#everyone at this time knows what a valet does - we don’t need a detailed word picture about it

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Once again tumblr is silencing my voice by not letting me add more than 30 tags. Okay the rest of what I was going to say is that if you gave him an assignment that was simple and out of the way enough, even upstairs, he might be able to stick it out for a couple hours. Another factor that determines how long that might be is where this is happening. Is he at Brinkley Court? Then Aunt Dahlia and the other servants (whom he seems to be on good terms with) will cover for him. No matter what he screws up, “oh, that’s Barry! He’s just new here!” Jeeves might be able to work something similar at a different manor house (presuming Bertie’s face isn’t already known there) if he’s on good terms with any of the servants there. They might agree to take Bertie under their wing as a favor to Jeeves. It also depends on whether Jeeves himself is there to help him, whether they’re working in the same area of the house, and if they’re able to inconspicuously pull each other aside to confer.

In conclusion: can’t answer question, too many variables

[winterscaptain]

spoiled.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: happy valentine’s day! 

words: 2.1k warnings: language, over-the-top valentine’s day shenanigans

summary: “the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.” - nicholas sparks. au!february 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

Aaron leaves rather early in the morning, leaving you in bed complaining with only a kiss for your trouble. 

When you eventually get up, on track to be about fifteen minutes late to the federal building, you find a pair of post-its on the fridge. 

Always the romantic. 

+++

The evening rolls around and finds you on the couch with Jess and Jack. 

“You gonna start getting ready?” Jess asks. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.” 

You look over at her. “Wait. He told you what we’re doing?”

She nods. “Yeah. You have no idea. He hasn’t done a big Valentine’s Day thing since he surprised Haley in her senior year of college. He’s been looking for an excuse.” 

That’s terrifying. 

“Guess I better get ready then.” 

Jack’s got a funny little smile on his face, but you ignore it. You’re sure the Hotchner boys are in cahoots, but it’s not really worth it to try and wiggle anything out of him. 

You head to the master bedroom to get dressed, throwing off your slouchy day-off clothes in favor of something that can take you to a fancy dinner and whatever else Aaron has planned for your evening.

+++

You walk out of the apartment, hearing Jess lock the door behind you. When you reach the front of the apartment complex, Aaron closes the car door as he hops out, meeting you halfway to the sidewalk. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

He’s wearing a black button-up, black slacks, and his favorite pair of black oxfords. It’s a sharp look and one he knows you love. 

“You’re looking quite dapper yourself, sir.” 

The boyish grin on his face melts your heart and you take the arm he offers. Like a real gentleman, he opens the door for you and makes sure you’re inside before closing you in.

+++

The drive is quiet. You ask about the office once or twice, but it’s clear there’s nothing significant to report. 

“So...what are we doing tonight?” 

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Dinner. And a few other things.” 

+++

When he says ‘dinner,’ he’s not joking. The restaurant is a high-end, no-prices-on-the-menu type of place. The lighting is low, the environment cozy and quiet. 

He must have planned this months ago. Reservations are like gold on Valentine’s Day. 

Aaron’s squinting at the menu across from you. It makes you laugh. 

“Need a flashlight and your reading glasses?”

“Shut up.” It comes with his own laugh, but he’s still squinting. 

You finally decide on something and order, trusting Aaron’s taste in wine. When the waiter leaves, Aaron reaches across the table for your hand. 

“Okay,” he says. You recognize his tone - it’s professional, like he’s starting a press conference. “No work, no kids, no serial killers.” 

You smile, waiting for him to give you a little more context. 

“How are you?” 

What a question. 

How often does the answer to that question not include work, kids, or serial killers? 

Not very. 

“I’m good.” You mean it. “I’m really good.” 

There’s a small smile on his face. “Why?”

Are you profiling me now, Hotch? 

Deciding to give him shit, you ask, “Why am I good, or is that a more general existential question?” 

He rolls his eyes and you relent. 

“Alright. Well…” You take a breath. “There are a lot of things to be happy about. You, for one thing.” 

“Me?” He asks. He looks genuinely surprised. 

Fool. 

“Yes, you.” You squeeze his hand. “You are my best friend and somehow - somehow - I’ve landed you as my partner. I am living out everything I dreamed of at twenty-five.” 

That pulls another smile from him. “Really?” Again, he looks genuinely surprised. 

Can’t believe I’ve never told this to him. 

Ridiculous

“Oh yeah. I can’t believe you never noticed. I had a huge crush on you - instantly. Derek gave me nothing but hell once he figured it out.” You pause. “Do you remember that time on the plane, really early on, when I woke up and everyone thought I had a nightmare?” 

Looking a little confused by your change in direction, and you don’t blame him. 

“I think so? I remember we all felt so bad.” He shrugs. “We all get them, of course - still do - but we were worried about you.”

“Right. So -” 

Aaron’s head tilts to the left as he interrupts you. “Did you say ‘everyone thought’ it was a nightmare?” 

Your face gets hot and you suddenly regret bringing this up at all. “Yeah. I’m getting to that.” 

With an embarrassed huff, you continue. “So, it wasn’t a nightmare.” 

“No?” The question comes accompanied by a frown. 

“No. It was a sex dream. About you.” 

You can tell he’s doing his best to hide his smile for your benefit, but there’s a threatening dimple that gives him away and you’ve simply known him too long for him to get away with anything. 

“Really?” His tone is neutral, polite, but you can hear the humor behind the apparently bland interest. 

“Yep.” 

“What - if I may ask - was it about? Specifically?” 

You take a breath and adopt the same kind of ironic professionalism as Aaron. “Well, now it doesn’t seem so notable, because i’m more than familiar with your, um, technique.” 

And it’s true. Though you hardly remember the details of the dream anymore - it's been years - you know that real life doesn’t even come close. 

Aaron pulls his hand from yours and steeples his fingers under his chin. He’s the picture of interest, so you continue. 

“The key points are as follows -” 

He holds up a finger, and you stop. “On second thought,” he says. “I think this recollection would be better served by a demonstration.”

You nod. “You’re probably right.” 

“I’ll pencil it in.” 

You grin at each other for a moment, the back-and-forth of it so deeply on brand you can’t help but steep in it for a second. 

“So,” he says, “as you were saying before…?” 

“Right.” 

Back to business. 

“I had a huge crush on you and could swear you were the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” 

Never one to forgo an opportunity to compliment him when he’s not actively swatting at you, you continue. 

“In the lecture you gave with Gideon and Derek, I knew you were in charge before you said anything. Even though Gideon had the years and experience on you, it was clear that everything came through you.” You attempt to explain the inarticulable. “There’s a kind of steadiness - one you still have - that radiates off of you.” 

The two of you sit in that for a moment. 

You continue. “And then, of course, when we met again I had to really focus on not making an ass of myself in front of Strauss.” 

He laughs. His laughter makes you laugh, of course. It’s so much higher than his speaking register, so delightful in its unexpectedness. 

“Okay, okay.” You stop, covering your face with your hands. “Okay this is cheesy. Promise not to laugh.” 

His eyebrows rise and he forces his mouth into something that only threatens a dimple once more. 

“When you shook my hand in Radner’s office, there was this crazy jolt of energy or something that just flew up my arm. It was wild. I’ve never been able to forget it, almost like a flashbulb memory.”

As promised, he doesn’t laugh. There is, however, a kind of wonder in his eyes when he replies, “You felt that, too?”

+++

After dinner (and dessert), Aaron takes your hand and ushers you into the car when you leave the lod. He doesn’t turn the way you expect. 

“Where are we going?” 

The dashboard casts a glow on his face. You can still spot a dimple in the dark. “You’ll see.” 

+++

Your disbelief only grows when you go deeper into the city and pull up to the Hay-Adams. The valet opens the door for you, while Aaron hands over the keys to his SUV. Once all the details are covered, you take his arm again and let him guide you into the lobby. 

It’s expansive. The Hay-Adams is, of course, one of the most historic buildings in the district and considered one of the best hotels on the East Coast by people who know of these things. 

Aaron confirms the reservation and gets the room cards before promptly finding the elevator and swiping in for the seventh floor. You look down, remembering your attire at the last minute. 

“Aaron, I don’t have my go bag.” 

He shakes his head, still looking forward. “Don’t need it.” 

You scoff. 

He doubles down. “Do you trust me?”

Stupid question. 

“Of course.” 

“Go with it. I’m trying to spoil you.” He turns and presses his lips to yours, taking your face in his hand. Against your mouth, he says, “Let me.” 

+++

The room is gorgeous - a one bedroom suite with a living room, balcony, and kitchenette, a huge couch dominates the center of the open living area, opposite an impressive television. Through the open door, you catch a glimpse of a king-sized bed. 

This must have cost a small fortune. 

As if reading your mind, Aaron takes your hand and tugs you forward. You land against his chest and he smiles at you. “Don’t think too hard. Come with me.” 

You follow him out to the balcony and the view takes your breath away. The White House, well-lit in the D.C. nighttime, sits right across the street. From here, you can see Lafayette Square - beyond it, almost the whole city. 

When you come back to yourself, you realize there’s an outdoor loveseat and a small table, holding champagne (on ice) and chocolate-covered fruit. 

Champagne, chocolate, fancy dinner… The whole nine. 

Spoiled indeed. 

Aaron sits, pulling you down beside him. He pours two glasses of champagne - mostly for show, and moves the bucket to the ground. The fruit goes off to the side table and his feet go up on the small table, crossing at the ankles. You curl up against him, tucking under his arm. 

“Do you like it? Too much?” 

You can hear the genuine insecurity behind his cheeky question. You press a kiss to the back of his hand. “I love it. It is too much, but it’s very thoughtful. You twist to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Thank you.” 

With that, the two of you settle in, quietly enjoying the company and the quiet. It’s cold, but with the outdoor heater, it’s comfortable enough that you don’t need your coat. 

“Okay.” 

Aaron sits up. “Yes?” 

“You asked, so it’s only fair. No work, no kids, no serial killers. How are you?” 

He pulls you over so you’re sitting across his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder, your hand smoothing over the soft fabric of his button-up before placing it over his heart. 

“I’m good,” he says. “I’m really good.” 

“Why?” You feel a little like a parrot, but you’re sure that’s what he’s going for. 

“I can’t...quite articulate how lucky I feel.” 

That’s relatable. 

“I’m happy to be here with you.” He shakes his head - a pensive gesture. “I never thought I could make it here again.” 

“Where?” You ask. 

“In love, happy, facing a future that doesn’t scare me. My son is happy, safe...I wasn’t sure I'd ever have any of that again after losing Haley.” 

He pauses and you can feel a little sardonic smile. You don’t have to see it to know it’s there. His next admission, though, surprises you. 

“I accepted that I would be a bystander in your life a long time ago. I accepted that I would likely remain a widower, a single father. I knew you’d be around and that I would be your friend, but I made peace with the idea that I’d never have you right here.” He squeezes you twice, in time with his words. It makes you smile. 

He shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “I’m not sure it’ll ever sink in.” 

You feel much the same, but it's kind of at once alarming and amusing to hear him so beautifully articulate feelings that so closely resemble your own. 

You lean back to look at him. “I’m glad you were wrong.”

He places a gentle finger under your chin and kisses you, long and languid. It’s a promise. After a little while, he leans back, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. 

“Me too.”

+++

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[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (Pt. 8)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader 

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: smut, swearing, underage drinking, drugs 

Part Summary: Y/N must attend the dinner her parents planned. After, she and Topper attend Kelce’s party. 

A/N: not proof read bc school is life rn but I wanna keep updating. ALSO DANG TOPPER IS SPICY IN THIS!!!!

Masterlist

Your dad hands the keys over to the valet as the other Club worker opens your car door and offers you his hand. You accept, slipping out of the SUV gracefully. Rhett meets you, offering you his arm for which you take and follow him inside. 

"I can't breathe," you inhale shapely. 

"Hot?" Your brother guesses as he buttons up his blazer. 

"No, this satin dress doesn't give at all and Mom made me get a size smaller because she thought it made me look thinner," you grumble, tugging at the unforgiving fabric. 

"She's probably just trying to punish you because of the whole diabolical with Crystal," he points out. 

"Oh, I know she is, she hates that some of her and Dad's friends saw it. They wouldn't shut up about it when I got home," you whisper between the two of you as you cross the threshold into the Club. 

You stop in the lobby with your parents a few feet ahead at the hostess podium with Sarah's parents and Topper's mom. You spot Rafe at the bar with a scotch in hand, Sarah nowhere to be seen. If she managed to get out of this dinner you'll be royally pissed, mainly jealous. 

"Where were you last night anyway?" Rhett’s brows scrunch together. 

"After Topper dropped me off I went over to Sarah's," you lie without a hint of hesitation. 

"What?" He frowns in confusion. "But after lunch Rafe, Kelce, and I went back to his house? Rafe said Sarah was with that John B kid.” 

"Yeah, I picked Sarah up before you guys got there and we hung out for a little bit. After, I dropped her off at John B's," you conjure up as you go. 

"So then where did you sleep?" Rhett inquires, pressing further. 

"On Mars, Rhett!” You snap, much to your brother’s surprise. “Jesus, Mary, and the damn camel," you curse under your breath. 

"Why do you swear all of a sudden? It's not polite, especially in this setting," he hisses between his teeth, checking around for any prying eyes. 

"Because maybe I've lost my marbles or PMSing, you pick," you bite back quietly. 

"Whatever, I'm going to go grab a drink," he huffs, holding his hands up in surrender. "You should do the same," he suggests before disappearing toward the bar and lounge. 

You linger in your spot, observing your fellow Kooks go about their business in their fancy dinner attire. You honestly wonder if some of them ever leave the Club or if they keep closets in the locker rooms. 

“One gin and tonic,” Topper announces as he appears beside you with two glasses. 

“God, I love you," you mumble, taking the drink from him and immediately taking a sip. 

He rubs his hand up and down your bare arm. “You seem tense." 

“I’m practically in a corset!" You roll your eyes. 

“You look amazing,” he compliments with a charming smile. 

“Thanks...” You sigh, unsure of where you two stand. 

After this afternoon, after... well... everything said, you don't know the dynamic between you and Topper. Despite the uncertainty, you still depend on him to get you through this dinner. You feel as though your only friends at the table are Topper and Sarah, and even those two don't like each other. 

“Geez Topper...” You huff in disapproval. 

“Sorry! But you gotta admit it’s not exactly the Four Seasons...” He chuckles. 

“Hey Y/N!” Sarah greets, appearing from the bathroom. “Where did you get here?”

“Minutes ago and I’m already over it,” you grumble.

“If you need a ride to John B’s, he’s picking me up after,” she offers.

You exhale deeply, glancing between her and Topper, unsure of what to say. Yes, you have plans with JJ, but you also aren’t confident in speaking about it in front of Topper.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it. I might want to run home first or something,” you satisfy her and remain vague.

“Topper! Y/N! Sarah!” Your dad waves you guys over as the hostess prepares to seat you all. 

“I’ll see you guys out there, I’m going to grab a drink!” Sarah announces before dismissing herself. 

You and Topper begin toward the doors leading out to the patio, a few yards behind your families. 

“Kelce is after a party later, would you maybe wanna come with me?” Topper offers with a smirk.

“I’m supposed to..." You catch yourself before you mention JJ. "Maybe for a little bit.”

“You’re supposed to meet him?” Topper predicts correctly, making you awkwardly take a sip of your drink and avoid his gaze. “Maybe if you drink enough you’ll start seeing two and The Cut wouldn’t look like utter shit," Topper insults passive-aggressively.  

“I’ll come and have a drink, but that’s all!" You agree to go with Topper to the Kelce's reluctantly. "I don’t want anything that Rafe has up his sleeve.” 

“Noted," Topper gives you a reassuring smile.

"Wait," you halt, giving Topper's arm a slight squeeze. You feel the overwhelming need to speak with Topper for a second before you all gather around a table like one big interconnected family. "Do you know?”

“About what?” The boy frowns in confusion. You glance over at your family anxiously, watching everyone disappear onto the patio outside. Topper takes your hand in his and turns to you. “Y/N, what is it?” 

“That our parents practically have the wedding favors picked out," you rush out nervously, unable to fully believe that this is your reality. 

Topper exhales deeply, his eyes falling to the floor. He does know. “My mom has made some interesting passive comments lately," he nods. "I suspected but I wasn’t positive.” 

“My mom spoke to me before we got here," you describe, checking around the room for any eavesdroppers. "She wanted me to gloat, hang on you, and basically show the Camerons that we’re... I don’t even know...” You shake your head frantically. 

“Together,” Topper finishes your sentence. 

“It sounds so ancient but ‘promised to each other,’" you explain in greater detail. "It’s insane! I mean, we’re only in high school!” 

"You don’t have to do anything!” He comes up with a game plan to get you both through the evening. “Let’s just continue as we have been. They’ll be satisfied and we won’t be losing our willpower.” 

“Okay,” you swallow hard with a faint nod. 

“It’ll be okay," Topper reaches up and cups your cheek comfortingly, peering into your eyes. He leans forward, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

__________________________________

Well into the evening, Kelce's house is packed to the brim with teenage Kooks and some tourons that snuck their way in. Music blasts from the speakers in the ceiling and water from the pool are scattered across the tile living room. Everyone's in their bathing suits, traveling in and out of the water. Cups litter the floor and various conversations overwhelm the ears. On the balcony, you find yourself leaning against the railing watching people jump off the roof into the pool below as Topper does lines with Rafe on the coffee table just a few feet away. Your bare stomach exposed by your bikini presses against the cool glass railing, keeping you awake. 

"Come on, Princess!" Rafe waves you over, overtly intoxicated. "Got enough for you!" 

“I don’t want anything Rafe!” You remind him. 

“You will," he chuckles, not believing you for a second. "Once you start drinking you always do. You could just skip the innocent act and let yourself go.” 

Topper rises from his seated position and walks over to join you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side as he leans against the rail. He sniffs a few times, making sure all of the coke remains inside. 

“One more drink and we’re leaving,” you tell Topper quietly between the two of you. 

"I know," he nods, planting a kiss on your temple. “We’ll go.” 

You turn toward, peering down at the people as they mess around in the pool. Topper stands behind you, his arms gripping the railing on either side of you. His chest presses to your back as he leans down and plants a kiss to your neck. You tilt your head to the side, granting him better access, causing him to smile against your skin. You’re not sure why you get this way with him when you drink. You’ve thought it over a million times over the years. Is it because it’s what you soberly want but are too afraid to admit? Or, is it because it’s a way to let go? Either way, you and Topper become insufferable whenever you two get too deep, which why you refuse to do anything. If you get any deeper... well... Bermuda is a prime example. 

1 hour later.... 

The drinks slip by you and you quickly lose track of the number. Tequila shots, margarita mix, gin, and coke, everything's mixed. The music has become louder, the colored lights have become brighter, your senses are doing their best to remain active, but your mind is fading. You love this feeling, not having a care in the world. The weight that your parents have placed on your shoulders has long disappeared. Half an hour ago, you and Topper were sharing a joint with Kelce on the roof and now you two are caught in a beer pong tournament.You're slowly starting to lose interest in the game, eager to jump off the roof into the pool as you've seen daredevils do all night. 

"Come on, Top! Please!" You tug on the boy's arm, pleading with him again to jump off the roof with you. 

He does his best to focus on the game at hand, the ball in his hand to take a shot. He squeezes your hand and brings it to his lips for a quick peck. "One second, Baby." 

Drunkenly, you rest your forehead against his bicep, waiting for him to take his shot. Topper tosses the ball, making it into the final cup and the rules call for no redemption. 

“We win!” Topper cheers, causing you to lift your head. Again! The champions!” 

“Woohoo!” You giggle, raising your cup in the air.

Topper wraps his arms around your waist and picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he spins you. He tilts his head back, exposing his sharp jawline as he peers up at you. Staring into his eyes, you two are so immersed in each other that you get carried away and your lips meet. Neither of you is in the right mind to comprehend it, but this is a pattern. You two get intoxicated on a mixture of alcohol and drugs and your natural touchy friendship gets an intensity boost. 

Kelce whistles at the sight of you, urging you guys on. “They act like they’re not together, then they do that!” He not so well whispers to Rafe. 

"Same shit, different night," Rafe grumbles, clearly jealous. He silently wishes he was Topper. He would give anything to have a chance with you. “I wonder how Rhett would feel learning his sister is a slut for his best friend.” 

Kelce shoves him on the shoulder. “Don’t be an ass. Besides, Rhett knows Topper has a thing for her.” 

“But does Y/N have a thing for him or is it just sex?” Rhett challenges, watching you two and hating it. 

Topper lets you down as your lips part. His hands slip down your waist to rest on your ass, giving it a slight squeeze. You bite down on your lower lip, your attention on Topper's smirk.  

“Hey Top!" Rafe pulls Topper's attention and tosses him a metal canister. "For you my friend!" 

Topper pops open the old Altoids container to reveal a pile of color tabs. "Aw no," Topper laughs, tossing his head back. 

“Woah woah woah!" You place your hand over Topper's before has the chance to even think about taking anything. You glare at Rafe, "what is that?” 

“Candy,” Rafe snickers sarcastically. He rises from his seat position and stands before you, taking the tin from Topper. “Here take one," the boy offers with raised brows.  

You push the container back to Rafe. “No, I said I didn’t want to do anything tonight!” 

Beside you, Topper reaches into the container, selects a square piece carefully with the provided tweezers, and places the rainbow paper on his tongue. 

“Try it, Princess,” Rafe pressures with a smirk. 

You glance between Rafe and Topper. The blonde gives you a wink. "You'll feel good," he assures you, rubbing his hand up and down your spine slowly. 

You think it over for a second to the best of your ability. You said you wouldn't do anything hard tonight, but you also don't want to sober up anytime soon. You feel too good. You wish you felt this way all the time. You love yourself when you're carefree. On a whim, you give in and pick up the tweezers to select a piece. You place the bit on your tongue, earning a mischievous smirk from Rafe and words from approval from Topper. You don't know much about what Rafe does, but you know from watching that it takes a while for stuff like this to kick in, so you wait. 

Thirty minutes later... 

After taking swim minutes ago, you and Topper seek some privacy away from the party antics to dry off. You two travel up to the third floor of the house in the dark, this part of the house practically untouched by the people below. You shuffle along the floor in the hall in search of the balcony. You nearly trip of the runner, but Topper catches you by the waist. 

“Oh shit!” You gasp. Abruptly, Topper squats down and tucks his arm under your legs. You fly up and he begins to carry you bridal style. “Topper!” You giggle. 

“Like a proper princess, let me carry you up the tower!” He jokes. 

“You’re ridiculous!” You laugh as Topper navigates his way through Kelce's room toward the screen door leading outside. 

You tilt your head back, letting your hair flow as Topper carries you out onto the balcony. The night breeze and salty scent of the ocean fill your senses. Whatever Rafe gave you is immaculate. You've never felt so connected to the world before. Suddenly, Topper releases you, letting you fall onto one of those massive round loungers with a squeal. You lay back onto the lounger, pondering the sensation of the soft fabric beneath you. 

“You’re exquisite,” Topper admires, towering over you with a gawking look on his face. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows with a smirk. "You too." 

Topper plops down beside you, sliding to be close to your side. His fingertips glide up and down your arm. “How are you feeling?” 

Your eyes fall shut with a grin. “Like I’m on a cloud," you describe in a whisper as you ponder the sensation of his warm fingers on your cool skin. “You feel on fire. So warm...” 

“Do you like it?” He asks in a whisper and you can feel the warm breath wave over your cheek. 

You hum, focusing on every detail of his touch. You exhale deeply as Topper brushes his lips across your collar bone and planting a kiss on your skin. 

“Do you regret us?” He whispers. You don't see it, but Topper watches you intently with a softly broken expression. He hopes you don't. God, does he want to beg you to be his, only his. 

You shake your head, breathless. "No." 

Glad to say the least, Topper moves his attention to your neck, kissing and sucking hard on the sensitive skin. His hand roams your waist down to your inner thigh, making you inhale sharply. Your back arches off the lounger and toward his hand between your legs. You crave to feel more of him. 

“Are you sure?” He checks quietly in your ear. 

“Yes,” you exhale, too overwhelmed by the pleasure growing inside you to focus on his questions. 

As you kisses Topper, you chase the sensation he’s giving you. You're addicted to the way he makes you feel. Topper's lips travel down from your jawline to your chest. The memories of winter break, Bermuda, every intense moment you and Topper have ever shared are your driving force right now. As Topper leaves a trail of affection down your collarbone to your chest, he begins to untie your bikini. Then, your thoughts fixate on JJ. His face flickers across your mind. Physically, you want Topper, but all you can think about is JJ. You wonder where he is, what he's doing, if he's thinking about you. 

You're so far into your own thoughts that your body goes through the motions subconsciously. You're partially distracted by your thoughts of JJ, but the drugs and alcohol also cloud your mind. You're not entirely sure how things escalated, but deep down you're not shocked. It's you and Topper, you've never been fully satisfied when it comes to one another. You can't help but to feel everything, pondering the glorious and overwhelming pleasure as Topper thrusts into you. 

You bite down on her lip, restricting yourself from accidentally whispering JJ’s name. “Topper,” you pant, focusing. 

“Say it again, Beautiful,” Topper pants, planting a kiss to your chest as he picks up his pace. 

“Please Topper,” you whisper breathlessly. 

“God, you’re so perfect,” he grunts, finding himself getting closer with each syllable leaving your lips. 

Topper is your greatest addiction. He’s everything you're supposed to want. He’s utterly devoted to you and secretly you crave his attention. You roll your hips, making him go deeper inside of you, much to his surprise. 

“Fuck Y/N,” he moans in your ear. 

“Holy shit,” you mutter uncontrollably. 

“You always feel so good," Topper swallows hard. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.” 

Your nails graze down his back, knowing how much he loves that. “Keep going, I’m so close,” you plead, needing him closer though you know that's impossible. 

“That’s it, Beautiful," Topper guides. "Cum for me,” he demands more than requests. 

“Yes, Topper!" You moan, chasing the high. "Yes!” 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” Topper whispers against the skin of your neck and planting a kiss on your jawline. 

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze. The moment is intimate and draws you two together. You nod, staring into his eyes. “Cum for me." 

You feel Topper finish inside you, a sensation you've experienced almost a dozen times, but it's never enough. Knowing that you can make Topper feel so free and satisfied sometimes keeps you awake at night. Topper  settles down on the lounger next to you, panting. 

You glance at one another, meeting each other's gaze as you catch your breath. You two laugh, in disbelief of what just occurred. 

“Wow!” Topper chuckles. 

You raise your brows, in awe. “I know." 

“And I thought we wouldn’t outdo Bermuda,” he recalls. 

“I swear Bermuda was the Twilight Zone or something," you giggle. "I only remember flashes of it.”

Topper's eyes grow wide and he places his hand over yours. “Do you remember when we found Rafe with that Brazilian chick!” 

“Oh my God!" You gasp, turning onto your side to face him. "They were on that nasty leather couch that Kelce spilled the grenadine all over!” 

“We were off our asses most of the time,” Topper remembers, pulling you into his side. His arm wraps around you like a protective blanket. 

“Facts, we didn’t see Rafe or Kelce for most of it," you add with a snicker. "I think my brother slept out by the pool every night." 

“I honestly don’t even remember Rhett after the plane landing," Topper confesses, his eyes flicker up to the stary sky. "Plane lands, a week goes by no recollection of Rhett, see Rhett on the plane.” 

“You’re kidding!” You gasp. 

“Dead serious! I swear we left him at the airport,” Topper elaborates with a wide grin. 

“He carried you home from the bar that third night!” You remind him. 

His eyes grow wide, utterly surprised. “I thought that was you!” 

“How could it have been me?!” You swiftly counter, laughing harder than you have in a while. 

“That’s why I was so confused!” He reasons. 

“You’re insane!” You struggle to say between fits of laughter. 

You two share in your laughter, not having had a moment like this in a while. You guys have had so much going on that the last time you truly felt at peace together and free to let go was Bermuda. Had you known that coming home would've meant the end of your two's peace of mind, you're not sure if you would've left. You rest your cheek against his chest, settling in comfortably. 

“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us this way,” he confesses softly. 

“I forgot how good it could be,” you admit with a content smile. 

 Topper glides his fingertips up and down your spine. “Well, I guess that proves it then.” 

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest to meet his gaze. “Proves what?” 

“It’s JJ,” Topper sighs, giving you a knowing look. 

Your brows scrunch together in confusion. Swiftly, you shuffle through your memories of minutes before, did you say JJ's name? You're almost certain you didn't. You did everything in your power not to. “What do you mean?” 

“I can tell," he shrugs, bringing a hand up to brush your hair away from your face. "It felt great but also different than before. I knew when I had you. I don’t anymore.” 

Your eyes fall to your hand resting on his chest, avoiding his gaze. He caresses your cheek lovingly, despite knowing the truth. “I’m sorry, Topper...” you mumble, full of guilt. 

“It’s okay," he tries to reassure you. "You can love two people at the same time, just in their own way.” 

"I just..." you sit up, frustrated and unable to fully put into words what you're struggling with. Topper sits up beside you, rubbing your back. "When I'm with JJ I'm this one person and when I'm with you I'm completely different! I'm not sure which one is the real me." 

"You don't have to have all answers, just take it day by day," he advises reasonably. "Right now, let's just forget everything else and be here. Nothing can bother us here." 

You exhale deeply and Topper guides you to lay back down. You two stare up at the sky in each other's arms, the faint sounds of the party below not invading either of your minds. The warm night's air breezes by, coating you in a shield of peace. 

“Do you think ten years from now we’ll still be doing this?” Topper wonders. 

“Kinda wanna be married by then,” you giggle. 

“I know, I’d be your side hoe,” he clarifies. 

You swat him on the arm. “Topper!” 

“What!” He laughs. 

“You can’t plan on cheating on your future wife!” You argue playfully. 

