#fic tag: letters in the sand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heechwe · 21 days ago

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the start of time | 𝐩𝐣𝐬

୨୧ pairing: park (jay) jongseong x reader ୨୧ word count: 8.6k ୨୧ genre: angst, semi-fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: friends to strangers to lovers, childhood friends, miscommunication, pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex, TRIGGERS FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND PARENTAL ABUSE IN THE LATTER HALF OF FIC. ୨୧ synopsis: You've lost your creative spark for the first time since moving away from Jeju Island, leaving behind your best friend in the process without an explanation. But when a work assignment sends you back to your hometown, truths come to light and perhaps lost love can come back with a little time and effort. ➸ bless @pars-ley for following this fic to the very beginning and being one of the best betas ever! this story is for you, ley, and thank you ♡ 💿Listen to the story's playlist here!

Over the thin railing that separates Jay from the cliffs below, the waves crash violently together. The weather mirrors the feelings circulating through his veins. The ripples of the seabed meeting the sand make him long for what his life could be instead of its current state. The wind whips his trenchcoat in angry thrashes against his back. His hands grip the lighthouse’s iron bars to keep his body steady. The upcoming storm was forecast last night to be one of the biggest downpours of the summer.

As the second in command of the lighthouse keeper, his father, it’s standard practice to be prepared for what’s to come. As the sea continues its visceral reaction to the weather, Jay thinks about her and what her life has become since she’s left. Is she happy? Is Seoul everything she dreamed of? Was running from Jeju without saying goodbye worth it? Or is she closer than he believes, her heart’s desire turning out to be not far from the fishing town they grew up in?

His father calls for him inside, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. Probably for the better, anyway. Thinking about those chapters of his life, the book separated cleanly and harshly with a before and after, does him no good. So, like he should, he runs inside to do the next task that keeps one of the last lighthouses in Jeju working properly. Even if his heart has to be sacrificed in the process.

The subject of your next photograph takes no interest in the lens standing three feet away. Her tail wiggles rapidly as she inspects the bush in front of her with her perky, wet nose. You giggle quietly behind your camera, trying not to disturb her inspection of the roses.

Rule #1 of photography, according to your department head Sunghoon, is to make yourself nonexistent. To get the perfect shot, conceal yourself as much as possible. It’s taken many practice sessions since your first magazine catalog, the original photos coming out less than perfect. Thankfully, you’re now lead photographer thanks to Sunghoon’s tutelage and tips. After five years, you feel like you’re on stable ground.

It reminds you of Jay, the sudden memory of him being the focus of your lens many times before a punch to the gut. Your oldest friend in the world probably wonders what the reason was for your sudden departure. You couldn’t even leave him a letter to provide some semblance of an explanation, one that he definitely deserved more than anyone else.

If only you had a reason that made sense or could salvage the bond you once shared. You know now it’s been eaten away by silence, so what could be said anyhow to repair it?

Your guilt gnaws at your empty stomach the entire way back to the headquarters of Otherworldly, the magazine you interned at and subsequently were hired to take pictures for. You greet the rest of your team when you make your way upstairs.

”Finally found some inspiration?” Sunwoo asks. Your friend tries to balance a pencil on the top of his nose.

”I’m working on it. In the meantime, I got the copies you wanted.” You give him the folder that holds your pictures for the month’s spread.

”Barely made the deadline this time, kid.” Sunghoon tuts his head at you.

“Leave her be,” Chaewon chides him, thwacking her notebook on the back of his head. It’s nice to know the writer’s room has your back when the boys decide to tease, especially in the form of Chaewon. She may be a stern leader, but she also happens to have a soft spot for you, the only female photographer.

You hear your boss, Kim Taehyung, call your name and ask you to come to his office. Your body bristles at the command, but Chaewon pats you on the shoulder. “Probably just a timesheet thing.”

Tip-toeing into Taehyung’s office, you smile at his back. Your boss is focused on a box of files on the windowsill, the outline of his button up shirt highlighted by the sun. “Please sit,” he says.

You do as he asks, putting your hands on your knees to pinch the skin, an old habit you couldn't kick. You tuck your hands under your legs to stop when Taehyung turns to you. He presses his glasses higher to the bridge of his nose, a soft smile emerging on his lips. “I wanted to say your photos from the last column were very impressive.”

”Oh!” You respond instinctively. Expecting reprimands that turned out to be compliments, you mentally take a deep breath of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

"Also," he says, "I was wondering how you’d feel being sent out on an assignment. Well, you and Sunwoo, actually. Sunghoon was discussing a location-focused piece, and he recommended you for it since you may need a change of scenery for some fresh inspiration.”

You nod your head immediately. “Of course!”

Taehyung claps his hands together, clearly pleased. “Perfect. I’ve already booked you two for the next flight to Aewol in two days. It’ll probably be easy to find a place to stay, right?”

The pit in your stomach that faded immediately widens into a chasm. The sound of your hometown’s name on Taehyung’s lips could have been a figment of your imagination. A sick joke your guilt materialized to punish you further. But as you look longer at your boss, his glee transforming into hesitant confusion, you know the reality is far worse.

”The location piece is for Jeju,” you say, the realization on your lips hitting your ears like a cannon.

”Is that an issue? I can always send Jungwon with Sunwoo instead."

”No sir! Not a problem at all.” The words tumble out before you can stop them.

Jungwon, the little prick, wouldn’t get in the way of your success if you could help it. It’s bad enough that he reminds you of your creative block whenever he gets the chance. No way would he steal a cover piece from you. Particularly the one Sunghoon recommended you for and your boss expected you to complete without problems.

Despite the implications creating intense dread in every fiber of your being.

”Perfect. Get some sleep for the flight! I’ll send the piece details in an email first thing tomorrow morning.”

You walk back to your desk in a daze, unsure what to say when Sunghoon, Sunwoo, and Chaewon ask about the meeting. All your thoughts can center on is Jay, his smiling face continuously playing in your mind’s eye.

“This town is cute! A bit barren, but cute,” Sunwoo says as he exits the car parked in front of your childhood home. Your mother’s rose bushes stand tall near the mailbox, the only color in the dry grasslands surrounding your house. Aewol pales in comparison to the colors of Seoul, the city’s vibrant hues suddenly replaced with sepia tones. The only color that seems to shine through the landscape is the sea a five-minute walk away.

”Say that again, Woo, and your face won’t look so cute.” You roll your eyes and grab your luggage from the trunk.

Two weeks, only two weeks, you can survive two weeks. Your mantra on the flight to Jeju Island has been giving you some relief at the thought of going back home in half a decade. Standing in front of the brick and mortar that encapsulates your old house, you find the words to be extremely hollow.

With her uncanny senses, your mother is already out the door and greeting you and Sunwoo with hugs and kisses on the cheeks. How she could tell the two of you were barely out of the car without spying out the window, you’re unsure.

Sunwoo melts under your mother’s attention, his gummy smile and polite aura on full display. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

”Ah, my prayers were answered. Glad to see my daughter returned with a boyfriend!”

Yours and Sunwoo’s eyes grow to saucers. Your tongues are erupting with explanations at an absurdly fast speed. “No, Mom,” you shush her as Sunwoo’s blush creeps across his neck. “Woo’s my coworker. He’s here with me on an assignment.”

”Oh! Apologies.” She laughs behind one hand and pats Sunwoo on the back with the other. “Doesn’t mean one day you can’t be more than coworkers! That’s how your father and I met, remember?”

You give her a close-lipped smile and nod, the muscles in your jaw tightening.

You hadn’t thought about your father or your parents’ relationship once since you had flown out to the mainland. Admittedly, your life was all the better for it.

Feeling the air of his presence surrounding yours again twists the veins in your neck to tense knots. The ends of your hair prickle in anticipation. You make it to the front of your doorstep, wondering where he is and why he didn’t barge outside to greet you.

Like she can read your mind, your mother says, “I forgot to call and tell you, honey. Your father had an accident at the factory a month ago.” You see a tear in the corner of her eye, but you don’t address it. “So…he’s been bedridden for the past few months now.”

Sunwoo expresses his deepest sympathies. Unbeknownst to him, they deserve to go to the next beggar before him.

Like any other child, you should worry about your father’s sudden health change with a heavy heart and a frazzled mind. You should feel guilty for being away for so long, wondering how to make up for the lost time.

But you feel nothing. Not an ounce of what you should feel.

Even when you sit by your parents’ bed, his eyes lazily gazing out the window while your mother tells him in a loving voice that you’re home, your emotions are devoid of anything negative or positive. Sunwoo smiles and greets him politely. Your father says nothing. The seizure that overtook him stole his ability to enunciate coherent words.

Some moments later, when it’s just the two of you in the room together, you itch to leave. It should be a pleasure to see him. But you’re unsure to see it any other way but objectively: he’s just a body in a bed, doing nothing every day.

You hear your mother shouting in the living room. Her voice is at an abnormally high pitch to exemplify her happiness. You forgot she could achieve such a decibel when she wanted to.

”You won’t believe who’s here, Seongie!”

Seongie.

The childhood nickname Jay was blessed with by his parents, and the name stuck like a second skin. Now, it bounces off your ears and exacerbates your already conflicting emotions. Your body goes into overdrive from the sudden overstimulation, at ease from knowing Jay is close by but petrified you're seeing him after so long.

You fix your hair and take tentative steps out of your parents' room and into the hallway, hearing your mother call your name to beckon you to welcome your old friend.

When you see him, his frame filling the doorway of your childhood house, you’re transported back in time. You see yourself and Jay on a day when he could barely stand at half the wall height. You were etching pencil markings into the doorframe, the wood concealing the handwriting perfectly when the door was fully closed. A time when there were no worries or anxieties placed on you, the two of you against the world.

Looking over his face now, you realize the years have not shown physically. He still has the same angled jaw and smooth cheeks. His bottom lip remains puffy, especially when he pouts. The only thing that has changed with time is his eyes, most likely from the image before him, one he hasn’t seen in so long.

He has every right to be confused. One second, you stopped being a staple in his life. Now, you’re back in it without a warning.

You can’t deny your heart clenching. The muscle seizes when he looks over your figure, his jaw ticking when he finally meets your eyes with his own.

”You’re back,” he says finally. His first words to you in five years hold an air of uncertainty, laced with unspoken pain. He’s unsure what to do with his body, his arms pressed to his sides and his hands stuffed tightly into his pockets.

Knowing you’re the cause of it makes you want to run to Seoul all over again with your tail between your legs, hoping you can forget the misery you’ve caused. How can one apology hold enough weight to make up for what you did to one of the only people you’ve ever loved?

Sunwoo, aware of the sudden tension flooding the room, holds out a hand to your best friend. “Hi, I’m Sunwoo.”

Jay breaks eye contact with you to take Sunwoo’s palm, shaking it with a gentle but present grip. Jay gestures to your mom when he discusses yours and Sunwoo’s job at the magazine. “She’s very proud of her daughter, you know."

”Of course!” Your mother exclaims. “‘S not everyday that your child becomes some hip photographer.”

Jay inhales a heavy breath and looks down at his watch. “I have to go back to the lighthouse, but—“

”I thought your dad still ran that thing,” you cut Jay off. Aewol’s lighthouse was one of the last on the island, and the last love Jay’s father had left after his wife passed away twelve years ago. You expected it to stay in the family, but not in this way. Not when Jay has so many dreams to fulfill. Or, at least, you hope so.

Jay releases a humorless laugh, eyes falling at the corners. “Pop’s getting old. Can’t do it forever.”

He hugs your mother and gives a soft wave to Sunwoo. You feel the pit in your chest from a few days ago re-erupt when Jay looks in your direction before he departs. All you’re left with is the grim line of his mouth to haunt you for the rest of your afternoon.

The shutter of your camera makes Jay turn his head to you with a shy grin, his hair blowing in all directions from the wind. Your spot on the cliffside overlooking the sea is close enough to the lighthouse for you to see Jay’s father going in and out of the structure with supplies shipped from the mainland. Jay only runs over when his father calls for him to help, but his father hasn’t bothered to in the last hour or so.

In the downtime, the two of you have been alternating between science homework and enjoying the cool, cloudy weather. You’ve taken a number of shots of the water’s current and weeds surrounding your picnic blanket, but the majority of them were of your best friend. He pretends he’s going to smack your lens away, but he never does.

“Are you done taking candid shots of me?” Jay asks, his pencil scratching against his notebook.

“Depends. Maybe once you tell me what you’re writing,” you tease. “Because it’s definitely not a chemical equation.”

Jay chuckles and puts his notebook between the two of you. The words are jumbled in front of you until you recognize them as a recipe. “I was testing out this version of hoedeopbap last night, but I used white fish instead of salmon. It turned out really good, even Jaeyun liked it.”

You rest your head on your hand, sprawling out on the blanket to look at Jay. He always appears so animated when discussing food. You wonder when he’ll take the initiative and do something with his passion.

“What?” He asks when he catches you staring.

You grin and turn your eyes away. “You’re just a dork for food, is all.”

“Says the nerd with her camera always around her neck.”

You click your tongue at him. “I consider myself an opportunist. How else will I get good shots if I don’t have my baby with me?” You rub your camera’s body lovingly, and Jay releases a hearty laugh.

The booming sound of your father’s voice calling your name makes your entire body flinch. You swear his figure is as tall as the lighthouse as he comes towards your picnic blanket, stopping short when he sees Jay next to you.

“It’s almost dinner time. Let’s go home.” Your father says the words with a false ease; they hide his warning to follow him back to your house. Your anxiety rumbles low in your stomach, but you play it off like it’s nothing as you pack up your stuff.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, his eyes hopeful for the next morning. As it is your routine for him to bike with you to school, you’re also counting the minutes until you see him again.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, your eyes soft but your stomach wrapped in knots. When you’re out of sight, and your father wraps his hand around your upper arm on your way to the car, you calculate the next seconds until you’re away from him and back in the safety of your best friend’s presence.

You and Sunwoo have been around the town square of Aewol all morning and afternoon. The crisp hour of 4 PM hits you sharply with the sound of cows and other livestock sounding off somewhere nearby. The pictures you’ve both taken of the local townspeople, random animals passing through the pale greenery, and subtle landscape have been average at best. They don’t hit you with awe or fuel any further inspiration. It’s the same cycle you’ve repeated for the past three months, trying to strike some sort of match of creativity only to come up empty.

“Let’s be honest,” Sunwoo says, looking over his own camera’s reel. “These kinda blow.”

“You don’t say?” You kick a free cobblestone off the road in front of you, lips downturned.

“The assignment is ‘Hidden Treasures’ right? Maybe we’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“Where do you think we’ll find something like that here?”

“You’re a local,” Sunwoo says in his defense. “Where did you go all the time in this backwater town?”

The beginning of your sarcastic remark dies on your lips the second you see Jay walking out of the laundromat with Heeseung, one of your old high school friends. He looks the same as Jay, still youthful but showing maturity around the edges.

Jay catches your eyes as they continue walking, his face contorting in surprise but unsure how to address it. Heeseung is the one to run towards you and pick you up in a tight hug, practically squeezing the remaining energy out of you.

“Holy shit, Jong wasn’t lying! You’re really back!” Heeseung laughs, his eyes becoming crescent moons from his happiness. You match his reaction, genuinely glad to see another familiar face.

You introduce Sunwoo to Heeseung, and Sunwoo exchanges pleasantries with Jay. Jay remains tense, the two of you conflicted about how to bridge the awkwardness that lingers.

Heeseung, like Sunwoo, is a great detective, sniffing out tension and immediately directing the conversation to your cameras. “So, Jong was saying you’re here for an assignment?”

“Yes!” Sunwoo says before you can. “We’re trying to find hidden treasures, actually. Our boss’s words, not mine.” Heeseung laughs at Sunwoo and then flicks his fingers.

“Jong could show you guys the inside of the lighthouse! Or even the view from that damn balcony would be a treasure in its own right. You can practically see the whole town from up there. Right, Jong?”

