I'll come back later to make sure you're still breathing," and he sweeps out of the room.

As promised, Lup's back the next day, and the routine continues. But Barry continues to deteriorate.

He loses track of time eventually. He doesn't know if it's been hours or days. He can't catch what Lup's saying, but the cadence of her voice is a comfort. Even taking a breath is a struggle.

One day- or maybe it was night, he can never tell with those curtains drawn- her normally soothing tone changes. She sounds scared, and she's shouting. She sounds a little far away. Is she in trouble? He wants to get up to help her, but he can't really move. It's also really hard to breathe, he should open a window.

He feels the bed dip and her voice is closer again.

"-e's turning blue!"

"I think he's dying, Lulu."

Who's dying?

"I know, so help me! Do something!"

Oh. Him. He's dying. He wants to look at Lup and tell her that it'll be okay, but he can't seem to move his eyes. Are they closed? He's not sure. His ears are ringing but the twins voices come through clear as a bell.

"Like what?! Health shit is Merle's thing."

"Well Merle's not here right now, dickhead. It's just us, and I can't let him die."

He doesn't know who that is. He honestly didn't think the twins knew anyone else.

"Humans only live so long, you weren't going to be able to keep him here forever."

Barry doesn't have the faculties left to question Taako referring to humans as if he isn't one.

"...I could."

"Lup-"

"But I could, Taako. I can stop this and he can stay here."

"You've only known him a few weeks."

"Please."

Silence stretches, and Barry thinks maybe he's died already.

Taako sighs, "I'm not going to stop you."

Barry feels Lup's hands on his face and his head is turned. Evidently his eyes are open, because her face comes into view. There are tear tracks down her cheeks, and he just wants to reach up and wipe them away. "I can stop this, Bear," she says, "I can help you and you can stay here with me- with us, forever."

He doesn't know what she's talking about, and he tries to answer her, but all that comes out is the strained breath of a dying man.

"If you're going to do it, I suggest you do it now," Taako says.

Lup leans down towards him, and he almost thinks she's going to kiss him until she seems to veer off to the side. His entire body alights with pain, like every nerve ending is on fire. He can hear someone screaming, and he realises it's him a second before the world goes dark.

When he wakes up, it's cold and dark, and there's something on top of him that falls into his mouth. He starts clawing through it, trying to get to fresh air. It feels like it goes on forever, but he breaks the surface into the cool night air. He's welcomed by the sweet stench of blood, and his vision zeroes in on a raccoon laying several feet ahead of him. Unthinking, he crawls over and tears into it.

He comes back to himself once the raccoon's blood runs dry. His eyes widen, realising what he's done, and he drops what's left of it and shuffles back away from it, breathing heavily.

"Barry."

His head snaps over to the voice, and he sees Lup standing some distance away. "Lup?"

"Hey, Bear."

"Wh- what-"

"You were dying," she approaches him slowly and kneels in the grass, still a few feet away, "I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't just let you go."

He runs his tongue along his teeth and feels two that are sharper than he remembers.

"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, but there's more than just me and Taako. We have more family that lives here, they get back in a week. We can help you adjust, and then you can head off to wherever you were going."

Slowly, Barry gets to his feet. He brushes the dirt and grass off his jeans, and steps to stand over Lup. He holds out a hand to help her up and she takes it. Once she's standing, he wraps her up in a hug and holds tight.

"Thanks for not letting me die," he murmurs.

Lup laughs, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling in further, "technically you still died. But this way you aren't gone." They stand in the embrace for a while, then Lup asks, softly, "will you stay?"

Barry feels her breathing against him, feels how perfectly she slots into his arms, and he says, "yeah, I think I will."

#blupjeansweek2023 #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup #lup taaco

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