“But it’s you, you don’t count!" He reasons. "It’s the Y/N Hall Pass. My wife is wife, obviously my life partner, but you’re... well you’re you," he adds gently, unsure how to describe it. 

“Wow, that’s real flattering,” you joke. 

“You know what I mean!" He rolls his eyes but struggles to hide his amusement. "You know that movie you made me watch last month uh... My Best Friend’s Wedding!” He remembers. You hum, of course, you do, you love that movie. Topper continues, “well, you’re my Julia Roberts.” 

“You want me to try to break up your wedding?” You question, wondering where he's going with this. 

“No, no! Well... if you really think she’s not the one but that’s beside the point," he shakes his head. "I’m talking about what Cameron Diaz said in that elevator scene.” 

“He’s got you on a pedestal and me in his arms,” you quote, predicting his intention. 

Topper tucks his finger under your chin, making you lift your head to meet his gaze. His eyes pour into yours with such intensity, you know he means whatever he's going to say with the utmost certainty. “No one can compete with you, Y/N. Whoever I end up marrying, if I end marrying anyone, they’ll have to be okay that.” 

You lean forward, gently pressing a kiss to Topper's lips. You're not sure if it'll be your last one, but either way, it reminds you of a farewell or closing note. Topper deepens the kiss, bringing his hand to the back of your head, pulling you in. It carries more passion and longing than any other kiss you two have shared, and you've kissed a lot over the years. 

After a couple of minutes under the stars, you and Topper agree that it's time to return to the party before anyone comes searching for you. 

"Wasn't a bad last hoorah if you ask me," Topper concludes as he helps you tie up your top. 

You spin on your heels to face him, bringing your arms to rest on his shoulders. "We really went out with a bang, pun intended." 

"If he ever breaks your heart, I'm first in line," he winks, bringing his hands to your waist. 

You lift your hand to his cheek, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb. "I want you to be happy, even if that's not with me." 

He scoffs, holding back his emotions. "Why does it feel like we're breaking up?" He tries to laugh it off. 

"In a way, we are..." You admit, causing Topper to look at you with surprise. He hadn't expected you to agree, though deep down, he hoped you would. 

He slips his head to the side and presses a kiss to your palm before lowering your hand to rest within his. "I'm slowly coming to terms that it may not be you, though I always imagined it was. I sorta feel like I'm starting from scratch. Whenever I envisioned my future, it was with you. Now, the face is blank. I have no idea what's going to happen," he confesses with a breathless laugh, a hint of worry behind the sound. 

"How exciting!" You encourage. 

"Always the optimist," Topper chuckles, before draping an arm across your shoulders and guiding you toward the doors. "Us ending up together would've been too easy anyway. I hate being predictable," he frowns in disgust. 

"Agreed, far too simple," you nod. 

Topper pauses before the door leading out to the hallway. Once you two leave the safety of the third floor, this time you've had alone will be over. Things will never be the same once you close this chapter. Topper peers down at you, longing to tell you. “You know I’ll always be there for you, right?” 

You nod slowly, certain of his words. “Me too, Topper.” 

He leans down, planting a long kiss on your forehead and you can feel the struggle behind the action. Everything about this is bittersweet. “I love you." 

“I love you too," you whisper. 

_________________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:@starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things  @hockeybabe87​ @jolomez​ @plutooryectors 

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Four

A 1918 timestamp ushers us into one of Downton’s more slow moving episodes where three parts painful banality has been mixed with one part life-or-death peril.

Providing more interesting political and cultural conflict than WW1 (at least at Downton) is Isobel’s ongoing grating at Cora’s very soul. Cora has had the temerity to ensure that the staff don’t collapse on their feet and has done something with the linen that I can’t quite fathom which, of course, Isobel takes as a slight upon her medical knowledge. Isobel makes the fatal error of calling Cora’s bluff threatening to ‘seek some other place’ if she is not appreciated at Downton. Major Clarkson also takes sides with Cora and Isobel now has no choice but to throw herself and her messiah complex upon the Red Cross in Northern France. I am sure they will be thrilled. 

With Isobel’s departure, Moseley and Mrs Bird find themselves at a loss having deep cleaned the house and moaned about their employer’s eating habits. Turns out that one thing they forgot to do was deploy any semblance of a security system as a random man with a drama school limp wanders into the house looking for food. In a manner that would make the current Conservative front bench recoil with horror, Mrs Bird starts up a soup kitchen out of her own (presumably rather small) pocket. In her latest attempt to not do her job, Mrs Patmore drags Daisy out for some fresh air and in the process uncovers this particular bit of well meaning but financially unsustainable charity. Mrs Patmore scales up the operation, creating a “special storage area” to squirrel away surplus from the army’s stock, which O’Brien conveniently overhears (but to be honest, it’s not that much of a coincidence. I imagine most of the kitchen heard it considering that Mrs Patmore practically yelled it). In an effort to try and inject a bit of actual drama into this episode, O’Brien reports this to Mrs Hughes but (un)fortunately, Mrs Hughes could not care less. But after watching the world’s most appalling secret handover of goods in the village, O’Brien rallies and this time is successful in bringing Cora to the nefariously compassionate Bird-Patmore coalition. To absolutely everyone’s surprise (viewers included) Cora orders food to be taken from the house stock rather than army and with all the over-confidence of a consultant sets about re-arranging tables and streamlining the workflow. 

Feeling much less charitable than Mrs Bird, Moseley heads to the Abbey and attempts to make himself indispensable and reach the dizzying heights of ‘Valet to the Earl of Grantham’. But not long after the peels of laughter that such a notion invites have died down, Bates returns and takes Mr Molesley’s shoehorn which one can’t help but think is emblematic of something. The return of Mr Bates is, naturally, a painfully protracted process that involves key protagonists not talking to each other, Thomas smoking on a wall, and the obligatory invocation of Kamal Pamuk. Robert invites Bates back to help him through the ‘veil of shadow’ and as such I was intrigued to learn that he is a World of Warcraft devotee. Bates reappearance downstairs also allows for the return of two other key Downton Abbey tropes: Anna and (John)Bates having a heart to heart under the cover of darkness, and Thomas and O’Brien’s irrational loathing/scapegoating of Britain’s most infuriatingly lovelorn character (outside of Thomas Thorne) to resume with aplomb. 

Less happy to be within the confines of the Abbey is Edith who continues to signal that all of this is really a bit beneath her (certain elements quite literally). Ever the teacher’s pet, Mr Molesley reports the sighting of an Officer by the maid’s staircase to Mrs Hughes who hears that there have been lots of rumours on the timeline tonight and comes out to say that she does not live in a sack. Unfortunately, Major Bryant does not live in one but definitely frequents one and, as such, it is of course Ethel is dismissed. As she rapidly packs all her belongings, Anna pleas to Mrs Hughes on her behalf confirming that she is indeed the friend we all want but probably don’t deserve. But Mrs Hughes can’t get rid of her that easily as Edith (and passenger) skulk back to liven up the end of the episode with news of an oncoming baby *Eastenders drums intensify*. 

Talking of undeserving relationships, Sybil and Branson receive more air-time than usual, providing the latter the opportunity to demonstrate that at times he really can be a muppet. And a slightly malevolent one at that. Sybil is firmly under the cosh this week with Violet making thinly veiled references to inappropriate alliances and Mary asking probing questions whilst she tries to get on with her job. Mary thinks that she has spotted her sister and Branson having some kind of romantic exchange but in reality, all that she has seen from afar is Branson telling Sybil that she is in love with him which when you think about it, is all kinds of awful and hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. After a long walk through the grounds where I am half expecting Branson to appear on a horse Willoughby-style, Sybil eventually caves and confesses to Mary that she doesn’t know if she likes Branson despite his eminently creepy voice over. Sybil then relays her sororal confidence and rather than taking this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Branson for whatever reason attempts to coerce Sybil into a relationship but not before he belittles her job. Sybil looks rightfully outraged as some equally emotionally manipulative strings wail in the background in an attempt to try and make us think that anything that has just happened was evenly slightly dreamy. 

Threaded through this glacially paced episode has been the looming threat of a both a concert and the death of Matthew and (to a much lesser extent because that is how class works) William. In an effort to break the monotony of walking around the exact same bit of French trench (see previous re-caps for further details), William and Matthew take to wandering across some largely unadulterated land and into the path of some nonchalant Germans. Daisy’s lack of (presumably fawning) letters from William starts off a chain of enquiry which confirms that the War Office has declared Matthew and William missing enabling Mary to once again deploy her signature move: weeping into her gloves. But only one hand this time because she needs to keep a bit of composure for the show must go on! Apparently. Following some abysmal piano playing (I grew up in an appallingly musical household and we all had to endure the torture of other people at the early stages of learning an instrument. It was of course blissful when we got good but, heck, I was thrown straight back to the horror of it all with that ‘accompaniment’ and had an odd sort of stress response which I won’t describe here), Mary and Edith do a rendition of If You Were the Only Girl (In the World) as everyone looks on stony-faced before participating in the millenia’s most morose sing-a-long. With a very good sense of drama, Matthew and (to a much lesser extent) William make their return. Matthew takes his place at Mary’s side and joins in the signing to what is now presumably quite a bewildered audience. Ah, Downton. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Violet raises reasonable concerns about Richard Carlisle but Mary is more interested in expanding her real estate portfolio and agrees to throw her lot in with a fiscal agreement disguised as a marriage. Upon his ‘miraculous’ return, Matthew gives the union his blessing on the condition that Richard remains deserving. Not that he ever really was. But the sentiment is what matters here and what is more loving* than putting another’s presumed happiness before your own.

*there are actually a lot of other more loving things but in the interest of formatting, we’re going to sweep those under a very large rug for now. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

Rather than training as a nurse or being actually pretty useful in a convalescent home, Mary’s contribution to the war effort is being amicable with Edith. Violet declares that she has now “seen everything” as the spirit of Mrs Adelman moves on. 

Wait, what? 

“I wish we had a man” Presented without comment 

“If I am not appreciated here, I will seek some other place” Yes. PLEASE. 

“What must he do to persuade you he is in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart” No, Mary. Matthew merely needs to carve her name with a compass on his forehead to prove that… 

“I hate the word ‘missing’. It leaves so much room for optimism.” Robert is a bit emotionally weird isn’t he? 

“We haven't kissed or anything. I don't think we've shaken hands. I'm not even sure if I like him like that. He says I do, but I'm still not sure.” And lo, another red flag is raised. But because Branson is Downton’s version of a Bolshevik, both Mary and Sybil view this not as a warning about the boy’s behaviour but rather a symbol of his political leanings and such signals are duly ignored.

“He always seems a romantic figure to me” Daisy Robinson writes fanfic. Pass it on. 

“Sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren't quite…appropriate. And can be awkward, you know, later on. I mean, we've all done it.” Once again, Violet, tell us more! 

Bates says that he has returned to “Downton at war” which sounds like a lucrative exhibition name if I ever did hear one. 

Despite Mary’s most valiant efforts, no musical performance had ever gone out to such an impassive audience until Rosalind came along 

Matthew of course is used to a much better quality sing-, sorry, song-a-long 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Progression. 

Pairing: Yandere!Best-Jeanist/Reader.

Commission for the lovely @99shadowcat99.

Word Count: 1.6k.

Synopsis: You’re sure Hakamada only has your best interests in mind. You came to him in a time of need, after all, and as a hero, it’s only natural that he’d want to see you improve. You’re sure he does, you only wish he didn’t have such a cold way of showing it.

TW: Toxic Relationships, Financial Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, and Slight Stockholm Syndrome.

It probably didn’t help that you’d been at such a low point, when Hakamada first found you.

It was something you couldn’t deny, something you didn’t try to deny, not when it had such a lasting impact on your relationship. He’d pitied you, back then, met you when you were broke and desperate and willing to do just about anything for a recommendation, a place to stay, a steady wage and all the stability he and his agency could provide, if you just managed to worm your way in. You could only be thankful he’d decided to interview you personally, despite his position. You never would’ve gotten the job, otherwise.

You’d never admitted that to him, not out loud, but that was something you liked about Hakamada - he picked up on little details, no matter how subtle. He noticed up on your willingness to work overtime, your erratic apologies whenever he called you into his office, regardless of the reason why. Your chronic lateness, your reliance on the charity of your coworkers whenever the staff went out for after-hour drinks. You’d never told him, but you never needed to. He was more than willing to help you, whether or not you let him know how much you appreciated it. He was a Hero, after all. It only made sense that he'd do whatever he could for someone in need.

The job hadn’t lasted, you weren’t really cut out for it, but Hakamada had.

Some days, you could even convince yourself he’d done it out of love.

Tonight, the task was easier than it usually was. In his penthouse, standing in front of the full-body mirror he’d had brought in and installed just for you, it was easy to fall into the idea that you were the object of his affections, the apple of his eye, someone he cared about and someone he cared about genuinely, especially when you were already dressed in clothes he’d bought, wearing the jewelry he’d been generous enough to pay for. You knew it wasn’t much, for him. Even if everything he gave you was designer, expensive enough to make your heart speed up and your throat go dry, it wouldn’t make a dent in his salary, and he seemed to like providing for you more than you liked being provided for, honestly. But, you couldn’t refuse. Hakamada had done so much for you, he was still doing so much for you. If he wanted someone to spoil, you couldn’t refuse. And, while you were on the topic…

“Are you ready, beautiful?”

You couldn’t let him know you were so reluctant, either.

You hadn’t heard him come in, but that didn’t stop you from leaning into his touch as you felt his hand cup your cheek, its twin coming to rest on your hip. He was gentle, if nothing else, his chest barely touching your back as he leaned forward, eyes scanning over your reflection, searching patiently for something to correct. You didn’t mind, submitting yourself to his scrutiny with minimal resistance. He was a perfectionist. He looked at everyone like a project, and you weren’t an exception.

Still, you tried to sound confident when you answered. Even if that meant lying through your teeth. “I think so,” You said, smoothing over your outfit one last time. “It’s a Hero’s gala, right? It’s not like anyone’s going to bother paying attention to me.”

“If you’re on my arm, they will.” He always sounded so stern. This wasn’t your first event, you’d gone plenty of times as his assistant and as his partner, but Hakamada liked to be thorough. Before, he’d dug the heel of his palm into the base of your spine, pinched your cheek whenever your attention started to drift, and even after his valet had already arrived, he’d still spend the better half of the drive searching for loose threads and stray hairs to aggressively correct. Now, to fix your posture, he was kind enough to stop at squeezing your hip, his free hand nudging gently at your shoulder. It was merciful, in comparison, but it was still difficult not to feel like a prized mutt, locked into a muzzle and dragged onto a pedestal. “Keep your back straight. You remember everything we went over, don’t you?”

Of course. He’d only spent the past three hours drilling it into you. “I do, Hakamada.”

There was a pause, just the slightest bit of hesitation. “Hakamada?”

To your credit, you caught your mistake a second after he did. “I mean, I do, Tsunagu--”

“You’re really going to address me like that in front of journalists?”

Your eyes dropped below the mirror. For whatever reason, you didn’t want to look at him, anymore. “I’m sorry, Tsun’.”

Luckily, that seemed to satisfy him. Hakamada let out a heavy sigh, and you could feel him shaking his head, more out of disappointment than genuine annoyance. The gesture was familiar, as was the anger-tinged guilt that accompanied it, but he still took his time, letting the feeling brew before he bothered to speak. Sometimes, you had to wonder if he did that on purpose, if he knew he was only making you feel worse by trying to act so forgiving. Most of the time, though, you pushed the thought out before you could dwell on it. You’d only be making things worse for yourself, if you started thinking about things like that. “I’m just trying to help,” He started, the mantra already engraved into your mind. “You’ve come so far since I first found you. All that progress shouldn’t go to waste.”

It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need you to agree. It shouldn’t, and as far as Hakamada was concerned, you didn’t get a choice in the matter. “I know. I’ve come too far to backtrack.”

“You’ve come too far to throw it away.” That was something you didn’t like, when you’d worked for him. It was all or nothing, with Hakamada. A mission was either a success or a disaster. His newest sidekick was either a prodigy or a wash-out waiting to happen. Failure wasn’t an option, not when the slightest mistake meant disrepair. “Things have gotten better for you, haven’t they? You’ve enjoyed your time with me?” It was a question, this time, but he didn’t want an answer, even if he paused as gloved fingers trailed over your side, only leaving your skin for a moment before he cupped your jaw, tilting your head back just far enough for the change to be noticeable. Just far enough to force you to look at your reflection, whether or not you wanted to. “It’d be such a shame if all of this had to come to an end just because of a few insignificant, avoidable mistakes.”

Suddenly, your throat went dry, your heart drawing a little too tight in your chest. It'd been happening more than it should, lately, considering how careful Hakamada encouraged you to be with your health. “You’re… This is going to end?”

He always seemed to enjoy it, when you said things like that. Maybe it was your tone, the softened desperation you didn’t try to hide, or maybe he took it as a confession, a sign that you cared for him, or that you cared for what he could provide, at least. You hoped it was the latter. He liked it when you were desperate, and you liked to pretend that he didn’t. “Of course not, dear,” He soothed, his disappointment suddenly gone and replaced with something more assuring, something more sentimental. As sentimental as Hakamada was capable of being, anyway. “I’d sooner lock you up completely than ever let my little muse run off. Besides...” He trailed off, a light chuckle fading into a scoff. “Even if I did lose you, I wouldn’t be able to let you go, not entirely. It wouldn’t be fitting for my partner, past or present, to go back to living in some tiny apartment, struggling to make ends meet. It’d be embarrassing, for both of us, and I don’t know if I’d be able to stand the distance.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to. Hakamada was distracted, now, pressing a light kiss into the dip of your shoulder before he pulled away, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit. “We’re already running late. When you’re ready, come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

You didn’t turn around. You heard the door to his bedroom close, his footsteps growing more distant as the seconds ticked by, but you didn’t feel the need to watch him, you didn’t want to see him, his face, how unaffected he was by the doubts that plagued you like some ever-lasting, unshakable waking nightmare. You knew it wasn’t healthy, objectively. You shouldn’t have to wonder if your boyfriend really likes you. You shouldn’t have to practice your smile, lower your voice, contort yourself to fit his standards of perfection, your needs be damned. It wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t even pleasant, but…

He was right. You didn’t go back to the way things used to be. Starving, working yourself to the bone to make rent, letting any Pro-Hero who showed an interest turn you into something soft and toothless and malleable. It was easier to be with Hakamada. It was easier to let him have his way.

It was easier to tell yourself that you’d still be allowed to leave, if you wanted to.

With that in mind, you turned on your heel, starting in the direction he’d gone off in. You would stay. You had to stay.

You wouldn’t know how to be yourself without him, anymore.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Refuse to be a Named Character pt 7 (End)

Hey everyone! I finished it! Here is the seventh and final part to our nameless heroine’s saga! 

Master post Linked here

Enjoy! 

___________________________

“… I smelled gas, there was an explosion, and then I woke up in another body, in the Ninth Lord’s manor with Chloe as a slave.” I finished my story, pausing to take a breath, feeling mentally exhausted.

“…” Luke stared at me silently, his expression unreadable.

I felt nervous. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Thinking?” He shook his head slowly. “It’s definitely… a lot. This world was a book, a fantasy story in your world?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s crazy…”

“You said I was the villain in the story?” Luke reach out and grabbed my hand, interrupting me.

“Y-yes.” 

“And in the story you read, I went back and slaughtered everyone in the Ninth Lord’s household. I killed anyone who stood in my way and eventually tried to take the throne by force?” Despite the terrible things he was saying, I couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous it all seemed.

“I know it’s hard to believe…”

“I believe you.”

“What?” As he answered me in a deadpan tone. I stared at him in shock, “Just like that?”

Luke rubbed his forehead, looking pained.

“Because it’s true.” He finally whispered. “If I hadn’t met you… I without a doubt would have taken that path.”

“Luke…” I wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure where to start.

“So if every major character in the story dies…”

“Except the main hero and the villain.” I interrupted.

“Except for me and Graham.” He corrected with a slight grin. “Then you thought if you didn’t have a name it would protect you?”

“It’s not about having a name or not. It’s about being important enough to the story to have a name.” I sighed. “Every character in a book has a name, but the ones who are just extras, unimportant side characters, you never learn them. That’s the character I wanted to be.”

“…” Luke stared at me for a moment, and then laughed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because haven’t you done the opposite of that?” He counted off on his fingers. “You saved the villain and changed his life. Led the heroes team through their second challenge. Saved the villain again after he was betrayed. Was proposed to and refused by the main villain… and now you’re helping the villain beat the third test and become king?” He stopped, looking up at me with an amused grin. “Am I missing anything?”

“…Technically I also refused the hero’s proposal… and drugged him.” I muttered.

“Pardon?”

Ignoring Luke’s sudden intense stare in my direction, I coughed awkwardly and tried to change the subject. “So does that mean it’s too late for me?” I felt gloomy at the thought, remembering with a shudder Fetter’s undisguised atmosphere of barely controlled violence. “I’m doomed?”

A warm hand grasped my own. “I wouldn’t say that. This world is different then the book you read, right?”

“In some ways, yes, but in others…”

“But it might have changed enough that you can’t be certain that everyone important will die.” He squeezed my hand. “Don’t give up hope yet.”

I thought it over. Maybe he was right. So much had changed already… “Can I still not have a name for now?”

“Sure.” Luke grinned. “Take as long as you need.”

“After the third test. After that, I’ll take on a name.” My voice shook slightly with anxiety at the idea, but I answered him firmly. 

He stared at me “You had a name before, right? In your old world? Will you take that name back?”

“No.” I shook my head, thinking of my life before I arrived in this world. “I… was a very different person” A weak person. Dependent on Chloe and her good opinion. Scared to be alone. “I don’t want to be that person again. I’ll choose a new name.”

I met Luke’s eyes as I spoke, surprised to see him blush slightly. Looking away, he mumbled. “Well, when you do want a name… there’s something I call you in my heart…”

Seeing his embarrassed, flushed appearance, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, when we’ve gotten through this safely. I’d love to hear you call my name.”

“…” He nodded slowly, his hand still tightly holding my own. The warmth of his palm seemed to travel up my arm, settling in my chest, my heartbeat increasing as the silence stretched between us.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “So… the second party.”

Luke let go of my hand, leaning back in his chair to sip his now-cold tea. “When you told me you know how to convince the Nine Lords to support me…?”

“It was because I know how Graham did it in the books.”

“But then no one has the advantage, right?” he frowned as he thought. “Graham’s party can convince the Lord’s, and Fetter has your sister who has the same knowledge as you do.”

“That would be true… if this world were the same as ‘Deadly Crown.’” I rubbed my hands together. “Which is why I have a plan.”

We spent the rest of the night plotting and scheming.

___________________________

 Before long, the next party had begun.

Everyone had gathered again, but the tension in the room had greatly increased, to an almost palpable level. I clenched my fists into the skirt of the grey silk gown Luke had prepared for me, the smooth sensation against my palm strangely comforting as I stared at the battleground before me.

 There were nine Lords, nine keys, and we needed five of them.

“Are you ready?”  Luke leaned in closely, grabbing one of my hands in his own with a grin.  Before I could answer, a loud voice interrupted, grabbing the room’s attention. 

“His Royal Majesty would like to say a few words!” The servant bowed deeply as he spoke, turning the room’s attention towards the gold encrusted throne and the figure sitting upon it.

It was my first view of the king, Luke’s father. He was older than I imagined, his hair and beard grey. His straight-backed form was draped in deep purple robes, a tall golden crown resting on top of his head. His face would have been considered attractive, I could see certain similarities to Luke and Graham, if not for his eyes.

His eyes were a dark green, filled with a certain arrogance as he stared down at the crowd. But there wasn’t just arrogance…

His eyes were filled with madness.

We’re all crazy.

I remembered Fetter’s words from the last party, and shuddered.  I felt the hand holding my own tighten almost uncomfortably. Looking up, Luke’s solemn face stared down at me, before seemingly forcing a reassuring smile. I smiled back, trying to hide my unease, before looking back up to the man on the throne.

“Welcome all to the final test of the remaining heirs to the throne.” The king grinned, appearing unconcerned regarding the fact that the majority of his sons were dead. “Over tonight and tomorrow night, the nine Lords will make their selections of who they believe to be the next best king. Whichever of you three brings five keys at the end of the third party will be allowed to open this chest which contains the next crown and seal.” He gestured to a solid gold chest on the platform next to him which had five locks around its closure. “Good luck.”

I shuddered at the bloodthirsty delight in his eyes as he spoke. “What a terrible person.”

“What happens to him, in the book?” Luke leaned forward, whispering the question in my ear.

Lucien laughed as blood splattered on his face and hands, still clutching the saw and his father’s severed head.

My eyes met a gentle concerned gaze. “He died.” I gave a simple answer, praying he wouldn’t ask for details.

“Good.” He smiled. “Should we start recruiting Lords?”

I returned the expression. “Let’s do it. Remember, Graham’s success in the novel was mostly based on the Lords’ hatred of you and their desire for revenge.”

“But I haven’t been slaughtering indiscriminately, like in the story.”

“Exactly. So a lot of Graham’s persuasive power is gone. And even more so for Fetter if he’s relying on my sister.” I shrugged. “She’ll try to go along with the story, but she doesn’t know how much you’ve changed it.”

“So who do we go after first?”

I pointed. “You mentioned that you saved the Fourth Lord’s daughter after she was kidnapped and returned her home, right? Let’s start there.”

The conversation went smoothly, and just a few minutes later Luke was clutching his first key. 

“I can’t believe he handed it over so quickly!”

Luke grinned at my words. “I’m glad I was trying to make sure you wouldn’t be disappointed in me.”

The Ninth Lord handed over his key quickly, having only earned his spot after Luke had captured the previous Lord and imprisoned him.

“I’m grateful that you were merciful at that time.” The young man shook his head slowly. “Given how you were treated, you had every right to take our lives.”

“I know.” Luke took the key from him, a solemn expression on his face. “Thank the nameless slave who saved my life and begged for me to spare the innocent.”

The third key was somewhat of a surprise. It was the First Lord, who approached us first with a reverent expression.

“You are the Nameless One?” To my shock, he ignored Luke, reaching out to shake my hand. 

“…Yes….?”

“I am in awe of your teachings, after hearing them from my valet!” His smiled widened. “I too have sought to cast off my name and joins the ranks of safety and obscurity.”

“…”

“…”

Luke and I stared at him, unsure how to respond. Laughing brightly, the man thrust a key into Luke’s hand. “Good luck, main character. May one day you find the peace of casting off the spotlight as well.” With those words he walked away, seeming to almost have a spring in his step.

“…”

“…”

“Luke…”

“Seems like your cult has spread to the nobility…”

“My cult?”

Luke chuckled, reaching out and pulling me to his side gently. “Even when you aren’t trying, you somehow manage to save me. How can I ever let you go?”

I felt conflicted, equal parts warmth and fear warring within me at his words and touch. I cared for Luke, I wanted to stay by him…

But isn’t this exactly what happens to side character women before they are killed? 

Just as I was pondering how to respond, however, a shrill voice called out, and the owner of which strode towards us with a grim expression. 

“How dare you show yourself at this party, you whore?”

I smiled at the newcomer. “Lady Lindel, I was just wanting to work off some excess stress. How about I kick you in the face again?”

Her eyes widened. “Have you no shame?”

“Not towards you.” I reached out and grabbed Luke’s arm, recognizing the dark look on his face, squeezing my hand tightly until he looked towards me again. “I’ll take care of this.”

His forehead wrinkled as he stared at me with concern, despite my whispered assurance. “But…”

“Mother!” Graham ran forwards, placing himself between Lady Lindel and myself, his arms spread out as if to separate us. “How dare you speak to my future wife like that?”

“Future wife?”

“Future wife?”

“Your future what-now?!”

Luke, Lady Lindel and I all spoke out almost in unison at his shocking declaration.

“How dare you seduce my son?!”

I shook my head. “Honestly, I’m more curious at how you raised him, given his ability to make up such fantasies.”

At my words, Graham frowned. “Don’t be shy dear. Once I become king, you’ll be by my side always. No matter what.” His gaze turned cold as he looked towards the woman who had given birth to him. “If you try to separate the two of us, I will kill you.”

 Lady Lindel stepped back, shocked. “I am your mother!”

“You aren’t useful to me anymore.” Graham’s voice was laced with the threat of violence. “Feel free to enjoy the fame of being the mother of the future king, but if you stand in the way of me and my chosen person… I’ll make you beg for a merciful death before I’m done. She is mine. No one can take her from me. Not even you.”

I inched away, positioning myself partly behind Luke as the obsession in his voice overwhelmed me.

Graham noticed my actions, his eyes dimming. “Why are you standing so close to my brother, dearest? I’m the only one you need to look at now. The only one you should watch.” His voice slowly raised in volume, as he stepped closer, a hand reaching out as if to push Luke aside. “Why aren’t you at my side? Why aren’t you looking at me?!”

“What is this commotion?” A cold voice stopped Graham in his tracks, his outstretched arm falling to his side even as his eyes continued to be fixated on my face. I glanced over at the source, surprised to see the King who had stepped down from his throne and now stood only a short distance away. “Who was the cause of all this?” 

Lady Lindel opened her mouth, her finger already pointing in my direction, but Graham spoke up first. “My mother, Your Majesty. She was targeting my chosen consort and threatening the peace of your third test.”

The hero’s mother turned pale as her husband’s eyes looked her up and down, his face expressionless. “I see.”

“No, Your Majesty, I didn’t…”

The king waved a hand. “Kill her.”

Without hesitation a guard at his side drew his sword, and swung it at the defenseless woman. Her chest caved in at the blow, blood and bone fragments flying through the air as she fell to the ground, blood pooling beneath her and soaking her dress and hair. A few drops hit my skirt, and I took a few steps back in shock. She died quickly, clawing at her wound, her mouth open in a silent scream she couldn’t release.