Jay rolls his eyes and rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. “Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Perfect! We were dying here without any good material. No offense to you small town folk,” Sunwoo apologizes, but neither of your old friends mind. They welcome Sunwoo’s city perspective with laughter and an open hand, just like they always have with newcomers.

On your walk to the lighthouse, Heeseung and Sunwoo taking the lead, you’re left to walk alongside Jay. The tension is a tad looser than it was before, but it still pervades the space between you both.

Finally, Jay says, “I can’t believe you’re actually home, y’know.” He says the sentence more like a question, his voice unable to mask the traces of hurt that linger.

It makes your heart rip, but you avoid the workings inside your chest to keep the conversation light. "It took a long time, didn't it?”

”Yeah. It’s like you dropped off the planet.” Jay’s voice turns a degree lighter. He smiles, the crack in his solid facade giving you a way back in.

“I basically did. All I had was my camera and some clothes in my bag.”

Jay's eyes widen, startled by the thought. “You’ve never traveled light once in your entire life.”

”I know! I barely had time to grab the necessities.”

His eyes are filled with humor. “And by that, you mean…”

“Obviously my Pokémon collection, for starters. I had to start from scratch,” you joke. “Good thing I saved all of the old cards under my bed.”

”Even the one of Charmander that I dropped in Jaeyun’s homemade soju?”

You nod, laughing. “It still smells like watermelon.”

”Bullshit!”

You both fall into an easy rhythm of witty banter and taunting, recalling old memories and brushing shoulders in a mocking fashion.

By the time you’re taking photographs on the highest floor of the lighthouse, the tension has dissipated by a large portion. Your relationship with Jay may not be completely back to where it was before, but the first lighthearted smile he throws in your direction proves it’s a start.

And a start is just enough to make your heart feel a million pounds lighter.

“So Jongseong is flailing this card around, not realizing that the bowl of my signature soju punch is right there behind him…” Jake tells the story of the Charmander card with animated expressions. Heeseung and Jay roll their eyes, but Sunwoo laughs the entire time, his buzz bumping his energy to a level you had never seen before.

The bonfire Jake and Heeseung set up a walk away from the lighthouse is big enough for all five of you to sit comfortably around it. It seemed to be the only way your old friends could hang out together at this point in their adult lives. The bar that still stood in town filled with too many old people to feel like an acceptable hangout location.

“And he completely dropped not only her precious Pokémon card, but his whole fist into the punch bowl! I had to make a whole new batch without my parents knowing about it!” Jake laughs incredulously.

The memory still holds a level of insanity for him, clearly—not just at the situation but the level of teasing that you and Jay would devolve to when you were in your own little world together. You couldn’t help that you wanted to take your card from Jay’s hands, even if that meant soaking him in alcohol to get him to give it up.

You lift your beer to your lips, blushing. Jay sits beside you and notices the humor in your expression, smiling to himself too. You didn’t expect to reach this level of closeness again so soon. Who knew it would take a work project to find your way back to each other? With the week coming to a close and a good catalog of photos under your belt thanks to him, you could say the glass was looking half full.

“You guys got any more stories? This shit’s hilarious!” Sunwoo says, still laughing.

“Loads, man,” Jake responds.

“He’s got the best memory of all of us. Probably remembers all of our first naps in elementary,” Heeseung adds.

“How about we focus on the present, please? Otherwise we’ll be here until the sun comes up, Dee and Dum,” Jay says, pointing to the prime suspects with their all-knowing smirks.

“What else is there to say, Jay? Jake and I have been toiling on the dredging boats. You keep guarding that white tower and saying no to your uncle every time he asks you to work at his restaurant. Same old, same old.”

You turn your head to stare at Jay, perplexed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

It’s always been Jay’s dream to make something of himself with his recipes. Bookmarks, sticky notes, anything with free space held an ingredient here or a step for a recipe there. It was like it was second nature, as were photographs for you.

How could he deny himself from what he wanted?

“I already have responsibilities here. I can’t drive up and down the highway to Park & Co. every day.”

“Start small, idiot.” You chide him, half-serious in your pestering. “Who said you couldn't do both? You can be a good son and still have your own dream.”

“Careful,” Jake says to you. “He might listen to you.”

“You’re the only one who gets through that cold heart of his,” Heeseung teases.

Jay gives the older boys a stern look, and they back off immediately.

On the walk back to your house, Jay’s jacket nestled around your shoulders, you grill him further on the prospect of him cooking seriously. “You should do it.”

Jay shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “And what’ll happen to the lighthouse? My dad will go back every morning on his cane and keep it working himself? No way.”

“Come on, who says you can’t do both?” You flaunt your arms in the air, emphasizing your point. “It’s not like it rains every day here.”

He looks at you with humored eyes, their shape becoming extremely thin when he smiles. “You’re even more stubborn as an adult, you know?

You poke your tongue out at him. “I could say the same about you, Seongie.”

The rain soaks your clothes when you run through Jay’s door. You shake off the droplets in your hair, most of the strands needing to be wrung out in your fist. Jay gets you a towel to dry off with, laughing at your current state of affairs.

”Don’t make fun of me. Be glad I still came, asshole,” you warn, warming yourself with the dryness of the cotton towel.

Jay raises his hands in mercy. “I told you to come earlier! Forecasts are no joke.”

”Sometimes they’re wrong,” you say.

”Ninety-five percent of the time, they’re not. Trust the lighthouse keeper next time, maybe? I’ve been watching those skies for three years. I know if and when the weathermen are full of shit.”

You roll your eyes and shuck your shoes off, “Whatever. Any chance you have a spare pair of warm socks for me? I may get frostbite.”

”One, that involves snow,” Jay says as he walks into his small bedroom, leaving you alone for a second before coming out with what you requested. “And two, promise to bring them back. I only have so many pairs before I have to go to the city for more.”

”Scout’s honor,” you promise. You switch out your soaked socks for Jay’s, the feeling of the fabric making you immediately warmer. It could also be the fireplace that Jay put kindling in before you got there, but it’s mostly the socks. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

“I’d offer you a set of clothes too, but I’m moving a lot of my stuff from my dad’s.”

“It’s not that far away, though. You really want to live in this tiny shack?”

Jay laughs and returns to his food on the stove. “Do you think I could bring a girl home living with him? I love him, but I’m getting too old to be his roommate.”

You smile and press your arms into the kitchen counter, but you know it’s false. The thought of Jay being with someone else sprouts a gargantuan knot of jealousy in your stomach. He’s never belonged to you, not by any means. Not only that, but your illogical departure gives you no right to claim him now. And yet…

“Hey, where’d you go?” He waves a dish towel in front of your face, a smile on his lips.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you play off your prying thoughts.

“Obviously.” He sticks his tongue out at you and continues to stir the concoction on the stove.

“What are you making anyway?”

“Seaweed soup. I haven’t been able to make you any since…the last birthday we spent together.”

Your body warms deep down to the soles of your feet at this surprise. “My birthday was three months ago.”

He chuckles and turns his head to you, smirking. “Consider it a belated birthday gift then.” He carries on stirring, but continues talking. “Besides, you always liked my soup compared to your mom’s. Too watery, if I remember right.”

You blush and step away from the counter. “Let’s not talk about her or her food.”

Jay’s face turns puzzled. “You’ve always been so bristly when we talk about your family. Your mom is one of the sweetest ladies in town."

“You don’t get it. You didn’t grow up with her.”

“Hey, at least you have both parents around.”

You slam your hand down on another laminate countertop, growing more frustrated the longer the topic is broached. “Jongseong, please drop it.”

“Why are you getting so upset?” He asks, puzzled and growing alarmingly quiet at your outburst.

“Because you don’t get it! And you never will, okay? So let it go!”

The kitchen suddenly feels too suffocating, the memories of the past and your argument melding together in a way that makes any hunger that you had become a full stomach stuffed with nothing but anger and fear. You run out of the house and back into the rain, knowing if you say anything more, your secrets will fall around you like pellets soaking your skin.

The lanterns fill the sky like a thousand stars, close enough for you to touch before they’re whisked away into the dark clouds above you. Even for your small town, every adult and child knows the end of summer festival is a time to make the last set of wishes and affirmations before autumn comes. If Jay’s father yearned for an easy season, he would buy a lantern to release on a night light tonight, as would your friends’ families who hoped for good health and fortune.

You smile when you manage to catch one, holding on tight despite knowing it’s against tradition. Once one is meant to float away, it was considered rude to stop it from continuing on its path upward.

Jay chuckles and grabs it from you, matching your pout in jest. “Next year, I’ll buy you your own, alright? Don’t be greedy!”

You roll your eyes and watch the lantern rise up and away from your spot on the beach. It shimmers in an amber glow until it slips away into the black sky overhead.

You turn to him, eyes lit up not just from the lantern flames. “Did you wish for anything this year?”

Jay shrugs. “I can’t really wish for anything ‘cause I didn’t get—“

“Don’t give me that! It’s symbolic, anyway. Just tell me,” you whine.

Jay only side-eyes you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You attempt to throw a bundle of sand in his direction, but he sees your upcoming attack the second you raise your arm. He takes your wrist in his hand, the clump disintegrating between your fingers. The two of you laugh as you try to wiggle free from his grasp.

You’re both a tangle of limbs until he finally pins you down on the ground. He hovers above you, panting hard. “I win,” Jay replies, his breathing ragged but eyes still sparkling from a successful takedown.

“You wish.”

In the flicker of lantern lights and midnight stars overhead, Jay can’t help himself from leaning down closer until there’s barely a breath between your lips. He lets every doubt that has lingered over the past fourteen years dissipate and surrenders to the moment, feeling the softness of your mouth as he kisses you.

You could be glowing as bright as the lights still being sent off into the sky. You feel like you are, anyway.

He doesn’t go faster or push you further, the simplicity of the act making you sparkle from within with every ebb and flow of your conjoined lips. The crackle of a firework is what makes the two of you come up for air, unaware of how much time has passed.

You let the moment hang between you the entire walk home. He holds your hand, squeezing it every now and then, the action more valuable than any words he could say right now. He holds himself back from giving you another kiss to say goodnight, knowing there’s always tomorrow.

Minutes after you make it inside, the scene in front of you turns whatever joy was left from Jay’s presence into acid.

“Can you not do anything right around here? I ask for the simplest things and even that’s too much.” Your father points to the food in his hands with an air of disgust directed at your mother.

He spits his vitriol in her face, the pattern commonplace. The behavior is nothing new, but his eyes show something worse than normal brewing beneath the surface.

“I can fix it,” your mother assures him, trying to take the bowl from him. “I’ll throw out the old batch and—“

“So now you think wasting food is the better choice? Are you stupid?”

The two of them are unaware of your presence, but even if they were, you doubt that would change the downward spiral they were heading towards.

She tries to walk away from him like she always has, diffusing the situation in the only way she knows how, but he drops the bowl on the counter and takes her by the arm.

“You’re not leaving,” he warns. The next moments pass in a blur, each one that plays out making you hover outside of your body, looking down in disbelief. Your mother’s temple hits the wood with a terrible thud. The next second, your body is pressed against your father’s to pull him away, begging, “Daddy, please stop!”

His upper arm has enough force to jam into your chest and knock you onto the kitchen tile below. Pain reverberates up your tailbone from hitting the floor in a violent bang.

Your mother comes from the daze of her assault to cover your body with her own. It’s a pointless defense, your father’s feet slamming hard on the floor as he walks away and into the bedroom without looking back once.

She apologizes profusely, holding your head in her hands as tears stream down her face without an endpoint. You can barely form a tear yourself, still unsure the past ten minutes happened at all. An hour ago, you had your first kiss, and now…

“Your aunt lives on a coast off the mainland. I can’t let you stay here anymore, my love.”

That moment is when you feel the water form in your eyes. You couldn’t leave now, not with so much left uncertain.

“Promise me you’ll leave this place. Don’t think about this night again and find something better, please.”

That entire night, the waves knocking into each other with the same force as you had encountered hours ago, you feel your heart shatter into a multitude of pieces, each fragment tinier and more painful than the last. The thought of Jay waking up to see you in the morning only to find you erased from his life, robs any chance of you sleeping on the boat ride to Wando.

He’ll try to call and text, for sure. But what could be said that would explain the last twenty four hours without breaking your promise to your mother? How could you live with sharing such intimate details of your household, even with someone as sacred to you as Jay is?

How could you make him believe it wasn’t his fault that you fled without revealing your most vulnerable and harsh reality? After coming so close to the future you always dreamed of with him, what would he think? What would he do?

So, like any coward does, you let the phone ring until your battery dies, not bothering to charge it again until you make it to your aunt’s. You tell yourself he’ll move on and life will be better with you safe and out of the picture. Every beat of your breaking heart may call you a liar, but you’ll learn to twist it into the truth one day.

The next afternoon, sun slowly setting to meet the waves below, you walk towards the lighthouse with the courage your younger self didn’t have the night you ran away. Your heart tosses around in your mouth when you take the first step through the threshold, but now is the last time you fear the truth. If you couldn’t explain the circumstances back then, the least you could do was explain them now.

You take the trek up the steps to the top floor of the lighthouse, every step heavier than the last. Jay stands inside the lantern room cleaning the large bulb at the center of the space. He immediately tenses when you walk through the open door, but he says nothing. He only holds the same somber expression he had the first day you arrived back in Aewol. Only now, so much more rests behind his face that you cannot decipher.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. The words release something you believed couldn’t be separated from your being. Your guilt remains present, but the apology provides a long-held breath of fresh air.

He looks up to meet your gaze, eyebrows furrowing just a touch. The setting sun casts amber shadows across his face, making his confusion breathtaking. Clearly, he’s unsure what exactly you’re apologizing for.

The next words already taste like lead in your mouth, but you can’t hold the weight of them for another second.

Speaking them out loud is what will set you free.

“The night I left, my dad pushed my mom into a cabinet,” you confess. The eight words you just uttered create a well of tears in your eyes, but you keep your voice level and solid. “He had always been…harsh before, not just with her, but that was the first night I ever saw him hurt her with his hands instead of his words.

“I tried to stop it from getting worse, and I fell down—no,” you take a breath, “h-he threw—he threw me down on the floor.” You feel foolish for trying to minimize his actions, knowing there’s no reason to protect him anymore. You lower your head, ashamed. “That was when my mom called my aunt in Wando. She begged me not to say anything, so I kept it a secret. You’re the first person I’ve ever told about it… and about how much of an asshole my father really is.”

You can’t help the way your words crumble on your tongue or the low whimper that erupts from your lips. You had accepted in silence the harsh reality of your father being a violent and cruel human being, but speaking the words aloud is another beast entirely.

You go cold, your figure limp until you feel Jay’s gentle fingers under your chin. They pull your face up to meet his, catching his glassy and red eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

You sniffle. “What would you have done? We were seventeen—“

“Fuck that,” Jay seethes, his face a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I would’ve killed him then, just like I want to right now.”

You laugh and take his fingers in yours. “I made a promise.” You lock onto his gaze harder, trying to convey every ounce of regret you still feel. “I thought about calling you every day. I’d pick up the phone and didn’t know how to come up with the right words, especially after…”

Jay laughs, passing over the curve of your cheek with his thumb. It’s the rhythmic pattern of his touch that makes you come down from such heightened emotions. It’s always been his superpower, grounding you like this. “If I had known I wouldn’t see you again, I would’ve kissed you until the sun came up.”

You blush, your body flushing with heat. “Nothing’s stopping you now, Jongseong. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He steps forward, the shy boy you grew to love appearing in front of you. The last time you were this close, you both were unsure about most things in life, but not about how much you meant to him, and vice versa.

Now, the feelings he had put on hold for so long take hold of him, his heart a kaleidoscope of pent-up sensations when he finally presses his lips to yours. His mouth is ravenous, his tongue finding yours as his arms clutches onto your body with fervor.

You’re encased in him, all the lost time suddenly found in the spaces of his mouth on yours, your hands on his body, and the moans that leave your mouth. He undoes the buttons of your cardigan with quick ease, taking it off of your shoulders and somewhere in the room you don’t care to remember. You help him pull the sweater over his head to kiss the column of his throat and top of his chest, making him shudder.

You both pause to hurry down to the drawing room below, not wanting to continue on the iron floor next to the bright bulb of the lighthouse. Yes, the cot off to the side of the room is not incredibly comfortable, but you care little about its lack of comfort when Jay lays you down on your back and smothers your body in kisses. He makes a map of your skin until he meets the apex of your thighs, your body highly strung by the time he kisses the center of your legs.

You clutch his hair with both hands and hold tight in the midst of his ministrations, his whispered words of affirmation and the figure-eight patterns of his tongue saying just enough to push you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

He lifts his head from your body to crawl over you, his heart in his mouth as he says the words that have always been in his mind and heart from the second he saw you. “I love you.”

You’re unsure if it’s normal to cry at such a confession or in the midst of your current situation, but regardless, there are no tears of fear or pain. They’re ones that fill the silence between you with what he already knows to be true. But you say the words he needs to hear anyway. “I love you, too, Seongie.”

This is what it feels like to be at home. His body against yours, him sliding so easily inside of you without a word needed for the immense amounts of pleasure that already exists. It could be a handful of minutes or a span of time that carries over into the next morning. All that matters is his lips on your own and his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

And in between every movement, he has to remind you how much he loves you. His words and feelings are already embossed into your heart, but it’s nice to hear the breathless cadence of his voice. “I love you so much,” he groans, his end close with the sudden stutters of his body.

You fall off the cliffside together, your bodies in sync in the best possible way as your eyes see the stars from the very first night you kissed in the back of your eyelids. And when he has his hands in your hair, his touch lulling you to sleep, you wonder why it took you this long to come back to the one person who has always been the safest space in your world.

The two of you stay nestled in the thin blanket, Jay’s body your source of warmth in the small drawing room of the lighthouse. The cot barely holds your bodies, but with you both squeezing together and not wanting to let go, you make it work.

Jay takes stray hairs from your face to tuck behind your ears. “I can’t believe you didn’t know how bad my crush was until the festival.”

You giggle into his chest. “I wasn’t paying attention to boys back then! How would I have known?” You hold his gaze, suddenly vulnerable.

He chuckles. “I think I was pretty obvious.”

“To everyone but me, I guess,” you joke. “Besides, I think I always knew I’d end up with you, strangely.”

“That’s not strange, not at all.” He kisses you tenderly, nipping your lips until you laugh into his mouth. “Perfect. At least to me.”

“Same,” you agree. “I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m with you.”

Jay responds by holding you tighter between his arms. He kisses the top of your head before whispering, “So where do we go from here?”

The answer is simple, but that doesn’t make it any easier to face.

Jay looks deeply into your eyes and senses the words you cannot say, and the strength of his stare and his arms as your protective walls from all the harm that still exists in this world gives you the power to confront what you need to.

That afternoon, leaving Jay in the lighthouse with your heart fully in his possession, you know you have to face the demons that wait for you in your childhood home. If you are to have a future together, the first thing you have to do is make peace with the past.

A handwritten note on the fridge tells you your mother went out for groceries, giving you the perfect excuse to release the words that would end your terror once and for all.

You enter your parents’ room to see your father, unmoved from the spot you saw him in on the first day you were back home. Your mother pleaded for you to check in every now and then now that you were back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not until now.

You move the chair by his bedside out to sit down. When you finally face him again, you take note of the details you were too blinded by indifference to notice before. You observe the wrinkles on his forehead, the sunken divots under his eyes, the age lines surrounding his mouth, the frailness of his body.

The weight he’s lost since his accident makes all his features stand out more. All that he’s lost, but has also always been, is on full display now: this husk of a man without the venomous words and bravado to hide behind is truly nothing to be scared of anymore.

“You’re so much smaller than I realized.” You say it with a breath of relief, any fear or anger that was left behind for him in your soul replaced with pity. You can walk away without regrets or words you wish you could’ve said, because you know now it’s a waste of your peace. Maybe one day, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive, even. Not today, but someday.

You walk away with no grievances left, back in the direction of the lighthouse with a new purpose and ready to take the path you were always meant to. Back to the home you’ve always had resting inside of the one you love.

Jay stands with his back facing you, staring off into the expanse of sea in front of him. His shoulders ease as you step closer.

“You’re back,” he says with saccharine happiness. He takes your hand in his and presses your fingers to his lips.

“I am,” you respond. You kiss him with your whole soul, incredibly in love and unafraid of what will come next.

“Babe! The new issue is here!”

You open your eyes to the sound of Jay’s words. You could barely doze off when he was so excited to grab the mail this morning. It was only delivered a few minutes ago, but of course he has to check for the newest spread of Otherworldly in your mailbox. To his happiness and your shy pride, your name’s plastered in almost every section of the photography credits.

Convincing your boss to let you work for the magazine from your hometown turned out to be easier than expected. With his happiness from your newfound inspiration, it seemed like you could take pictures of algae for all he cared and it would be a hit in the magazine’s eyes.

You weren’t the only one who could take credit, though. Jay’s name was also included in some of the photos, his insight into Aewol’s cuisine and new sous chef position at Park & Co providing more than enough influence for your photography. The lighthouse would always be his priority (aside from you), but his second love of food could not be kept at bay any longer.

He opens the magazine to the first page that features your photos, the centerfold being of Jay’s original recipe for hoedeopbap. “It looks even better in print,” Jay says, his face three shades brighter staring at the meal.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his middle, peeking your head out from the side of his shoulder to look at the pages. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Some of the best you’ve ever done.” He turns in your hold to press your chest to his, kissing your forehead in the process. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Actually, getting lucky is how we got this.” You take his hand and rest it on the curve of your stomach, fifteen weeks peaking out from under the midriff of your tank top.

He laughs and presses his lips to your cheek. “I love you.”

To your surprise, peace was easier to find than you had expected. Confronting what you ran away from all those years ago feels like a distant memory, the pain of the past a part of another reality. There are no monsters that creep in the shadows or secrets to keep locked behind closed doors.

All that remains is the ease that comes from a life filled with nothing but love and happiness, as weightless and freeing as a lantern floating through the sky.

“I love you too, Park Jongseong.”

@junekissed (thank for beta-ing also june!! ilysm) @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

#kvanity #svnet #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong smut #enha smut #jongseong smut #enha fic #enha fics #enhypen fics #enhypen fic #park jongseong fic #park jongseong fics #enha x reader #park jongseong scenarios

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peachesofteal · 1 year ago

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ok i have a question- for the dead disco fics, if there was a situation where ghost had to choose between reader and soap, who would he choose? idk why im thinking abt this LOL

Hey babe, what is wrong with you? (I love this so much it scratches my angst brain just right) Why do you want to feel this pain? (I too, want to feel this pain...let’s indulge)

Ghost x Soap x female reader Dead Disco - verse AU - not canon to the actual story. Warnings-tags: Angst. Inferred character death. Darling's usual (eating issues, depression, anxiety, despair, self destructive behaviors)

The bed is too big, as it always has been. As it always was before, and during. And as it always will be for now on, too. Your legs spread across it, kicking and swishing across pristine sheets like you're swimming in them, like you're drowning. Drowning, is more apt. Drowning is more akin to these feelings that swimming, certainly. Drowning is how you feel right now, smothered in your loss, lungs full of water, burning from the salt of your own tears. You're at the bottom of the ocean, lost beneath where the sunlight doesn't reach, far beyond the swell of the waves. Drowning is what it feels like, when your heart clenches in your chest and your stomach heaves it's bile free. Drowning is how you would describe this black, bottomless hole that's developed soul, the one that pulls you deeper and deeper with every breath. Drowning. You've drowned. And no one was there to pull you to shore. To safety. No one was there to save you.

"I'm home!" Your bag falls to the floor with a thud as you toss your keys on the island, loosening your jacket and heading towards the dining area of the flat. "Holy shit, wait until I tell you about my day. My boss was on one today, she was being a crazy a-" the words die on your tongue when you finally look up and see the expression on Johnny's face. At first glance, one might call it grim, but for those who know him, who know to look closer, you see the red ting to his eye lids, the rub of drier skin around his nose. He's been crying. "What's going on?" you ask, looking from him to where Simon sits, stone faced. Immobile. Neither of them answer you at first. "Hello?" The knot that's been loosely tied in your stomach tightens. Simon nods at the free chair next to him. "Sit, darling."

There are two boxes, in your bathroom. They sit, full of things, clothing, items, trinkets, pieces of memories, pieces of love. They idle next to your bathtub, waiting, watching you, every time you drag yourself towards the toilet to vomit, or whenever you muster up the strength to look at your toothbrush. The boxes have sharpie scrawled across them, big loopy letters that almost look like mouths, almost look like they could grow teeth and talk to you, or eat you alive with what's inside of them. You supposed, they could. If you were to open them, and actually look at the things inside, they would consume you. Chew you up. Spit you out.

"I- I don't understand." You take a half step towards Johnny, who visibly flinches, face torn fractured with despair, while Simon's lips press into a hard line before he speaks. "We will make sure you're taken care of, we-" His voice is cold. So, so cold it scratches at your heart, pin pricks of icicles working their way beneath your ribs. "Stop." you shake your head, willing yourself to focus. What is he saying? What does he mean? "Simon, what... wh-what does that mean?" "Darling we're so, so sorry." Johnny's voice, is the opposite of cold. It's molten. Hot, and burning red with orange, thick with something you think is sadness. "You are sorry." You repeat it, numbly. You're not crying, which is a surprise to yourself and probably the two of them too. Your brain is really working now, hard. It's compartmentalizing and organizing and shoving little things away, burying others beneath mountains of sand and locking memories into boxes that you'll never be able to open. "You can't. You can't just leave me... you... you promised." Simon stands completely still, while Johnny shifts his weight nervously, fingers tangling with one another as he watches you like a hawk. Like a solider. "This will be better... for everyone." He tries to soothe you, tries to calm you, even from where he lurks, five feet away. Simon offers you nothing. "I don't understand, everything was fine. I thought... we were okay." Simon finally moves, shaking his head with a no while you watch, mouth ajar.

The boxes have been ripped into tatters now. They lay in shreds across the things in the bathtub, covering two t shirts of Johnny's, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie of Simon's. Your silk bathrobe, and giant fleece blanket from the couch. There's also a book, a collection of photographs, a few pieces of jewelry. Worn index cards with recipes on them, Johnny's mum's, and a comic book, that Simon used to keep in his drawer of the bedside table. The final touch is the secret pack of cigarettes, the ones Simon used to keep in the closet, sans the one in your mouth. You inhale it slowly, breathing in the tobacco and the nicotine and the fumes of the lighter fluid, the entire contained dumped onto of the collection of things in the tub, waiting for your final flick. When it comes, you stay perched on the edge on the bath, barely interested, unmoving, as the fire rages. As it consumes.

"You fucking promised!" You scream. You scream it over and over until your throat is hoarse and Johnny looks panicked. Simon grips him roughly, sliding him half behind his body, as if to protect him from you. As if he thinks you'd hurt him. They both watch you with stricken faces, hunters tracking a wounded animal, and your breaths come in short bursts as tears track down your face. "You said you love me." It's barely a whisper, mournful and slow, and they both hear it. "We do." Johnny croaks. "We did." Simon counters, and you flinch. "But this is what's best, for all of us. It was always going to be him, darling. You've known this." It was always going to be him. It was always... going to be Johnny and Simon, over you. It was always going to be them, and not you. The truth stings, burns, bites. It twists it's wicked claws around your heart and tugs and tears until there's nothing left. You've known this. You idiot. How could you possibly believe, in the end, you'd still be in this equation? You'd still be a part of this? How could you possibly believe, that after everything, they'd still love you? Still want you? Simon's mouth moves, but you hear no sound. You hear nothing, as you turn on your heel and barricade yourself in the bedroom. You hear nothing, as they knock, and knock, you hear nothing, until the wood stops vibrating, and the front door open and closes with a final thud. It was always going to be them. You've known this.

"Bloody hell." Gaz whistles, eyes locked on the screen. Johnny wipes a towel across the back of his neck, mopping up the sheen of sweat that lingers there while Simon saunters through the rec room doors. "Christ. Didn't ya two live near there?" "Live where?" Johnny frowns, looking up. There's a heli eye view of a burning building on the news, it's entire structure engulfed in flames, firemen barely making a dent. The camera switches to a ground reporter, a pretty woman with a serious face, who's explaining that arson investigators believe the fire started on the ninth floor, where there's still a single person trapped, unable to be rescued so far by exhaustive efforts. Something glitches in Johnny's brain, something short circuiting while he blinks, and breathes, and blinks, trying to wrap his mind around what he's seeing. The ninth floor. Someone trapped. Didn't ya two live near there? The ninth- It's almost unrecognizable, but he knows. Of course he knows. The ninth floor, the ninth floor- His heart stops in his chest, and he turns frantically to Simon, who stands like a statue in the doorway, eyes wide and frozen. "No. Nonononono-" Johnny whispers. He stumbles, away from Simon, away from Gaz, eyes not leaving the television while he drops to his knees. "She- Simon." Simon doesn't answer, just stands, broken. Empty. Like a ghost. He has no words. He has nothing. And neither does Johnny.

#ghost x soap x reader #dead disco #peaches asks #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x ghost x reader

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dandelionnfluff · 7 months ago

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Hello friends!

I finally finished my bind of I'm on Fire by the lovely @bettyfrommars 🧡

This is my favourite Eddie fic. Waiting and reading a new chapter of it truly helped me with my mental health at the time. It was a perfect escape from reality.

I wanted to bind this to show Betty how much her words truly helped me. Betty is also the one who made me feel welcomed to this community🧡 always cheking if I'm still here. She is truly a great friend to have.

To the bind:

Let me tell you that just about everything that can go wrong, did. This bind was a struggle! 😂 I'm trying to be more graceful to myself as this bind had a lot of firsts for me. First time using bookcloth, first time using Htv on the covers, first time foiling all of the chapter titles and first time sewing the headbands by hand.

I trim my pages with a knife and of course with this I fucked it up😅 had to do a lot of sanding and they're still kind of a mess. I burned some htv, had to individualy iron each letter on the front cover and spine..

That being said, even as everything is a bit wonky and all, I'm still ever so proud of it.

Fic by @bettyfrommars

Bind by me (@dandelionnfluff )

Typeset by me (@dandelionnfluff )

Beautiful artwork in the typeset of Eddie, Wayne, Steve & Astrid is by the talented: @dr-aculaaa

Edit. Ok, so I tagged the wrong dr-aculaaa🤦🏻‍♀️ it's fixed now!

#eddie munson #fic rec #fanfic bookbinding #bookbinding #i'm on fire

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steddieunderdogfics · 7 months ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @wynnyfryd! Wynnyfryd has 34 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

i don’t know, you figure it out

Plot Holes

biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!

Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!