“There, now it’s quieter.” The king smiled warmly, the expression completely at odds with the violent scene in front of him. “I think we’ll end the party early tonight so that this mess can be cleaned up.” He looked around at his sons. “Five keys have already been given, four keys are still not claimed. One of you has the lead…” His eyes stayed on Luke for a few moments. “So the rest of you will have to work even harder to get the remaining keys.” With that he walked away, never looking back at the body of the woman who once called him husband. 

I felt dizzy, staring down at the now dead Lady Lindel.

I had been so happy being at Luke’s side that I had forgotten.

My hands were shaking at my side. I clenched them tightly.

I had forgotten how much I hated this world, that kills people terribly, violently without reason or warning.

I closed my eyes slowly, blocking the disturbing sight from view, but the look of terror on the woman’s face was engraved in my memories.

This is the fate of anyone important enough to the story that meddles in the plot.

“Are you okay?” The gentle question brought me out of my silent panic, but as I opened my eyes it was not the person that I expected to see.

“Leave me alone, Graham.”

The hero’s face was a perfect look of concern and affection, something that would be sure to stir any woman’s heart…

If not for the blood drops splattered on his cheek.

Or the still-warm body of his mother on the floor.

“Don’t worry, Dearest.” He never looked down even once, his gaze focused on me. “She can’t hurt you anymore. No one is standing in our way now!”

“She told you ‘no’ Graham.” Luke stepped in between us, allowing me to let out a sigh of relief as he broke his brother’s line of sight. 

“Stay out of this, brother. She gave you back your token. She’ll be mine.”

“She’s no one’s. And if you try to force her, I’m happy to let you join your mother in the afterlife.” The threat in Luke’s voice wasn’t forced. He seemed ready to pull out a weapon at any moment.

“This from the prince who’s terrified of getting his hands dirty?” Graham laughed. “I’m terrified.”

Remind me again who is the hero and who is the villain of this story?

“Fine. I will wait until tomorrow night, and claim my throne and my wife together.” 

With these words he turned away, leaving his mother’s corpse on the ground behind him.

“Luke?” I called out quietly, grabbing onto his hand as if it were a lifeline while taking a few slow deep breaths. The old terror, the fear that had gripped me from the moment I had entered this world slowly faded. I wasn’t the same helpless girl that had first arrived. I had changed. I had grown strong.

In response to my anxious call, Luke’s hand tightened on my own. His gaze was stuck to Graham’s retreating back, an air of barely restrained anger and violence hovering around him.

“Let’s go.”

We walked away hand in hand, an uncomfortable silence between us as we both wrestled with our own thoughts.

___________________________

 Knock. Knock.

I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone knocking on my window. Lifting my head off my pillow, I looked around my darkened room, trying to get a sense of my surroundings. I was in a small but luxurious room,  my strewn belongings on the floor a mismatch for the graceful décor. I was on the ground floor, with the single window facing a rear garden. The courtyard should be protected by patrols of guards, but that didn’t mean it would be impossible for an intruder to reach my window.

Knock. Knock.

The sound repeated. I stood up, clutching my sword that I had stashed at my bedside. Looking through the glass, I saw a familiar face looking at me with a smug expression.

Fetter.

He gestured for me to open up the window. Let me in. I could see him mouthing the words.

I pointed at my sword and then at his throat. Come in and I’ll kill you. I mouthed back.

I turned away, planning to leave the room and find Luke, unwilling to face off with this terrifying person alone.

SLAM!

His palm slapped against the glass, the sudden noise causing me to jump. But as my eyes traced back to the window, it wasn’t the sight of him that stopped me in his tracks, but the parchment in his hands, pressed against the window, a single word written on it on full display for me to see. 

I felt the blood drain from my face, my hands tightening on the sword hilt, the leather cutting into my palms. Slowly, I approached the window, opening it and slashing my sword forward at the same time. 

“Watch it!” Fetter jumped backwards, but didn’t move fast enough to save the paper, which was cut into two pieces, both halves fluttering to the ground on either side of me. They landed face up, still allowing me to see the word that had been written on it. I stepped on the pieces, grinding them into the dirt, tearing them to shreds beneath my feet. The dirt and rocks in the garden path cut into my feet, but I ignored the pain, focusing on destroying the word until it could no longer be read.

“Do you really hate your name that much?” Fetter was smiling, but the expression looked more like a wild animal baring its fangs.

“…” I stared at him silently, my weapon still held ready. It had caught me by surprise. That parchment he had held had a single name written on it. My name. My old name in my old life. “It’s not my name anymore.”

“Then why did you destroy it?” Fetter laughed quietly. “Seems to me that you care greatly about your old name and it being known.” A long finger tapped his chin as he pretended to think. “I wonder how you would react if I announced your name to everyone?” 

“…” 

“Then you wouldn’t just be a nameless person anymore, would you?”

“…” 

“I wonder how long you would last after that?” He stared past me, as if imagining it. “I would love to see my brothers’ faces when they look at your corpse.”

“…”

“Hey, this is no fun if your don’t fight back!” Fetter leaned forward. “What if I agree to keep it a secret if you agree to betray your precious Lucien?”

BAM!

My left fist connected with the prince’s smirking face before my thoughts could catch up. Fetter flew through the air, stumbling backwards as his back struck a nearby tree trunk. Sliding to the ground, he rubbed his face and stared up at me with an affectionate expression.

“Yes! Just like that! I love your struggling face the most! I’m so happy I could get my hands on the one thing you are the most scared of!” He clapped his hands. “You know, Graham has already become absolutely delusional at the idea of being cared for my someone who doesn’t want to use him for personal gain, while Lucien is at his absolute breaking point. I bet it won’t take much of a push to send him into a killing spree.” He leaned back against the tree, chuckling, wincing slightly as the movement hurt his face. “The more they want you. The more they care… the more I want to break you. And now I know your name.”

“I won’t join you.” I raised the sword to hold it between us. “Name or not.”

“You say that now, but hear me out!” He raised his hands, as if surrendering. “I’ll give you until the party tomorrow. If you agree to join me, send me a message. If not… Well, I hate to keep such a juicy secret to myself, you know? “

I want to kill him.

But even as I stepped closer, I heard the sounds of others close by. A careful glance around showed several archers hidden in the plants around us. Fetter had left nothing to chance. Seeing my gaze, he smiled, using the tree to help himself to his feet.

“Think about it.” He leaned forward, whispering my old name in my ear. “Goodnight.”

And with that he was gone.

___________________________

I stared at the tree where he had sat moments ago, my whole body trembling with rage and fear.

It’s over.

Trying to avoid the plot. Trying not to have a name. All of it would be useless in the end. I couldn’t betray Luke. Couldn’t avoid Fetter.

Should I run?

“This is your fault, you know.”

Chloe’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. Startled, I looked up, to see a dark expression I didn’t recognize on her face. Tired, I slumped down, sitting down against the tree that Fetter had fallen against just moments ago.

Isn’t this area supposed to be secure?

Chloe must have taken my silence as me blaming her, as she spoke up defensively, coming to stand in front of me with a self-righteous air.

“Don’t look at me like that! So what if I told Fetter your name? Your stupid theory of being an unnamed character isn’t even true anyways.” She spread her hands widely. “I’ve been using my name all along, and I’m just fine!”

I sighed. “What do you want, Chloe?”

“You were never supposed to be here.” She stared down at me with increasing intensity. “This was supposed to be my adventure! I was supposed to come to this world and be the heroine. That was the deal!”

The world around me seemed to freeze.

“What do you mean ‘deal’?”

“The ritual was only supposed to be for one person! I was supposed to be important… but you’re getting in the way. Everyone is only focused on you… even Fetter, who should be scheming against the other princes, is wasting his time trying to get your name from me!”

I was standing now, with no memory of how I had reached that position, the sword in my hand trembled in the air, the tip slowly rising to point at my sister.

“The ritual?” My mind raced, as I remembered our last night before we woke up in this book world.

The smell of gas…

“Chloe?” My voice broke on her name. “What did you do?”

“I just wanted to live in my favorite world! Is that such a bad thing?”

“Please… don’t say this.” My free hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Say it was a freak gas explosion that killed us. That this was a just a weird, unexplainable event. That you’re just as confused as me.” 

“…”

“Please?”

“I found a ritual, a paper, folded between the pages of my copy of ‘Deadly Crown’. All it took was a small sacrifice.”

“Our lives?”

Chloe shrugged, her voice emotionless. “Well, it actually said I only need to leave my life behind… but I read online that additional sacrifices increase the success rate of rituals like this…”

“…” I couldn’t help it. I threw my head back and laughed. A loud, broken, painful sound. I slowly let go of my sister, stumbling back towards my open window.

“Don’t act so innocent! You always thought you were better than me, Especially after Mom and Dad died…”

I had just been about to jump back into my room, but her words forced me to pause and look back.

“Do you really think anything you say will justify what you’ve done? You’re lucky I don’t just kill you here.”

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. This world changed me, for better or worse.” I smiled. “But you, sister dear… you were always someone who belonged in a world like this.”

I thought of Graham face, splattered with his mother’s blood as he happily talked about the future. Of Fetter’s eyes, that looked at each person as an animal to be slaughtered. Of the king, that forced his own sons into a game of death and laughed while he watched them struggle.

“You fit right in.” I jumped through the window, getting ready to close it.

“It’s too late! Fetter already knows your name! You won’t survive this book! Everything will go back to normal! I’ll be the heroine! Everyone will love me! Do you hear me?”

I closed the window, shutting out whatever else she had to say.

I wanted to kill her. I desperately wanted to kill her.

But I wouldn’t.

My last concession to the fact that she was my sister.

“From now on… we’re strangers.”

“Are you sure you don’t want her dead?” A quiet voice behind me caused me to spin around. Luke, dressed in dark clothes, his sword at his side, leaned against the wall, half hidden in shadows, his expression unreadable. 

“Let her go. The world is changing, she has very little advantage to her now.” I looked at him closely. “Why are you here?” 

“I heard shouting.”

I smiled at the genuine concern I could hear in his voice. “Thank you for checking on me. I’m fine. I’ll just be going back to sleep.”

“… Are you sure?”

His question gave me pause. “What do you mean?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

I thought of Fetter’s threat, the name written on the parchment. The time limit he had given me before releasing my name to everyone around us. Of Chloe, her ranting… the truth of our crossing over.

“I’m sure.” I said the words with certainty. No matter how scared I was about Fetter knowing my name, my brief hesitation was over. I wasn’t going to run away. Because no matter how much this world terrified me, no matter how much I hated it. I couldn’t leave it alone.

Because he was here.

Luke has changed so much. He’s no longer the terrifying villain that he was in the story. I have to protect him.

I said goodnight to Luke, lying back down in my bed, my thoughts full of what the next party would bring.

___________________________

 “Should I just kill them all?” Luke whispered quietly to himself, staring into the flames of his bedroom fireplace. “Is that the only way to protect her?”

“Your highness?” The masked servant trembled on the floor where he knelt nearby. The bloodlust radiating off the prince was more than even a seasoned soldier like him could handle.

“Is there anything else to report about my brother’s visit to her?”

“No. Just that whatever word he had written on the paper seemed to terrify her.” The servant shuddered as the air seemed to freeze over at his words. “Should I try to recover the pieces?”

“… Destroy them, instead. Do not attempt to read the contents.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The servant stood to leave, but was stopped by a sword to his throat.

“That is not an idle threat. If you attempt to look at the word written there. I will kill you. Slowly and painfully.”

“…” Too terrified to move, the servant nodded slowly, until the blade slowly was pulled away.

“Good. Then go. Gather everyone, be prepared for anything tomorrow night.”

The servant left, and Luke was left alone. 

He stared into the flames; all too aware of the dark turn his thoughts had taken. The idea of his half brother threatening her… scheming against her… was more than he could bear calmly. The antics of Graham hadn’t helped matters at all. He had barely been able to restrain himself from taking the fool’s head right there and then as he babbled on about her belonging to him, marrying him. Everything was closing in around him, but the focus, the danger wasn’t on himself as Luke had expected, but at the person by his side.

What use is this world if it kills her? His hands tightened into fists.

“It’s not too late.” He muttered finally. “I’ll protect her.”

But no matter how much he tried to reassure himself, he couldn’t escape the sense that everything had slipped beyond his control.

___________________________

 It was the last party. The final test.

I had a third dress. This one I accepted without much argument, my thoughts preoccupied on the possible dangers ahead. It was grander than the others, a midnight blue, almost black, the same color as Luke’s eyes. He stared at me as I entered the central space in his rooms, his face tinged red as he took in my new appearance.

“The dress… looks amazing on you.” He covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, sighing. “Now I really don’t want to go to this party.”

“It’s probably a little late to run away.” In more ways than one.

“I guess so.” Sighing again, he held out his arm. “Ready to go?”

“One second.” I stopped in front of him with a smile. “I’m missing a bracelet to go with this dress. Think I can wear yours?”

Luke paused, his eyes wide with shock. Then slowly, a smile blooming on his face, he took the dark beads off of his wrist, sliding it over my own with a gentle touch.

“It was always yours. I was just holding it for you.” He stared down at the bracelet, his eyes worried. “Are you sure?”

I smiled. “I’m sure.”

“Your goal? Of being away from all this?”

The brief moment of panic I had yesterday, where I considered running away crossed my mind.

“I guess I can’t just leave you alone.” I grabbed his arm, and pulled him out the door. “Let’s go. We have some keys to get.”

___________________________

 The party started off well, although the atmosphere was even more strained than the previous two. Everyone began grouping on different sides of the ballroom depending on which prince they had aligned themselves with. As Luke gained another key, bringing our total to four, I felt a moment of satisfaction at the size of the crowd gathering in our corner.

It’s working, we’re changing the book! I felt excited, albeit still anxious to get the night over with. But despite the party dragging on, there were no moves from Fetter or Chloe. Finally, I had had enough.

“Just one more left. Luke, You approach the Fifth Lord and I’ll try the Eighth.” I gave him a gentle push in the right direction.

Luke stood his ground. “I don’t think we should separate…”

“We’ll be ten feet apart, it will be fine.”

“…” With an unhappy expression, Luke allowed himself to be pushed away, and began talking to the Fifth Lord and his group.

Now if things follow the rules of dramatic plot, now that I’m alone…

“So have you made your decision?” Fetter whispered in my ear, causing goose bumps to run down my arms. Shuddering, I stepped away, putting some distance between us.

“Your Highness, I’m afraid I’ll have to reject your offer.” I reached a hand into the pocket of my dress, where I had hidden a blade from the prying eyes of the Royal Guard. “You may have my name. But I refuse to betray Luke. Not even for that.” 

“Is that so?” Fetter didn’t look disappointed at my rejection. If anything, he seemed excited. “I’m so happy! I was hoping you would struggle. It will be more fun this way, anyways.” With a quick turn, he walked away without another word, leaving me staring worriedly after him.

This isn’t good. I thought he was just going to announce it... why is he backing away instead?  Ditching my plan of drawing out the villains, I kept my hand on my knife and walked quickly back towards Luke.

“Why?” At the forlorn call behind me, I turned around, not wanting to present my undefended back.

Graham stood there, his eyes wide and slightly unfocused, his whole body seeming to shake with rage and grief.

“Why won’t you love me?”

 “Your Highness…”

“You told Fetter your name? You wouldn’t tell me no matter how many times I asked.” He must have been hiding in the crowd, and overheard my conversation with Fetter. Graham stepped closer, and I stepped away, glancing over to where Luke had been standing. To my dismay a crowd had gathered between us, separating him from my sight. 

“Where are you looking? Why aren’t you looking at me?”

I clutched my knife harder, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice. “Fetter learned an old name of mine from Chloe. It’s not my name anymore.”

“He knows more about you than me, even though you’re mine.” Graham shook his head back and forth.

I sighed, running my left hand through my hair, my right still holding onto my hidden knife. The movement caught Graham’s eyes though, and his gaze focused on my wrist.

“Lucien’s token? You’re wearing it again?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t like I can lie at this point.

“But you were going to marry me!”

“I never said I would marry you. In fact, I’ve only stated the opposite.” I backed away again. “Come on, Graham. You have a whole group of women who are dying to marry you. Just pick one of them. You don’t need me!”

“I don’t need you?” His smile was off, his voice coming out low like a growl as he stepped closer. “I’ve told you about how I’ve struggled. How everyone tries to use me. Only you were different… you were special… but WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME?!!!”

He moved forward again, and this time I pulled out my knife, holding it defensively in front of me. Graham paused, staring at the weapon with confusion.

“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

“It doesn’t really seem like you have good intentions right now.”

He was shaking now, tears forming in his eyes. “Why would I hurt you? We’re getting married. We love each other. I’ll be king, and you’ll be Queen at my side. “ He reached out a hand. “Come with me. We’ll be together… from now on.”

“If you step closer, I will kill you.” I spoke slowly and calmly, meaning every word. I wouldn’t hesitate. The possession in his eyes was too terrifying to not take seriously. 

But before Graham could respond, I felt a pain in my back and chest, and the bloody tip of a short sword emerged from the front of my dress.

“Wha…?” I turned around, seeing Chloe’s triumphant smile.

“Go back home, sister! You never belonged here! I’m the heroine, not you!”

Is this it?

My vision was blurring, my legs growing weaker underneath me. I saw Fetter standing in the crowd, a gleeful expression on his face.

After all that I tried to avoid the plot of this world.

Graham was on his knees, screaming.

For years, I refused to have a name.

I crumpled to the floor, lying on my side. I couldn’t breathe, it hurt too much. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. 

I didn’t follow Luke back then, even though I’ve always loved him.

Blood was pooling under me, the sensation warm against my rapidly cooling skin.

But in the end, I had a name. I changed the plot. I tried to stay by Luke’s side. I should have known this would happen.

Luke was racing towards me, his hand outstretched. His face was distorted,  a furious look I had never seen before coloring his features. He was shouting something… a name?

Maybe it’s the name he wanted to give me.

He was getting closer, but my vision was darkening, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was just… so… tired. 

I wanted to hear the name you gave me, Luke. I’m sorry.

Everything faded into darkness.

___________________________

“NOOOOOO!” Luke reached out a hand towards the woman he loved, but he could already tell it was too late. Her eyes had glazed over, her breathing had stopped. Trembling, he reached out a hand to gently touch her wrist, right next to the bracelet he had so happily placed on her earlier, but he couldn’t feel a pulse. 

“No.” It was a quiet denial. He reached out and touched her neck, praying silently.

But there was nothing.

She was gone.

“It worked! Now’s she’s gone back and the plot can return to normal!” Chloe cheered, the sound grating on Luke’s ears. 

“…shut up.”

“What did you say?” Chloe grinned, putting her still blood-stained hands on her hips. “I’m the heroine of this world. She was just getting in the wa-” 

SLASH!

Without hesitation, Lucien grabbed his beloved’s sword that she had dropped, and cut the still smiling girl’s head off.

Thud. 

The decapitated head fell to the floor beside him, but he barely glanced at the features so similar, but so different to the woman he had wanted to protect.

“You shouldn’t have touched her.”

“Your highness!” A guard tried to restrain him, but only had time to scream before his throat was cut and he was pushed away.

“There’s the family madness!” Fetter smiled, stepping closer. “This was what I was hoping to see. My dear brother, so unrestrained.”

“The family madness?” Lucien stared down at his bloody knife for a moment. “I suppose I have it. I’ve restrained it for so long, hoping to preserve the remnants of the soul she saw that day.” He leapt onto the stage, and gave a loud whistle. Immediately his men flooded the ballroom, swords drawn.

“But what use is a soul, if she’s already gone?” Grabbing his father, the king by his hair, Lucien watched him with a stony expression.

“Let me go! I am your ruler!” The older man struggled, but to no avail. 

“It was your test that kept me from running away with her.”

SLASH!

The king’s corpse fell to the ground. He stepped past Graham, who was still kneeling, rocking back and forth with his face buried in his hands, and approached Fetter.

The younger prince backed away, the glee from his face fading, slowly replaced by the terror of what he had unleashed.

“Now brother, come to your senses! You’ll lose everything!”

“I already have.”

“But I’m… family!” Fetter glanced around anxiously. “Your brother! Do you really think you can kill me- “

STAB!

Fetter screamed in agony as Lucien silently stabbed him in the stomach, pulling out his sword to stab him again. Finally his screams turned to whimpers, and he slowly curled up in the pool of blood and bile that drained from his many wounds.

Finally, having killed those he needed to kill, Lucien turned towards his beloved once more. He knelt on the floor, ignoring the blood soaking his pants, and slowly gathered her in his arms, hugging her to himself.

“The truth is… you were never unimportant. You were never a nameless side character. From the moment you threw yourself in front of that whip to save a defenseless boy, I had named you in my heart. “ He laughed, an agonizingly sad sound.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have just let you go. But I never truly did. I was so excited to see my bracelet on your wrist. Even when you gave it back… I was just happy you cared enough to come after me to protect me in the desert. I told myself that I was happy if you were safe and far away, but the truth is, I selfishly wished you were by my side.” Tears obscured Lucien’s vision. “I was so happy when you came back to me.  Joined this final test at my side. So foolishly happy that you chose to wore my token again.”

Lucien reached out a hand, brushing a blood soaked strand of hair away from his beloved’s face.

“Should I tell you your name? It’s a little late, I know… too late for everything. But I have to say it at least once right?”

“…” The terrified crowd watched on silently, held at the blade by Lucien’s men, but he ignored them.

“The word was first told to me by my mother. It’s from the desert, a term for one’s soul mate. She told me that I could call the love of my life by this name, because it meant ‘beloved.’”

Leaning in, Lucien whispered quietly.

“I love you, Amia.”

Laying her down gently, Lucien stood up and shouted towards the sky.

“IF THIS IS A STORY, A FANTASY, THAN THERE HAS TO BE AN AUTHOR. CAN YOU HEAR ME? YOU GOT IT WRONG!! SHE IS NOT A NAMELESS SIDE CHARACTER! SHE HAS A NAME! SHE CHANGED EVERYTHING! “

He raised a fist towards the ceiling. “YOU HEAR ME?! SHE’S NOT A MINOR CHARACTER YOU CAN KILL OFF LIKE THIS! SHE’S THE MAIN CHARACTER! THE ONLY ONE THAT MATTERS!” 

There were light mutters from the crowd at his crazed shouting, but he continued to ignore it.

“If you don’t save her, than it’s because you don’t care about this world.” Smiling, he picked up his blade once more. “So I’ll destroy it. I’m the villain right? This world you made. I’ll kill everyone and everything, and set the world on fire. What use is this awful broken world you written if you can’t even keep her here?! I’LL DESTROY IT!”

___________________________

“...I’LL DESTROY IT!”

I watched silently in a pure white space, all my focus on the floating orb which showed Luke as he threatened to destroy the world.

- It seems like you are loved very much, Amia.

A bodiless voice spoke up, seeming almost amused.

“I’m glad you find this funny.”

-Poor Lucien, he tried so hard to be the hero for you, but it looks like he’ll become the villain again.

I stared at his face, my heart breaking, my hand reaching out on its own as if hoping to touch him.

-You can still save the world, you know? 

I paused, looking around me. “What do you mean?”

- I mean you have a choice. The voice sighed. This world is broken; I’ve known it since I first made it. The royal family was supposed to bring peace and order… instead they became mad and twisted, killing for sport or no reason at all. Even the more reasonable ones like Graham and Lucien became broken, unable to trust and destroying those around them.

“You’re the author?”

- In a way. I made this world… but when I realized it was broken, it was too late. So I put the world’s story in a book and distributed it across multiple worlds.

“Why?”

- I was looking for you.

“... Sounds like a scam.”

- Well, I was looking for someone like you. Someone kind, caring, but tough enough to take on this world. Someone who could save them. Someone to become the heroine they needed.

“That’s why you put the ritual in the book?”

- It was supposed to only appear near those who had the qualifications to help. I can only assume that Chloe switched your copy with hers. And although one did need to give up their life to cross over, there was nothing about “powering” the spell with the souls of innocent bystanders.

“That was just her selfishness.” I shook my head. “Now what did you mean by saying that I could still save this world?”

- I mean, you have a choice. The voice paused, and two orbs showed in front of me. I looked at the first orb, it showed me in a hospital bed on a ventilator.

- You never fully died in your original world.

“Does that mean Chloe…?”

- No, she was standing right by the source of the explosion. She’s gone for good. You’re different. With my power I can return you to your old life. You’ll have to recover, of course, but you can eventually live a normal life, forget this ever happened.

I stared at the picture of myself. feeling a faint sense of longing. Electricity, modern food. Toilets. Not worrying about someone killing me every five minutes…

“What’s my second choice?”

- You can return to his side. Live in Armaria. Stay by Lucien, keep him from destroying the world.

“Aren’t I dead there?”

- I can fix that… But if I do, your body in the old world will die. I’ll use the energy left there to bring you back in my world.

I stared at the two orbs.

A normal life… It had been everything I had ever wanted. I had always hoped for a day when I could be allowed to return to my old home. And here it was, given to me on a silver platter.

But I couldn’t shake my thoughts of the second world. Of my cabin in the woods. Blade. The group of nameless servants who were so excited to talk about being background characters. Could I really be okay never seeing them again?

And what about Luke? Could I really leave him behind? I thought of the name that he had given me.

Amia.

Beloved.

I liked it. 

It was never a question, was it? I turned towards the second orb with a smile. “I want to go home. To Armaria.”

- Are you sure? You can’t change your mind once you decide.

I stared at Luke’s face through the orb. “I’m sure.”

- Great! Then prepare yourself for some deus ex machina!

With a great flash of light, the empty world around me disappeared.  

___________________________

 “LUKE!” Luke glanced up as Blade pushed herself through the crowd, kneeling at his side.

“Blade? How did you know...?” Blinking rapidly, he shook his head. “You’re too late… she’s…”

“SHE’S NOT DEAD YOU IDIOT!” Smacking the back of his head, Blade reached out and positioned herself over to look at the wound. “The dagger missed her heart it looks like. But she’s been poisoned.”

“But I checked her pulse…”

“There are poisons that slow the pulse to an almost undetectable level. It’s been less than a minute since she stopped breathing. We can save her. “ She turned around.  “Slash! I need an antidote!”

The scorpion leader stepped forward. “Why should I?”

“She holds your Tarif. Plus, I’ll beat you until you agree.”

“Fine!” Slash shuddered, handing over a vial. “Violent woman.”

Blade forced the potion into her mouth removing the knife in her back and covering the holes with a special dressing to prevent air leakage.

“It’s amazing that this knife managed to miss the critical structures.”

Luke smiled, looking up at the ceiling. “Our Amia must have someone looking out for her.”

___________________________

“Come on, you’re so slow!” Grabbing my bow, I left the cabin, walking out towards the woods.

“Why are you in such a hurry, Amia?” Luke followed me out, smiling quietly as he packed away his own weapons. 

“If we don’t go early, all the good game will be hiding. This is our first vacation in forever and I want to enjoy it!” Grabbing his hand, I pulled him along. “Move faster!”

“As my Queen commands!” He chuckled, speeding up his pace.

“I’m still not used to that.”

“The title? We’ve been married for six months now.”

“I grew up in the suburbs, okay? Cut me some slack!”

Luke grinned. “Would it be better or worse if I called you the Queen of the Desert?”

“Worse. Definitely worse.” I sighed as I walked, wanting to hide my face in my hands. Blade and Slash had conquered the remaining Spider camp, handing their Tarif over to me. When I asked why, I had only received a thumbs up and a new title of Queen.

“Blade only wants the best for her adopted daughter. She won’t just leave you the Serpent Camp when she can hand you the whole desert.”

I sighed quietly. “I feel like my life has become the opposite of the nameless side character I was supposed to be.”

“The Queen of the Desert? Queen of the Western City? Married to Lucien, the villain of ‘Deadly Crown’? Not to mention the leader of your very own cult of the Nameless.”

“Shouldn’t I be disqualified from that last one, since I have a name now?”

“They’re okay with it, since they’ve concluded you’re a main character.” He rolled his eyes. “Especially as Graham has joined and become their most ardent member.” 

“Ugh.” 

“Amia?” Luke’s hand grasped my own, as he showed a rare, nervous expression. “Do you regret it?”

“Regret giving my old life up? Coming here instead?”

Luke nodded silently. In answer, I leaned forward, kissing him for a few long seconds.

“I could never regret it.”

And I didn’t. It was not the life I envisioned. Not one I would have originally chosen… at least based off of reading the books. And although I didn’t live a normal life in my old world, or the life of a nameless side character in this world, I got something even better.

The life by the side of those I loved.

[itsallabigmess]

Crescente | Part Two

Slow burn Friends to Lovers AU A bit of angst, a bit of flirt, lots of cliches.

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Through the taxi window, you watch lazily as the bright lights and busy streets morph into a long road lined on both sides with palm trees, their tops waving slightly with the breeze. You slept for most of the 6-hour flight and is still finding it hard to beat your half-sleep state.

The cab makes a turn and comes to a stop in front of the main building of the resort. The cold breeze hits you as soon as you climb out of the vehicle and you close your eyes, smiling to yourself when you sense the smell saltwater. Somewhere in the distant darkness, you could hear the waves crashing.

Jinyoung touches your arm and nods towards the entrance, where you can see a valet attendant already taking both your and your friend’s bags. You are greeted as soon as you step inside, by a little woman with a broad smile. How could anyone sound so enthusiastic at such an early hour would be forever a mystery to you. Jinyoung hands her both your passports – you don’t even remember when he got a hold of yours – and you watch as she enters your information into the system.

Still smiling, she slides a navy-blue folder with the resort’s name stamped in gold. Her lips are moving but you can barely make out what she is saying. There was something about congratulations to the couple and a list of things you were allowed during your stay. Whatever it was, you were certain it could all acknowledge once the sun was up. For the moment, you only cared to know the directions to your bed.