She's got some of the FUNNIEST writing in this fandom, and it's very snappy too like. She's an editing demon for sure, she can take a concept that I'd think would take paragraphs to explain and find the right words to make it hit just as hard with like, two sentences. I also really really love how descriptive her metaphors are, really visceral sometimes, and she's really good at writing realistic life events but still making them fun to read about even when it's about like, devastating shit. The sex she writes is also intense as hell! -- @griefabyss69

Below the cut, @wynnyfryd answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I am but a humble bisexual — I see two beautiful brown-eyed men makin’ beautiful brown eyes at each other, I go a little insane for two years. It is what it is.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

late-night moments of quiet hopeful hesitant intimacy over a shared joint or cigarette. Thin wisp of smoke between them, stars dancing in their eyes. Yeah. YEAHHHHHHH

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

This isn’t really a trope so much as a dynamic, but I love a good dipshit 4 dingus dialogue-heavy scene. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eddie and Steve can both be very smart and knowledgeable in their areas of interest/expertise, but these are two young dudes with no access to the internet. I love letting them be confidently incorrect dumbasses. Just ‘yes and’-ing each other’s stupidity while an exasperated third character begs for mercy.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Well, this question is impossible and furthermore rude. This question came into my home and didn’t take its muddy boots off. This question never mailed me a thank you letter for my lovely wedding gift. That blender was expensive; the absolute nerve. No but seriously, I think The Lathe by palmviolet is going to stay with me forever.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’m a big fan of doing canon divergence from different jumping off points — the beauty of having characters live in the same small town their whole lives is that you get so many great opportunities for these “what if our paths crossed sooner” moments. I have some very loose notes for a S3 fic where Eddie is the movie theater employee who finds Steve and Robin in the bathroom after they escape the Russians, and I also have an old WIP set between S1 and S2 where lifeguard Steve rescues Eddie and then spends the summer teaching him how to swim. Would love to revisit those after I finish the trailer park AU (which I will be referring to as TPAU because my fingers are tired and because ‘toilet paper au’ makes me laugh.)

What is your writing process like?

Uhhhhh. 😂 I mean, for TPAU, basically just insert the scene from Dune 2 of Paul’s first sandworm ride: I’m shaking I’m sweating there is sand in my nostrils and I am surely about to die— oh wait, maybe I’ve actually got this? Am I actually doing it? Oh shit, look at me go! For one-shots I like to use a more structured outline and bracket method. I start by dividing my doc into numbered scenes, with each scene getting a notes section and a prose section, like this:

This format gives me a lot of freedom to switch up the order of scenes and to move between scenes so I avoid writer’s block. I can also jump ahead to scenes I really want to write without making a mess of my outline. Once I have something written in the prose section of each scene, I go back and work on replacing each bracket with prose until there are no brackets left. Lastly, I create a new blank doc and copy the prose over in order so I can read the full fic and work on edits from there.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I have been known to abuse a semicolon. And an em dash. And a conjunction at the start of a sentence. Yes, I do have ADHD. I’m also a lyricist, so I feel like my prose tends to stray into poetry territory pretty often.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

When I’m finished! Which is probably why I tend to stick to one-shots; I get impatient and want to post stuff the second it’s ready.

Which fic are you most proud of?

‘i don’t know, you figure it out’ for SURE. I’ve never written a fic this long or stuck to a writing project this consistently in my life. Like ever. The last time I even came close was my first NaNoWriMo when I was 16, which was, uh… years ago, plural, and I’ll leave it at that. 😂

How did you get the idea for i don’t know, you figure it out?

“There’s a dead rat on his doorstep.” That’s it. That first sentence/scene popped into my head while I was bored at work, and then I started thinking, “hey, you know what? I don’t know that anyone’s ever done a fic where Max and Steve trade places for S4; that might be fun.” And then NaNoWriMo was coming up, so I thought it would be cool to try live posting a fully improvised fic every day for a month to see how many words I could write. And then this tragic wet cat version of Steve Harrington grabbed me by the throat and took over my whole life.

When writing Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!, what was something you didn’t expect?

How SAPPY these two got!! My god, boys, I’m trying to write smut over here, stop having a beautiful existential crisis! (I blame Briston Maroney for that though lol, I think I listened to ‘Body’ like 1400 times that month.)

What inspired Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!?

@inklessletter posted this totally gorgeous art of Steve and Eddie recording themselves kissing, and I promptly lost my mind.

What was your favorite part to write from biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!?

This exchange: Steve: “What? I’m just asking!” Robin: “You’re being embarrassing!” Steve: “No, you’re just embarrassed. There’s a difference.” Like it’s just so them lmao

How do/did you feel writing i don’t know, you figure it out?

You know when you set out on a long hike in the summer and three hours later your calves are screaming and you’re covered in sweat and your sunburn’s starting to itch and this one horse fly won’t fuck off and your cell phone doesn’t even get service out here so literally WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF, and then you climb that last hill and look out on the most beautiful landscape you’ve ever seen in your silly little life? Basically that.

What was the most difficult part of writing Plot Holes?

Ooh, that one was fun! The only real difficulty was trying to keep it to a microfic because the concept could definitely be fleshed out to a full story — @griefabyss69 and I were joking around about “what if someone did ‘plot hole’ for the @steddiemicrofic prompt fill?” and then that fic just fell out of my head in about 15 minutes.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

For sure! I’m currently super proud of the graveyard scene in the most recent update of TPAU — I don’t write true horror often, but I love horror so it was really fun to give it a try! Favorite line from any fic is probably this reference to ‘You’re Divine’ in my fic Monsoon Season because I love uncomfortably-aroused prude Eddie, and his internal monologue cracks me up every time I think about it: Freddie Monsoon’s debut novel is called The Fourth Chime, and it is, as far as Eddie can tell, the first installment in a series of unapologetically filthy fuck fests about a man whose lover gets flung into an alternate dimension during an apocalyptic event and miraculously returns as some sort of… sexy bat-boy with a fucking horse dong and a bite kink. Critics are calling it “the most romantic novel of the last decade.” It’s me; I’m Critics.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

My main project right now is finishing TPAU if it kills me, but beyond that, I have a few one-shots for @subeddieweek in the works, including a collab with @griefabyss69 that I’m so so SO excited to share. It’s hot, it’s funny, I can’t wait for y’all to read it.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

First of all, as @wormdebut would say: I think you’re pretty. Thank you so much for all your hard work! I love this blog, and I love answering questions <3 Secondly: - Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. - Toss cubed sweet potatoes and parsnips, sliced sweet onion, and fresh garlic in a mix of olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary, and then spread in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet. - Bake for ~40-45 minutes. (Potatoes and parsnips should be soft without being mushy when you poke them with a fork.) - Prep your sauce: I made a dijon drizzle situation by mixing olive oil mayo, a dash of dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a splash of water, but you could also add a little dab of hot sauce, bbq sauce, or different mustards. Basically just grab like four condiments out of your fridge and play around with the flavors you like until you make a mix that’s thin enough to pour. - Drizzle roasted veggies with sauce. - Enjoy a very tasty side dish (or do what I did and eat the whole sheet as a meal like some sort of parsnip goblin because you were too lazy to make the main dish after chopping all those veggies) okay thank you love you byeeeee

Thank you to our author, @wynnyfryd, and our nominator, @griefabyss69! See more of Wynnyfryd's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers #writer's wednesday

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fillinforlater · 1 year ago

Text

Paradise

Male Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 4646 words

Tags: non-smut, story heavy drama, angsty, best friends, young love, looking for paradise

TW: to avoid spoilers, assume all trigger warning apply (I promise nothing sexual!)

Inspiration: "Paradise" by Coldplay (I love that song. Others have inspired me as well e.g. "Clocks" but this is THE one).

(A/N: Happy Anniversary to me <3 fricking 2 years since y'all had to read my first fic. Thanks for all the support! Enjoy this fic that means a lot to me. @firagaarmor, this ones for you too!)

“Can you tell me what paradise is?”

You raise your eyes over the sharp edge of your book, your mind still lost in the adventures of a young sailor, trying to make a name for himself and fighting with the deadly, dark blue sea and the temptation of strong liquor. He’s a brave man, firmly gripping the loose end of a rope to hold the sail steady while a thunderstorm makes his life seem defenseless, fragile, miniscule. The book is too tense, too captivating to stop now!

But then you continue to look past all the letters on old, yellowed paper, straight to her face. Feel her strong gaze grab you and freeze you in place with nothing but softness and innocence. Suddenly, the meaning these words had on you evaporates; the capturing story is nothing but a hallucination you experience while staring at them. You are not hallucinating now. She is here, she is real—and she is absolutely gorgeous.

“Paradise?” you sum up her question in a rather uncertain whisper, Gaeul nods nonetheless.

“Yes!” her eyes beam with thrill and she closes the gap between you and her on the couch. Usually, the two of you leave some space on the worn-out, white sofa, with you reading in one corner and Gaeul resting in the other. It’s rare for her to be this close; it makes you trip up and drop the book on your chest. “Tell me all about it.”

“Well it’s… simple, yet also very complex, you know?” You scratch the back of your head and avoid her face. Straight brown hair frames her soft features, puts a stark contrast between dark beauty and pale beauty, while every nook and cranny on it is just flawlessly carved—you’re red now.

“You need to tell me everything!” Gaeul insists.

“F-fine. Paradise is the place that we go to after we die. We of course don’t know if it’s real or not or if we have to do something or believe something to get in it. Maybe it’s guarded by angels, gods or titans! Maybe it’s just something we tell ourselves to feel better about what death might be: just nothingness. Sometimes people imagine heaven to be this overwhelmingly marvelous forest, where everything is in harmony. Sometimes they see it as a golden gate with everything perfect and beautiful behind it. Sometimes people just call some place on earth paradise.”

“Why?” Gaeul asks, her ears twitching but not really twitching. She is just excited to listen to you, probably. “Where is this place?”

“Well, uhm,” you mutter and scratch harder. Surely you’ll find an answer that will satisfy her. “I think you need to find this place yourself. Like I said, everyone thinks paradise is something different.”

Gaeul nods with the eagerness and naivety of a child. She still possesses this deeply rooted innocence, this greed for knowledge and finding new things. All these years of school could not squeeze it out of her, no belittling, no bullying, nothing can break her spirit. You adore her for it, you envy her for it.

“Paradise,” she says and returns to her original position. “Paradise, paradise.”

She smiles.

“I want to see it with you.”

Gaeul and you are stuck to each other like glue. God put this glue on you from the very beginning. Gaeul was born seventeen days after you, in the same hospital, and grew up in the same street, in the same town as you. You’d always meet her at the playground and from wordlessly playing with her in the sand to fighting and hating her, you felt every emotion towards her every day for all those long kindergarten days.

In school, it was more or less the same. Other people were always interesting for Gaeul, but she kept them at a distance, unlike you, who she never ignored or turned down. You were a bit more difficult back then, frankly, the teasing from the other boys about her was annoying, but you got over it the day you found out she liked the same songs.

“Seventeen?” she chirped when you mentioned their debut track. “You like Seventeen?”

“Well, yes. This song sounds very… nice,” you whispered, phone in hand, eyes on the pavement.

“Do you know all their names?”

“Ha, no way! There is like so many of them.”

Gaeul grins and grabs your hand. Triumphantly, she announces: “I know all of them, all thirteen! I guess I’m smarter than you!”

“Pah, I-I was born seventeen days before you. I’m older and I’m smarter!”

“No~”

The bickering made you bond, while the fantastic songs of Seventeen drowned out all foreign criticism. You found more and more things to like and dislike about each other, which made every day spent together worth it. Be it playing games together, preparing food (let’s be honest, you mostly just tried mixing random ingredients and had her mom save it in the end) or just chilling on the couch—it never got boring.

It was about a year ago when you noticed that she had these long phases where she just did nothing. Her small body was positioned on the couch, always the same way on the same spot, and then she would look into nothingness. You wanted to tease her for it, for being a daydreamer, someone who spaces out and drools while doing it, yet you stopped.

She is so pretty.

You admired her. There was no drool, no dumb, mindless dreaminess in her eyes. She was in her own world, thinking of something so incredible, it made her beam with life. Her eyes were like orbs, set ablaze by golden light. Movies could never get her attention and admiration for this long—movies could never get your attention and admiration for this long. You were the one staring, you were the one drooling over how everything about her is just so flawless—you still do.

This was the day you noticed you liked her.

Seventeen days later came the day she asked about paradise.

That was the day she stole your heart.

…

Today is the day a cruel devil came to smash it into pieces.

Being friends with Gaeul for almost twenty years, it is only natural that her parents would inform you as soon as possible. You dropped your phone as the words left the speaker, it’s smashing on the floor goes unnoticed by you. Seconds later, you’re already on the street, on the run, straight to her parents’ house. You didn’t need to ring, her father wordlessly held the door open and pointed to her room.

She sits on her bed, her lower body tugged in a blanket, her back against the wall, her eyes… shut. You look at her mother, a mess of tears and snot; it’s not yet on her face but the moment she looks at you it, the dams break. Her knees unstable, she walks out of the room into her husband's arms.

“Gaeul, I—”

You look at her again. Her eyes are open, focused on the opposing wall, the sparkle of life, wonder, joy still strong, but it’s slowly getting drowned in this puddle of tears that glisten in them, a stain on her that you can’t bear to see. So you kneel down, reach for her hand and watch her leave whatever world she tried to escape into.

“Gaeul, I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out, your hands the ones shivering more, though you’d love to think that you’re strong and she is the one folding.

“It’s not your fault, dumbo,” she semi-laughs, semi-sighs. Then she rasps: “Nothing you can do about it.”

“I-I know… and I hate it.”

Silence. You look at her chest, slowly heaving up and down in a rhythmic cycle, gently increasing when you squeeze her hand and she looks down on it. Gaeul cracks a small smile, a smile so full of pain, every second you look at it is sending daggers to your chest.

Rage is building up inside you. Feel it creep up every limb, every toe, every finger, up to your head where you imagine the cruelest things you could do to the devil or deity who let this happen, no, who made this happen. They are a devil, and you will go down into the depths of hell to make them suffer for eternity.

How could they do this to her? What did she do? She doesn’t deserve this!

And you don’t deserve this either. What did you do, to see pain and horror like this? What did you do to hold a warm hand soon to be cold? What did you do, to see the love of your life become nothing but ash and dust, buried somewhere in the ground, forgotten in two generations, a life too short, too cruel to even call it that?

I’ll—

“Do you remember,” Gaeul suddenly asks, her voice soft and calming, like the wonderful, nostalgic wife you never had, you never will have. “The day I asked you about paradise?”

“Of course I do!” you blurt out, voice a bit hoarse. You could never forget the day you fell in love with her.

“You said that people can find paradise here on earth,” Gaeul starts. “I know I should probably go look for it myself but… can you go with me and show me paradise?”

The tears she held back in her eyes must have found their way to yours. Your vision is all blurry, your voice barely registers, but you are certain she hears you and knows what you're saying. You would never let her down, and in this moment, no feeling could be stronger.

“Of course, Gaeul. A-anything for you.”

You have only heard of cancer from these dramatic movies that people watch and then cry. Maybe somewhere in the news or a documentary, but then it was usually older people, not young and youthful spirits—those who don't think that a tragedy is right around the corner, waiting to rip apart their bodies, souls but first of all, their dreams.

Gaeul’s condition got worse rapidly. For the first two weeks, Gaeul’s mom would call you every other night because something seemed to be up. She was throwing up, had a high fever, the doctor was late, she didn’t respond—some of them were clearly only in the head of Gaeul’s mother who started to smoke again, the butts of cigarettes soon littering the tiled kitchen floor.

You’re not at all better though. Every time the phone rang, you ran over to her; throughout all other seconds of the day, you were frozen in place. Like a puppet, you sat on your bed, blankly staring at the wall and into nothing. Your body is perfectly fine, nothing hurts or is out of place yet everything feels agonizing in its meaninglessness.

You can’t even light up this tiny, simmering flame you always see in Gaeul’s eyes when you enter her room. It has not faded, no tears, no vomit, no painful breaths, nothing has put it out. It’s remarkable, beautiful, it’s the only thing that rids you of your agony for a moment.

When she was just a girl, Gaeul expected the world to tell her everything, to the minutest of details to the broadest of concepts. She sucked it all up like a sponge and let the mechanisms in her small, pretty head work with it for hours. Now it’s about to fly away from her reach in a cruel race where the world might only be jogging, but Gaeul legs are literally withering away under her tiny weight.

Yet you see the dreams in her eyes. She will not relent until she has—

Paradise.