You manage to smile warmly, thanking the receptionist when she hands Jinyoung the key-card to your room. Your gaze swims through Jinyoung’s features as he adjusts the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and grabs the folder. You were not so confident that you wouldn’t be left completely alone with your own thoughts during this trip until the moment Jinyoung met you at the boarding gate. The previous days you had barely exchanged any words. You were still not sure why he decided to come along but had decided you would spend the following days making sure he knew how grateful you were to him.

 ---

“Holy shit!” you say, dropping your backpack by your side on the ground once you crossed the door. You were not expecting the villa you were going to stay to be so opulent. But then again, why wouldn’t it be, considering you were staying in a luxury resort. “This is bigger than my place.”

“As if it was hard to be,” Jinyoung snorted, leading the way inside.

You rolled your eyes and ignore the tease and the fact that Jinyoung seemed utterly unimpressed.  You stepped slowly towards the absurdly spacious living room, eyes traveling from side to side. There are just many details your tired eyes don’t seem able to process. You’ve been up since 5 of the previous morning, going from your 9-hour job directly to the airport. The time you passed out during the flight was not enough to restore your energy and you were certain you would pass-out at any second.

Grabbing your backpack, you follow the way Jinyoung had made upstairs. You wonder if that was how the rich lived. If they would be just as speechless by the size of the room as you were. Your eyes fixed on the gigantic bed, well made and ready to devour your tired body.

And then… the engines of your brain start to work properly.

“Ahm… Jinyoung?”

He appears at the other door across the room, where you assume is the bathroom.  You don’t need to speak for him to understand the worry growing on your eyes. “Were you really expecting something else?”

You look up at your unbothered friend. Of course, that was supposed to be a trip for a couple. Somehow, the fact that the place would have only one bed skipped your mind. You didn’t mind sharing it. But did he?

“Don’t worry, I can sleep on the couch,” Jinyoung suggests, nodding towards the padded furniture under the room’s large windows. It does look comfortable enough for a person to sleep at, for sure. But still, it wasn’t fair. Especially considering how long you were going to stay there.

You shake your head slowly “No, that’s okay. We can share.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, that bed is obviously too big for just me,” you yawn, kicking off your shoes. “Do you mind if I shower first?”

“Go ahead.”

 ---

You hear Jinyoung’s light snores before you even open your eyes. You fell asleep as soon as you got to bed and wasn’t sure if Jinyoung would actually take the empty spot on your side. Lifting your body, you rub your eyes and stare at the couch on the opposite side of the bed. You could only imagine the hell of a neck pain Jinyoung would feel during the whole trip if he had decided to be a gentleman and let the bed all to yourself.

You get up, making sure to stay as silent as possible as you grabbed your necessaire to the bathroom. Now, well-rested and aware of every detail, you decided that the bathroom alone was the size of your living room and kitchen combined. You loved your apartment but only now realized how small it really was. You really could not complain when your friends teased you about it anymore.

With your hair fixed into a ponytail and teeth brushed, your walk towards the marble bathtub, Spying through the window, you let out a silent curse and runs downstairs.

Air catches on your throat after you open the double window door. Yes, there’s a private pool. That was fascinating on its own but what shocked you was the only thing that separated you from the sea was a small wooden ramp and a few feet of white sand. The villa wasn’t close to the beachside. It was on the beach.

“Is everything okay?” Jinyoung appears a minute later, voice hoarse and hair a complete mess, hiding his eyes from the brightness of the day.

“I’m in heaven!” You stretch your arms as if saying aren’t you seeing this?!

A growl. That’s all you get out of him before he goes back inside. Maybe he would feel better after you found some food to put inside his body. You need Jinyoung to be on the same level of excitement that you are.

Turns out you could eat all the food you want for free at the main restaurant of the resort. It sounded like the recipe for bad food until Jinyoung points out that every item of the menu has a price on its side, and you eating for free was part of the vacation package.

Relishing the plate of waffles and fresh fruit that you made for yourself, you reach for your shorts back pocket and grab the folded list of activities the resort offered. “How do you feel about snorkeling?”

Jinyoung gives a shrug, eyes on his own plate. “I’m not completely opposed to it.”

On the week before the trip you two agreed to not tell any of your friends about you traveling together. Neither you nor Jinyoung were in the mood to deal with all the teasing and inquiries that would come from your friends. Not to mention the frustrating whining from your girlfriends because ‘how dare you to invite Jinyoung instead of any of them’. Girl drama was completely off the limits for you for the next ten days.

The bad part of it was that, by avoiding your friends, you could not ask Jackson the circumstances of Jinyoung’s break up. Over the years you witnessed Jinyoung go through some things that really put him down. His reaction was always different, but you never saw him in the shape he is. It isn’t sadness, at least not completely. No, this is apathy. And you don’t know how to deal with that version of him.

“Here says we can get a boat to one of the nearby islands and snorkel close to the reefs,” you tap at the folder in front of you, hoping Jinyoung would accept your suggestion.

“We have to schedule it with the front desk before,” he says in a monotonous tone.

The normal Jinyoung would make fun of you for not finding it obvious. The normal Jinyoung would probably complain about you not listening to what the woman in the front desk said on the night before. But this Jinyoung only shrugs and fills his mouth with a giant bite of eggs and bacon.

“We can do something else too,” you tell him.

“Let’s check with the front desk first,” Jinyoung stares at you, his lips forming a straight line. Maybe he was trying to smile, but it couldn’t be more forced. It was enough for now.

--- 

Entering your information on her computer, Kaila, another overly excited receptionist informs that yes, all activities should be scheduled at least an hour before, but since you are still far from the high season, you don’t need to worry about it that much. She suggests a half-day at the blue lagoon, a favorite spot for anyone who visits the place. Since Jinyoung doesn’t oppose – or say anything for that matter – you ask Kaila to sign you two for to the boat ride.

“All setup,” Kaila smiles half a minute later. “The van will departure at ten.”

You thank her and rush back to the villa. There’s just enough time to spray some sunscreen on your body and change into one of your swimsuits.

There are already music playing, coming from the boat when you arrive at the harbor. The tour guide greats your small group one by one, telling everybody to find a sit. He passes the itinerary for the six hours you will be spending together, safety instructions, and all. You feel the movement of waves below and while everyone gets distracted with the drinks being served, you become fascinated with the contrasts of blue in the sky.

“We sure don’t have this shade of blue back home,” you sigh, chin resting on an arm over the railing. You wait for an answer. Jinyoung is staring in the same direction as you, or so you think, his eyes hidden by dark shades. You know he must be impressed. Jinyoung was always good at appreciating views like that. And still… “Come on, Jinyoung,” you push his shoulder not so lightly. “You have to admit this place is amazing.”

“It is,” he says flatly, a hand moving to the back of his neck, wiping a bit of sweat. “And it sure is warm.”

After going back home you would call Jinyoung’s ex-girlfriend. You are sure you still have her number saved. You liked her though. Even if you never got incredibly close to each other, you always enjoyed her presence when you spend time together. But she broke your friend’s heart. And that you could not let pass. But for now…

For now, you decide to enjoy your vacation. It’s just like Jackson said: Jinyoung likes to go deep into his own sadness before deciding he was over it. And until that happened, there was really nothing you could do to help him. Even because Jinyoung was not giving you an opportunity to do so.

Sighing, you remove your shirt and shorts, tucking it inside the small bag you brought with you and hiding it under the seat. You decide to join a couple of girls that are sunbathing in the deck. You have no interest in socializing, but you also don’t want to spend the entire morning sitting on the shadows, letting Jinyoung down mood intoxicate you.

And yes, you do feel a bit guilty for it, but you let that feeling steam away with the heat.

Once the boat stops at the island, the tour guide gathers the group and lists the options: explore the island, snorkel around the coral garden or join him and a local to a separate area of the island, where you could swim with stingrays.

“Staying in the boat is an option,” he says, “for those who want to continue to drink or swim nearby. Lunch will be served on the island at one. You can see the tables from here,” he points towards the island, a few benches and tables disposed of in front of what appeared a small green house. “Please keep in mind to be back at the boat by four. Now, let’s have some fun!”

As people start to scatter and jump on the water, you see Jinyoung standing in the back, hands shoved inside the pockets of his blue shorts. You catch a mask and diving shoes with the guide before joining your friend.

“Are you going to stay here?” you ask, handing him the mask so you can slip your feet inside the shoes that were a bit small for you.

“For now.”

“Well,” you take the mask of Jinyoung’s hands to wear, its oval shape covering only your eyes. “Tell me I look stupid.”

“You look stupid.”

“Great!” you show him your teeth in an exaggerated smile, emphasizing it by giving a double thumbs-up. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

The water is cold, but you soon get used to it. You swim away from everyone, towards the coral garden. It’s your first time snorkeling and you are doing a poor job at it, often coming up for some air. You don’t care. Just like the fish that swim around you, not caring for your presence. Underwater, you let yourself be consumed by the colors, the silence, the feeling that nothing else matters. And when you feel tired of swimming around, you take off your mask and just stay there, floating. The little waves making your heart calm.

That was already the best day you had in a long time.

On the island, you go stray to where the lunch would be served. It was still early for food but you sure could use a soft drink to wash away the salty taste the ocean left on your mouth.

The diving shoes do a great job of protecting your feet from the hot sand. But as you walk where water could only reach your ankles, you did not wait to get rid of it. And how pleasant it felt when you did.

Small waves of turquoise water refreshed your skin as you try to hide your feet under the sand. You used to do just that when you were a little child, on the few occasions you went to the beach with your parents. And even though there were no children around now you sure felt giggly like one.

“What are you doing?” you hear Jinyoung’s voice coming somewhere from behind you.

Holding the shoes with one hand and the mask with the other, he caught you in a silly moment of kicking the water to your front, watching the drops of water fall down, and then doing it again. Turning around, you do the same thing on Jinyoung’s direction, wetting his white shirt.

“Please don’t do that,” he says stepping back, looking down the little trail of salty water that went from his right shoulder until the opposite side of his shorts.

You frown in disappointment. Did he really stay all this time only on the boat? “You are no fun, Park.” You do another spin in the water, the sand tickling your feet. “Why do you still have your shirt on?” you ask, pointing at him with your shoes.

“I’m fine like this,” he says simply. “They are starting to serve lunch.”

The barbecue served tastes as amazing as it looked. Somehow, it reminds you of the Korean barbecue, you so much love. Except there are no side dishes there apart from some green salad and rice. You glance at Jinyoung and decides to keep that comment to yourself, certain he would find the comparison offensive.

So, you eat silently, trying not to pay attention to all the talking happening around you. You allow yourself a fruity cocktail, dipping the slices of the fruit salad that was served as dessert on your cup before biting it. When all is finished, cheeks feeling all warm with the combination of sun and alcohol, you get up unceremoniously and make your way back to where the ocean awaits for you.

Walking along the shore, you find sit under the shades, a perfect spot where you can you’re your back against the tree trunk, and still feel the water soaking your feet. In this heaven, you could fall sleep in a second, and you smile to yourself considering the possibility.

“You shouldn’t just wander around by yourself, you know.”

You don’t open your eyes as you feel Jinyoung sitting on your left. “It’s a small island, Jinyoung. The chances of me getting lost are nonexistent.”

Of course, Jinyoung doesn’t respond. Still, you sigh in frustration. If the rest of the trip was deemed to be like that maybe you should become as monosyllabic as he has been.

You open one eye to look at him. His eyes are still hidden between glasses, but you know he is looking at the horizon. “There’s a bit of sand here…” you reach for the grains on his jaw, right below his ear, cleaning it with the tip of your fingers... You never felt uncomfortable being silent around Jinyoung and still, you really wish you could translate whatever was going on inside of him and find a way to make him happy.

“I think I’m going in the water again,” you say simply, trying to figure out how to put your diving shoes on again now that your feet are covered with sand. “You should go for a dip, you know,” you suggest as casually and unbothered as you could. “It’s not every day that we have a chance to be in a place like this.”

How long has it been since you allowed yourself to not think about anything and just… be? You couldn’t remember. So, you just swim and float and dive until, somehow, you notice people going back to the boat. You were not surprised to find Jinyoung on the exact same spot where you both sat earlier.

The boat is already moving back to the marine when you get out of the little bathroom, glad to have brought a piece of underwear with you. You manage to get most of you dry but somehow, there was still sand scattered over your body.

Jinyoung leans forward, his head almost going in between his legs. He stays like that for a few minutes, breathing heavily.

“Are you okay?” you ask, rubbing his back lightly.

“Not really,” he says, moving quickly to place his head outside the boat. He doesn’t throw up, but his breath is unsteady. When you finally get to see his face, you notice how pale he looks.

You rush to find a bottle of freshwater. Jinyoung drinks half of it quickly and uses the rest to clean his face and neck. You think it’s the first time you see him without his sunglasses since you two went for breakfast.

“Do you want to lay down? There is enough space.”

He shakes his head, leaning back against the railing. The way he is breathing only makes you wish the trip back would not take too long.

 ---

You are about to start a second movie on Netflix when your stomach starts to grumble. Jinyoung recovered his color once you arrived back at the villa. But still feeling nauseated and with a massive migraine, he took his time in the bathroom and then fell into a deep slumber.

After cleaning yourself you decide to stay around, just in case Jinyoung needed something. It was just your first day on the trip and there were a lot more that you could do the next day. You took a little nap at the couch in the living room, spent some time scrolling through Instagram and then checked something off your watch list.

But now, you are in desperate need of food.

At the front desk, Lisa, the same tiny receptionist that greeted you on the previous night, reminds you that you don’t need to leave to resort to enjoy a good meal. And even though the bayside restaurant is full for the night, she can get you a table with a great view at the terrace restaurant.

The view is, in fact, amazing. From your table, you can see how the moon reflects in the ocean, the top of palm trees forming a perfect frame.

You order the Homemade Gnocchi that your waiter suggests, along with whatever wine he says go well with it. And while melting in your chair with the flavors dancing on your mouth, you consider ordering the same thing for Jinyoung before going back to the villa. You left him a note after giving up on trying to wake him for a couple of minutes. The man was beyond passed out.

Which was why you were a bit shocked when he sat in front of you, just as your waiter removed your empty plate.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Front desk.”

You stare at him for a long second. His eyes are still puffy, and it looks like the salty air is already messing with his hair. Sure, he still has this aura of ‘I wish I was still in bed’. But besides that, he looks better than he was earlier.

“You could have asked for room service, you know,” his words come out lazily, fingers tapping over the table.

“I rather limit the time I spend in the room to the hours I’ll be sleeping,” you don’t intend to sound annoyed. But you do. And you feel guilty because you want to blame it on him, but you don’t feel like you can. So, you just sigh and lean back on your chair. “But you could have asked it for yourself. Room service, I mean.”

“You wrote you would bring me something.”

“You could have texted me not to.”

“And where is your phone, exactly?”

“Oh…” After failing in waking Jinyoung, you tried to be as quiet as you could, leaving the villa so fast that just now you realized you have forgotten your phone charging close to the bathroom sink.

Silence settles between you two, being broken only when the waiter brings the desert you had asked for. Jinyoung orders a simple salad, and you decide to focus on a delicious sugary bowl placed in front of you. “If I had gone to dinner anywhere outside the resort, would you still have come after me?” you ask minutes later.

Jinyoung’s eyes travel from you to the view over the balcony, letting out another annoyed sigh. If your dessert wasn’t so good, you would feel compelled to throw the empty bowl in his head, just to get some sort of reaction. Anything. Instead, you call for the waiter and ask for another glass of wine.

He could have said no. When you knocked at his door, you expected him to say no. You had already given up on the idea of coming to this trip when he agreed to come with you. You guessed it was because he saw this the same way that you did: an opportunity to get over your broken hearts. Well, his broken heart. For you, it was more of ‘compensation for all the time you lost with the asshole you used to call your boyfriend’.

And yes, you understand how Jinyoung is feeling. Breakups aren’t the easiest thing in the world. Even if it was him the ended things – which you don’t believe is the case. Still, you can’t avoid being mad at him. Does he believe that he owns your company because you invited him? You do want to enjoy this trip with your friend but if he decided to stay in bed all day every day, it was more than fine. He just needed to tell you so, instead of looking at you like you forced him to be there with you.

Was that it? You did tell him that you only asked him to go with you and would not ask anyone else. So, were you to blame?

There it was, the feeling of guilt once again. Maybe it was your fault. Jinyoung was not ready to socialize, and maybe you put him in a situation he felt he needed to agree with.

You obviously need to talk to him but decides to do so in the next morning. Because even if you are mad at yourself, you still are mad at him. You and Jinyoung are good friends. You have always been good friends. He could have just told you those things instead of acting like you were someone he was forced to interact with.

Overthinking all the way from the restaurant to the villa, and then a bit more while doing your nightly routine, you lay in one of the pool loungers and finally begin to relax. You close your eyes and focus on the sound of the waves in the distance, the wind kindly touching your skin. But you are sure is the glasses of wine that you drank that leads you straight to slumber.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

Your eyes hardly opened to see Jinyoung standing on your side. You just grumble and turn to your side, giving him your back.

“It’ late,” he says, voice sounding closer. “Go to bed.”

“I’m good here.”

“Y/N, you are cold,” you feel a warm touch on your naked arm.

“We can try changing the villa tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Hm… This villa for two simple bedrooms,” you curl yourself, your hands going in between your knees.

“What are you talking about?”

You open your eyes again and see Jinyoung kneeling in front of you. “So you won’t have to deal with me.”

It’s silent again and you are already falling back to sleep when you feel his hands on you again, pulling your arms up, and then his own arms going behind your legs and back, lifting you up.

“Jinyoung,” you growl in discontent.

“I’m not letting you sleep in the cold,” his voice sound muffled, the side of your head pressed against his chest as he carries you up the stairs.

You are just too sleepy to object.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Caesar Gattuso - Year One

Cassell College, Norton Hall

Norton Hall was not accustomed to this level of decadence. The stately hall had hosted its own manner of events that catered to lords and ladies in the fashion of high society, but this event had the formality of a massive rock concert-slash-frat party. Although the sun had set, it was still technically Freedom Day and Caesar Gattuso had made his presence known in his first year by winning the contest. Now it was time to cement his legacy. As soon as the announcement of the winner was read, trucks rushed to surround Norton Hall and opened their back doors to reveal equipment that had to have been ordered weeks in advance. Huge speakers, stage equipment, sound, lighting and confetti. By the time the guests arrived, the music was loud enough to shake the building. 

The blue and white Sikorsky helicopter, the mother of all helicopters, swooped over Norton Hall blowing the hair of the women and sending decorations flying. A rope was lowered down and Caesar Gattuso - year one - swung down recklessly, a vicious cold smile on his face, firing a gun in the air. There was a moment of gaiety and joy as the new students of the Student Union welcomed their President with cheers and raised glasses and thunderous applause.

Caesar landed cleanly in his Cassell Uniform, that old green, but he quickly tossed away that jacket to reveal his bare muscular chest. A huge crate landed on the ground next to him and he opened it and pulled out a huge gun that looked like a bazooka and fired it into the air. The rocket exploded into bright red fireworks and he laughed, like a joyous king on conquering the enemy capital. The jacket soared into the gathered crowd in the garden where the women in bathing suits pounced on it, tearing and yanking on it like packs of hyenas.  The day was hot and humid and the perfect time for a pool party. There should not have been any time to build a real pool but Caesar anticipated his win so far in advance that he ordered the sculpture garden revamped. The water was just ready enough as he made his entrance and all the guests dove into a new pool that stretched the length of the backyard.

Dancers surrounded the pool in sequined bathing suits waving feather fronds in their own individual spotlights. The walls of the outside of the building were covered in billboard-sized LED screens so people could watch themselves party. The sound and lighting alone had to cost a few hundred grand and the power demands were so great that generator trucks sat outside. But Caesar doesn’t care about time, money, or restrictions. That’s why he hires people. He just wanted it done and Caesar had over staffed. The attendance was bloated with waiters pouring champagne, valets taking clothes to lockers, cooks replenishing the buffet and cleaning up crew to cart away the bottles. He never wanted his guests to wait or wonder when the next plate of hors dourves would pass by. He wanted everyone to get roaring drunk. And they weren't drinking from some old well. They were drinking the finest, top-shelf liquor and spirits a Gattuso could afford.

And that meant all of them, open bar. 

Security detail especially was huge.  Caesar was accustomed to party crashers. Before you could even approach Norton Hall on this night you had to get through layers of checkpoints. If you weren’t on the list, you couldn’t even approach the street the building was on and had to watch and listen from a distance, knowing that you just weren’t good enough to make the cut for Student Union.

Nono was poolside, cooling her toes in the water. Her bikini accentuated the curves of her body and the length of her legs. If anything was worthy about Cassell it was her. Despite the rich and joyous smiles of everyone around, their eyes met easily over the fray and the noise. She was calm as though this was a nice day at the beach and that unruffled manner in a sea of revelry just made his heart beat faster. He made his way over to her and offered her her own glass of Champagne which she accepted with serene grace. 

“Enjoying the party?” He asked, sitting down next to her.

She sipped, her eyes taking in the scene in front of her.. “Hm. It’s certainly fun watching everyone have such a good time. But I’m more curious about what’s happening next door.”

He followed her gaze. The revamping of the backyard to accommodate the pool had left a gap in the shrubbery and they could both see the cars parked out in front of Amber Hall as a shield. “Those flags on the antennae of the cars don’t come from any coat of arms or country I’ve ever seen. What about you?”

“It does seem like a state visit. The student inside registered as His Royal Highness.” Caesar smirked a bit. “But results on his exam are still pending. We’ll see how much of a King he really is.”

“Are you planning to start a war?” Her eyes sparkled with intrigue, that unique shade of crimson that fascinated him the moment he saw it the first time.

“Well, they’ve drawn the battleline already haven’t they?” Caesar’s eyes glittered with malicious humor. “Kings are meant to be conquered.” He finished off his glass and a waiter was there to take it immediately. “But since you’re so interested. Shall we go spy on the neighbors?”

“You’re going to ditch your own party that you paid millions for?” Nono snorted.

“I will if you want to.” He said softly, so that only she could hear.

Nono suddenly felt a perverse rise in rebellion at this but, in fact, she was curious who those people were. She didn’t answer verbally. She just stood up and started walking. Caesar followed. 

The only way to see over the trucks was to rise to the second floor but this mystery family had even thought of that and installed black tarps over the garden where people could go outside if they wanted fresh air. These tarps extended from the second story windows of Amber Hall to the SUVs. The rest of the grounds were empty of people. Nono had her bare legs over Caesar’s bare shoulders on the open air balcony, using binoculars to peer in though a tiny gap between the tarps, watching people pass by a single window. Because they thought the tarps would hide it, they left that window uncovered.

“They look older. The people in attendance aren’t students. But they must all be hybrids. Some of them are armed. I saw one with a gun earlier.” Nono said. “They look antique though. Nothing modern.”

“Old men come to cosplay? Typical royal family. Turns out this isn’t as interesting as I thought it would be.” Caesar said.

As soon as those words left his mouth, a sound reached his ears, soft, but unmistakable. A gunshot. Caesar blinked in confusion, not sure if he had heard right. Then another and another! 

“Something’s happened, the crowd is scattering!” Nono said.

He lowered Nono from his shoulders.. “Get down!”

“Hey, put me back up!” 

But Caesar had already vaulted over the balcony and landed on his feet, dashing towards Amber Hall. Nono followed him, determined not to let him get to know what was going on before she did.

-------------

While Dominic was taking his royal vows, a pair of green eyes watched him from the upper floor of Amber Hall. Those Green eyes belonged to Tjark - silent T - Beninga. He was also in a Cassell Uniform but stayed in the shadows. He’d heard of Dominic from his family after he got accepted to Cassell, his parents had applied for him to go here as a ‘special assignment’. His family were underground merchants, mercenaries, and the rich people below needed someone to watch their favored son and with his high level blood, he was a shoe in for the job. It wasn’t until after his arrival did he understand that his job wasn’t to protect the little prince, but to keep him from escaping.

Apparently, he didn’t want to be a prince. Tough break. You can’t pick your parentage.

But he didn’t mind being on watch duty. Dominic was easy on the eyes. If he played his cards right, perhaps he could be promoted to his closest side rather than being a peripheral.

When Dominic fell to the floor, he sat up straight watching Sylke race to him with a feeling of jealousy. That is until his black sword nearly took off her head and the gun fired. Dominic was running up the stairs, firing the pistol, efficiently dropping people one by one and he felt his heart flutter with amazement, excitement, and admiration. He hadn’t really believed this guy was an escape artist. Now he could see it with his own eyes. His job was to stop him from getting away at any cost.

The man was racing right for him towards a second story window, but Tjark simply raised his foot to catch his shin. Dominic fell forward but twisted his body immediately to face him. His eyes were crazed and desperate. He was running for real.

Tjark was top of his class in Taekwondo, Karate and Judo and immediately as he saw that fiery bright light in Dominic’s eyes he felt it spark in him. He no longer had to hold back for sporting rules of competition. He wondered how many hits this guy could take as he lashed out with his fists against and again.

But each time he struck, Dominic continued to back away, ducking, keeping his distance and blocking with one arm. Until he reached the window. Tjark saw his plan and hurried to block him from jumping through. That glass wasn’t the safe kind that could break into little pebbles but the kind that would shatter into sharp blades.

Dominic raised the pistol and fired at Tjark’s head and Tjark ducked away.

Dominic recklessly leaped through it, crystal shards tearing into his suit as he rolled down the tarps to the vans with Tjark right behind him. “Are you insane?” He asked, laughing. 

Dominic didn’t answer, he just turned, fired the gun once, but his aim missed.  He leaped down from the SUV and took off towards where Caesar and Nono were approaching with stunned looks on their faces. He passed them with the full unnatural speed of a hybrid.

 “Nice ass, buddy!” Tjark hollered as he passed them. “Just let me handle this and go back to your party! I’ll see you later!”

Caesar sneered.

When Tjark turned back around, Dominic was on him like a tiger. As soon as he realized Tjark was distracted he turned right back around, ran back to him and destroyed his temple with a roundhouse kick that knocked him flat to the pavement. He pulled a pistol and shot him once before turning and running away.

Nono gasped and rushed to where Tjark was lying on the ground.

“He’s fine. That was an alchemy round. He’ll wake up in about thirty minutes.”  

At this time, people were pouring out of Amber Hall. “Find him! Don’t let him get away!”

Caesar’s eyes widened. This was way more fun than a frat party. A game of hide and seek, a scavenger hunt, a chase. He had to keep this in mind for the next Day of Liberty. He turned and ran back towards Norton Hall.

“Where are you going?” Nono asked.

 He shouted over his shoulder. The cold light in his eyes was replaced by a fiery challenge. “This is way more interesting. You’re right! I’m going to join in!”

[ddaenghoney]

chapter fourteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none.

Word count: 5053

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

“The cover art is really simple.” Your eyes scan over the imagery of a black background with three muted color swatches arranged in rectangles meant to represent the ambiance of each track respectfully. Squeezing your hands that settled long ago on Yoongi’s right shoulder and upper arm, you bite your lip watching him type in an equally succinct description.

“Want to wait until we can design something?” He shifts his head with a shake so that his bangs cease obscuring his view as he glances up at you. A tiny shake of your head is your reply along with silence, appearing contemplative. “We can if you want.”

“If I don’t let you do it now, I think I’ll be putting it off forever.” You admit sheepishly. Your nervous eyes look towards Yoongi’s warm stare and a little smile breaks onto your face to try and hide the spilling nerves. “Really, Yoon, I like how it looks I’m not worried about the art to be honest with you.”

He nods gently, then pushes his chair a couple inches aside causing your hand on his arm to fall away while the other remains with a firm squeeze that Yoongi pays no mind to. “You want to be the one to click publish?”

“Me?” You startle, looking back towards the screen. The little red button in the corner reading ‘submit’ appears utterly normal and unassuming, yet the implications of what it will do are vastly opposite. You never thought about how jarring just releasing tracks could feel; while there is excited anticipation brewing in your chest, you can’t stop the conflicting nerves of wonder about the reception to find their way into each heartbeat as well. “I’m probably acting dramatic, aren’t I?”

“Not really.” Yoongi repels your self-consciousness, reaching his hand to cover over the top of yours on his shoulder, “It’s scary putting something you worked so hard on out there; I get it, sweetie.”

You nod, lips tightening from his voice’s comfort, and the pieces of worry that evaporate just because of his hand finding yours. Taking away the smallness of being alone, Yoongi assures you that he’s as much a part of this as you are. The name of his account, and your own next to the abbreviated producer title of the first track and written in the credential section of all three repeat the conjoinment of both of your responsibility for anything that can come from release.

With an exhale, you reach for the mouse, hovering the cursor over that red button that felt as much of a warning as it did a start. When you consider your beginnings of production five years earlier, you can almost believe this little action is entirely overdue. If you hadn’t given up so much of your voice for the job, maybe this would be a common occurrence by now, but then maybe as well you wouldn’t have the luxury of reaching this place alongside Yoongi.

Your index finger presses onto the mouse, allowing the millisecond clicking sound to practically blast through the room.

The screen takes barely anytime to refresh and reappear with a speeding loading meter. You watch it climb like the acceleration of your heartbeat, not for a moment taking consideration of the cancel button that lingers in the bottom corner. Yoongi’s hand grows tighter over top of yours, silently watching as well. Another page refreshes, announcing success and highlighting a link to share with anyone, as a short description tells that the public can now access on the music streaming service.

“Oh my god,” You dribble out exclamatory ramblings, then turn to look at Yoongi who looks up at you after a second longer of reading the information on the screen. Despite the shock excluding your expression, Yoongi smiles up at you, grinning teeth peeking through as you remain motionless.