Not even past the door frame, you drop the backpack to the ground. Gaeul jumps a bit and smiles at you in confusion. Your expression must be bewildering, funny, but she has no idea with what conviction your heart is finally urging your stupid brain to get going.

“Hey, what’s up? You alright?” she asks.

“Gaeul.” You reach for her hand, down on your knees to be level with the small, bedridden girl. “I’m going to look for it.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“I will look for it and find it! A-and then, I’m going to take you there, I promise!”

Gaeul looks at you funny, her free hand pushing away your torso in a playful gesture. A coughing fit interrupts her initial chuckle. “You’re playing around, talking weird stuff. But it’s funny.”

“No, I mean it—

“Paradise, Gaeul, I’m going to look for it—and I will find it for you.”

“Really?”

Really?

Early in the morning, the sky is still more dark, navy blue than anything else, you stuff whatever you might need into your backpack. Long forgotten and unnecessary are those school books and pens; you’ve not lost a thought about that in weeks. Frantically, you replace them with snacks, some water bottles, a map, a book, a phone, a towel, a shovel and a pocket knife. No dehydration, no getting lost, no boredom will prevent you from undertaking a journey to—

Where to, you wonder. The compass on your phone points in directions, probably the right ones, but it’s meaningless, useless. The correct route to paradise has to come from your heart. Your heart has already embedded its needle in the magnetic field that is Gaeul, now all you need to do is feel in which direction it points.

On the calm streets of this town you walk, along pretty houses which were always the start to all of yours and Gaeul’s games and adventures. It never ended here however. The two of you were always drawn to what's beyond the tarmac, the stones, the plastic. It all changes, quickly blurs to a mix of brown and green, every color in between, on this spectrum. On the soft soil of the forest underneath your feet, mixed with crunchy leaves and crunchier twigs, your adventure continues.

You might be closer, but this is definitely not yet paradise. Beautiful, but you can find it elsewhere equally as beautiful. Without second thoughts, you march on, deeper into the woods towards the pull. Gaeul’s magnetic field has this tendency to swirl off the main road. Suddenly, you find yourself in between thick bushes and young trees that make walking through them quite challenging.

Some plants wrap themselves around you like vines trying to hold you back. Slash them with the knife, bite into an apple and don’t stop for nothing. Soon, you find parts of the forest completely unbeknownst to you. The green looks darker, sunlight is a bit sparse and more animals run through your field of view. Bird, mice, dear, they all seem to look at you and when you hush and look back, it’s—

Peaceful. A piece of heaven, of paradise?

Though this spot may fill you with wonder and calm your heart, it's not yet paradise. It's all fleeting; the animals jump at your first motion, all it takes is a single cloud blocking the sun and its soft, faint rays are gone as well. You have to move onwards, past the mushrooms and moss, the deepest you have ever been in this forest.

Thousands of steps later, the dryness in your throat and the hole in your stomach force you to take a break. In midst all the tall, blooming trees you find a patch of grass, a glade, untouched by man. A perfect resting spot for the wild life, unbothered, untouched beauty. You feel a bit out of place, but you won't deny that it's a privilege to just sit down and take a breather.

You quickly down sandwiches and the water, realizing that both are not enough to quench your hunger and thirst. The sun is barely visible from here—how long has your adventure lasted until now? At some point you need to turn around, find your way back; thank God for phones and Google Maps, otherwise you'd be lost forever.

Amongst all of nature's sounds, you suddenly hear the splattering of water, probably in a small creek nearby. You grab your things and move closer to the source. The splattering gets louder and louder, oh, what you would give for the water to be clean and drinkable.

Uneven terrain and bushes block your way, but you can see the sun bursting through small gaps in between branches. You find an angle, with less thorns and stinging nettles and cut your way through it. Feel your heart throb in excitement, even when nature tries to resist you. There is something behind this, and now you are free to—

Close your eyes, because this cannot be real.

A picture before you, beautiful drawn, everything perfectly decorated, yet it cannot explain the stunningness of the sight before you. A wide open cliff gives you a perfect view of the entire forest and the lake in its middle. To your left, the outskirts of the city, only a couple of streets with both a school and hospital in sight. To your right a miniscule waterfall, fueled by the aforementioned creek. Everything is overstimulating, yet absolutely coherent in both its vibrantness and peacefulness.

Best of all, above a small rock overhang along this cliff, a pair of butterflies seem to happily dance around each other, blissfully unaware of the steep fall below them. No, they just love each other. Both swing their colorful wings to their own rhythm, not caring if someone sees, not allowing anyone to disturb them.

You carefully step towards their overhang, take a look down and see that it might be a dangerous fall, but you don’t feel any danger in this place. It is cozy, relaxing and quiet. There is nothing to fear, not even boredom. There is unlimited adventure and excitement amongst these gigantic trees, they embrace you with their twigs and tuck you in with their leaves. You can stay here for eternity, in fact you almost want to.

But not without Gaeul.

“I think I found it,” you’ll tell her. “I think I found paradise.”

“Gaeul is in the hospital.”

Your mothers first words when you return from your trip. The strain on your muscles, your back, your hands; they fade into the background the moment you realize what might be happening.

“What, why?”

“Her health has been… rapidly declining the last two days,” your mother says and urges you to sit down. You do not. “At some point, I could hear her scream from across the street, she… she has to be in so much pain.”

“A-and then?” You can barely stand standing around and not being by her side.

“They came like two hours ago, took her to the lake-side hospital. Her mother is—”

“I’m going there,” you say, drop your backpack and turn on your heels. Your mother sighs, deeper than ever. There is tears and misery in her eyes.

“I… don’t want you to go. You shouldn’t see this.”

“Mum, I will go. Why would you stop me? I need to be there; I can’t leave her now!”

Your mother stands up. You watch her reach for a cup of tea and drink the entire thing. Maybe it wasn’t tea. Maybe she needed some strength right now. This strong woman has never looked so vulnerable to you. She reaches for your hand.

“Okay… I’ll drive you.”

“You came,” Gaeul whispers, her voice hoarse, her eyes puffy, her skin pale. Well, she has always been quite the pale girl, but now her skin is rivaling snow in terms of whiteness. You push away a doctor and a relative or two and reach for one of Gaeul’s fragile hands.

“Of course I did. I’m never not there.” You smile.

“There you go, saying silly things again.” Gaeul smiles.

This is where you lose yourself in her eyes, those deep brown marbles, like bitter yet sweet chocolate—fitting to the overall mood in this hospital room. While you continue to stare into Gaeul’s dreams, the people around you go through all those stages of grief in front of the doctors, their powerless deities. Denial in her fathers voice, anger in the way her mother grabs her brother, they are bargaining, well onto their way into depression.

But Gaeul is still right there. She is still breathing. She is still breathing, even after they all leave the room. You stay by her side, long after midnight and most of the time, you just listen to her breath. Weak and shallow, but enough to keep her going. Then it starts to rain.

“Did we play in the rain back then?” you ask, looking out through the window into the dark clouds and the impending torrential downpour.

“Once or twice for sure,” Gaeul responds. You feel her eyes in your neck. “We should have done it more often.”

“Yeah, but only when the rain is warm.” Caress her knuckles. Gaeul sighs.

“Then I could have seen paradise in the rain.”

Feel a rush of excitement run down your spine when you turn to her.

“Gaeul, I think I found it. I found paradise! It’s not far from here. Let’s go there tomorrow or the day after—”

“Y-you did?” Gaeul suddenly squeezes your wrist tightly. “Where is it?”

“Near the lake, secluded in the forest. It’s beautiful—I’ll show it to you.”

“C-can we go now… please?”

Your eyes widen, your breath quickens. Someone has a belt wrapped around your chest and gradually tightens it. It’s as if there is poison in the air draining your life. This can’t get to you—no, it cannot be true. All the dreadful thoughts, you push them to the side, though they sink into your heart like the pointiest of knives. In your turmoil, you forget to answer.

Gaeul props herself up and stretches her arms out.

“Take me there, please.

“I want to see it tonight.”

No matter how much your heart bleeds, you find a way to work. For your best friend, the childhood love, the—current love. You easily pick up the thin girl and she finds the strength to secure herself on your back. She is light and heartbreakingly weak. Everything falls on you now.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” you hiss when you piggyback carry the girl out of the room and quietly sneak her out through the fire exit. “But I’ll try my best to be your hero, Gaeul.”

“Don’t be some hero from your book,” Gaeul whispers, her lips right on your earlobe. “Just be you, that’s cool enough already.”

The rain is worse than you expected. Thick droplets a plenty make all colors of the quite illuminated town blurr. You just know you have to run away from them, towards the forest. There the roof of leaves will protect you from getting more soaked—which is not possible. After only a hundred meters, both you and Gaeul are two human sponges, drenched in heavenly water.

“It’s warmer than I thought,” Gaeul croaks as you sprint down the final street where the trees finally start. “Let’s play in this rain.”

“S-sure,” you grunt through gritted teeth, your exhausted legs barely keeping you upright. At the first tree, you take a breather. “But let’s get to paradise first.”

“How long is it?”

“About a kilometer. Can you hold my phone?”

Gaeul grabs it, the faint light showing a messy hill with a hundred reasons to doubt that you can carry her up there. Worriedly, Gaeul clings onto you stronger than before.

“Isn’t this too steep?”

You smile and adjust Gaeul, the friend on your back and take away all of her doubts by marching onwards, into the mud. Soon your legs are all covered in the heavy mixture of dirt, leaves, twigs, a couple of bugs, some plastic—it’s almost impossible to lift your legs over the taller roots breaching through the ground.

“Sorry that you have to carry me,” Gaeul murmurs, her face sunken into your back. The wind whips above the trees, their tips shake and you get showered in pine needles. You pause for a second, then laugh.

“Look at this mess! Mother nature is really playing with us tonight.”

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t—”

You pull a couple of needles out of Gaeul’s short, muddy, messy hair. In the faint light of your phones’ lamp. She looks like a ghost with barely lit eyes. God, it hurts to see her like this… but you will never deny that she isn’t drop dead gorgeous. The flame in her eyes hasn’t faded yet either. No matter how much fucking water the clouds above you pour down, they burn and they burn into your heart.

“Gaeul,” you say with confidence and unbridled determination as you take the first step on your final surge up to paradise. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t be sad. We are almost there. Hold onto my shoulders and you’ll be fine.”

Gaeul quietly sniffles into your thoroughly wet t-shirt, only a few tears, yet each of them is like a waterfall and adds to the weight of the most water you have ever seen in your life. Not even the oceans can compare to whatever mother nature has decided to unleash onto this area. If this is what it takes to get Gaeul to heaven, you will swim through it.

Again and again, until the end of time. And then you’ll still do it.

A bush brushing over your bodies, its evil thornes piercing your skin. You don’t feel it. Your hand shelters Gaeul, before pushing away the final branches of a familiar oak tree. There it is. Your heart skips a beat. You sink to your knees.

“Hey! Hey, are you okay?” Gaeul shouts, then she looks ahead. In this exact moment, a miracle: a lightning bolt in the distance, bright and wide, hits a far away field. Everything is illuminated, the ridiculous beauty of paradise visible in the middle of the night—for your best friend to see.

“What do you think?” you ask, out of breath and smiling brightly, brighter than the lightning. Gaeul has gotten off of your back and her weak legs carry her towards the overhang. The visual is impeccable, epic on so many levels, it’s like the grand finale to the universe:

Gaeul, the love of your life, looking at her paradise. It should be impossible, but she stands there. What might her face look like right now? You don’t need to see it to know.

Suddenly, she turns back around and sinks down on the floor. You try to catch her. A second to late, all you can do is prop her back up, shake the collar of her hospital gown. Her eyes are barely open, her lips tremble. You hug her tightly, not caring about the mud below you.

“Gaeul… no!”

Lying underneath the stormy skies, the only thing holding her in this world are your arms underneath her. Gaeul stretches out her pointer towards the horizon.

“I know the sun will rise.”

Her voice is but a whisper in the downpour, quieter than even the waterfall of tears running down your face—but it’s powerful enough to pull a single, all illuminating beam of sunlight from the edge of the world. In a final, painful but infinitely freeing breath, Gaeul says it all:

“This could be… you could be… no—

“You are my paradise.”

“Gaeul, I love you!”

As if to say ‘I love you too’, she puts her cold lips on yours a final time and flies away, forever. You hold her forever, kiss her forever, love her forever while the strongest gusts of wind don’t feel like anything. Gaeul is in your arms, looking so alive with her closed eyes and peaceful smile; but it’s all not true.

You decide to fall

faster than the rain drops,

faster than the waterfall

and then meet her;

for she is your paradise.

#kpop angst #kpop fanfiction #ive angst #gaeul angst #ive gaeul angst #gaeul fanfiction #kim gaeul

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tunastime · 6 months ago

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Love in the Time of Calculation

as promised: the first chapter of the ranchers SEN fic! this fic takes place inside the au I created for Stretching Endless Night. I'm hoping posting this first chapter will actually get me to. write the rest of it. since I've got so much of it written. jazz hands!! enjoy!

In order to continue supplying food for a growing station, Commander Tango Tek, second to the head of engineering on the space station Prometheus, takes a six month study with the Empire-2 station at the behest of his admiral. There, he meets their botanist and horticulturist, Jimmy, a man he's only communicated with in communiques, voice memos, and documents. When they meet for the first time face-to-face, Tango realizes they both have something very interesting in common. In the face of all odds, two androids fall deeply, horribly in love. (6711 words)

Tango flips a switch on his navigation panel.

“It would be funny,” he says, slowly, enunciating as the recorder picks him up. “If I were to start these with some outlandish startdate. I would find it hilarious, I think, but I don’t know how many other people would. So…

Stardate 2105.47: I’ve just made brief contact with the Ring-style Space Station known as the Empire-dash-2. After discussion of docking procedure, I was forwarded the…passkey for the docking sequence and I should be arriving within two hours of my current time. That time is…in hour format…8:07pm. Lookin’ forward to meeting them, as much as they’re probably lookin’ forward to meeting me. I’ve never spoken to them in person—it’s all been electronic. So…it’ll be interesting, to say the least!” He nods, feeling some inclination to sigh—despite there being no way to. Motions he’d learned and copied from his peers.

“Thus begins my month-long stay with E-dash-2. I can only hope some work with hydroponics actually gets me somewhere. They tell me the guy’s a genius, so I’m inclined to believe them.”

Tango jabs his finger against the stop recording button. After a beat, the small, LCD screen flashes SENT in dark, bold letters. Leaning back in his chair, Tango folds his arms over his chest, and sets his boots on his console. The ship around him hums faintly, enough to be heard if he pays attention to it. As he leans back, he surveys the inside of his ship, the LTS-111, the small craft that he called home. In comparison to other ships on the Prometheus, it’s smaller, built for short term travel between locations, a cool, dark grey inside. There’s two swivel chairs at the helm, a large front, port window, overlain with his control panel, above and below his chair. Behind him, a door opens to a short hallway—mess hall and his room, just a plain, grey-white with one bunk. There’s a crate with his belongings, of which there are few, a plant on the windowsill to keep him sane. The mess is devoid of food and drink. It’s a luxury he doesn’t need. It’s nice when he can, but it’s nothing but an experience for him. Nothing to be gained from poorly made HASA meals full of crude protein. The edge of his boot catches the lip of the console, pulling at the rubber. He’s tucked his flight suit into his boots. His eyes follow the bright red and gold stripe down the side—division colors. Commander, engineering and technology. On his sleeve there would be the same designation, as was on all of his uniforms. Even the plain black, well fit shirt underneath, even his boots. HASA; Commander. Luckily his boots didn’t have a commander or engineering tag. If he felt so inclined to sand off the small rubber HASA branding he could.

His eyes follow a line across the ceiling, to the small strip of light that brightens the room. He runs his fingers over the seam in his sleeve—habit, again, but he’s not sure from whom.

The hour passes slowly. Tango spins simulations in his mind, projects from the ship's computer the schematics of E-2. He can see the docking station there on the map and traces out the line from there to the botanical garden. He spends time memorizing that path, and out to other locations, and rolling the names of his new compatriots around in his language acquisition program. None of these things are foreign to him—he’s built for new experiences, new learning opportunities. He can feel where known things end and new begins, and craves to fill the space, often and continuously. When that hour ends, there’s a tinny beep from his communications panel. He looks over the message displayed.

LTS-111 prepare docking sequence.

Tango dials the coordinates into his navigation system, overriding the current charting program to pilot into the docking bay. As he does, a crackling voice jumps to life.

“LTS-111, this is Fwhip, Commander of E-2. Do you copy?”

“E-2, this is Commander Tek of Prometheus. I copy. The Rift is ready for docking procedure.”

“Commander!” The voice—Fwhip—laughs. “It’s good to have you. Glad to hear you made it safely.”

Tango nods to himself.

“Myself as well. Looking forward to meeting you all.”

The line clicks out. Tango resettles in his chair, sitting up straight, taking in the sound of Fwhip’s voice, the designation, the information. He files that away.

The curve of E-2 comes into view, stark white and grey, glittering gold where the paneling reflects light. He watches as the shining craft sits suspended amidst stars, its own field of gravity and oxygen and life shining a faint blue in the light of the nearby sun. He feels that warmth through the front viewscreen, despite the gold foil and shade to block it. It’s nice. In the closest approximation to nice he could get. He pulls the seat’s harness over his chest, snaps it in place as he begins standard docking procedure—slowing to a noticeable crawl, flipping on his communications panels, and switching to reserve thrusters. The Rift was made with older tech, anything he could salvage and amass from ships being decommissioned. It functioned—better than the standard HASA ships and was fully compliant—well beyond what he’d ever expected. Though he wasn’t quite human enough to have real expectations.

The ship settles into a launch port on the far side of E-2. Tango takes his time collecting his belongings. He wanders into his room as the ship powers down, settling into a dull hum. He repacks his bag, giving a quick once-over of the bunk before he lifts the trunk into his arms, the weight negligible. He settles the plant in the corner of his bag, making sure it’s settled before he slings the bag over one shoulder and sets the crate on one hip. His startup keycard sits in his front shirt pocket, and his credentials badge in his back pocket.

The first thing he notices as he enters the launchpad for E-2 is how clean and bright it is. The launchpad is devoid of anyone working, and there are certainly no other docking ships. The two other ships Tango can see are relatively new and clean, parked closely together. He glances around the space, looking for any sign of movement. His footsteps echo quietly around the empty chamber. To his right, beyond a stabilizing membrane is the winking stars of space. There’s a planet in the far distance, but it’s much too far to see anything notable.

The bay door to his ship closes as he steps toward the winding steps up to the lofted second floor. He starts up the steps, lifting the crate into his arms.

“Commander Tek!”

Tango startles. Looking up to the second floor, he sees someone lean over the railing, waving enthusiastically. Tango squints at him, surrounded by the white facade of the walls around him.

“Commander Fwhip?” Tango says, cocking his head to the side. He sees Fwhip nod again.

Tango smiles a little, eyebrows furrowing despite it. Fwhip. The intonation matches what he heard crackling over the communicator of his ship, though, of course, without the static. He’s wearing stark black, with a large diagonal line cut in red across his chest, up to his collar, and over his shoulders. Tango realizes for a moment that his jumpsuit may not have been the prime choice for meeting a commanding officer—no matter the rank or office. Especially considering that he was supposed to be both a liaison and a researcher.

But as Fwhip meets Tango on the landing, he shakes his hand firmly. There’s a spark, somewhere, in his eye, his heart rate elevated as Tango greets him. He’s winded, too, like he ran all the way here. Tango feels a piece of information in his mind click unexpectedly into place.

“Commander Fwhip,” he says, copying the smile Fwhip is giving him more fully. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Oh, please,” Fwhip laughs. “Commander, the pleasure is ours. Congratulations on your most recent publication.”

Tango nods. Somewhere, something kicks in his chest, just the faintest flicker of painful phantom sensation. It took him two years to publish that paper—and it was a damn shame he had to die to get it published in full, despite Doc and Etho’s help.

Fwhip’s hand is warm in his, enough to notice the change in sensation between them. He can feel Fwhip’s heartbeat in his palm and the way his breathing stutters for a second when Tango and him shake hands. Fwhip looks down at his hand. Tango lets go first, the noticeable white lines on his skin pulsating in and out. His hand feels stiff as he stretches it, feeling metal extend and retract.

“You’re…” Fwhip starts. Tango sees him frown, just the smallest change between his eyebrows.

“An android?” Tango finishes. He watches color rise to Fwhip’s face as Tango tilts his head, expression neutral, amused, even. Fwhip laughs, even if it’s born from a touch of embarrassment. Tango hums something low, a version of a laugh he can manage to sound normal.

“It’s not strange, if that’s what you think I think,” Fwhip says, leading Tango toward the stairs. “Unexpected maybe, but—to be fair, they didn’t tell you anything about me, either.”

“That is very true,” Tango says. He feels that itch, then, that want to know, to delve deeper. He shifts the box in his arms as they round the stairs, reaching the upper platform. “I think most people are surprised to find that I’m an android.”

“That’s a shame—you’re brilliant for more reasons than just being an android,” Fwhip says, and the click comes back again, like he’s cracking a combination lock one number at a time.

“I appreciate that,” Tango says, inclining his head. If there were anything in his face to indicate blush, he would be bright red. He hums instead, tilting his head back and forth in a dismissive sort of shake. Fwhip backsteps to walk by his side, raising his eyebrows over his glasses.

“So,” he starts, motioning to the door. “Did you have any questions about the ship as you settle in?”

Tango looks down at his shoes for a second, letting the thought spin in his head. He nods, just once.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d love to hear more about the botany division—I got a real short mission briefing with Admiral Xisuma before I left. I know we were in a hurry to find the sweet spot of travel.”

“Of course,” Fwhip says. “Lining up that parallel can be real difficult if you don’t time it right.”

“The Admiral’s got an eye for interesting navigation patterns.”

Fwhip laughs, nodding his head.

“Glad to hear you’re in good hands,” he says, opening the door for them. Tango follows him into a brightly lit hallway, lined in white and cream and bright floor lights. Along the edges are colored lines, intersecting and dividing—red, blue, green—to locations Tango can’t see. He follows Fwhip down a corridor, further from the launch platform. Tango knows this layout—further down the hall is a passenger elevator meant for the science team. They’ll take it down four flights to the belly of the ship, where many of the labs rest, tucked away. The ship's rings orbit each other, so he’ll be in this ring for as long as he’s doing research. They’re relatively straight forward, broken into divided sections inside. He traces the pattern out in his mind as Fwhip begins to speak.

“Well, to give you a station briefing, our main team fluctuates, but I’d say we have about 15 to 20 of us at any given time on command, and then a hundred of personnel and staff besides ourselves. I work closely with Lieutenants Scott and Pix, and both of them know our botanist pretty well,” he turns to Tango as he calls for the elevator, pressing his keycard to the small panel next to it. The numbers above the sliding doors illuminate in orange, bright and blocky. Tango raises his eyebrows.

“His name is Jimmy,” Fwhip continues. “He’s a Lieutenant Junior Grade, but he’s incredibly good at what he does. I’ll let you two get acquainted when we get down there.” The elevator doors slide open. Fwhip gestures Tango inside before he himself steps in, pressing the button for their floor. Tango sets his trunk at his feet, toeing it off to the side and out of the way. “He spends most of his time down there, so you may not see him much at all besides when you’re working.”

Tango hums. He screws up his face into an approximation of thinking, running the words over in his head. A junior lieutenant. A higher officer, for certain, but for him to be teaching Tango—there feels like there should be a catch. Tango pulls at the seams of the phrasing, the intonation. His eyebrows furrow.

Fwhip answers his question before it leaves his mouth.

“He basically revitalized the hydroponics system overnight—nothing’s changed in the watering or feeding system, but the plants grow like crazy now,” Fwhip folds his arms, glancing over at Tango as Tango folds his hands behind his back. “I think it was his specification for a while, so as soon as he got here, he requested the transfer, and his work brought him up the grade.”

“That’s impressive,” Tango says, a touch quiet. The only other person he knew who’d ever done something like that had been Mumbo, and most of his ideas were feats of engineering so large they required a three-room modified lab space and a blast chamber. Meridian supplied that—though Prometheus—himself included—was sad to lose him to their sister station, especially after how long he worked with Tango.

“He’s written a paper on it—it’s in the works of being reviewed now,” Fwhip says. “I don’t know how likely it is to go through, though.”

Tango hums again.

“Why’s that?”

Fwhip shrugs. “He’s just not a nice guy to work with,” he says. “And I don’t mean that to be rude, either.”

The elevator doors open. They spill out into a lackluster hallway, still the same bleach white as the floors above. Taking a sharp right, they follow the curved edge of the ship down the green line, toward a series of crew cabins. Fwhip gestures toward a room closer to the middle of their row. As they stand there for a moment, he offers Tango a keycard.

“We got you a room—well before we knew that you…probably wouldn’t need the bedspace,” he says, shaking his head apologetically. Tango waves his hand. “You’re welcome to it, though.”

“Oh, I’ll absolutely take it,” Tango says, trying that smile again. Fwhip smiles back this time, one that touches his eyes, and makes Tango smile harder.”I like having my own space. Normally I have an office, so this’ll do just fine, I think.”

He presses the keycard to the door as Fwhip lifts his crate into his arms, struggling under the weight for a moment. The door slides open. Inside, as the soft yellow lights raise to bright, is a sparsely furnished room. Fwhip carries his crate into the room, setting it at the foot of the double bed. The room is small, clean, tidy. He turns in a small circle as Fwhip sets the crate down, nodding his head.

“This is great,” Tango says, dipping his head. “Thank you.”

Fwhip nods, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he says. Moving past him, he gestures back to the hallway. “I’ll be forwarding you the ship changelog, so you know who’s on shift at a given time, and when meals are, if you have any interest.”

“That sounds great,” Tango says, moving with him to the hall. He follows Fwhip back down the hall, back towards the elevator. They diverge at a second hallway and down a third, following the winding corridor through the ship’s interiors. The walls shift from opaque to translucent as they follow the path down, with more and more people shuffling about. Fwhip moves through the hall easily—Tango navigates with a bit more difficulty, skirting past doors sliding open and bright lights and the new rush of people. As they weave through, Fwhip says:

“Figured I’d show you down to the lab,” he checks his wrist, a brief flash of numbers and notifications that Tango doesn’t quite catch fully. “I’ve got a bit before I have to be back at the bridge.”

Tango hums.

“Great—I’ll…hopefully be able to find, uh, Jimmy?”

Fwhip nods.

“Mhm—” he says. They pause at a lab closer to the end of the corridor. Through the high ceiling and tinted glass, Tango can see the warm yellow and purple light that floods the space. The lab stretches further down the hallway and out of sight. Fwhip tilts his head toward the lab.

“This is it?” Tango asks.

“This is the one,” Fwhip says. He steps back from the door, letting Tango tap his card, the door sliding open for him. It stays open for a moment as Tango steps in. Fwhip checks his wrist again.

“I’ll let you find him,” he says. “Hopefully you’ll get a briefing before you leave to unpack.”

Tango nods, smiling again. The warmth of the room starts to roll over him as he stands still—cooling kicks on to adjust, like a sigh out of his chest.

“Thank you, Commander,” he says. Fwhip nods, dismissing him, before the door shuts between them, and Tango stands, alone, in a room full of plants.

He picks his way around the lab for a long while. The quiet is nice, the sound of air circulating and the soft hum of lights and electronics. He hadn’t run this particular section over in his schematics—something about it almost felt invasive. He wanted to learn it for himself, standing in the center of the room, hands braced on the work table. The equipment portion of the lab is its own self-contained room at the front of the lab—big enough for a table, several workstations, shelves of equipment. He rounds the table as he spots a secondary sliding door, obscured by the semi-translucent, white glass.

Tango presses his loaned keycard to the scanner, watching the door slide open. Stepping inside, he stands amongst a huge lab filled with rows of vegetables, aquatic plants, and small trees. He can see potatoes, carrots, beets, neat and lined in suspended troughs of water and sitting in cups on the floor. Along the walls are digging and planting tools organized haphazardly, strewn about in small piles. The air is warm and humid as he walks his way around a series of rows—it almost feels like its own planet, like the atmosphere alone were thick enough to taste.

Tango walks along a row, watching the plants with a careful consideration, as if they would move, or reach out to him, or something. But they’re just plants—unmoving beside the slight wave in the airflow. He reaches out after a moment, brushing one of the leaves, feeling it between his fingers. It’s rhubarb. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen rhubarb before. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many plants before.

Moving around the hydroponics, Tango wanders around the other side of the lab, watching as it stretches out and further back, rows of plants in tight lines, purple lighting and tubes for irrigation running across the ceiling. He turns into a slow circle, moving back through the rows as he does. The rows loop around back to the supply stations, where Tango walks backward, trying to see the end of the lab, where else it could lead, where else he could explore.

His foot catches under him, sliding out as his knees buckle and he lurches sideways.

He yelps loudly, flailing as he falls, losing his balance and smacking into the shelf behind him. A handful of ceramic plants pots and glass beakers fall with him, smashing to the ground as the shelf comes loose. Tango scrambles up, slipping again as he lands on his hands and knees, fumbling as he tries to scoop the glass into a reasonable, unnoticeable pile, to fix the shovels that must’ve fallen with him, the stacks of gardening gloves under his right boot. He mutters to himself as he does, babbling as his mind whirs with simulations. They were always there—right? That’s fine! He tries to stack a pair of gloves back on the shelf, watching them slide directly off.

Shoot. Shoot! Damn it!

“Shit—” he mumbles.

“Hello?”

A voice calls out from the other side of the room. Tango hears a door shut. He pushes the broken shards of a pot near his knee together, like he could even try and fix the shattered pot. He searches wildly for the voice as he does.

“Hi—” he manages, voice warbling unexpectedly. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to.”

“What?” the voice comes again. “Who…”

Tango follows a shape through the row of plants as a man in grey steps around toward him. He blinks, owlish and confused, as he stares at Tango. Tango can see the name stitched into his quarter-zip.

Jimmy.

“I’m so sorry—” Tango starts again, but the man—Jimmy—is already halfway to kneeling in front of him, taking the broken pot from him, scooping the rest of the shards into his hands. Tango realizes, all at once, that he’s still sitting on the ground, surrounded by the carnage of him falling unceremoniously over into the stand. He starts gathering the tools around him into his arms.

“It’s…it’s alright—” he sighs, a trickle of confusion, of agitation, leaking into his voice. “Walk me through it, what happened?”

“I walked into it—” Tango says, feeling foolish all of a sudden. It’s not a tangible feeling. He just knows something is churning and curling in him and he can’t place what. “One minute I was turnin’ around lookin’ at this place and the next—wack.”

Jimmy hums under his breath, something amused. Tango blinks at him as he rights the shelf and replace the items from the floor.

“Wack?” he says, starting to laugh. “I…yeah. Sorry, I don’t organize things very well, it seems like.”

“I don’t either, I’ll be honest…” Tango says, shaking his head. “You’re Jimmy, then?”

Tango scrambles up with glass still in his hands and Jimmy turns back to him as he looks around for somewhere to put it. Jimmy nods his head over to a waste bin, dropping the shards of clay pot into it.

“Mm,” Jimmy nods. “You’re…?”

Tango makes a half-sound as he turns back to him, waving his hands.

“Commander Tek,” he says, sticking out his hand, smiling a bit lopsided. It feels lopsided at least. He’s trying to copy what he knows, and he thinks he’s failing. “Er, Tango. You don’t have to call me Commander.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows.