“Congratulations, angel.” He says, rubbing your hand while allowing the moment to catch up with you. It does so in a slow eruption of a smile on your face, one that leaves you a little bouncy in enthusiasm,

“Yoongi,” You pull your hand away covering your mouth with both of them though it doesn’t hide the evident happiness taking over your expression. Yoongi’s empathetic glow of thrill for you remains as he stands from his seat, mixing a laugh into a gasp when you hop against him into a full hug. Nearly tripping backwards, his arms cross around you as his foot plants firmly to keep himself upright. “Thank you so much, Yoon. Really, really thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, angel, but you’re welcome.” He mumbles quickly, not wanting to take any of the moment’s attention from you. Instead his ands rub your back soothingly, elated from how happy you cling onto him with your face buried into the crook of his neck. “You want to go do something to celebrate?”

“Yes,” You nod, as you look upwards at him, ignoring the close proximity of your faces while you pay more attention to your toes remaining balance on the ground. “Please. Let’s get out of here-- we’ll probably get hunted down if we hang around.”

Within a few short minutes, the two of you stroll quickly down the hall, arriving at the elevator as you situate your bag’s strap over your shoulder. Yoongi adjusts a mask along his chin, keeping it off his mouth and nose until exiting the building. Your mind trails over a million ideas of comments that will find their way onto the internet in response, creating a reason for you to avoid looking at any social media for as long as possible.

You send a text to a groupchat with Namjoon and Seokjin instead, vague about details, but factually accurate with the most important news about Yoongi and you dropping the three tracks into the world without any warning. Expecting a reply from either as soon as one reads the shocking text, you keep your phone in your grasp, but bite your lip at the troublesome nag that Yerin could just as easily try and get in contact with you any moment as well.

“You okay?” Yoongi ducks his head, eyes studying any emotion on your face, as you sigh to ward thoughts away. Dropping your phone into the confines of your bag to leave the world at bay, you nod at him. “Without thinking about the bad things, the music itself is really good, angel. Try to just focus on that. Everyone is bound to like your work.” He continues to alleviate, stretching an arm in your direction which your hand happily takes to grab hold of his waiting appendage again. Entwining the fingers, he gives you a protective squeeze, listening to the elevator stop and announce the ground level, “Let’s just celebrate tonight. This is a happy occasion.”

“You’re right, yeah. I was just trying to let Joon and Jin know about it, but then I started thinking about everything too much.” You explain as you both step from the elevator into the staff lobby, where Yoongi can receive his car from the valet service. “What do you think we should go eat?”

Yoongi hums in thought, contemplating locations as he waves to one of the employees who knows him by face and starts off down to the garage level immediately. “I guess something to go with drinks. Barbeque usually says celebration, right?” He turns to you, as you lean against the counter fiddling with his fingers between both of your hands.

“You just love meat.” You smile up at him, straying one of your hands to pat against his chest as he pouts his lips above his mask and shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“Well, maybe-- but it is celebratory food, isn’t it?”

“Hmm...” You giggle as he gently jiggles your linked hands to further enhance a sales pitch,

“Why don’t you invite Namjoon and Jin? I bet they’d want to come.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to push the desire for barbeque, though you’re inclined to agree because of the warm weather of summer evenings making the meal idea enticing. Ready to give in to stop Yoongi’s growing pout that seems more begging now than casually pitching the meal, your words never come out as the elevator’s sound again registers in your sense and you watch Jimin exit out.

The sparse amount of people in the lobby cause him to notice you and Yoongi in little time. Where you anticipated a small nod and walk away, you find his eyes linger instead, full of invisibly flurry despite the solemn expression encompassing his body language. You don’t turn away, instincts causing prickles of wonder in your chest, that grow into worry when you catch him smother a frown away.

Your suddenly tight squeeze on Yoongi’s hands, prompt him to turn his head back to check what you see. Watching Jimin step towards the little group of you two, Yoongi lifts himself from leaning on the counter, shifting so that he can face the casually dressed brunette.

“Hey,” Jimin greets the words towards you, and gives a nod of his head to Yoongi amicably. The tone of his voice is polite, but not like usual. Your eyebrows furrow in response to the fact, but you can’t dwell as Jimin goes on, “Hopefully you’re okay after what that guy said earlier?”

“Oh, yeah,” You nod, having practically forgotten about the producer for the past couple of hours. “He’s always been rude, so I don’t really care.” You explain, catching Yoongi’s pensive expression in the corner of your eye. Likely gauging the situation of your comfort. “Thanks again for saying something, Jimin.”

“It wasn’t really anything,” He shrugs off your words, glancing towards the exit doors as a driver parks a car in the small archway. “Definitely not something that deserves thanks.”

The absentmindedness of his eyes are a familiar sight, not a common occurrence, but you’ve seen it before. Appearing cluttered amidst thoughts, Jimin acts abnormal, but not in the way as a reaction to the strained memories between you too. Something other than that bothers him, you realize and can’t stop the quiet questioning, “Are you okay?”

Yoongi glances towards you as you ask, finding a genuine focus for the man in front of you in your eyes. When he looks towards Jimin whose appearance seems hesitant at your line of questioning, Yoongi for a moment wonders if there’s still entanglement between you both. You haven’t brought up Jimin in weeks now, but certainly the thought of him crosses your mind, Yoongi realizes this, but watching forms a knot in his throat. Small, yet distinctly there as he stands separate from you both, despite his hands holding yours.

The moment of understanding startles him internally and his hand breaks from your own, as he comes back into reality hearing the employee from before calling his name. He turns back towards the counter, to retrieve his keys, listening on as the thread in his throat continues crossing in and out of itself, building up and for what reason.

“Yeah,” Wearily spoken, Jimin watches your short glance at Yoongi as his hand released yours. When your eyes quickly come back to his own, Jimin just shrugs a shoulder, forcing a half-hearted smile, “Long day… That’s all.”

Undeniably, there exists the beginnings of a line, that you have no reason to speak beyond what Jimin explains to you without substance of whatever is obviously wrong. Given all of the distance grown, and separation that has caused the awkwardness of strangers with history to fester between you both, you have no reason to go beyond the casual conversation, but you can’t erase his expression. You’re certain those around you would assume his response to be literal, but there’s more underneath it, you can see it.

You could see there was more beneath his response of surprise when you kissed him for the first time years ago, and you can just as easily decipher that there is something Jimin didn’t disclose that makes his person appear so recluse and uncertain. Worry doesn’t contain itself in your mind, instead flooding out from your heart practically shoving it, “Do you want to talk?”

It doesn’t feel wrong to ask him, but watching Jimin’s eyebrows twitch a bit wider you know the question is unexpected. Your lips tighten, trying to ignore the idea that you’ve made a mistake in offering. You turn towards Yoongi to alleviate the tension in your throat, to make the question lighter as you go on, “Right, we have time until the evening; I can talk to him and meet you afterwards?”

The second the sentence concludes you feel as though you’ve done even more wrong. Yoongi’s glance towards Jimin isn’t casual, closer to an examination, then he returns his eyes to you. It’s a small moment, but how Yoongi looks at you isn’t warm, but perhaps hurt. Disappointed in your decision, you think. Then it’s squashed away as he nods his head,

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Blinking in confusion of his reaction, you stay stunned silent and only watch as Yoongi nods his head towards Jimin and walks around the two of you towards his car outside. Frowning now, you consider if you’ve said anything for him to get so visibly upset about. Even if he’s disappointed that you want to lend Jimin an ear, Yoongi’s completely altered mannerisms seem off.

“Y/N,” You look towards Jimin as he calls out to you and smiles gently, tiredly as he continues, “You don’t have to let me rant to you. I’m sure you don’t really want to.”

“I do though.” You reiterate, mentally frustrated by why Yoongi walked away. “You seem sad about something,” Explaining your perspective, your hands squeeze together, trying to settle in belief that what you’ve done isn’t wrong-- you don’t have to act like Jimin was the worst memory of your life, despite the changes since you’ve spoken to him, he was still important to you. He’s still human and capable of feeling sad, needing someone to listen; if you’re the one worried why wouldn’t you let him. You still care about his well being, it’s that simple, “Is it wrong of me to talk to you?”

“Well, no,” He says simply, biting his lip, and you wonder if his hesitation is due to Yoongi’s reaction as well or because of the strain between you two. “Then let’s go so you won’t be too late to meet him later on.”

---

“I’m actually kind of surprised you picked a cafe.” You admit quietly, looking down at your pretty, light lavender tea drink. Lifting your eyes up to Jimin you find him adjusting a stray lock under the confines of his cap where the rest of his hair has been hidden away. As though that is the bulk of his identity, and not the designer graphic shirt and expensive Doc Martins wouldn’t bring any attention, he sits back into his chair,

“Well, it’s not busy right now,” He says, which is fair considering only another single person typing away on their laptop sits on the opposite side of the establishment. “Besides if anyone says anything it’s easier to deny anything wrong with your fake relationship.”

“Yeah,” You murmur, forgetting about that public aspect between you and Yoongi often times lately. “I guess that’s true.” You stir your drink with the straw, less interested in drinking it. “So what happened that made you look so sad?” “Ah,” Jimin rubs his jaw, remembering the conversation with Yerin. He looks at your person, finding little details that have changed and others that haven’t, but most notably acknowledges your leave and its freeing effect on your expression. It almost feels not fair to complain to you when you’re taking everything SoundWave and himself to an extent have held away from you.

He’s caught in your gaze when you finally turn towards him expectant of an answer, but he really doesn’t feel like he should tell you. Why did he agree to speak with you in the first place. The largest part of Jimin’s heart simply wanted to see you again, but what is there to say. You shouldn’t have to listen to his tales of stagnation any longer. He doesn’t want to dwell on that, so his lips keep the meeting a secret as he changes the direction,

“I’m really sorry that I never told you how I felt about your contract earlier.” Knowing this isn’t what you expected him to say, Jimin isn’t surprised as he watches your eyes drift into shock and your mouth to part slightly. “I know I should’ve.” He smiles bitterly, glancing towards the drinks on the small table. “I love you. I didn’t want to ruin us, but that wasn’t fair of me.”

“Is,” Your slowly spoken speech causes you to ball your hands onto your lap, “Is that why you looked upset?” Regret continuing to jumble his days, like how you would recall the months of silence when you kept the questions you had to yourself.

“Maybe in some ways,” He ponders, still avoiding eye contact as he instead taps his index finger once on the laminated wood. “Yerin’s always told me that I can’t do for myself what you do for everyone in the company.” You narrow your eyes, about to cut in and ask what he means but Jimin goes on. “When I was going to debut they had it set that I wouldn’t produce any of the music, but I thought that would be short-term while I learned how in the meantime.” You watch his lips contort into a dissatisfied frown, “But when it stayed like that and I asked to try making my own music she’d always say that route is worthless for the company.”

“You tried to make your own music?” The statement falls out of your lips like a question in disbelief. Always believing he had no interest from the fact he never showed you even a line of his work.

“Of course,” He chuckles, rubbing his face as the memories wash over hours of work to create samples that were passed on each and every time. “I want to be a performer and make as much of my own stuff that I can, but,” The two of you know what he means when he stops speaking. There was never an opportunity for Jimin to even try. “According to Yerin, if you and other producers didn’t make everything themselves, I’d be out of a job as an idol.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jimin turns towards your risen voice, finding your forehead creased in frustration, lips frowning like you hadn’t been trusted. He swallows air, not sure if you’d find his reasoning acceptable, because even Jimin thinks it’s just a testament to how cowardly he acted.

“I never mentioned the song rejections because I was embarrassed,” He pauses noticing your expression become more hurt, but he doesn’t stop. “You’re a genius at making songs, and I thought I was so bad at it that I couldn’t even be successful on my own without the company making everything that I am.” Jimin watches you continue to bite your lip, perhaps holding back words until he’s finished.

“But by the time you started talking about wanting to receive credit for your songs, I got scared that everything would fall apart for my own career.” He groans, rubbing his face with both hands as he shakes his head, “I know it was fucking greedy-- I really do know that, when I think about it now I get so upset. You’re getting what you deserve now though; you’ll be able to do what you want as a songwriter and producer and I’m glad. It took me losing you to get over being selfish and that’s always going to be something I have to live with, but if anything good came out of this I’m glad it’s you moving on. I’m happy for you,” When he smiles, Jimin wonders why you no longer look willing to speak. “Even if I’m not in your life anymore, I’ll still support whatever you do. I promise that.”

---

Namjoon, 6:14pm: You and Yoongi did WHAT?

Seokjin, 6:16pm: Tell me why the first song of the three is so good. How did you both make it so good?

Namjoon, 6:26pm: Y/N respond, you can’t just send a vague fucking text like that and not say anything else, where are you at and what is going on?

You stare at the four hour old text messages from just moments after your initial message in the groupchat. The words bump around as the taxi goes over rough asphalt rounding a corner, but you don’t think of a reply. Too focused on the conversation between you and Jimin that concluded just as the sun was halfway away for the night. You put your phone away in your bag, feeling the car drift to a stop as the reasons for Jimin’s silence repeat in your mind over and over.

So absentmindedly you saunter into the apartment complex, filing into the elevator and clicking the floor number while you try and think of why he would have never told you about his own problems with Yerin. No matter how the sentences repeat, it sounds like he was manipulated into submission as well as you were, yet to the extent of being your enemy in a way. Though you doubted he was actively conscious of the fact for so long, and even so Jimin’s already apologized to you. He’s settled the confusion, so why are you dwelling?

It takes a moment to realize where you are, and with a shake of your head you press your finger into the doorbell, then use the same hand to rub your temples. There’s a piece you can’t connect within yourself, that makes the conversation had so unnatural from how you would assume you’d react. You just sigh, trying to settle down your head before startling at the front door opening.

Yoongi reveals behind the door, simply looking at you for a moment. He steps back to open it wider, “You look like you’re drained.”

“Thanks.” You huff, stepping into his apartment,while frowning at the idea that everyone who has seen you probably thought the same way. You dismiss the thoughts, turning back towards Yoongi, but having to shimmy around once more as he walks off towards his couch. “Yoon-” You start a question out of confusion, but pause as you recall his dismissive exit earlier from the company.

Slowly you step towards the couch after him, watching as he slumps into the corner. You stop short of his lounging legs, head tilting as you watch him rub his face and stifle a groan, “Does your head hurt?” “No,” He laughs at your observation, in a way non judgemental, but genuinely humored by its simplicity. Then Yoongi lets his arms fall to either side of him, while he looks up toward the ceiling, “No. I acted dumb earlier. I’m sorry about it.”

“Well, I messed up our plans for dinner to talk to Jimin. I get why you would be disappointed in me. I’m sure it seemed really weird for me to do.”

“I wasn’t disappointed.” Yoongi speaks flatly, hand toying with the hair most atop his head while continuing to look up towards the ceiling. “When I was talking to Hoseok about it he said I acted like I was jealous.”

You giggle a little, thinking of the implication of the emotion and finding it a bit out of place for Yoongi’s character. From what you’ve learned about him he seems entirely trusting, though not always calm, still understanding enough to know there wasn’t a need when Jimin and you have only a completely collapsed relationship between you both.

Then you wonder about the idea of why you find the need for Yoongi to be jealous to be silly. Why would he find himself jealous about Jimin, and why do you automatically think it’s baseless.

“Did the talk go well?”

“What?” You blurt, looking up from the floor to Yoongi. His head straightens properly to look at you, finding your question strange. His lips frown towards you and then you realize what you’ve said and shake your head, “Oh, yeah.” You shrug, as Yoongi sits up, feet lying flat on the floor.

“What happened?” He asks with narrowing eyes, voice softly concerned that something went wrong because of your scattered disposition. “Did he say something, angel?”

Before his questions register you consider his nickname for you, wondering when he began using it but finding no point of time in particular. “He apologized to me.”

Yoongi notices his heart beat louder than usual, but does his best to ignore the unneeded anxiousness. “For what?”

“He was telling me that he should’ve never been selfish about wanting me to keep being uncredited. Yerin made him think he can’t succeed without all of the construction behind the scenes,” You bite your lip, thinking about the amount of worry he most likely had along with its confliction because you’re sure he truly didn’t want to hurt you through any of the internal issues. “He said he regrets losing him and I because of his fear.”

“Then what’s stopping you both from getting back together again?” Yoongi speaks without filter, but wants to retract every word instantly. The knot in his throat returns, and he wants to stop from hearing whatever you could say. He recalls the concern laced in your eyes upon seeing Jimin earlier and thinks that he doesn’t want the idea of returning to be considered.

But as you look up at him with widening eyes, Yoongi realizes he doesn’t want to get hurt by potentiality. His voice takes over again, “If he had told you then, you’d still be together with him, wouldn’t you?”

“But he didn’t tell me then!” You retort instantly, volume picking up from the insinuation of his words to push you back towards Jimin.

Yoongi stays quiet, watching you with a forming frown as you appear to grow frustrated. He should leave it at this, he should’ve divulge further, but it bothers him still-- that nagging memory of you being unaware that he took his hand from yours earlier, and all of the other instances he’s watched you be heartbroken because of Jimin-- because, “You still love him though.”

Your shoulders visibly lose tension, Yoongi swallows hard at the sight of it. Inhaling a deep breath, you consider his assumption. Consider that you haven’t brought up Jimin in so long only to go out of your way to privately speak with him right in front of Yoongi’s eyes. Consider that you never thought about the direction of your feelings for Jimin after more than a month.

When the memories play over in your head once more, you can say that they still fill you with a bittersweet joy. Thinking of all of the times you spent with Jimin while the two of you were so new to the idol industry, it’s natural to be fond.You were friends with Jimin long before there became the physical relationship, and you’ve cared for him in growing ways ever since you met him.

Jimin isn’t a bad person. And from where you left off with him today, you’re positive towards the idea that he’s changed from the fear in his yelling months earlier at the party. You still believe he’s capable of more than that and seeing whatever comes for him is a warm thought. You still care about him. There has never been a question of your changing care towards Jimin when he played such a large role in your life for so many years, you want what would be best for him.

But as you look on at Yoongi, you can’t find the perspective that he seems to believe about you. The thought never occurred to you, and certainly you can’t pinpoint a day of change, but when you try and consider fixing what has broken between you and Jimin you’re unable to process a way. And when you find Yoongi’s eyes staring straight into yours, you find that you haven’t thought about Jimin through a rose colored lense in awhile.

“No, I don’t.”

Yoongi stays silent, replaying your response in his head quite a few times. His eyebrows narrow, muted disbelief surfacing on his face as he stands from the couch. Your eyes follow his, Yoongi catches the fact as well as your lips tightening into a line, maybe out of surprise for your own words. But before he’s able to think further your head shakes,

“I haven’t for weeks now.” You take a breath, shocking yourself by how you’re able to go on about this despite realizing it only as the words escape, “I did, but I really don’t anymore.” Your hair shakes as you twist your head back and forth, wondering if there was ever a precise moment where your feelings no longer extended towards Jimin.

“I never even thought about the idea that I had stopped,” You laugh at the nonsense of the fact, watching Yoongi’s feet pad forward, eyes evidently concerned to some extent about your ramblings. “It’s so weird-- you’d think I would’ve figured it out sooner, right?” You ignore Yoongi shaking his head to your words. “I don’t know when I stopped, or,” 

You let him take your hand into his for comfort, not-believing it would remain for long. But you selfishlessly let the touch linger onwards. Undoubtedly the shock of your conclusions will make Yoongi pull away. There’s time to stop, you think that there’s no reason to shovel out so many of your emotional words at once. It’s impulsive, without calculation for any of the words you’ve said, but you think about the meaning of your last ones. Knowing there should be more tact and grace, or build up that isn’t after the rantings of your ending feelings in your past relationship, but through all of this, the words themselves no longer wish to be kept hidden in the background of your mind, so they flutter out in an exasperated whisper,

“Or when I started having feelings for you.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi​@xionysus​ @baebyjoonie​ @honeyoongles​ @betysotelo18​

[221bshrlocked]

He Who Desires (2)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2819

Warnings: heavy flirting. lots of inapropro touching. some dirty talk and a little hint of angst in the end

A/N: The next part will most likely be the last. Or there might be two more parts. I am not sure. Just going with the flow. Comments are always appreciated. Please, feedback will definitely help with my writer’s block.

Previous Part | Next Part

You woke up the next day thinking you’d find awkwardness with Bucky, surprised by how nonchalant he was being about the previous night. You spoke with him and Steve about the new commissions and where the money might be coming from, going over the plan for the hundredth time before telling Steve that the two of you still had everything under control. 

“By the way, how did you manage to make them leave last night?” Steve’s question caught you off guard and Bucky could tell you wanted to avoid that talk so he began collecting his files before responding.

“She was just being her friendly self Steve and that’s why they invited her over. Got a problem with that?” Bucky dared to look at you and saw your doe eyes looking right back at him, a part of him entertained by the sudden effect he had on you. He didn’t want to make you feel worse at this moment however, especially in front of your boss. So he turned around and began to walk away, laughing at Steve’s response before descending the stairs to leave.

“None whatsoever. We’ll uhhh talk later.” You shut off the computer before following Bucky to ask him something before he left.

“What time should I be ready? And what’s the dress code?” You pretended to busy yourself with the coffee maker, refusing to look at Bucky until he left.

“I’ll pick you up at six sharp, and don’t worry about the dress code. You’ll be getting something in the next few hours, courtesy of Romanoff and her impeccable taste. See you later doll.” Bucky winked at you before shutting the door behind him and you realized that you had another reason to be nervous because there was no way in hell Nat bought something you would wear.

You tried to distract yourself with numerous things but realized that until the clothes would arrive and the night would be over, you wouldn’t be able to regulate your heart rate. You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the front door bell go off a couple of times, running to it before the person decided to leave.

“Hi I have a package for Ms. Croft.” You stared at the young man before signing his tablet and taking the box, making sure to remember and call Nat because the name wasn’t obvious enough. You cut the tape and opened the box, eyes widening in horror because your hunch was right.

“I’m going to fucking kill you when I see you Nat. Satin? And a self wrap? Fuck!” You threw it away and decided to ignore it until it was time to get ready. Going over the players and the plan one more time, you made sure you recalled all the details before hitting the shower. You got out just in time to answer Bucky’s text, telling him you were almost ready before fixing your hair quickly. You tried to see what you could possibly wear beneath the dress and realized a bra wouldn’t work out. This was getting better by the second. 

“Oh what the hell,” you whispered at your reflection before putting on the stilettos and descending the stairs. As you unlocked the door behind you and walked to Bucky’s car, you were surprised to see him standing with your door open. He hadn’t noticed you so far, too busy looking at his phone to see you approaching him. When he heard your footsteps however, he looked up and almost dropped his phone.

“Is this okay?” You reluctantly asked and watched as he slowly approached you. He touched the knot on the side of the dress and smiled up at you before leaning down and kissing your cheek.

“You look stunning Y/N.” Bucky’s smile grew when he saw goosebumps erupt on your skin, stepping aside to let you inside the car before shutting the door behind you. Neither of you said anything for the first few minutes, and Bucky could tell you were more than nervous from your elevated heart rate.

“Listen Y/N, if you’re uncomfortable at any moment throughout the night, let me know and we will leave in a second. I don’t want to force you or anything since you didn’t sign up for this. I’m really sorry I couldn’t stop them from coming last night and for tonight. But I just want you to know that I’ll be next to you all night long alright?” He looked over and saw you nod at him before chugging down some water.

“And before I forget, where can I touch you and where can I not touch you?” Bucky knew there was no nice way of asking the question and he hoped you’d understand his intentions.

“Whatever sells the story Buck. I’m fine with you touching me but not if someone else does.” You hadn’t really thought about the meaning behind your words and flushed under Bucky’s smirk.

“Is that so darlin’?” 

“Well, I didn’t mean that I’m- it’s not like there’s any...fuck I didn’t mean it that way it’s just that you’re my dom I mean boss, fuck no no you’re my partner...okay this isn’t how I imagined the night to start.” You suddenly felt Bucky’s hands reaching for your hands and intertwining with them.

“Hey Y/N, it’s only me sweetheart. You don’t gotta worry about nothin alright?” Bucky decided to take it down a notch since you haven’t even made it to the club yet. You seemed to calm down a bit, finding some comfort in the cold hand squeezing your own. 

When you finally made it, Bucky parked the car and walked out to open the door for you, throwing the keys to the valet before taking your hands and pulling you close to him. “If I make you uncomfortable at any point, just say you want to use the bathroom and I’ll take it down a notch.” 

“You’re already making me uncomfortable,” you whispered more to yourself than him and quickly said nothing when he asked you what you said. Bucky showed his ID at the door and walked right through with his arm wrapped around your waist. You were amazed by how realistic the camouflage looked on his arm and wondered how he managed to not touch anyone with it. Approaching the bar, Bucky asked you what you wanted to drink and ordered the same as well.

“Two Jack and Coke please,” he handed the bartender a twenty dollar bill before scanning the room to see where everyone was. Spotting his boss at the end of the room, he grabbed your drinks and led you easily through the crowd.

Bucky’s arm tightened around your waist as soon as you were in front of everyone, quickly introducing you to everyone before sitting at one end of the couch. You were about to sit next to him when he asked you to take the other side, wanting to make sure that you were on his left so he wouldn’t need to pay extra attention. You, however, hated being near his metal arm. It wasn’t because you were uncomfortable by it, on the contrary, you enjoyed it a little bit too much and were afraid he’d figure this out.

“So James, how come you haven’t talked about Y/N at all? Do we have to find out you have a girlfriend by accident?” Kaleb asked and you couldn’t help but feel everyone’s eyes on you, especially the men. Bucky chuckled before coming up with some excuse about liking to keep his private life private. He turned to you and watched as you sipped your drink before smiling up at him. While Bucky talked and joked with his partners, you watched everyone and pretended to not understand what anyone was talking about, already committing to memory their body language and choice of deals. 

Suddenly, Ryan got up and approached the empty seat next to you. You quickly uncrossed your legs and smiled up at him before scooting closer to Bucky. 

“So tell me Y/N, how’d you guys meet? Is there like a website for this thing or do you just put flyers out and see if anyone-” Before Ryan could finish his question, Bucky was already standing up and taking you with him. “Sorry but she likes this song a lot, don’t you doll?” You nodded and squeezed his hand before making your way to the dance floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ they have no sense of shame do they?” You asked and laughed when Bucky told you they were lawyers so the answer was a hard no. You turned around and saw everyone staring at the two of you and realized you weren’t even dancing and before you could tell Bucky you should maybe pick it up a bit, you felt his hand hold your wrist and turn your around. Your back hit his chest harshly and you turned enough to see him smiling at you before leaning his head in the crook of your neck. 

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the way Bucky was touching you but you suddenly felt dizzy from the proximity, sighing and melting into his arms as his hands roamed from your neck down to your stomach. Bucky knew he should hold back and not push your limits but then he felt your hands comb in his hair and softly pull on it and he lost all control he had. 

You look at me and girl you take me to another place Got me feeling like I'm flying, like I'm outer space Something 'bout your body says 'come and take me' Got me begging, got me hoping that the night don't stop

With every beat, Bucky got bolder with his touches, with one hand wrapped across your chest and laying just above your breast while the other continued to push your hips and roll them against his crotch. He opened his eyes and saw your lips parting, chest beating violently against his hands and eyes shut and focusing on him and he knew right at that moment that this wasn’t all an act. It was more than that. For the two of you.

Bailando, bailando, bailando, bailando Tu cuerpo y el mio llenando el vacío Subiendo y bajando (subiendo y bajando) (Bailando, bailando, bailando, bailando Ese fuego por dentro me está enloqueciendo, me va saturando

As soon as Bucky sang along and bit down on your shoulder, you moaned against him and opened your eyes in horror, knowing he definitely heard that last whine. But then you saw the absolute need in his eyes and convinced yourself that maybe, just maybe, he was reciprocating your feelings. You didn’t bother holding back, continuing to gyrate against his chest and crotch and smiling when you felt something hard poking back at you. Bucky grabbed your neck and twisted it so you could face him and before you could say anything, he was attacking your lips and swallowing your whines, not caring that the two of you were in a public space. 

Girl I like the way you move Come and show me what to do People tell me that you want me Girl you got nothing to lose I can't wait no more (Ya no puedo más) I can't wait no more (Ya no puedo más)

You could tell Bucky was struggling with keeping himself together because the more you kissed back, the harder he was grabbing at your waist. Reaching for his flesh hand, you dug your nails into his wrist and almost fell right down when you heard him growl against you. Had he not held you harshly against him, you were sure you would’ve made a scene. Not that you weren’t already. Without missing a beat, Bucky turned you around and pulled you flush against him, wrapping his arms around your back to keep you as close to him as possible. You wanted to look away from his intense gaze but couldn’t, throwing your head on his shoulder when you felt his thigh part your legs and continue to dance shamelessly. 

I wanna be contigo And live contigo, and dance contigo Para have contigounanocheloca Y besartu boca I wanna be contigo And live contigo, and dance contigo Para have contigo una noche loca Tú, tremenda loca

Your short dress began to rise up and you wanted to tell him that he should stop but then you heard him whisper the filthiest thing in your ear and as you whined at the sensation, Bucky increased his ministrations, going as far as pushing you down on his thighs. He could feel the wetness seeping through your panties and when he looked down, he could vaguely see a wet spot forming on his pants. Not wanting to embarrass you any further, he slowed down a bit but made sure you weren’t going anywhere. Raising your chin, he looked into your eyes and leaned forward one last time to capture your lips with his own. He swirled his tongue skillfully around yours and chuckled when he felt your wrap your arms around his neck and keep him there. 

I look at you and it feels like paradise (estoy en otra dimensón) You got me spinning, got me crazy, got me hypnotized I need your love, I need you closer Keep me begging, keep me hoping that the night don't stop

As the song continued and everyone danced around the two of you, you felt your heart skip a beat when the metal shifted in Bucky’s arm, letting you know he was either ready to fight or nervous. 