“Ah—Fwhip told me you were coming,” he says, tilting his head a little, something like a smile coming to his face. “You’re sure just Tango?”

Tango nods.

“Too fancy with the whole thing. I prefer just Tango, anyway.”

Jimmy smiles in full. The action alone splits his face in half, stretching up to his eyes. Tango copies him, after a beat, something that falters just a little bit as he does.

Jimmy takes Tango’s hand. As he does, a buzz of electricity spikes up Tango’s arm and to his elbow, pooling there, zinging cool and bright. Tango startles, jolting back, making a small, sharp sound that gets lost as Jimmy audibly yelps. It didn’t hurt, but it felt new. Tango likes new.

He feels something wash over him, even as he jolts—memory, knowledge, understanding, like an imprint of knowing the man before him before he even did. Jimmy blinks, a furrow coming between his eyebrows. Tango, for a split second, wonders if the feeling is mutual.

“Sorry,” he blurts. The static shock dissipates as he shakes out his hand. “Sorry, I might still have glass….”

Tango looks over his hands, prodding at the silicon for any shards left there. There aren’t any, though—he even brushes them together, trying to feel for anything. Tango glances back at Jimmy. He’s looking him over, that curious, owlish expression on his face again. His mouth quirks up a little, the sides of his mouth lifting.

“You’re an android,” he says.

Tango’s eyes flick over his face for a moment. It’s completely symmetrical, brown eyes clear and bright, hair neatly parted. His movements are smooth as he steps back and adjusts his sleeves and reaches to gently brush something from Tango’s jumpsuit.

“So are you,” Tango finally says, mouth quirking up. His mouth tastes like static electricity.

“Huh,” Jimmy says, soft, thoughtful. The edges of his mouth fully curl up in a way so human and so foreign. Tango catalogs it immediately. “That’s so interesting.”

Tango huffs out an approximation of a laugh—which causes Jimmy to laugh in earnest. The tension dissolves as he laughs, and Tango feels his shoulders drop. That tingling feeling still hasn’t left Tango’s hand. He wonders for a moment if it ever will, or if every time they brush together it’ll light up like static, or if maybe they just happened to be carrying just enough electrical discharge to shock each other. Tango hopes it doesn’t happen again. He’d like to be friendly without risking a shock.

“So,” Tango starts as they stand together in the hydroponic farm. “Is there a reason ESA lets you use terracotta and glass in space?”

Jimmy shrugs.

“They want it to feel more like Earth,” he hums, amused, turning away from Tango. He wanders a bit before Tango startles to catch up, following him through to the lab room. Jimmy pushes up the sleeves of his ESA sweatshirt. “Not that I would know what that feels like…though I do like it.”

They step through to the lab with the door hissing shut behind them. The humidity and heat follow them in, clinging to Tango’s jumpsuit. He can hear Jimmy mumbling to himself under his breath as he circles the large lab table in search of something. Tango tracks him with his eyes, pausing in the space where Jimmy once was, folding his arms. Jimmy fumbles around for a moment, digging through his cabinets, with Tango watching over his shoulder.

“That’s nice,” Tango says, eyes following him. Jimmy hums, nodding in response. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen Earth myself, either.”

“Oh yeah?” Jimmy says. When he turns back, he’s holding a data pad, a thumb drive and a blank badge. He lines them all up on the table, sitting next to each other. “Have you ever been planetside?”

Tango nods.

“A few times with my old crew,” he starts, waving his hands back and forth. “Some dry and dusty ones for sure. Not too exciting.”

Jimmy tilts his head a bit. He’s still smiling, and Tango, for a moment, can’t take his eyes off it. He isn’t sure anyone’s ever smiled at him for that long, or maybe he’s misreading it—emotions were a fickle, strange thing. Maybe Jimmy was simply happy.

Tango leans against the table, back pressing to the side of it, glancing down at the data pad and keycard for a moment. Jimmy looks away as Tango catches his eye. Tango thinks he sees him flush as he turns back around to the computer.

“They haven’t really briefed me on why you’re here,” Jimmy says. “Why’d they send you?”

“To E-1? We’re uh…our science director was looking for a secondary project to help bolster our food supplies—stretch it out a little longer?” He folds his arms over his chest. “Our admiral’s been in contact with Fwhip a few times conversationally, but we normally reach out to the Meridian, a station in our system, for help, but they weren’t having any hydroponics success. So…here I am.”

Jimmy nods absently as he continues typing.

“Hopefully I can give you something useful to take back,” he says, glancing up to Tango. Tango nods, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean, they say you’re the best,” he offers. It’s true—everything Pearl had told him seemed to point directly to whoever was running the botanical experimentation lab on E-2. And here he was, an android, standing in front of Tango.

“Do they?” Jimmy asks.

“Mhm!”

“That’s very nice of them…I uh, I’ve got a badge for you,” Jimmy says, sliding the piece of plastic toward him. Tango picks it up, turning it in his fingers as he listens. It has a small symbol on it, like an overlapping square and a green stripe all the way around it. When he looks back to Jimmy’s face for a moment, he notices that same green stripe around his upper arm. Green. Science. It was fitting. He fits that bit of information right next to what he knows Prometheus’ color to be: nearly the same shade.

“It’ll get you into this lab and ones like it, um, all the way down this hall,” Jimmy unlocks the data pad, pushing it toward him. “And you can record anything you’d like on this pad.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s great, actually” Tango says. He tucks the card into his pocket, where it rests against his chest. The data pad is blank, no notes, no sketches, and no documents. Just the time and date. From what he can recognize, he’s been aboard for about two hours. “Is, uh, is there somewhere we can share notes, or should I be handing this off to you periodically?”

“Whatever you write there will also be stored on the lab computer,” Jimmy says, gesturing back to the screens behind him. “Either of us can access it at any time. It should recognize you as having access to the console, so there shouldn’t be too many problems with that.”

Jimmy studies him for a brief moment before he picks up the thumb drive, twisting it in his fingers. Tango watches the movement, eyes flicking between it, and the pad, and the screen.

“So,” Jimmy starts again. “I can’t say I was expecting an android, but that does make this whole process a lot easier.”

He holds out the thumb drive—Tango holds out his hand. The small bit of plastic that falls into Tango’s palm is lightweight and bright white. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, frowning just a little.

“What’s this for?” he asks, setting the data pad on the table again. His hands feel an itch to turn the drive around in them, nervous ticks surfacing as he receives data and writes to disk. The humidity, Jimmy’s expression, the curious glint in his eye, the buzz of excitement he can nearly feel in the air. For an android, Jimmy was certainly animated, certainly running high on emotion. Tango could reach out and grab it, if he knew he would catch something.

Jimmy nods a few times, leaning on the table in front of him.

“That right there,” he says, pointing at the drive. “Is all of my research. That way you can just—” he mimes a plugging motion, patting the back of his neck. If Tango’s chest could cave, it would have, as he feels some gear shudder and start again. “Get it all.”

Tango blinks. His vision stutters for a moment, fading out on the edge as he tries to process Jimmy’s comment, his voice. He feels that tug at his eyebrows as they furrow, a copy of a motion he’d seen so many times on so many faces. Jimmy’s research rests in the palm of his hand, still cold, despite the heat leaching from Tango’s synthetic skin.

“I think—” Tango says. What a stupid turn of phrase. He knows—he’s not thinking this time. He knows. “I can’t do that.”

Jimmy hums, face morphing into concern for a moment. Tango sees how his posture stiffens, almost a gut reaction to the change in Tango’s voice. Write to disk. Catalog. He softens his stance as Jimmy pipes up.

“What d’y’mean?”

“I think I’d rather just learn it from you,” Tango says, closing his fist around the thumb drive. “I’ll keep this, but I would like to learn from you, if that’s alright.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows high on his forehead, nodding a few times. His dark eyes go wide, too. They flick across Tango’s face, looking for something, before they land on the table in front of him as Jimmy raps his fingers against the plastic top. Tango tucks the data drive into his pocket, where it rests with the keycard, sticking his hands in his pockets to give them something to do.

“Oh—I mean—I, sure. Sure, we can do that,” Jimmy stutters, shaking his head. “Yeah, that should be fine, you should be able to learn that way.”

“I hope so,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy nods with him, that color briefly back in his cheeks. “I’d at least like to try. It’s what I’m known for, honestly.”

“Mm,” Jimmy says, face settling on that half-pleased, half-curious look. “Sure. That would be nice, I think. I don’t know how much I have to teach, but I can try.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty, Mr. Plant Guy,” Tango quips, patting him on the shoulder as he rounds around him. Jimmy laughs. The tingling sensation of touch before has gone now, and the new touch offers nothing but the sensation of soft sweater fabric, of coolness from Jimmy, and a brief flicker of information that he doesn’t quite catch. It feels like energy he can’t process. A line of code that doesn’t slot itself into place. He gives his shoulder a quick squeeze before he pulls away, gesturing to the door.

“Do you think you might be able to walk me back to my cabin?” his shoulders shrink a fraction. He tries to quickly run the simulation in his mind, etching out the turns of the hallways in the belly of the science department. All he can remember are faces, half-recognizable from research and names partially unobscured by association. “I lost track of how many turns Commander Fwhip made.”

Jimmy shrugs, nods, patting the table as he pulls away.

“Sure,” he says, fishing his keycard from around his neck. “My cabin is close to that area, so I know the way back pretty well—-”

“You have a room?”

The door slides open in front of Tango, the cool air of the hallway flooding into the room. He steps through, into the empty, well lit space, with its green stripe and green carpeting. The white-yellow lighting smooths out the edges of the walls around them, dotted with windows of the station’s central core as they slowly rotated around it. Jimmy pauses for a moment to watch as Tango does, before he nudges him with his elbow. Tango turns to follow.

“I like the bed,” Jimmy says, making a pleasant, almost chirping sound. “And the sleep cycle. And a space for my things that isn’t the lab.”

Tango nods.

“Our secondary engineering lead gets onto me when I don’t rest, but I prefer to not have to,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, waving one hand about. That gesture was from Doc, who loved to make things more nonchalant than they had to be, gesturing with his part-plastic, part-metal arm. “It wastes time.”

“You’re a busy man, Tango,” Jimmy says. He pauses just as he’s about to say Tango, like he had meant to say Commander, but had skipped the instinct. It stutters as he speaks. Tango feels a little bit of a twist, somewhere in the gears of his chest. Maybe everyone should just call him Tango. It felt a lot better, somehow. It felt earned.

“I try to be,” Tango says, waving his hand again. “I’m built for continuous learning—neuroplasticity. It’s what I’m meant to do…kind of.”

“Interesting…” Jimmy hooks a right at a fork. Tango notes it. “I don’t think I’ve met an android without a base program. And it was HASA who decided that?”

Tango nods.

“That was the plan, anyway. So far, it’s worked out alright. I have no issues, our technicians make sure I’m running smoothly, I can run my own diagnostics as far as I’m aware. And…I get to take back knowledge to our ship,” he sticks his free hand back in his pocket. They take a left, following the curving wall. “That’s a win to me.”

“That does sound nice,” Jimmy says, frowning a little, mostly in his voice than on his face. As the wall evens out, Jimmy slows to a stop. Before them, on the leftmost side, are a row of doors, which Tango recognizes. He marks down their exact location, how the wall hugs the left, looping back around on the far side. Jimmy splays his arm out, gesturing to the doors. Tango manages a smile.

“Thank you,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy hums.

“Of course, glad I could help,” he says. He looks pleased, now, none of the nervous flit that he had when they’d first met. Tango, too. He feels settled, somehow, like he was already beginning to understand the space around him, already acclimated to new gravity and new routine. Jimmy’s easy smile and tone of voice made that all the easier to do.

As Tango steps away, toward his door, he turns back to Jimmy, who’s folded his arms over his chest. Something’s there, in Tango’s chest, maybe just a trick of mechanics, something he can’t really place. It smooths out any bumps in logic programming. It makes things even, whatever the thing in his chest is. Jimmy makes a noise, and Tango’s eyes flick up to his face.

“Y’know—not to jump ahead or anything, since I know we’ve just met. But if you wanted to, my cabin is a bit closer to the lab. If you ever feel like you want a roommate, you’re more than welcome to stay there,” Jimmy starts, clasping his hands together. The small smile on his face hasn’t really faded, and his voice is even with curiosity. “There’s—there’s only one bed, but you said you don’t sleep. So it should be fine.”

Jimmy continues to babble, now, eyes flicking down to the patches at Tango’s knees.

“I can always request you to the room next to it—I think that one’s unoccupied, too. If you ever want to sleep, that is. But you can let me know. Figured it might be nice to have a roommate so you’re not lonely,” he finishes, shrugging a little. Then he startles, blinks, and waves his hands. “Unless you like being alone.”

Tango tries to make a sound to dissuade him from that idea, but it gets caught in his programming and his vocal filter and it kind of sounds like a wheeze, or maybe a laugh, but he shakes his head several times, copying Jimmy’s easy smile from before.

“No, no…” he assures. “That sounds really nice, actually. I’ll…I’ll let Fwhip know that I’d like to do that.”

Jimmy visibly relaxes, and the smile comes back to his face, and he laughs a little, an actual, natural laugh.

“Sure thing…” Jimmy scrunches his nose. “Roomie.”

Tango feels something flip-flop over as he jumps, shaking his head again.

“Don’t call me that—” he manages, before Jimmy waves his hands again and says:

“I’m just joking, Tango!” and reaches out to clasp his shoulder. That rush of static only prickles for a moment, leaving a warm sensation in its wake. Tango feels it trickle down his elbow and to his wrist as Jimmy steps away from him. “Have a good night, alright? I’ll see you at 0700.”

Tango nods, realizing he’s still smiling just a bit, even as he steps into his room and the door slides shut behind him. He stands at the threshold, with his back to the wall, for a long moment, letting the memories play in his head as he does. The quiet hum of his room and the orange-yellow lighting soothes his otherwise spinning mind to a controlled simulation. Even still, Tango’s hand and arm prickle faintly with sensation he can’t place, and a warmth in his chest he’s not sure he fully understands.

Pulling away from the door and into his room, Tango furrows his eyebrows and starts an internal diagnostic.

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floral-force · 2 years ago

Note

Hiiiiiii it’s me again to annoy you with another ask! Usually you see Din being the dense one not getting the hint about reader’s feeling for him, how about the other way round, denser than beskar, the reader just doesn’t pick up or getting on ANY of the hints or actions poor Din is doing ( which A Very shy Din think he’s doing a good job showing them about his intention ). Reader is someone just hitching a ride to Tatooine to stay with her Aunty Peli for a while. Thank you! <3

okay I am so sorry this took forever for me to respond to. my adhd brain is messy. I can only hope that my (fluffy) take on your request hits the spot. I think our tin can man definitely has the potential to be awkward and clumsy, and I love the thought of reader being oblivious. so, here it is!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Denser than Beskar - Oneshot

din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Your beskar-clad taxi pilot is an awkward man, and you decide it's due to his limited social interactions. Under the armor, a nervous Din Djarin thinks his flirting and hints are obvious. Will he be able to share his feelings before you're lost to the sands of Tatooine?

words: 2.2k+

warnings: none, but my blog is entirely 18+. no minors.

read on ao3 | fic masterlist

You sat in one of the co-pilot’s chairs in the Razor Crest, reading something on the datapad in your hands. The blue shades of hyperspace cast a rather soothing glow throughout the cabin, the gentle thrum of the engines an accompanist to your periodical yawns. You wiggled the toes of your boots from their perch on the edge of the control panel. A square button blinking red caught your tired eyes and you sighed, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. It was getting harder and harder for your eyes to stay focused on the glowing white letters, and you found yourself needing to reread sentences and, eventually, entire paragraphs.