“Fuck okay, doll I’m just gonna say this and I know I shouldn’t because we’re in the middle of a mission but fuck it. I can’t stop thinkin about you and I know you might think this was because of yesterday but this was long overdue. I keep thinkin’ about your lips and your soft skin and those little fucking sighs whenever I touch you and I can’t hold back anymore. I know I’m technically your boss but who cares. There aren’t any rules about this. Tell me if I’m outta line but just- if you feel the same way, please. I need you darlin’, I crave you every second of every fucking day. And you’re killin’ me with this. Goddamn when you walked out and I saw your nipples poking through this fucking satin, I wanted to take you right back inside and fucking devour you. Got me so hard baby can you feel that? Can you feel how fuckin hard my cock is for you sweetheart?” Bucky pushed your lower half to him and you moaned when you looked down and saw the bulge on the front of his pants.

“Bucky, please...let’s leave. Fuck me, please. I- I’ll be a good doll, I promise.” You hesitated saying the last bit but let out a long breath when you saw his eyes fill with hunger.

“Fucking hell, baby where’ve you been all my life?” Bucky asked before stepping out once he realized the song was done. “Shit, I can’t. Not now sweetheart. We gotta get through tonight first but I promise. I promise I will take you home and worship every inch of your body, beginning with that sweet sweet pussy I can smell.” He gave you a quick peck before walking back to your group and staring down anyone that thought to say something about the two of you. Ryan knew it was best to not ask or flirt with you again after the little show the two of you put on for everyone. 

Bucky sat down and pulled you right on top of him to cover his boner, laughing when someone joked about getting him some ice. You asked one of the waiters to get you an iced water to calm yourself and continued to watch everyone talk about their commissions. By the end of the night, you had managed to get close enough to two partners and copy all the data on their cell phones, making sure that everything was sent to Steve and deleted from your phone in case they suspected the two of you. Once everyone was leaving, you stood on the side and waited until the valet brought your car. 

Bucky was so busy chatting up the driver that he didn’t notice you were gone until it was too late. He turned around and called your name a couple of times and when he looked down at his phone to track the GPS in your heels, his heart sank. And he realized that the mission wasn’t as easy as the two of you originally thought. Quickly dialing Steve, he got in his car and drove to the house, already coming up with a plan to get you out.

“Steve, Y/N’s been taken.”

[ayearofpike]

Strange Girl

Simon Pulse, 2015 413 pages, 19 chapters + epilogue ISBN 978-1-4814-5058-4 LOC: PZ7.P626St 2015 OCLC: 936552329 Released November 17, 2015 (per B&N)

There’s a new girl in school, and something about her is unbelievably interesting to Fred Allen. Maybe it’s the way she carries herself. Maybe it’s the way she refers to herself as merely a vessel for conveying the knowledge she seems to have about our greater nature. Maybe it’s the remarkable power she commands, the way that happiness and healing ride in her wake everywhere she goes. Or maybe it’s her sweet ass. Whatever it is, she seems to connect with Fred just as quickly, elevating him to a greater happiness than he’s ever known. Of course, as with any powerful girl that people don’t understand, this happiness is fated to flee just as quickly when she pushes herself beyond what her body can handle.

Or, shorter: It’s Sati. It’s Sati set in high school with teenagers. It’s Sateen.

Part of the reason I took on this project is that I felt like my own writing was stagnating. Time was I couldn’t sit down without pumping out a thousand words of my own universe, my own characters and plots and desires and ideas. But at a certain point, I started to try to focus on bettering and refining one of my main tales, one I’d revisited off and on since sixth grade ... and I just burned out. I realized that I simply could not rework this story again, that it wasn’t ever going to be what I wanted or do what I wanted, or at least not in this fifth attempt in ten years. I couldn’t keep talking about the same thing again.

This might be indicative of why I’ve had a hard time pushing through as A Year (And A Half Now, Almost) Of Pike has approached its end point. There’s no denying that the man is a killer storyteller, and that some of his ideas and worlds were stunning and even revolutionary within the genre. But thirty years is a long time to stay in the game, especially when you’re pumping out more than three books a year for the main part of your popularity. It’s admirable that he was able to keep that up for so long without resorting to the James Patterson model of hiring someone else to write the books that have his name in large type across the top. But then, when you’ve only got one brain working on all these extensive ideas and under these onerous deadlines, you’re invariably going to start to repeat yourself. 

Almost everything Pike wrote after the start of Spooksville (I can’t even be charitable and say after his car accident) has repeated or revisited some major theme from an earlier work (mostly his own; I see you, Black Knight). And as I’ve pushed through and read every single one of his published works, I’ve started to feel that same fatigue that I had when trying to rewrite and repair something I’d spent so much time on of my own. See, this is why I can never actually be an academic despite being a composition teacher: so much of studying English is finding your niche and continuing to write about the same topic for your entire career, and I don’t think I could ever devote that much of my professional life to writing about the same thing. I just got tired of my ill-researched writing about the complete works of my favorite childhood author, for fuck’s sake. 

Still, if any book was due a revamp, Sati fits that mold. It was his first adult novel, it kinda got buried to all except his most devoted fans, and maybe it would be timely to publish a book about kindness and introspection and acceptance just as the muckrakingest American election in recent history was getting underway. But most of all, it’s still a relevant look at how we act and what we think about when we consider faith and religion and God. Considering how audiences and the book market have so drastically changed in the last thirty years, it totally makes sense that Pike might want to revisit the concept for a new generation. And honestly, I’m a victim of my own age and literacy here — nobody else who might be interested in this YA book in 2015 is reading its spiritual predecessor from 1988.

I’m mostly going to blast through the summary, because it’s been more than three weeks since I finished the book and I don’t actually want to reread it to remember specifics. Fred is a high-school musician living in Elder, South Dakota, and just like any other teenager in a small town is dreaming of escape. His parents own a hardware store and just barely maintain a rocky marriage, though all we know about that is what Fred specifically tells us. His best friend Janet, the presumptive valedictorian, has her own messy home life, but they always have each other’s backs, which is why Janet pushes Fred toward the new girl.

This is Aja, a beautiful Brazilian who relocated to South Dakota for some reason three months ago but didn’t start school until today. The teacher in the class they share is unreasonably mean to her for apparently no reason, but it doesn’t put Fred off buying her lunch and trying to learn more about her. He’s unsuccessful, largely, but she does learn about him and his band and their work before she takes off. They’re doing a gig at a nearby Air Force bar on the weekend, and everyone knows Fred is the real talent and pressures him to perform a little more of his original and quieter work at the show. This here is Fred’s difficulty: he wants it, he has the talent and the drive, but he second-guesses how much people actually want to hear his voice.

Aja gets kicked out of the class they share when she’s accused of cheating on her entrance exam (what?), so Fred doesn’t see her again until after their gig. The crowd is getting raucous and angry, and the drummer doesn’t take well to that, so the evening is just starting to devolve into a brawl when Aja stands on a table and tells everyone to calm the fuck down. She also helps out one of the servicemen, who has taken a whiskey bottle to the head but now isn’t even bleeding. Weird, right? 

A local reporter sure thinks so. She posts a video of the event, with a suggestion that maybe Aja is more than she appears to be. Can she heal people? The folks at their next gig have the same question, surrounding her and generally pestering until Fred manages to pull her away. They drop her off at home, the biggest house in town, and Fred finally asks her out, sort of, by responding to her question about his unhappiness by saying she should stop accepting dates with other dudes. Like, possessive much already? But on his way to work the next day, he sees the teacher in the cemetery, near her son’s grave, and decides to talk to her about Aja. This opens a floodgate: the teacher blames herself for her son running outside and getting hit by a car, and apparently Aja knew more than she should have, which was why the teacher was so salty with her before. So what else does this girl know?

Fred goes to pick Aja up for their first official date, and ends up talking to her guardian, where he finally learns more about her past. It seems that Aja was a feral child living near a village in the Amazon, and she had a reputation as a magical healer and talent. The guardian was compelled to the village for some reason, and appointed herself the caretaker of the girl, and only uprooted them to South Dakota because Aja said they needed to go there. The guardian only has a vague idea why, but she’s pretty sure it’s related to Fred.

They go back to his house, because his parents are out, and he plays her a song almost off the top of his head that she’s inspired. Before they can start gettin’ freaky, Fred’s phone rings, and apparently his hot-headed drummer has gotten into it with some drug dealers and cops in a nearby town and is in critical condition in the hospital. So Fred and Aja go there, but when he calls the guardian’s valet (or whatever this dude is; it’s kinda muddy) to tell her what’s up, he gets pissed and freaked out and orders Fred to make Aja leave the hospital. Only he can’t find her. And when he does, she’s all dizzy, and passes out on the ride home, and when he drops her off the valet screams at him and slams the door in his face.

But the drummer wakes up, and when Fred goes to see him, he hears a story of two beings visiting him, and his realization that this was the end, only he wasn’t ready to go because it would cause too much pain. This is the only real mention of the subplot that the band’s bass player is gay and in love with the drummer, and even though the drummer is straight (I mean, I guess he could be bi, Pike doesn’t really go into details, but the point is they don’t end up together) he cares too much about his friend to just kick the bucket. So the smaller of the beings picked up on that and touched him, and then he woke up. 

There’s also a reporter there trying to talk to Fred and his best friend about the miracle that Aja performed, and they do their best to brush her off only she isn’t giving up. In fact, she’s using a YouTube channel to promote the idea that Aja is a goddess or something, with a video of the way she ended the bar brawl and testimony from a nurse in the hospital that she touched the drummer not long before he arose from life-threatening injuries. Fred agrees to meet with the reporter and actually gets more information than he gives up: namely, Aja has been curing and healing people since her days in Brazil and that she spoke with all of the villagers about her decision to leave for the US, saying there was an important reason to do so.

Before he can confront Aja and her handlers about it, her guardian dies. The valet says she’s written a letter to Fred, but he can’t seem to find it. So while we wait, let’s go on a date! Only someone in the restaurant recognizes Aja and insists she heal her daughter. And this is where we find Aja’s limitations: she can’t help this girl; her fate is to live for a short time. 

In blasting through the summary I might be glossing over Aja’s description of her connection to the cosmos and how her powers and abilities work. A lot of it ties back to the same things Pike loves to revisit when thinking about metaphysics: the oneness of Buddhist nirvana, letting go of desires and selfishness to connect to the unity of humanity, and being able to tap into superhuman powers once you’re linked. Aja calls the overarching all the “Big Person,” and her abilities come from what the Big Person tells her is necessary. She can act out of her own human desires, respond to the Little Person, but when she does it takes a toll on her health, which is what happened with the drummer. But how does someone so young get tapped into a consciousness so vast and lose her childish selfishness? We’ll get there.

Anyway, Fred goes to a band rehearsal the next day and is stopped on the way by a family who has another sick kid in the hospital, desperate for him to put them in touch with Aja. He doesn’t want to do it, knowing what he knows, but his friends accuse him of being overprotective. The best friend compares a lot of what Aja has said she does with practices she’s learned through yoga and meditation, to draw an explicit line for those in the audience who haven’t just read 94 other Pike books and didn’t look more deeply into Eastern religion because of it. And then Fred’s phone rings, and it’s the family, and they already talked to Aja and their daughter is feeling better so he doesn’t have to put himself out. What? The kid was in the hospital in another state. Aja explains that she’s not actually the vessel: the Big Person does the work, and all she’s doing is making it aware and asking the question of “can we?” 

The will reading for Aja’s guardian comes up, and in addition to splitting her (holy crap immense) wealth between Aja and the valet, she has also left instructions with her lawyer that Fred should get an audition with a record label in LA. The laywer also has the letter, which basically says that Fred can’t protect Aja from the infirm and ill, and he shouldn’t try. I guess this lady would know, right, having taken care of the girl for something like ten years. But word is getting out, more and more people are asking Aja for help, national reporters are starting to show up, Fred has a weird encounter with a spooky fortune teller in a graveyard, and he can’t help but be concerned. So he helps the valet hire a private security firm to keep these people away from Aja, which (when they follow her to school on Monday) prompts an emergency community meeting about the disruption of education by these horrible rumors.

As it turns out, this is actually a racist move by the principal, who has a reputation as an evangelical Christian and has unfairly targeted minorities (especially our drummer, who is Mexican) for years. He’s trying to get a lynch mob together without exactly saying as much. Only too bad for him a lot of people in the community (the more open-minded ones, the ones who have actually spoken to her) already support Aja, because of their own first-hand experience with her help. But enough people are screaming about Jesus that they’re just about ready to light up torches and drive Aja out of town. Until she reveals the racist principal’s big secret: he had a child with a black woman, and could never reconcile his love for them with his love for pointy white hoods or whatever, and then the kid died and he has always regretted it. And Aja holds his hands, and talks to him, and suddenly here comes the creepy fortune teller who it turns out was the mother of Racist Principal’s child, and they embrace and apologize and forgive, and the meeting is suddenly over.

Somewhere in all the Aja hullaballoo, the best friend took off to New York to live with her mother. She won’t answer Fred’s calls, she won’t respond to texts, and Aja (the last one to see her before she left) insists that she can’t be the one to reveal her confidences. So Fred goes to see her dad and try to get more info. Now this isn’t the first time Best Friend has left with the mom: the first was right after they got divorced, only she moved back a year later without any explanation. And the divorce was just as sudden and explanation-free, only the dad just accepted it. And Fred realizes, while he’s standing there in the living room and picking up hints from the dad and looking at old pictures where both women look uncomfortable: he’s a sexual predator. He touched his daughter inappropriately, because his wife and her mother was somehow loveless (leading to the girl coming back the first time) and so he partook of some fucked-up urges. Only the girl has never been able to accept that it wasn’t her fault, and in talking to Aja and exploring herself is she just getting there. So of course she needs to not LIVE with the motherfucker while she’s coming to grips.

Fortunately for Fred so he doesn’t stab a bitch, the trip to LA is nigh. Aja goes with him, and he plays his demos live, finishing with the new song he’s still writing for her. Of course that’s the song they want, and they hustle him into a recording session with an engineer to lay down a single. On the way back, Best Friend calls and asks if she can stay with him and his parents long enough to graduate high school with her friends, and as their flights land within a couple hours of each other in Sioux Falls, they plan to drive home together. Fred and Aja get there first, and he has to intimidate the dad away from the airport before his friend gets there. Only that can’t work for the whole state: he’s waiting for them to drive out of the parking lot, and attempts to run them off the road to take back his little girl.

Did I mention that it’s winter in South Dakota? The interstate is a sheet of ice, and these assholes are playing chicken at 100 mph. Of course they wreck the cars, and the kids get off with minor bumps and bruises. The dad isn’t so lucky:  his car has overturned and trapped him inside. Now the best friend is upset with him, but she’s not a sociopath and he’s still her dad, so they work to pry him out of the car before it explodes. But the way he’s bleeding and choking, he’s probably going to die anyway, so she wants Aja to heal him. And this is Fred’s great test of faith: do I argue against this and risk losing my best friend, or do I go along and risk losing my girlfriend? He finally agrees to let her listen to the Big Person.

Of course Aja collapses immediately upon laying hands on the molester. But by the time emergency response gets to the accident, he’s feeling better and Aja is fading fast. She can now finally tell Fred about her childhood, her past, which she has long avoided. It turns out that her dad was a drug dealer who stole from his bosses, and as punishment they sent three strongarms to kill the whole family. Only when they murdered Aja’s mother, her soul fled her body, leaving a gap for connection to the Big Person. The female enforcer sensed this and took the kid and ran ... and this female enforcer ended up being Racist Principal’s baby momma. No, I don’t know how it works, get your own globe. 

But now she’s given her all to Molester Dad and is on her way out. Still, her reason for coming to South Dakota was a good one: love. She knew that Fred needed her, and she knew that he would benefit from the connection she might provide to the Big Person. And even though her time was fated to be short, she feels happy that she completed her mission of love, and trusts that Fred will continue to spread the message. One last kiss, and she’s gone.

They end up at a hospital, and of course they want to do an autopsy on Aja to see why she died so suddenly and unexpectedly. The valet is firmly against it, and manages to get custody of the body and take it home, where he and Fred say one last goodbye before he lights the shit on fire. It’s a good thing she already filled out a will, that gave all her money to Fred, and that the lawyer has a copy of it!

There’s a long-ass epilogue that talks about what happened to everyone. The best friend has kids of her own and almost never talks to her dad, the two other band members founded a holistic medicine company in San Francisco and got married but to other people, and Fred himself was never able to leverage his meeting and audition into his own performing career but now writes hit songs for other people. But I guess none of them are about Aja, because now he had to write a book about it? And it’s done! The end!

See what I mean? This shit has been done before, almost beat for beat, and by the SAME AUTHOR. Now I’m not averse to reading a book again (cf. this whole goddamn project), but at least I’m going into the book knowing it is what it is. I’m not expecting to see something that is labeled a new work that actually retells a previous story that I literally just read. Maybe James Patterson can get away with that, but I don’t read his books either. 

At any rate, this post is finally done. I have this monkey off my back, and maybe now I can reflect and give some closure on the whole project. But I’ll save that for another post.

[thebigpapilio]

The Alphabet Ask Game’s Answers!

The Alphabet Ask Game I invented (reinvented?) has many answers waiting to be unveiled. You will find which metaphorical doors have been opened here... 

You should look at the above link before making any requests. You will have to look up definitions for the words. Sorry... 

UPDATE 7/7/19: From here, I might post one or two fic-recs for stated favorite characters.

UPDATE 7/14/19: Since I think this has died down, I’m just gonna fill in the rest day by day. If anyone volunteers another letter, I’ll throw in the daily one as an extra.

Let’s see how much we can do, everyone!

A

While I had many choices from Miraculous, I instead decided to go for a series close to my childhood’s heart - Alex the Lion (Madagascar). With the exception of Penguins of Madagascar, watching the movies has been a tradition on my mom’s side since the first one, so I thought this would be a nice pick! Known as the King of New York, Alex has gone on many adventures with his friends (NOPE). On those adventures, he has (NICE TRY), (HAHAHAH-NO), and eventually he (YEAH NO SPOILERS). Wait... if Alex is the King, and Spider-Man protects New York, does that make Spider-Man Alex’s Knight or something?

Headcanon based off “Abomasum” - All wielders of the Ox Miraculous have been able to swallow anything without throwing up immediately. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t puke it out at all, though - it just means they are less likely to puke as quickly as a non-Ox wielder.

Story Idea based off “Au Courant” - Overwatch AU where the Slipstream came back, after Talon showed up but before Amelie’s kidnapping. It would feature her & Winston after she was found and fixed up with the Chronal Accelerator, with Winston catching her up on everything that has happened.

B

C

D

E

F

G

Is it that wrong that I would pick Gabriel Agreste/Collector/Hawkmoth (Miraculous Ladybug) as one of my favorites? I find his backstory interesting, and his powers even more so. While I do feel bad for him, I know that’s no excuse to do what he does. He not only fits my definition of spoiled but Einstein’s definition of insanity! 

Headcanon based off “Greng-jai” - Marinette got herself into helping so many people all at once because Tom or Sabine got hurt - however big or small the resulting pain - in the bakery when she made a mistake of some sort, and she started being ultra-helpful to try and atone for it. Eventually, it turned into just how she is.

Story Idea based off “Goodfella” - Gabriel created his evil lair with the help of... illegal parties. How else was he supposed to keep the whole thing secret?

H

I

J

K

L

M

Makoto Niijima a.k.a. Queen (Persona 5) is one of the more “normal” members of the Phantom Thieves. Ever since she helped the team defeat a greedy mafia member called Kaneshiro with her newly awakened Persona Johanna - later Anat - Shujin’s School Council President has introduced many a villain to her spiked fists.

Headcanon based off “Manqué” - Nathalie’s a Hi-Po who could have become a lot more powerful in the fashion world - more than Gabriel - but her attraction to Gabriel holds her back. Gabriel knows this, and it scares him - until Mayura, it was the only reason he kept her around.

Story Idea based off “Meacock” - In which Adrien walks in on Nathalie’s secret stereotypically-girly side (writer picks the details) and gets her to be a bit more honest with herself. Bonus Points if there’s trans!Adrien. Extra Bonus Points if she reveals herself as Mayura. 

N

O

P

Q

R

S

It may not count like the others, but I chose to go with Jack Morrison a.k.a. Soldier:76. Overwatch’s fandom has many “family roles,” and Jack is the Team Dad. While I haven’t played in a long time, I recall him being the only former Offensive character who can heal others. Also, did you know Overwatch’s former Strike Commander has the middle name of Francis?

Headcanon based off “Sarmie” - Max is terrible at food prep other than slapping something in a microwave, but he makes a killer sandwich.

Story Idea based off “Sui Generis” - Adrien asks Plagg what made him special enough to be chosen. Bonus points for Gabriel angst. 

T

U

V

W

X

Y

I don’t want to repeat the same fandom too often, so for Y, I chose Yoshi (Super Mario Bros.). T. Yoshisaurus Munchakoopas (yes, that’s their full name) and their species have been helping the Mario Brothers since they were babies. They can swallow almost anything with their long tongue, and turn them into eggs for “ammo.” Speedy, sweet, and set with a stupendously-sized appetite for fruit, Yoshi will be your best friend when you need them. Just don’t let him run off the cliff, okay?

Headcanon based off “Yellowback” - Ohya has a successful side business writing fictional stories under the alias of Beelzebubbly. She had been considering quitting journalism to work on it the day Akira began a Social Link with her.

Story Idea based off “Ylem” - A fic on the composition of kwami and how it changed as new ones were created.

Z

Valete,  TheBigPapilio

[barpurplewrites]

Not in the romantic fashion - 4

Story So Far (HERE)

-x-x-x-

Cogsworth was perturbed. He would even go as far as to describe himself disgruntled, although he had always considered that a rather crass sounding word. Since Mr Gold had wed and brought Mrs Gold into the household nothing had run to schedule. Not a single thing! Dinner was frequently late, because the Master and Mistress had become distracted in the library. He still shuddered when thinking of the request that came several nights ago. Mr Gold had requested sandwiches to be served in the library rather than a sit-down meal in the dining room. The irregularity of it all!

He had hoped that Mrs Potts would stand with him in gently reminding to the Master that a meal had already been prepared. Unfortunately, Mrs Potts was apparently enjoying the spontaneity that abounded in the house now and had simple carved the roast and served it as the requested sandwiches. Laughing about honeymooners while she did it!

And it wasn’t only dinner that had been affected by Mrs Gold. Mr Gold had discarded one of his cravats, a handsome black and white checked silk, simply because Mrs Gold had declared it the most hideous thing she had ever laid eyes upon. He had untied it, there at the breakfast table, and tossed it into the fire! Cogsworth had not been able to believe the report from Lumiere, who had been called to fetch another less offensive cravat. To think of a gentleman of Mr Gold’s standing disrobing himself at breakfast!

Pictures had been moved; furniture rearranged; try as he might Cogsworth could not keep up with where trinkets were currently displayed. Mr Gold had ordered that any alterations Mrs Gold requested were to be accommodated as if he himself had issued the request.

Chaos! The whole house had become a hotbed for chaos.

Loath as he was to admit it Cogsworth would happily return to the bedlam that followed Mrs Gold’s arrival. The household was once again running to a schedule, but it was a sorrowful one. Since their early return from their engagement at Lady de Vil’s Mr and Mrs Gold had not spoken a word to each other. Mr Gold spend his days and nights shut away in his study, only emerging to sit alone at the breakfast table each morning. Mrs Gold took her meals in her rooms, and only ventured out to take a book or two from the library.

Peace and regularity reigned in the house, but it was hollow and somber.

 After three days Cogsworth was beginning to fret. Mrs Gold had not divulged any reason for the sudden change to Merida. Mr Gold barely spoke at all. In desperation to discover the cause Cogsworth had dispatched Lumiere to Lady de Vil’s to visit with his friend Babette, who served as a maid in that household.

It was after dinner when Lumiere returned. With a despondent look on his normally jolly face he spoke a simple five words.

“Mr Killian Jones was there.”

Cogsworth groaned. Mrs Potts swore under her breath. Merida looked confused. Ashley, who was young and had only been with the household this past year said; “Oh, Mr Jones is supposed to be a very dashing fellow.”

The hard looks she received from Mr Cogsworth, Mrs Potts and Lumiere made her frown.

“Well, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Mrs Potts clucked her tongue and shook her head; “The only thing you need to know about Mr Killian Jones is that he is a scoundrel. Now, about your chores, girl. The fireplace in the library won’t lay itself.”

Ashley left the kitchen with bad grace, muttering all the way about how she was never allowed to hear the toffs gossip. Cogsworth was beginning to harbour a few doubts about the girl’s suitability to service. She displayed an insatiable desire for gossip and had no care about whom she repeated subjects too.

Merida tapped the table; “I can see there is more to tell Lumiere, so start talking.”

Lumiere poured himself a cup of tea a dropped into his seat with a sigh; “Unfortunately you are right. Jones accosted Mrs Gold while she was briefly alone. They had not been formally introduced. None of the staff were close enough to hear what he said to her, but Babette says the look of repulsion on Mrs Gold’s face was clear from across the room.”

Mrs Potts snorted; “No surprised. That scoundrel never says anything worth hearing.”

If Merida was surprised at Mrs Potts interruption, she didn’t show it. Instead she shook her head; “There must be more. Mrs Belle can hold her own against foolish comments.”

Lumiere glanced around and took a deep breath; “Jones attempted to touch Mrs Gold.”

He paused, ready for the outraged comments of his fellow staff.

“The audacity of the man!”

“The cad!”

“Cheek of him!”

Lumiere nodded his agreement and continued; “That was when Mr Gold stepped in and dragged Jones away from Mrs Gold, by throat. Babette says everyone froze, except for Mrs Gold who rushed to tell Mr Gold to stop.”

Cogsworth mopped his brow with his handkerchief; “We must be thankful she did. We don’t want a repeat of the…”

He glanced at Merida and trailed off. Merida gave him a shrewd look; “There’s a history between Mr Gold and this Jones isn’t there? A nasty one judging by the way you all react to the mention of his name. And Mr Gold must had been in a fierce mood to unsettle Mrs Belle so.”

Butler, housekeeper and valet shared a look. Lumiere shrugged. Mrs Potts gave a curt nod. Cogsworth sighed.

“Mr Gold is not a violent man. He does not raise his voice or fists to anyone, with the exception of Killian Jones. Many years ago, Jones caused the death of someone close to Mr Gold. He showed no remorse for his actions, in fact bragged about it at large. Mr Gold called him out. The resulting duel was fought with pistols. Jones missed his shot. Mr Gold’s shot caught Jones in the hand, the surgeon had to remove three fingers. Jones left for parts overseas and Mr Gold considered the matter settled. That he has returned now, and has already targeted Mrs Gold, is most troubling.”

Merida sat back in her chair and blew out a breath. In her month in this house she had never heard Mr Cogsworth speak so concisely. His words were all the more unsettling for the plain fashion of delivery. She was debating whether to tell Mrs Belle of this history when Mrs Potts patted her on the hand.

“It’s the sort of thing that would be best coming from the Master. Do you think Mrs Gold might be willing to speak with him, soon?”

A tense silence enveloped the room as Merida considered. Finally, she said; “This all makes more sense now. Mrs Belle, she’s been deceived by folks before, and I’m thinking that’s what she feels has happened here. Mr Gold’s been all manners and sweetness, then to see him in a rage would have been a shock to her. I reckon she’s done as much considering as she can in her own head.”

Merida looked at each of the hopeful faces staring at her; “I may have to give her a wee nudge, but I reckon she’ll join the Master for breakfast in the morning.”

Cogsworth and Mrs Potts sagged with relief, while Lumiere punched the air.

“I shall make sure he is well turned out, and not a checkered cravat in sight.”

The matter between husband and wife was a long way from being resolved, but for the first time in three days the staff had hope.

  Gold gazed unseeing at the fire crackling in the hearth. Three days since Belle had spoken with him. No, he must think of her as Mrs Gold, he had no right to assume the intimacy of her given name, even within his own mind. He had lost any goodwill, or tender feeling she had developed towards him. All because he could not contain his temper when he saw Jones speaking to her. After all this time Jones still made his blood boil, and he had been so close to Mrs Gold.

In his moment of madness, he had fancied he could see Jones’ poison emanating from him and reaching out in sinuous tendrils towards Mrs Gold. He would not let that Jones destroy another person dear to him

He raked his hands through his hair and groaned. Once again his mind tortured him with the myriad of other ways he could have handled the encounter. If only he had maintained an aloof bearing, he could have stepped in and removed Mrs Gold from the situation calmly. If he’d been in control, he could have affected indifference at Jones’ presence and may have stood a chance of convincing the damned man that he was not worth a thought. Now Jones knew for sure that he could still provoke Gold and do so with ease.

He prayed to any wandering gods that might look kindly on his pleas, that Jones believed it was festering resentment over old wounds that had caused his violent reaction. If Jones suspected for one second that the larger root was his tender feelings towards Mrs Gold, then he would set his sights on her downfall without remorse.

There was much he should be focusing his energies on. His business dealing need attention, and he needed to discover why Jones was back from overseas and what he was planning and with whom. He had the motivation for none of it, all he desired was for Mrs Gold to speak with him.

Each morning he bathed and dressed hoping that she would join him for breakfast. From the moment they had returned from Lady de Vil’s he had wanted to beg her forgiveness, but her manner in the carriage had been one of fear and revulsion towards his person. He resolved not to force his company upon her. He could march up to her room, bang on the door and demand entrance, demand that she hear him out. The idea made him feel sick to his stomach. He never wanted to see that look of terror in her eyes, knowing that he had been the cause of it, ever again.

So, he waited, and hoped that once she felt ready, she would speak with him. The very first thing he was going to do was offer his deepest apology for terrorizing her. If she was willing to listen further, he would lay his whole sorry history with Jones out for her, every damning detail. Beyond that he had no idea how their conversation would progress. Would Mrs Gold forgive him? Would she wish to leave him? It was possible, their marriage was not consummated, it could be dissolved. In preparation for his wedding he had looked into how such an annulment could be achieved. He could make it happen with no detriment to Mrs Gold’s character or social standing. The thought of doing so made him want to weep, but he would grant it to her without complaint if doing so would made her happy.

Gods above how he missed the sight of her happiness. With a simple smile Mrs Gold could light up a room, she had brought joy to the cold barren waste of his soul. And now, thorough his beastly and base temper he had lost that light and was in bleak darkness once more.

His eyes fell upon his pocket watch. He lifted it with care from the side table where he had placed it when his discarded his waistcoat. His thumb stroked around the dent in the case and a sad smile tugged at his lips. The catch gave easily under the pressure of his fingers, and the lid opened to reveal a face, long lost, but never forgotten.

“I will not let Belle fall foul of Jones. I will not fail her as I did you. I swear to you Balefire.”

[ijustwant2write]

‘I like you either way’-Dimitri Mitropoulos x Reader

(GIF credit to @club-riot)

Masterlist

Summary: requested by @champagneholland : ‘Dimitri wants to go out with the reader, even if she is not interested at all. After insisting for days and days, she accepts. The reader does everything not to impress him (no makeup, casual clothes...) and this makes Dio fall for her even more’

Characters: Dimitri Mitropoulos x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Feeling something hit the back of my head, I looked around, confused at the sensation. On the floor was a scrunched up piece of paper, which I assumed was the object that hit me. As I glanced around the library, I couldn’t find the culprit, seeing everyone staring at their computers, their noses deep in a book or drowning beneath plies and piles of paperwork. I opened the piece of paper, scoffing as I read the message inside.

You look like you could use a break.

Let me take you out for lunch?

Dimitri

Rolling my eyes, I placed it beside me, not bothering to reply. I knew Dimitri, like most boys he was only after one thing, and I was not going to fall into his traps. He was a typical fuckboy, Dimitri loved to play games and pick up then drop girls whenever he pleased. I continued with my work, thinking that after my rejection he would leave me alone, perhaps move on to another girl in the room. Before I could even type another word, another ball of paper was thrown at me. I stayed still, waiting to see if anything else would happen; when nothing did, I put my focus back on the computer, until another piece of paper flew at me. Angrily grabbing the paper, I read the two messages again.

Surely you’re not ignoring me?

Come on, let’s get out of here

Standing up, I grabbed all three pieces of paper, heading towards the bin. Making a statement, I threw them in there, coincidentally finding Dimitri as I turned back around. He was sat at a computer, watching me with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as I walked back to my seat. I couldn’t see any stationary or books around him, surely he hadn’t come all the way here to bother me? And by sending my messages on a piece of paper? How old were we, 12?

After forcing myself to work for a few more hours, I finally decided to stop, needing to have a break from uni life. Dimitri had disappeared, much to my luck, and I could walk back to my dorm in peace. My pace was sluggish, the weight of the laptop, books and files were pulling me down. I was practically leaning against my door as I unlocked it, only to be stopped by my neighbour.

“Hey, (Y/N), Dimitri dropped by earlier, he was asking for you.” She explained.

“Did you tell him where I was?”

“No cause I didn’t know. But he seemed very persistent.”

“If he ever comes back and asks you again, don’t tell him please.”

“Why don’t you give him a chance? It seems he has his eye on you.”

“He seems to have his eye on a lot of things, I am not something he can just buy with his shed load of cash.”

The next few days went on like this. He would try to catch me after my classes, or if we were ever in the same room he would try to sit next to me; notes were still being passed to me and some days he even got me small gifts! They were usually food or drinks that I had been craving whilst studying but the freaky thing was that he knew exactly what to get. It was starting to get a little suspicious, seeing that he was paying attention to every little detail. I knew his way with women, which is what I was scared of, but I had never heard of him doing this for anyone else.

“Dimitri,” I sighed as I saw him waiting outside my room,“you know this is borderline stalking, right?”

He ignored my statement, blocking me from the door.“Let me take you out. Please, even if it’s just a drink.”

“No thank you.”

“Why not? You’ve never even given me a reason!”

I shoved him out of the way, starting to unlock the door.“Because I’ve seen what you do to girls. You and your little club find it funny to mess around with us, treat us like we’re important until you get bored. I am not going to put myself through that.”

As I closed the door, Dimitri held his arm out to stop it. I saw his face soften as I kept the door open, though his arm stayed where it was in case I slammed it in her face again.

“Give me one chance. I promise that nothing will happen if you don’t want it to. And if you don’t feel any different after, then I’ll leave you alone.”

I huffed, now debating the decision in my head. Although I was still cautious of him, Dimitri wouldn’t have put all of this effort in if he was just going to dump me straight afterwards; however there was still something in my mind telling me to be careful, to tread lightly around him in case he had been put up to this or was looking for a casual fuck. Suddenly, an idea popped into my mind that would put him to the ultimate test.

“Alright, you can take me out.” 

His eyes widened in shock.“Really?”

“Yes, but you’ve got to stick to your word.”

“Well then, I’ll be picking you up at eight tonight.” His cheeky tone came back as he winked at me, walking away merrily.

Time went by, though it didn’t bother me. I was in no rush to get ready. What I had planned would throw him off, he wouldn’t want to even be seen with me. It was five to eight, he would be here soon. Standing up, I checked my appearance in the mirror, satisfied with how I looked; though Dimitri wouldn’t be. There were knocks at the door, and I suddenly felt very excited. As I opened the door, I relished in Dimitri’s face as he saw my attire. All that I had on was a pair of my scruffiest jeans, an old graphic t-shirt, a worn out jacket and converse shoes. I hadn’t bothered with my hair, it was still in a messy bun from my nap and my makeup was just some chap stick. Bet he didn’t see that coming.

“Are we ready to go?” I asked, smirking. He would definitely not want to take me out looking like this.

“Well, I didn’t specify where we were going, my fault. Come on, we don’t want to be late.” He started to walk away, leaving me confused.

“Wait, what?” I stuck my head out of the door, watching as he kept on walking.

“We have reservations, it would be a shame if we missed it.”

I scurried after him, now wishing that I had actually made an effort. Surely he wouldn’t make me go out looking like this? Apparently he would, as he made no further comment. We walked side by side in silence, though I could have easily ranted on to him about letting me change. No, I couldn’t let him win, he’d change his mind by the end of the night. 

In true Dimitri style, he drove us in his flashiest car, not abiding to the speed limits or any rules of the road. He had the music blasting, sometimes a cringy song would come on and he would lip sync to it, glancing over to me every now and then; I wanted to laugh, though I couldn’t let him know I was enjoying myself. He pulled up in front of a restaurant that was known to be five stars as well as play host to many celebrities and those with more money than they could count. Dimitri looked natural in a place like this, I probably would have too if I was dressed accordingly. Without a second glance, Dimitri handed his keys to the valet driver, holding out his hand to me. I grabbed onto it without thinking, hating the fact that I was cowering behind him. 

We swiftly entered the restaurant and Dimitri waltzed up to the hostess, stating his name. As she scanned for the name, I didn’t miss the glance she threw my way, scrunching her nose up at my attire. I was starting to get fed up with the way she was looking at me and Dimitri could sense this.

“Sir, there is a dress code and your girlfriend does not reach our standards.” She pointed out, making a show of looking me up and down again.

Dimitri reached into his jacket, pulling out a wad of cash and throwing it down on the table in front of her.“Yes she does.”

“Right this way, sir.”

At first I thought that would be my ticket out of there. But after seeing him bribe her, I knew it wouldn’t work. Dimitri still had a hold of my hand, pulling me along after the hostess. I eyed him closely, waiting for him to slip up and glance at the hostess’ bum, something I could call him out on. To my surprise, none of that happened and we arrived at our table within seconds. Dimitri pulled out my chair for me, pushing it in as I sat down and looked around the room. Everyone had basically stared at me as I walked in, turning up their noses. I suddenly felt self conscience, though I wouldn’t let Dimitri see that.

“Don’t let them get to you. You look beautiful.” He commented. Perhaps I wasn’t the best actress.

I didn’t reply, instead picking up the menu and scanning what to eat. My eyes widened at the price list, never seeing anything so expensive in my life.

“Get whatever you want.” He spoke up again, noticing my uneasiness.

I kept looking over the menu, only to be startled slightly when a waiter started to pour wine even though we hadn’t ordered it.

Dimitri smiled.“I come here quite a lot, it’s my favourite place.”

“You bring the other girls here too?”

“No, only the pretty ones. So just you.”

I hid my blushing face behind the menu.“You shouldn’t be drinking, you’re driving remember?”

“I’ll get us a taxi, someone can pick up my car later.”

My shoulders slumped in defeat. He had an answer for everything, perhaps I wouldn’t win tonight. It was pointless, I had made a fool of myself, humiliating myself in front of a number of people. The waiter returned and took our orders, and I could no longer hide behind a menu.

“(Y/N), why are you trying so hard to not enjoy yourself?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table.

“I’m not.” I defended.

“I understand why you didn’t want to come out with me.”

I didn’t say anything, wanting him to continue.

“I’m a player, I know that. But...fuck this is cheesy, but I didn’t want to be like that when I met you.”

“Why?”

“I just thought you stood out from everyone I had been with. You don’t care about my money, which is a first I must say. Plus you’re so more much interesting than the others.”

“You make it sound like you’ve been with a lot of girls, Dims.”

He sighed.“I won’t lie to you. You know the truth anyway.”

“Which is why I didn’t want to come.” I took a swig of my wine.

“Is this why you dressed like this? Why you’ve got this attitude tonight?”

I nodded.

“You could be wearing a potato sack as a dress and I still wouldn’t care.”

“What?”

“(Y/N), you don’t realise how much I like you. I couldn’t give a shit about how you dress. Though in all honesty, I wouldn’t mind treating you to a few things.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I did so.“I...I just don’t know Dimitri, we’re different people.”

“Opposite attract.”

I couldn’t help but smile again.“There’s no winning with you tonight, is there?”

My plan went straight out the window after that. After I let loose, it turned out that I had an incredible evening. Dimitri was charismatic and charming (though I already knew that) but it didn’t come off as snobbish. It attracted me to him more. I no longer cared about my clothes or how everyone was disapprovingly looking at us as we laughed out loud or messed around. Even when leaving in the taxi, we were still laughing, holding hands once again; however this time it wasn’t out of fear, it was because I wanted too.

Just like when we left, we were silent as Dimitri walked me to my dorm. We stopped outside my door, and then came the awkward encounter every person went through on their first dates.

“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” Dimitri teased, still holding one of my hands.

I smiled at the ground.“I’ll admit, I had a really good time. I’m just sorry for the way I acted earlier, it was very childish.”

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter anymore. I just wanted to show you that I could treat girls nicely, I’ve been a right twat in the past but I’ve changed. I wanted to change for you.”

“I’m sorry about the way I dressed too, I should have made an effort.”

“It doesn’t matter what you look like, I like you either way.”

“You know, I didn’t think I’ll be doing this.”

“Doing what-”

I cut him off by pulling his head down to reach mine, kissing him quickly. It seemed that he wasn’t satisfied with that, pushing me against my door as he kissed me again. When we finally parted, I smirked as I unlocked my door, closing it slowly.

“You’re not going to tease me like that are you?” he moaned.

“Dimitri, you said you were a changed man. That means no sex on the first date now.”

“What about the second one?”

I shrugged.“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

[jiminandlemonade-blog]

Penpals / Don’t Leave Me - Part 13

Jimin:  

Series: Fluff/minor angst  

PART 13/15

New to the series? Part 1

Missed the last chapter? Part 12

"Jihyun" you exhaled, not believing what was about to come out of your mouth. "Yes Y/N?" He said, shooting back a bewildered look. "I am so in love with your brother. A man I have never met and I feel as though I never will. He's famous now and that makes everything so much more complicated. How can I wait around for a man who may love me back but can't contact me? What does he expect me to do?" You said wide eyed, trying not to let the tears falls.

"I think that's why he wants you to get back into acting. Get your mind of everything. He doesn't want you to wait around for him but he doesn't want you to fall in love with anyone else" Jihyun explained. "Me fall in love with someone else? Jihyun, I have never and know that I will never feel like this about a person again. If anything, I'm worried that he will fall in love with someone else." You replied back, wiping away the tears that had tumbled down your cheek.

"Y/N, Jimin wouldn't do that. You know him. Focus on yourself. He would hate to know you were in this way about him" he soothed. You smiled and said your goodbyes, blaming your tiredness for why you were so emotional but really, you were just emotional end of.  

You logged off and stared at the blank computer screen In front of you. You hand wandered over to your phone and immediately scrolled to Jimin's name.

Y/N: I really miss you.

Undelivered.

"I can't do this anymore" you spluttered through a river of tears. It seemed as though you had bottled everything up whilst at University and then everything flooded out as soon as you got home. You tucked yourself as far under the quilt as possible and started screaming into it to mute your voice and not wake your parents.  

The next thing you knew, you were woken to the sound of your father banging on your door as you were lay half across the bed with your legs sticking out of the side. "There's someone on the phone for you" he said, passing you the phone as you tried to wake yourself up, rubbing your eyes and letting out a yawn.

"Um, hello?" You yawned louder, expecting it to be a friend. "Hello Y/N, this is Rose from People's Entertainment. Are you okay?" She asked. You scoffed and immediately stood up. Why was the first acting company you auditioned for, the one Jimin pushed you to attend, calling you? "I-I-, I'm so sorry if I sound off. I have just woke up after a late night studying" you lied, not wanting to sound pathetic that you were really crying over a main vocalist in a k-pop band. "No worries Y/N, I just realised it's only 8am".

You just laughed, not knowing what to say. "If you don't remember me, I was one of the casting directors from your audition at People's Entertainment over a year ago. I was so impressed with your ability and I really wanted you to have the part by the way – that being said-". Hold on. Was an acting casting director praising your work?! You stood there in absolute shock, no air leaving your gaping mouth.  

"-that being said, unfortunately you didn't get the job role. However, I have an excellent opportunity for you and I would really love it if you would take part in the audition." You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Me-me, why?" You stammered. "I know it may come as a bit of a shock but I couldn't get you out of my head when this job role popped up. I was hoping and praying that your phone number hadn’t changed". She started rambling on some more and you couldn't believe what you were hearing. A casting director was recommending YOU for an audition. No open auditions, no begging to be given a chance..

Your brain finally started catching up with your hearing after the whole whirlwind. "the series is based on a girl who ends up being cursed and is restricted from talking to the people she loves most". You gulped. Was this character you? "The auditions will be based in Japan". "Japan?!" You exclaimed, getting all giddy with excitement as it is a place you have always wanted to visit. "Yes. Because our company is sending you over for the audition, flights and accommodation is paid for by us. We would like you to come to our main offices just to explain a few more details". Your head was about to burst. And the rest of the call was a whirlwind.

"Dad, hurry, we're going to be late!" You shouted through the front door. Your parents cared for you dearly but sometimes, they were too over protective. Even wanting to drive you the 30 miles to the main office.. However seemingly happy about Japan.  

The car journey flew over as you were scanning maps and travel guides of Japan. You had no idea what you were in store for, but couldn't wait to explore a new culture. "You should have learned Japanese not Korean" your mother laughed in the middle of one of your favourite songs. It instantly put you in a bad mood. Jimin was the only reason you came across Korean in the first place. Jimin was the only reason you were on your way to this audition. Pursue your dreams, remember?

Pulling outside of the offices, you couldn't believe the enormity of it all. Someone even came out of the offices to help you out of the car and was going to valet your car. Your parents were baffled. "It's fine, we'll park the car" your mother smiled, and then shot an odd look towards you and your father.  

Before you had time to take anything in, you turned around and there was a woman in your face. "Rose?" You asked, recognising her face from your past auditions but wanting to be sure. "Yes. Now please, come on in.. There's so much to discuss!" She exlaimed. She gave you the option for your parents to be in the room with you but you already have the conversation with them. This was totally up to you and they didn't want their expressions to deter interest from the role or influence you in anyway. It was ultimately your decision.  

You sat down in the office as she came over and handed a menu of drinks. Pick 2, we might be here some time. "I'll have an orange juice and a vanilla latte please" you smiled back at her. She put yours and her order through the intercom and then slammed down in her chair.

"I'm really excited about this. I have such a good feeling" she smiled. "I just can't believe what's happening" you spoke softly, starting to get slightly shy. She immediately went into talking about the companies cut if you got the part, that you would be signed to their management etc but when she mentioned the wages, you were shocked. "Wait, how much?!" You breathed roughly. You could feel your heart racing louder and louder. "£1300 an episode and it's a 20 episode arch, which will be filmed in 3 months, and it is expected to have a minimum of two seasons. Everyone is really excited about this one." she repeated again.

The words couldn't escape your lips. That was £26,000 in 3 months. More than your father's yearly wage. "In that time your accommodation, flights and any other expenses will be paid for by the producers of the show." You wanted to jump around with glee but needed to remain professional.  

After a brief chat, Rose got talking more about the part. "So like I said, it’s a minimum of 2 seasons based on you, the main character. I don't know too much as they don't want to give away the plot but they summarise it as being she is someone who lives an ordinary live but has lost the man of her dreams through no fault of her own. It's based 100 years from now when technology is even more advanced and but there is a technological error and it ends up sending people she loves dearly away from her and she has no idea where they are.. Or even if they're on this planet". You couldn't believe how similar the situation was, not about the advances technology but having no idea where the love of your life is.

"It sounds amazing" you smile, feeling as though you could capture the roll really well. "So, do you want to audition?" She asked rather quickly. You replied back rather abruptly too "yes, of course!". "I'll get everything sorted for you and will email you with flight details to Tokyo". She seemed pleased with herself. Pleased that you had agreed.

You went to reach for your back when you realised something. "Sorry to disturb you whilst you are on the computer Rose but I was just wondering whether the title was a work in progress? Just because you haven't told me the title of the series.". She hit herself on the forehead with her left hand. "I knew there was something I needed to do. I had to get it translated" she laughed to herself.  

"Hold on, I will ring Carlos, he's good with languages." You sat patiently on the chair as she was talking to Carlos on the phone.  "Carlos, it's not coming through" she said down the phone, talking about the fax not being sent over. You were waiting in anticipation.  

"Carlos is coming, he said you might be able to help" she smiled. You looked at her slightly bewildered but her comment went straight over your head. Your mind wandered and then came back when you heard the sound of the fax machine. You stood up from your chair and walked over to it and saw it being printed out. Your destiny, your future.

"No wonder I was confused" Carlos joked walking through the door. "I was reading it upside down and thought it didn't make any sense in a language I know".  

Your heart stopped and you gulped looking at the fax.  

당신을 향한 열망

"A yearning for love" you and Carlos said in unison. Carlos said this proudly whilst you exhaled. You could understand it. Why could you understand it? "Why is it in Korean?" You laughed, hoping it was some sort of joke. "What do you mean?" Rose looked back at you confused. "Shouldn't it be in Japanese?" You questioned back, hands starting to shake slightly. "Y/N, the audition is in Tokyo but the series is being filmed in South Korea." she smiled back at you.  

When your mind was wandering at the thought of this audition, you missed her talking about some important information. South Korea.

How could you pursue your dreams in the country that the love of your life resides? You weren't ready for this.

Part 14

MASTERLIST

[joonsgalaxy]

The Dark Side of the Moon | 2

Part:  1  2  3  Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: romance/fluff, angst, soulmate AU, bestfriend!Yoongi Word count: 9 k Summary:  You’re destined to be with one particular man for the rest of your life, but what happens when your trust in fate crumbles, when the doubts slowly float to the surface of your mind and when your heart starts longing for another man? You can try to ignore all of that, but it’s there, just like the dark side of the moon.

‘Are you ready yet?’ The voice of your father snakes its way from downstairs up to your room.

Ugh is the only thing floating in your mind at the moment. A sound of frustration, annoyance, vexation-ugh. You don‘t like to rush, at all. Not only the necessity of going to the event is making you feel a nervous fluttering in your belly, but now you have to shout back coming!, glance quickly at the mirror for the last time before leaving and then run downstairs to messily put on your shoes in the hallway. This is most definitely not healthy, you think.

‘Your mother said people are already gathering,’ you hear your father speaking to you as you crouch down to put your shoes on.

‘We don’t have to be the first ones to arrive there, you know.’

‘We worked hard on this, especially your mom. She’ll be glad to see us before it gets too crowded to even notice us.’

//

Your father hands the car keys to the parking valet once you arrive at the place. The massive white mansion comes into view as you walk past the gates surrounded by flawlessly groomed trees. The fountain in front of the mansion has some fine details which only can be seen here, in this protected territory. The decorative features so delicate, so fascinating, nothing you could find outside this park. The splendid art on the mansion itself makes the air around it magical. It takes you by your hand, sings to you as it welcomes you to the bright days when it was first built; must be at least three hundred years ago. As you walk on a wide path that curls its way around the mansion and goes on behind it into the charm of the park you can't help but imagine what life looked like back then, what clothes people wore, how they talked to each other, what kind of worries tormented them.

When the weather lets to have the party outside (and today the weather is just lovely), all the guests gather up in that very area behind the mansion. The paths there loop themselves around the trees and some open lawns with perfectly cut grass.

 ‘I’m going to say hello to some people,’ your father says, ‘Try to have some fun, okay?’ His expectant eyes urge you and your sister to utter an okay in unison, although, as he walks away you wonder if that’ll be possible to do.

‘Do you want to go look for mom?’ As you finish uttering the question your sister is already waving at someone in front of you two, and when your eyes register that someone-her best friend-among the other people, not to sound dramatic, but the same dispiriting feeling of frustration drains your bones of any hope to have a good, decent time here.

‘I’m gonna hang out with Kyoo Ri,’ your sister gleefully shouts to you, basically bouncing away.

Fair enough.

Looks like you're alone in this.

A sigh leaves you, your legs starting to move slowly, eyes roaming around. People, standing in groups of two or three, briefly glance your way with disinterested looks; women and men wearing jewellery that most certainly cost more than your entire outfit, but that doesn’t bother you one bit, you just couldn’t care less about that kind of stuff.

A cute dress, some make up and neatly brushed hair is all you need to feel comfortable in this kind of event.

The youngest person here must be thirteen or something; you guess nobody's got time to actually take care of small children here, so they just leave them at home with nannies.

‘Hello,’ a low voice right beside your ear startles you.

You swing around to find Yoongi smiling down at you.

You haven’t seen him-or Jaehoon-in a few weeks because of the exams. It’s the first time meeting him since that thunderstorm and you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t start to race a little.

You utter an oh, hi and he grabs a bite snack from a tray which is gracefully carried by a waitress working here for the party.

‘Having fun?’ he questions.

“Yeah, so much fun,’ you make sure he catches the sarcasm in your tone as he throws the snack into his mouth.

‘Mm-hmm,’ he hums chewing, and time seems to come to a halt for a while, until you notice a small smirk forming on his lips and you realize you’ve been staring a moment too long. The gentle warmth in your cheeks makes you drop your eyes to the ground.

‘You survived your exams,’ he says nonchalantly.

‘Ah, barely, but yeah.’

‘That’s good enough.’ He glances briefly back over his shoulder, ‘Seems the band is going to perform, wanna go to the stage?’ He holds his thumb gesturing behind him.

‘Sure.’

You feel warm as you two walk beside one another, although just minutes ago the cool evening breeze played on your skin causing the goosebumps to appear on your bare arms.

There are some people already gathered in front of the stage, though most of them are behind you, not paying much attention to the musicians who are now saying their hellos. Majority of the guests are here to make connections; some see this kind of events as opportunity to share their business ideas and what not. You guess, they’re feeling more relaxed here than inside some corporate building, more likely to share their honest thoughts with each other.

As Yoongi stands beside you with his eyes focused on the band, you’re able to properly observe his looks, the black suit fitting him perfectly as if it’s made particularly just for him, white shirt, black tie and dark shoes complimenting each other in a way that makes him look classy, sophisticated.

And for the first time this night you wonder if you chose the right outfit for yourself, like he managed to do.

‘They’re kinda good, huh?’ He asks loudly enough for you to hear him through the music and you realize you weren’t paying any attention to the music or anything at all but Yoongi.

‘Um, I guess,’ you shrug, trying to play it cool, because there’s nothing else to do, really. ‘Well, at least one good thing here, right?’

‘Oh,’ a somewhat smug smile twitches the corners of his lips, ‘Actually I could think of more than one.’

Before you can answer him, there’s a hand on your back urging you to turn around.

‘Glad I found you, dear,’ your mother greets you, eyes-done with professional makeup-gazing at you lovingly. ‘Hello, Min Yoongi,’ her face lights up with a smile, ‘nice to see you here.’

‘Like every year,’ Yoongi answers, a grin on his face, corresponding politeness in his tone.

Actually it’s his third time being here. You’re here for the seventh time if you recall correctly. Your parents started attending these kind of events about ten years ago, right after they joined the City Council, which some like to call The Exclusive Circle, the place for the richest, the smartest. That can only make you giggle-it's so unnecessary and pretty odd, to call it like that, because your parents are neither rich nor exceptionally smart. Though apparently what people mean by referring to The Exclusive Circle is mostly the people who are basically born with the ticket in their hands, a ticket to the perfectly polished hall with leather chairs waiting patiently just for them. Most often their families were in the Original Council, a bunch of scientists who created the whole sorting out soulmates system hundreds of years ago, to make life easier for everyone. It makes you rather proud that people from your city managed to create something the whole world is using now. So, those with the ticket from their birth are in the highest authority; important people taking care of important stuff, seems only fair to you.

Actually, it's not that complicated to get into the Council, if a person is determined to do so. They wouldn't need to make such strenuous efforts as one may think. The only catch is, they stay at the lower level committees than those belonging there from young age, which is totally fine, what with all the advantages that come with joining the Council. Being able to create different projects in your favour can come really handy. Also, you get to set up these kind of parties, which your mother enjoys immensely, for she always had relish in organizing any kind of social gatherings; she's managing a catering company, after all.

When Yoongi and his parents moved to your street, they instantly became friends with your family. That's when your mother coaxed them into joining the Council.  

‘Since I found you guys,’ a more serious expression paints her face, ‘I really would use some help from you. There’s, uh,’ she looks behind her, ‘a little situation that needs to be taken care of.’

‘What kind of situation?’ You question.

‘Nothing serious, but I need a couple of people to help me out, so will you?’ She looks at both of you with hopeful eyes and you just can’t say no.

‘Sure, mom. Lead the way.’

And that’s exactly what she does, marching toward the mansion.

‘So what happened?’ You ask on the way there.

‘One of my employees,’ she momentarily glances at you, ‘O Ha Sang, you remember her, don’t you?’ When she receives a nod from you, she continues, ‘Well, her kid ate some crayons or something and she had to rush home. Also, Chi Tohyon slipped on the floor, probably broke his finger. Ugh, I don’t know what is it about tonight, but there’s no time to wonder.’

As you reach the back entrance of the mansion one of the waiters rushes out through the doorway with a tray in his hands.

Inside, the hall looks as fancy as one would expect. The crystal chandelier hanging from the high cieling above screams extravagancy, the bright walls giving an illusion of an even bigger space than it already is.

The narrow hallway to your left has at least three wooden doors on either side. The delicately carved art on them-fragments of flowers and leafs-and the white paint, chipped at some spots imply the long years they've been rather untouched, save for the swinging back and forth to let people in and out.

The first door on the left reveals a room somewhat similar to a kitchen, partly because of the tables and counters placed there, but mostly because of the amount of food scattered upon the surfaces. A few employees of your mother's company lay out the snacks onto the trays in precise measures as they were taught, one of them taking care of the champagne and wine, pouring the liquids into a bunch of fragile glasses.

After a few words are shared between your mother and her team, she urges you to step through another door in the hallway. The stairs behind these doors seem to lead into some kind of basement, but once your feet land on the last step you come to realization the room is the actual kitchen of the mansion, the interior design of it indicating it was last renovated in 1950s, or around that. A counter on the left with some glasses on top, a few sinks by the wall right in front of you across the room, a few arbitrarily placed chairs and boxes on the right.

'I think I need you two to simply wash the glasses,’ your mother wonders out loud, tilting her head to the side. ‘Yeah, you guys do that and I’ll take care of the food upstairs.’

‘Okay,' you agree, happy that she won't order you to do something more complicated on this already rather stressful night.

‘They will bring the ones that need to be washed and take the ones you already washed. It’s simple, right?’

‘Yup,’ Yoongi answers her, stepping near the sinks to inspect them.                                                

‘Wonderful. Good luck, then’ she grins on her way out.

You walk up to Yoongi, who's now taking his suit jacket off and glance at the sinks briefly, ‘You can go if you want,’ you suggest him, ‘I can manage this by myself.’

‘Go and do what?' He questions, tossing the jacket over one of the chairs. 'At least I’ll be useful here.'

‘Fine. Be useful, then,’ you motion toward the dirty glasses on the counter.

His fingers undo the buttons on the sleeves of his dress shirt, rolling up the fabric, relieving his veiny arms, ‘Of course.’

Washing the first bach goes quite well, if finishing the job without sounds of shattering glass is anything to go by.

The chairs in the room appear useful when you have to wait for one of the employees to bring in another huge tray of used glasses.

After the third time of finishing with the glasses you plop down on the chair, stretching your muscles and watching Yoongi stroll to one of the boxes, peaking inside; the way his eyebrow rises and his lips tilt into a smirk has you interested in the box's content more then ever.

‘We should have some fun too,’ he hints and pulls his hand out of the box, his fingers clutching a bottle of wine.

You roll your eyes heavenward and announce, ‘We have a job to do.'

It only makes him grin. ‘Nothing that we couldn’t do even being a little tipsy.’

You sigh, pondering the question of whether to drink or not to drink all the while Yoongi walks out of the room with the bottle still in his hand and comes back with thuds of his shoes on the stairs, the bottle no longer sealed with a cork.

He stands beside you, lifts the bottle to his mouth and sips as you watch him wide eyed; one, two gulps before he lowers the bottle for you to take it. You pull your lip between your teeth averting your eyes to glance at the counter, where the freshly washed glasses stand and for some reason drinking straight from the bottle excites you more, so you decide to reach up for it.

‘Oh,’ he hastily moves his hand away before you can even touch the bottle. ‘I have a better idea,’ he smirks, ‘Why don’t we play a game?’

A confussion paints your whole face, ‘A game? What kind of game?’

He steps to one of the chairs, drags it across the floor to position it right in front of you, leaving a few feet distance between you two and plops down on it.

‘Truth or drink,’ he grins at you, and when you stay silent for a moment he realizes that you might not know the exact rules of the mentioned game, so he continues, ‘I ask you a question and you either answer honestly or drink.’

‘Well I’d rather just drink,’ you state.

‘And where’s fun in that, huh?’ he cocks his head to the side.

‘I don’t wanna play. Just give me the bottle,’ you hold up your hand only to see him swing the bottle behind himself and place it on the floor.

‘What, do you have something to hide from me?’

‘No.’

He leans forward, resting his elbows upon his thighs, propping his chin onto his hands, a smug smile plastering on his face. ‘What are you then, a chicken?

‘Am not.'

He chuckles, ‘So how’s it gonna be? You playing or not?’

‘Okay, okay, let’s play that stupid game.’

He nods briefly, ‘Ask me something.’

You breath in, breath out. Blank. What could you ask him?

‘Um, how long did it take you to get ready for this party?’

He raises a brow, ‘That’s the question?’ He laughs. ‘Okay, ten minutes or so. What about you?’

‘Forty minutes maybe.’

‘Oh.' He looks you up and down. 'Makes sense.’

‘What does that mean?’ You exclaim.

‘Is that the next question?’ He asks, with a certain teasing tone in his voice, and you barely manage to keep yourself from reaching his face with a slap to smack the smirk off his lips.

‘Wait. No.’

As you try to figure out whose turn it is, a waitress comes in with a tray of dirty glasses, placing them down on the counter and picking up the freshly washed ones.

‘Seems we have some work to do,’ he jumps to his feet, saunters to the sinks and you follow behind him.

‘Think of something interesting to ask me,' he says flicking one of the glasses downward, pouring the remnant of champagne down the sink.

You bite your lip, going through the different drawers in your mind, searching for questions to ask him when one in particular catches your attention.

‘What’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you?

‘That’s seems more like it. Hmm…’ He puts the glass on the bottom of the sink and squints his eyes in thought, looking straight in front of him at the wall.

'This one's from my childhood,' he begins. 'I really wanted to learn how to ride horses when I was a kid, so my parents eventually brought me to this riding academy and I was so freaking excited, all hyped up about it. My dream was about to come true, y’know. So there was this stunning horse that they helped me to get on and um, let's just say it wasn't as fun as I imagined. When I got off of it, uh, well, I got sick and puked all over myself.' He waves a hand over his upper body.

You laugh like crazy, imagining little Yoongi being so excited and happy, only to puke himself right after his wish came true. ‘Oh my god, that is quite embarrassing.’

‘Yeah, I never came back to that place after.’

'Would you consider trying to learn it now?'

'Hey, it's my turn to ask.'

'Aw come on, can't you just answer a simple question without thinking about the game?'

'Okay, okay,' he chuckles, patting his hands on a towel. 'No, I wouldn't. That dream is long forgotten.'

'Ah, I see,' you nod, placing a freshly washed glass on the tray beside the sink. 'Your turn.'

'Okay,' he chirps, turning to face you. ‘What’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told someone?’

‘Hmm,’ you squint your eyes in thought, fingertips lightly tapping the edge of the sink. ‘This one time I was being careless playing with a ball in the living room and I accidentally hit my mom’s favourite vase,' you sigh, the rather unpleasant memory coming back to you. 'It fell to the ground and shattered. I was freaking out so much and when my parents got home I blamed my sister for the broken vase.’

‘Aw, that’s cute,' he grins.

‘Cute?’

‘If that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told, you’re really innocent,' he quips, patting you on the shoulder.

‘What?’ You exclaim. ‘My parents believed me and my sister was grounded for weeks! It still haunts me.’

‘Okay, okay.’ He holds his hands up as a peace making gesture. ‘You’re the wickedest person I know.’

‘Stop making fun of me.’

‘Oh, I would never!' He gasps. 'You think I’m dumb enough to mock the Devil herself?’

‘Jesus… Will you stop?’

‘Doesn’t it hurt to say the holy name?’ He taunts, arching a brow at you.

‘Yoongi!’ You groan in frustration, and he laughs, reaching up to push his hair from his eyes. You sigh. ‘I would ask you what’s the biggest lie you have told someone, but honestly I don’t wanna now.’ Must be something bad, you think to yourself.

‘Well then,’ he chuckles, shuffling back to take a seat. ‘Think of something else. It’s your turn now.'

You saunter back to the seat across from him, thinking what question to ask. What could you not know about him?

‘What’s the biggest secret you’re keeping from everyone?’

He sits back, inhales deeply squinting his eyes and finally parts his lips to utter a nope. You watch him reach behind his back for the bottle.

‘You’re drinking?’ You ask rather surprised.

‘It’s a drinking game after all, somebody has to.’

'Right.'

Finally, you think to yourself, you managed to think of a question he doesn’t dare to answer. Though, it’s not that fun when you realize he’s keeping something from you. Ugh, he definitely evoked the napping curiosity in you.

Yoongi sips the wine for three times and puts the bottle between you two on the floor.

He leans back, readjusting his sleeve higher up his arm; you notice his tongue lightly brushing over his top lip and his expression becomes one of a man who’s just about to ask something damn serious.

‘Are you in love with Jaehoon?’ His voice echoes through the room and you freeze.

Something tugs at your heart and you look away. This question is like a thousand knives shoved to your back, making your heart thump in your chest twice the speed.

The simple utter of a no would be enough, but there’s one thing to admit it to yourself, and it’s different to say it out loud.

There’s something holding firmly onto your throat, grabbing your vocal cords and twisting them in an agonizingly slow movement, taking away any possibility of you answering.

Your hand reaches for the bottle, your eyes avoiding Yoongi’s as he watches you press your lips to the thick glass and gulp the liquid, drowning anything that is mistreating your dry throat.

‘Two more,’ he commands as you lower the bottle, feeling the warmth trickle down to your belly. You sip willingly two more times, happy that he doesn't question you further about it.

His gaze feels heavy now, awkwardness enveloping you, making you squirm on the chair uncomfortably, nevertheless you try your best not to show him the agitation coursing through your body. You cough subtly, clearing your throat, preparing your voice for another question. You hope it won't quiver, or at least that he won't notice.

You brush off any other thoughts about Jaehoon or Yoongi's scrutinizing eyes and open your mouth to calmly, steadily utter, ‘What would you do right now, if from this precise second for some horrendous reason you had only one minute left to live?’

‘Hmm,’ he crosses his arms against his chest, thinking carefully, with his eyes focused on nothing in particular. Then in a matter of seconds his hands drop to the sides of his thighs grasping tightly the edges of the wooden chair and dragging it toward you until your knees are between his. You wonder what kind of thing it is that he’s about to tell you, most likely something absolutely embarrassing if he has to be that close.

‘I would prob-’ he pauses to correct himself, ‘I would definitely…’

You gaze at him in confusion whereas he exudes confidence and certainty, he looks almost excited.

You’re in utter surprise when his hand rises to cup your cheek in a featherlight touch.

‘I would do this,’ his murmur sends shivers down your spine and there is no possible way you could miss the eagerness in his eyes. If there was a spark in his dark orbs last time you saw him, now it’s a fire, craving to burn all of the borders between you two.

He leans toward you.  This kind of proximity makes your heart thump so fast that you can hear it tattooing in your ears; your breathing stalls. There’s something about this moment so eminently entrancing, yet terribly hazardous. It fills you up with fear of inhaling the thick air around you that holds the palpable tension, you feel the fear of drowning in his closeness with no way out.

Your head becomes dizzy and your heart’s just about to burst when you hear a call of your name and a thunderous stomping on the stairs.

It whacks you back to reality.

Yoongi drifts backward. You jump to your feet as your heart pounds in your chest at the speed of impossible.

You can’t wrap your mind around of what just happened, your thoughts awfully hazy as if you were jolted awake from a nap.

When your sister steps into the room stating ‘Dad's going home. You staying?’ you think you’re blessed, because with the emberrasament creeping up your warm cheeks the idea of getting far away from here, from Yoongi, allures you big time. Just before you rush out of the cursed room you glance briefly at Yoongi, uttering a hardly discernible bye.

There are still quite a few people outside as you march through the territory toward where the parking lot is. The warmth in your cheeks makes you pat the skin lightly, as if your hands could extract the mortification that guzzles you whole. You glance around the place, the stunning fountain, the majestic mansion behind you, which-you're sure-will hold the momery of this night for years to come. You rake your fingers through your hair, trying to muster all the dignity that you still have left, breathing heavily, the puffs of air coming out your lungs in nearly painful ways from the speed of your legs carrying you and from the weight of what just happened pressing you down to the ground.

You wonder what people living here hundreds of years ago would think about you, about the little incident in their kitchen. Would they be repelled by Yoongi's actions? Would they simply laugh at you, or pity you?

You feel like a freaking Cinderella, getting lost in some kind of fake, dream world and being pulled back into reality. Except she was running from her soulmate, not her best friend, and the fate ended up bringing them back together against all odds, which for you… well, it seems the fate should keep you guys strictly apart, you think to yourself.

As buildings and trees, and the dim light from the streetlamps melt into one blur outside the car window you let your mind wander back to the moment that still has your limbs numb and your head dizzy. It must be the alcohol. It doesn’t matter it was only three gulps, it still could have affected you, right? The damn liquid not letting you think straight, not letting you come to your senses when he was so absurdly close to you, when his plump lips were mere centimetres away from yours, when you got a glimpse of the overwhelmingly enchanting fire in his eyes.

Would he have kissed you if your sister hadn’t interrupted? Would you know now how his lips would feel against yours? Would you know what he tastes like? Sweet and sour like the wine on your tongue with its subtle fruit and floral notes, or hot and spicy like the alcohol itself, burning its way to your stomach.

Something malicious reaches your heart and clutches it. Either because of the fact that he almost kissed you, or because he didn’t.

Your eyes roam around the car. Your father’s humming some kind of melody behind the steering wheel and your sister’s staring at her phone with a yawn. The sight only has your heart squeezed and twisted in all the more harrowing ways-you can’t be thinking about Yoongi and his lips right now, or ever, really.

There are soulmates, and there a friends. There is Jaehoon, and there is Yoongi.

//

He texts you the next day, nothing significant, though, just asking what you’re up to; you don’t text back.

There’s a certain uneasiness making your heart pound and your hands quiver even at the thought of him, not to mention the images of the night before. Seeing his name on your phone screen definitely doesn’t help, so what you do is turn on your laptop and immerse yourself in a marathon of random vlogs on Youtube for hours on end.

A knock on your door slightly startles you and you pause the video to turn around in your desk chair, wiping off the tiny crumbles of bread from your shirt, only to find your sister stepping into the room.

‘I saw you two,’ she simply states, with no expression on her face what so ever.

She couldn’t be possibly talking about-

‘What do you mean?’ You ask, feeling your pulse accelerate.

‘Don’t play the fool, you know exactly what I mean,’ she narrows her eyes at you. ‘He was about to kiss you.’

Your heart sinks. She saw that. She saw Yoongi and you being definitely closer to each other than friends should be. She got a glimpse of the moment that made you curse yourself for being so delirious. And she knows what could’ve happened if she didn’t call out your name. Come to think of it, did she do that on purpose? Did she walk in and realized the inapropriatiness of the moment and walked out of the room, then warned you from afar letting you both know she was coming?

You shift in your seat, turning your side profile to her. You say nothing.

‘If I hadn’t interrupted, would you… would you have let him kiss you?’

Now that not only you and Yoongi know about it, but also somebody else, your sister, it becomes all the more evident and the realization hits you even harder than before. You would have. You would undeniably have let him kiss you. The guilt washes over you like a cold shower.

When your sister doesn’t receive a response from you, she sighs, ‘Unbelievable. You do know it’s wrong?’

‘I know it’s wrong,’ you exclaim.

‘Then why would you do that?’ She almost yells, ‘And why he would do that? You’re not his soulmate. And he’s not yours.’

Then why does it somehow feel like he is?

Yet again, you stay silent.

‘Will you tell Jaehoon about it?’ She asks softly, hesitantly, contrary to just a moment ago.

‘What? No,’ you blurt out, dread coursing throughout your body. You can't even imagine how he would react, what shade of anger would his face get.

She strolls deeper into the room. You take a deep breath, trying to appear calmer. ‘It’s nothing. It was nothing. It was stupid. It won’t happen again. I don’t have to tell him anything.’

She sighs, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. ‘Fine,’ she states. ‘Do as you wish. But I sure do hope you’re not lying when you say it won’t happen again.’

‘It won’t,’ you look straight into her eyes, ‘It won’t, I promise.’

She nods lightly, her expression softening. ‘If he’s coaxing you into doing something you don-

‘He’s not,’ you hastily interrupt her wonderings and she holds her hands up defensively.

‘Okay, okay. I’m just worried.'

‘Yeah, I know,’ you let out a sigh.

‘I always thought he was a rebel, you know, but I was taken aback by what I saw, even people like him surprise me by disobeying the world’s order like that, and…’ She takes a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your sheets, keeping her head lowered. 'If you do something like that, it can influence not only your life but mine as well. Imagine what would people say.’

Oh, they would definitely have some material to talk about. Two best friends, the children of the respectful members of the City Council basically ignoring the fundamental rule that is dictated by the fate itself giving you and your soulmate all the personality traits that compliment each other.

She stands up from the bed and starts strolling toward the door. ‘You can’t act recklessly, when your actions have an effect on us all.'

‘Wait,’ you call out when she reaches the door frame. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’

She looks over her shoulder toward you, eyes then roaming around as if she’s deep in thought. You’re eager to hear her answer, every nerve in your body tensing up. What if she tells your parents? She certainly isn’t under any obligation to stay silent. She could tell anyone she wanted. She could tell Jaehoon. Obviously, she wants all the best for you, but maybe it’s the very reason to let people know about it. If she’s not absolutely convinced that it was only a stupid slip into the wrong path, she might try to help you by telling your parents what’s going on. If she doesn’t believe it won’t keep happening, she might let Jaehoon know what his soulmate is doing when he’s not around.

She turns toward the hallway. ‘At least not yet.’

//

When the next day comes, neither the thoughts about it all leave your mind, nor withers away the ache in your heart. It becomes all the more conspicuous when your phone buzzes against the sheets of your bed when you’re watching yet another random vlog on Youtube. You reach for your phone already knowing it’s a call, but when your eyes transfix on the name of the caller your heart drops.

Should you answer it? What does he even want? Maybe you should just decline his call and text him you’re busy, or maybe you shouldn’t text him anything at all, letting him know you’re not really up to conversing with him, letting him know you a want to take a break from… being his friend?

The screen of your phone goes black. The buzzing finally stopped. It doesn’t help with the ache, though. A huge part of you wanted to answer his call. A huge part of you wants to talk to him, to keep being his friend. Any way you slice it, he’s one of the most precious people in your life and trying to keep a distance from him is terribly hurtful.

You exhale a heavy breath and bring your attention back to your laptop screen.

It only takes a few moments when your phone is buzzing again and you pause the video to quickly swipe the screen of your phone and answer his call. If he’s that persistent, you might as well just listen to what he has to say to you.

After a moment of silence you murmur, ‘Hello?’

‘Are you ignoring me?’ He cuts right to the chase.

You shift on the bed, placing the laptop on the sheets beside you. ‘Uh, no, I’m not.’

You don’t expect him to actually believe you, because what people call not answering to someone’s text messages for couple of days when usually they get an answer no later than an hour later? Yes, ignoring.

He sighs, ‘Okay.’

Okay? You don’t have a mirror in front of you right now, but you’re sure you look perplexed as hell.

‘Well,’ he continues, ‘How about that movie then?’

A movie? Is he testing you or you’re just back to the usual, back to acting like nothing peculiar is happening between you two?

Well, maybe it’s for the best. At least it seems like it. Whatever is happening between you, it can’t progress in any way or form, it can’t go further, go anywhere. It has to cease and the fire in his eyes should be put out.

‘I-I don’t know,’ you mumble, still trying to sort your thoughts out.

‘You finished your exams. We can go see it now, right?’ He asks and it truly seems like everything could get back to normal. ‘Hey,’ his voice reaches your ear again after a few seconds of you not uttering a word. ‘You said you’re not ignoring me,’ he basically whines.

You chuckle at that, ‘Um, okay, we can go see it.’

That should help to get everything completely back to normal. Friends go to see movies all the time.

‘Tonight?’ He questions hopefully.

After another few seconds of silence, you answer, ‘Mm-hmm, why not.’ You have nothing to lose and the movie’s definitely better than any of those vlogs.

‘I’ll pick you up at seven, yeah?’

And just like that your heart starts racing frantically again. Why does he have such an effect on you?

//

He’s already approaching the spot in the street right in front of your house with his old Ford as you step outside. He has one of his windows down and when you’re close enough you lean down a little to ask him, ‘Should I sit in the back?’

He answers with, ‘Hop into the front. I fixed the seatbelt.’

It’s absurdly hot in his car, but since he bought it with his own money – you’re not about to comment on that, because he’s already aware it’s basically a sauna here. The seatbelt, on the other hand, doesn’t fucking work no matter how tightly your fingers wrap around it and how gently or harshly you’re pulling on it, it just won’t budge.

‘Apparently you’re not that good at fixing seatbelts,’ you complain when he’s already driving away from your house. He glances at you and groans in frustration, slamming on the breaks and pulling over on the side of the street.

He leans toward the seatbelt, toward you and you instantly stiffen in your seat when the scent of his fabric softener-that you could only describe as being sweet and tempting-hits your senses, your heart fluttering as a rather pleasant warmth develops within your chest, surging through your arms, tickling at your fingertips. Your eyes meet his for a quick second and then he’s pulling away with a click of your seatbelt being secured.

‘Or you’re just not good at fastening seatbelts,’ he quips with a shrug of his shoulders.

You clear your throat, ‘Whatever.’

This shouldn’t make you feel any sort of way, but it does. And all you can do is just try to push it away.

‘Uh, when does the movie start?’ You ask.

‘Seven thirty,’ he checks the watch on his wrist, ‘We should make it just on time, with all the ticket buying and stuff.’

He parks the car at a random parking lot a few minutes by foot away from the cinema. The parking lot in front of the movie theatre is usually packed with cars, and you don’t mind the short walk there anyway.

//

When you’re walking back to the car after the movie has ended the streets are already drowned in darkness and silence, with just a few cars passing by here and there. The velvety layer of clouds blocks the view of the moon and threatens with rain;  you’re about to mention something about it to Yoongi when he warns you, ‘Careful.’

And suddenly you’re startled by his arm on your waist. He’s pulling you close to him, pressing you to his side; and  he’s so warm. The closeness seems so familiar, the intoxicating scent that emanates from his clothes makes your senses explode and you can’t deny how safe you feel next to him, especially when his arm is wrapped around you in such a protective way. It doesn’t matter if it’s just because of two kids going past you on their tiny bicycles, it certainly does not change the fact that you’d trust him to protect you from everything and anything.

When the kids are gone and you’re safe not to be scraped by them, he slowly and gently spins you around so you could focus on his dark eyes and your back would face the building behind you. You stare up at him in awe and confusion at the same time, mumbling ‘Ah, thanks.'

He says nothing, only tightens his grip on your arms almost imperceptibly, just enough for him to back you up until you can feel the bricks of some store touching your spine.

Something about his expression’s telling you he’s not here to play any games; he looks like a man on a mission, and the confusion in you only grows bigger. Still, you manage to catch some kind of desperation in his eyes as he stares down at you and murmurs lowly, ‘Don’t run away from me this time, please.’

‘Yoongi,’ you whisper, but your voice fades as all the words of protest bounce out of your head into the darkness of the night and stays unsaid, unheard.

You feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins and every jittery cell of your body desiring him to finally do it, to finally let you know the taste of him.

He's the sweetest forbidden fruit and you're too weak to fight the temptation.

As he lets go of one of your arms and hooks a finger under your chin every single cell in your body bursts into billions of sparks, fireworks exploding in your fizzy mind. He wastes no time in muting any discord that could leave your mouth by placing his lips onto yours.

They are as soft and as warm as you thought they would be, and he tastes like heaven.

It’s just the two of you now in a tiny world under the dim street lamp where no rules exist, no laws are relevant, there are no envelopes with names scribbled on a piece of paper inside, no names engraved into your fate for the whole eternity.

The gliterry stars dance around you in the rythm that your hearts provide and even the Moon peeks through the thick clouds to witness such magic.

When his hand tenderly strokes your cheek your heart stutters, tingles of electricity coursing across your skin. He's an invigorating rain pouring down upon the exhausted desert's ground and you're the rose right in the middle of it, bathing in the refreshing mizzle, feeling your bones revive with every drop dribbling down your skin. He heaves a soft sigh as though it all were the other way around, as though he's the one finding solace in you.

It's just you and him now; there’s no other people around, there’s no thunderstorm to blame, no alcohol to accuse for your delirious state. No one to hold responsible for your quivering heart and the weakness in your knees, just…Yoongi.

You break the kiss by pulling away from him, slipping from his grip and stepping into the real world, your back facing him.

‘__,’ you hear him whisper.

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

Your chest tightens, dread and embarrassment flooding your whole being. You heave out a shaky breath, feeling your body heavy and numb as though it were cemented into the pavement, unable to move.

‘__,’ he repeats, this time louder.

His voice reverberates in your mind, slamming itself back and forth against your skull until there's an urge for you to press your palms to your head and squeeze it relentessly to get rid of the agonizing echo.

The anxiety and anger bubbles up in you when he tries to utter something else.

'Hey-

‘What?’ You snap turning to face him, the word being nothing but a quick bite that has him wincing.

He takes a deep breath, steps forward and watches you take a step back.

‘You’re running away again.' His sigh mingles with the cricket chirps and constant buzzing roars of the cars in the distance.

‘Yeah, well. What did you expect?’ You exclaim. Your cheeks are flaming, you feel the flesh pulsating in them, and your legs can barely hold you.

‘I know you think it’s wrong-

‘It is wrong,’ you hiss.

He purses his lips into a thin line, gathering up his next words. ‘I kinda wish I could say I'm sorry, but the truth is I'm not.'

Your brows knit in confusion; he's not sorry? He knows you think it's wrong and he still had the audacity to do it, and now apparently he's not even feeling repentant about it.

He licks his lips before continuing, 'I was holding back for what felt like centuries, and I tried to be patient, you know.' He sounds determined to be heard, his words coming out in a rush as if they were imprisoned inside him for such a long time the cage itself started to rust and fracture at the most fragile spots, letting the emotions leak and spill out. 'I was waiting for it to go away, I honestly thought it would, I hoped it would, especially after we both found out-

‘Cut that off.’

Whatever he has to say doesn't make sense in this world, and you’re sure you don’t want to hear it. There’s no place here for friends kissing each other, for talking or even thinking about the chance that there might be something different than a friendship between you two. Anything beyond that is simply not realistic, absolutely inappropriate.

You watch him drop his head low, running fingers through his hair, then looking to the side as if trying to figure his next move.

There's a tiny voice whispering to you to get out of here, to leave before anything else infelicitous occurs, before he can continue explaining himself. ‘I need to go,’ you breath out.

He sighs, frustration written all over his face, but he doesn’t argue with you, he simply nods and offers to take you home.

You shake your head lightly, the thought of going home with him in his car making your pulse race unpleasantly. 'I'll take a cab.'

He looks hurt, maybe slightly embarrassed. His actions got you both in this situation and now you wouldn’t even let him take you home.

He reaches into his pocket for his phone, ‘I’ll call it for you.’

The gesture tugs at your heart.

It all feels like a dream, some kind of stupid, agonizing nightmare that you’ll soon wake up from and get back to the way things were. You actually pinch yourself at your arm, hoping to stretch the skin to the Moon and realize that this is just a dream. But the skin doesn’t extend that much, and you can’t lift off the ground and fly away. This is no dream, and you’re both in too deep for things to stay the same.

‘They should be here in five,’ he states plunging the phone back into his pocket.

It seems it’ll be the longest five minutes in your entire life.

You turn away from him and he steps from the sidewalk to sit on it. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face into his palms.

The silence settling itself between you two is terribly heavy, weighing you down with its uneasy thickness, making you start slowly pacing back and forth, hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

The Moon is wholly shielded by the mystical clouds, its gaze concealed; all the sparkles that spun gleefully around you is hiding behind the woolly billows now, avoiding your company.

He's your best friend, for fuck's sake, how did he dare to do that? And what was he expecting from you? That you would just forget the simple rule of soulmates? Or is he just playing with you, being a rebel, proving your sister's words?

You stop abruptly, facing his side profile and drop your hands in one swift motion uttering, ‘Why did you have to…’

He lifts his head from his palms and turns to you, ‘Why did I have to what?’

‘Why did you have to do that? Why did you ki-

You wince at the fact you don’t even manage to say the word.

‘I tried to explain it to you,' he says, sounding slightly annoyed. 'But you demanded I keep my mouth shut so that’s exactly what I did.’

His confession from minutes ago pops up into your mind, piercing through your heart and making you sigh deeply.

This friendship means so much to you, and no matter how persuasive the voice whispering to him and coaxing him into finally kissing you was, it shouldn't have won, it shouldn't have affected him that way.

Everything was great; everything could still be just fine, if only he didn’t cross the line, if only he hadn’t kissed you.

You take a deep breath, mustering the courage to continue speaking to him, questioning him, because a huge part of you still wants the answers.

'Why did you have to ruin it?’

He snorts, 'Don't you think it was already ruined?'

Your eyes grow wide at that, your mind going into overdrive trying to figure his statement out. It wasn't. How could it be? 'No, I don't.'

He shakes his head, puffs out a small, bitter laugh.

You gnaw at your lip, averting your eyes, staring down at the pavement you’re standing on. The cool air hugs you tightly and you wrap your arms around yourself to prevent the shiver possessing your body.

‘Look at me, __.’

Your eyes shoot up to lock with his.

‘Tell me you didn’t want me to kiss you.’

At that you heart threatens to leap right out of your chest. Focusing your eyes on him is out of the question when he stares at you that intensely. His words echo in your head and your hands grow clammy with anxiety.

You did want him to kiss you, and the recognition of that is brutal as a slap-you can't blame only him for what happened, it would be undeniably unfair. But it still doesn't mean it was already a lost cause. If he was waiting for this urge to go away, he could've waited for a little longer, so could you.

He pushes himself up from the concrete, steps toward you which makes your eyes focus on the tips of your shoes.

‘Lift your head up,’ he directs, ‘and tell me you weren't thinking about it for a while now.'

You can hear the slight impatience and irritation lacing his words. He halts his steps right in front of you, and he’s so damn close you feel tremendously tiny under his sharp gaze.

He sees right through you; he knows you more than you’ll admit.

You keep staring at the tips of your shoes, the ground beneath you cracking open, the cold hands of shame and guilt dragging you into the deepest layers of the Earth, underground waters smothering you with nothing but self-loathing as Yoongi's blazing eyes watch you from above.

‘Can you do that, __?’ He questions, dropping his head a little to get to your eye level, making you want to squirm away. ‘Can you tell me you’re not feeling anything for me?’

You wish you could tell him something, perhaps even that you are feeling something, just to push that torturing weight off your shoulders and maybe figure something out together, some kind of a solution, a way out of this barely comprehensible situation, but your hands are trembling and you can’t find your voice.

Your sister and your parents are right. Whatever you’re feeling is wrong, probably temporary, most likely not even real.

‘Mm?’ He hums reaching for your chin and lifting it up like he did before. Just a brief glimpse of his scrutinizing gaze has your heart skipping a beat.

‘Stop that,’ you murmur, words barely above a whisper.

‘Stop what?’ He scowls.

You order your body to move, your legs to step backward, but they barely manage to do that, as if the world is spinning around you and the ground is exceedingly unstable.

His tongue pokes into his cheek. ‘Are you really gonna pretend like I’m the only one losing my mind here?’

You’re entirely sure he’s not the only one, but what can you tell him? What could make all of this better, what words or actions could make all of this mess to just disappear? That's what you want, that's what you both need to get back to the way things were, to the way things are supposed to be.

He pushes his hair off his forehead, his skin glowing from the way it’s illuminated by the car’s lights from behind you. You swear you could stare at him forever, but he looks so utterly broken, completely hopeless, and you avert your eyes.

‘Your ride’s here.' He motions toward the vehicle, the tone in his voice flat.

The car comes to a halt beside you and your body hesitates for a moment to do any effort to move toward it. You don't want to leave, not really.

Sure you feel embarrassed and angry, a part of you wanting to get as far from here as possible, but it's your best friend standing in front of you, the boy who used to pout whenever he got bored of solving math problems, your partner in crime when you would sneak into places where no tresspasing was alowed just to snap some photos, the boy who composed you a song that still earns a silly, content smile from you.

If you get into that car, there's no going back. This will change you both, and in a way this feels like a goodbye.

Yes, maybe you'll still manage to be friends, maybe you'll even keep on hanging out at one another's house, but it feels like something intangible is dying here, losing its liveliness. In you. Between you.

A ghostly string connecting your spirits is disintegrating slowly, woundingly.

You'll certainly start analyzing every memory you have of him, trying to find some kind of signs amongst every look and touch that held something unrighteous within itself, inaudible screams between the lines.

You step toward the car reluctantly and get in without uttering another word.

You hardly manage to tell the driver your home address, still feeling your throat dry as if it were full of sand.

Right when the car starts moving, you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him staring blankly at you, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly slumped forward, his face inscrutable.

A/N: if you read the whole thing and want another part, pleaseee let me know. send me an ask on anon or whatever so i would know i’m not the only one interested in what happens next lmao I need motivation to write the next part, pls :)))