A heavy rhythm of clangs on the ladder made you sit up straight and drop your feet to the floor. You’d already been scolded once before for resting your boots on the control panel and didn’t intend on making the same mistake twice. The Mandalorian walked behind you, rummaging around for something, metal clanging around and distracting you even more from your reading. He let out a modulated, frustrated huff that was quickly replaced with a satisfied hum after a few moments. A gloved hand brushed across your shoulder and the back of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. You kept your eyes trained on your blurry datapad, furrowing your brow.

Your beskar-clad taxi pilot sat in his worn chair in front of and to the left of yours, a grunt making you turn your head. He was bent forward over the control panel, a screwdriver turning in his steady hand.

“What’re you doing?” You inquired, holding your datapad in your lap, cheek still resting in your palm.

He startled and the tool went sideways, a loose screw falling to the ground and rolling towards your feet. You bent over to pick it up, and his fingers brushed over yours.

“Oh, oops!” You laughed nervously, fingers fumbling with the tiny thing. You looked up as you straightened and noticed that he was staring at you—or was he? His eyes could move under the helmet, he didn’t need to move it every which way.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, holding out his right palm. The left clenched the screwdriver in a vise grip that you only noticed because of the creak of his leather glove.

You smiled at him, placing it gingerly in his hand. “Happens all the time. I’m always chasing after random parts for my aunt.”

There was silence as he got back to his task and you to yours.

“Do you—” The Mandalorian cleared his throat, “Do you like working with her?”

You shrugged, eyes barely registering the Aurebesh in front of you. “It’s alright.”

There was a modulated exhale—a chuckle? —and you looked over at him quizzically. “What?”

“I just can’t see someone like you repairing ships and rewiring droids,” he said, another screw loosened and falling into his large hand.

You turned your chair to face him again, back and neck straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His beskar helmet snapped to look at you, screwdriver frozen. “I didn’t—I meant—”

“Go on,” you urged, interrupting his stutters.

He sighed and dropped his hand to his lap and tilted his head back. Blue streaks melted together on his helmet and armor, capturing your eyes’ interest more in five seconds than your datapad had in what felt like hours.

“I meant to say that you’re too—”

His words were interrupted by a rapid beeping, and he immediately got up, tools still in hand, dashing to the ladder. All you did was watch him with a stern face as he tossed the stools on the seat to his left, then climbed down the ladder to the hull, visor catching your eyes and then dropping to the rungs underneath him. You rolled your eyes and turned off your datapad, deciding to finish it at some point during your visit with your Aunt Peli.

Who did this guy think he was? You shook your head and folded your hands over the dark screen in your lap. You didn’t even acknowledge him when he climbed back into the cabin, opting to keep your eyes trained on the hypnotic blue shades swirling around the ship. The small green baby gurgled as the Mandalorian placed him in the pram nestled behind your chair. How someone so broad, intimidating, and gruff could have a child was beyond your understanding; all you knew was that your aunt loved the tiny creature almost as much as he did. He’d mentioned it in passing, his voice and phrasing awkward. It had struck you as odd that someone so imposing could be so unsure. You hadn’t paid it too much mind, though. You’d brushed off his awkward attempts at conversations and the way he tapped your shoulder to get your attention, chalking it up to his relatively solitary lifestyle. You understood, though, why your aunt liked him—he was capable, no-nonsense, and had an occasionally funny quip. The journey with him hadn’t been uncomfortable despite his social stumbles, and he’d been making sure you were comfortable and taken care of the entire time.

His comment in the cabin was the first one that had made you feel slighted. Although you were grateful he’d waited until now to make a snide remark, you were annoyed that your positive perception of him was marred. Your aunt had complimented him up and down, quelling all your anxieties about him, saying she trusted him with her life. Your bubbly aunt would be disappointed to hear about this, and a part of you debated telling her, especially since he was so awkward and fumbled many of his interactions with you.

The creak of old leather yanked you out of your head—probably for the best, you figured. The Mandalorian took his place in the pilot’s chair, turning to look at you. He seemed to hesitate, helmet quickly tilting down then back up. You caught the way he clenched his fist and heard him clear his throat.

“I’m dropping out of hyperspace. Strap in.”

You raised your eyebrows and did as told. “No ‘please?’” you teased, a little annoyance underneath it.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He turned back to the control panel without another word.

When you opened your mouth to apologize for the smart comment, he pushed the blinking button and the ship dropped out of hyperspace with a whoosh, the beige planet of Tatooine in full view against the black backdrop of space. You were pushed forward with the sudden change in momentum, and the Mandalorian turned to look at you after an “oof” escaped your lips. You assumed he was checking on the cooing baby behind you, but when he didn’t change his gaze, you nodded to assert that you were fine. It was only then that he turned back and began the landing protocol.

Your heart buzzed as you descended into your aunt’s hangar, her mop of curly hair moving below and arms guiding the Mandalorian. Upon touchdown, the engines started to grind to a halt, gloved hands pressing a few more buttons and flicking a switch on the control above. Before you could move, the Mandalorian was unbuckling your safety belts, his hands deft but nervous. You looked at his helmet, the visor avoiding your eyes until he was finished.

You rose and stared at him, gripping your datapad in your hands. “I, um, I guess this is it,” you shrugged.

“I suppose it is.”

He gestured to the ladder and let you climb down it first, joining you in the hold a few moments later with the baby in a satchel across his body. You stood by the door, the canvas pack you’d brought with heavy in your hand. The tap of his boots on the metal floor was joined by intermittent babbles and gurgles, and you almost blushed when he stood incredibly close to you, an armored arm brushing yours. He met your inquisitive gaze with his beskar-covered one, making you squirm. He broke it to press a button and lower the ramp, bright light making you wince as your eyes adjusted.

“There they are!” Peli shouted, a smile splitting her face.

You grinned and ran down the ramp into her open arms, holding her in a tight hug. She pulled away and held your arms in her hands, taking you in. A broad shadow shaded your aunt and her gaze shifted up over your head. You turned around and stood at your aunt’s side, gulping at the sight of the Mandalorian, his armor glinting in the blazing suns’ light.

“Thanks for getting my shefele here safe and sound, Mando.”

You stared at the sand under your boots, suddenly embarrassed. Heat rushed to your cheeks at your aunt’s nickname for you—little lamb—and you hoped he didn’t know what it meant. The canvas bag was heavy in your arms and the heat from the twin suns was even more imposing than it was before.

The Mandalorian nodded, and her face lit up when she saw the green baby, reaching out for him. There was a sigh, and then an excited coo from the baby as he placed the cooing child in your aunt’s waiting hands. She cradled him close, then looked up again at the Mandalorian.

“This little guy and I have some catching up to do,” she beamed. She looked at you. “Go on and head upstairs, that bag looks heavy.”

The beskar helmet trained its visor on you. He said your name with an oddly gentle tone, immediately catching your attention. “I can take your bag.”

“It’s okay, I can do it,” you said, stubborn feet already turning to move.

Your aunt groaned and yanked on your arm, her tight grip holding you back. “Mando, are you seriously gonna let my shefele carry their own stuff up to their room? Come on!”

“Auntie, it’s okay, I can do it,” you entreated, embarrassed once again.

“No, no, he could use the exercise,” she joked. “Show him where your room is.”

When you didn’t answer, he held out his hand. “I insist.”

You rolled your eyes. There was never any room to argue with your aunt, and you knew the Mandalorian wouldn’t budge either. You conceded and handed the man your duffel, turning and walking to a door a few meters away. He followed you inside and you silently walked up the narrow stairway. Without a sound, you turned left at the landing and punched in an entry code to open a door and walked into your room, stepping aside so the Mandalorian could set your bag on the floor with a grunt.

“Dank farrik, that thing is heavy. What do you have in there?” he asked with a huff, hands on his hips.

“Stuff,” you said simply.

Yet another tense silence fell over both of you, coating the air with anticipation. You looked at the cement floor and shuffled your feet, throat suddenly dry.

The Mandalorian mumbled your name. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s okay.”

“It…it isn’t.” He shook his head. “I meant to say that I..I think you’re good-looking. The, uh, words came out wrong.”

You looked up at him, heat rushing to your cheeks and lips parting slightly. You exhaled a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, you definitely messed that up.” You nudged your duffel with a sandy boot. “Was this an excuse to get me alone?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I just thought you were being polite.”

“I don’t think pretty people should have to carry their incredibly heavy bags,” he asserted.

Your breath hitched when he took a few steps toward you, closing the distance. His chest was only inches away from yours, helmeted gaze never breaking away from your eyes. A shaking hand came to rest on your forearm, sliding down to hold your clammy hand. Thank the Force for the leather glove, you thought as he squeezed your hand in his large one.

“Are you this nice to all the pretty people you meet?”

The beskar helmet shook in denial. “Only the ones I like.”

You smiled and bit your lip, swinging your joined hands. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Maybe I was a little too subtle.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “Maybe I’m just dense.”

“That too,” he hummed. You gave him a playful, exaggerated gasp, quickly breaking and grinning when you heard a quiet, modulated chuckle. There was a beat of silence, then he took your other hand in his. “What would Pel—I mean, your aunt say if I came back at the end of your trip here?”

“To do what?” you inquired, raising an eyebrow.

He ran his thumbs across the backs of your hands, shrugging his armored shoulders. “Take you back to Coruscant, or maybe take you somewhere you haven’t been before. If you’d like that,” he quickly added.

“I think that if you let her babysit that little green cutie, she’d be more than okay with it.” His shyness was endearing and making you smile like a little girl with a crush. “I haven’t been to a lot of places, so your options are very open.”

“Good to know, mesh’la.”

The term of endearment was so soft on your ears, entirely unexpected from someone as stoic and intimidating as him. You wanted to know what it meant, but you decided to let it be for now. When he came back in seven days, you’d ask him then. Judging by the way he was caressing your hands and the way his chest was nearly pressed against yours, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he’d be calling you mesh’la or reverently murmuring your name.

fic masterlist

shefele (SHEH-fuh-leh): yiddish term of endearment; means "little lamb/sheep" mesh'la (MAYSH`lah): Mando'a; means "beautiful"

tag list (join here)

@charlottetownwaffleses, @theamuz, @jellybeanstacey0519, @elinedjarin, @kaqua, @tortor-mcgee, @tizylish, @graciexmarvel, @dheet, @kalea-bane, @mymindfuckery, @bbyanarchist @hardlystrictlystarwars @hrtsforpascal

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #gn!reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin fluff #filled request #my fic #floral answers

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kpop-sports-books-series-fangirl · 1 year ago

Text

Still into you (Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!reader)

Summary - The story of how Remus Lupin and Y/N Y/L/N fell in love.

Warnings - Mention of being disciplined, food, talk about scars, and Remus thinking of himself as a monster. If there's any I missed, please let me know so I can add it to the list.

Requested? - No

A/N - Hi! It's been a while since I posted here, but I was suddenly extremely inspired to write this sorta slow-burn fic about Remus Lupin. This is also my first song-fic, so I hope it turned out well. This is based on the song, 'Still into you' by Paramore. Without any further delay, let's get started!

Y/N P.O.V.

Can't count the years on one hand

That we've been together

Years before Remus and Y/N received their Hogwarts letters, they met at the park by the swings. Y/N remembered this first meeting very distinctly, the cool autumn breeze kept getting her hair in her face, the vanilla ice cream her mom bought her melting into a sticky liquid and drying on her hand as she ran to be the first to the free swing.

A hand grabbed the other chain of the swing at the same time as Y/N’s. Frowning, her eyes followed the hand and noted the owner of it. A boy the same age as her, with a matching frown, light brown locks, and dark brown eyes. Scars littered his face and hands.

“I got here first,” seven-year-old Y/N said, pulling the swing towards her.

“No, I did!” The boy retorted.

Little Y/N looked to her mom for help, but she had stopped running after her daughter to entertain one of her friends in conversation. In the meantime, the boy managed to seat himself on the swing, forcing Y/N to move away as he started swinging, grinning victoriously.

“That’s cheating! That’s unfair!” Y/N whined.

He ignored her. That’s when she noticed another free swing next to the young boy. She quickly sat on it, still frowning and lightly swaying, finishing off the ice cream in her hand.

She tried to ignore the boy next to her, choosing to focus on the trees surrounding the park instead. She laughed at two birds fighting over a piece of bread on the ground, catching her mother’s attention.

Her mother reached her side, scowling at the mess she had made of herself with the ice cream.

“Come on Y/N, we’re going home. We need to clean you up,” her mother said in a strict voice.

Y/N looked back at the swings longingly, only to notice the boy looking slightly guilty. She stuck her tongue out at the boy, who scrunched up his face in return, making her laugh.

—

The next time she saw the boy was weeks later. The meeting place seemed to stay consistent though.

This time, Y/N was playing in the sand, attempting to make a sand castle using the bucket her mom got her. Once she was done carving in some windows, she sat back beaming, proud of her creation.

Not even a moment later, a group of boys ran past her, trampling her huge project. “Hey!” She stood up and shouted, but they didn’t pay her any mind, continuing their game of tag.

Tears started to build up in her eyes as she fell to her knees, trying to salvage as much of it as possible.

As she tried to rebuild the shape, another pair of hands started helping. It was the same pair of hands she had seen the other day at the park; filled with scars. “I’m sorry, those guys are horrible,” The boy muttered to her.

She sniffled in response. The realization hit them at the same time; they wouldn’t be able to salvage this mess.

“I’m Remus, Remus Lupin,” the boy told her.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she replied.

“Y/L/N?” he heard him mutter. “You’re magic too?” He asked her in astonishment.

“You know about magic?” Y/N responded, equally excited, temporarily forgetting about her previous disappointment.

“Which school do you want to go to learn magic?” She asked him, practically jumping up and down.

“I don’t know much about the schools,” he muttered sadly.

“Well, there’s Hogwarts, that’s located in Scotland, it’s the one I really want to go to! Then there’s Ilvermorny which is the American school, and Beauxbatons in France, which is where my mum wants me to attend. And there’s also-” Y/N is cut off by Remus as she counted on her fingers.

“I want to go to Hogwarts with you!” he said.

“Yes! We can be best friends forever!”

The kids played around in the sand for a while, throwing handfuls at each other, and trying to beat the others’ castle.

When they had to go home, they promised to meet each other at least once a week. Y/N’s mother dragged her home, with a disgusted look on her face at how messy she had been.

I need the other one to hold you

Make you feel, make you feel better

When Remus told Y/N of his ‘furry little problem’, they both were 10 years old. He had let it slip by mistake.

Initially, Y/N pestered him about his scars, but as she grew older, she understood to respect his privacy.

They were talking about the children’s story, ‘The Three Little Pigs’, and Remus had let it slip that he was the big bad wolf. Y/N laughed it off, thinking it was a joke, but when Remus wasn’t chuckling with her, as he usually did, she turned serious.

“You’re serious,” Y/N said.

The brown-haired boy simply nodded.

Remus was terrified. He didn’t know how she would react; if they would only become close with no secrets left to share between them or if he would lose his only friend. He believed the latter would happen.

“You’re- You’re a werewolf,” Y/N stuttered, letting the information sink in.

“Look, Y/N, I know you probably hate me now, ‘cause I’m a monster-” Remus rambled on.

Once out of her shock, Y/N stopped Remus’s pacing around the room by standing up and holding his hand, effectively calming him down.

“I don’t think you're a monster, Remus. I mean would a monster fold his socks? I don't know much about werewolves though, could you tell me more about them? So I can understand you better?”

“You don’t hate me?” Remus looks into Y/N’s eyes, still frightened at the thought of losing his best friend.

“I've known you for what- three years now? I could never hate you Remmy,“ Y/N says, leading him to the bed in his room to sit down.

“So, are you comfortable telling me more about it?” Y/N said, her hand never leaving his.

Remus nodded before saying, “Yeah, um, a little bit,”

Y/N nodded back encouragingly.

Remus then launched into a vague explanation of how he got bitten at the age of 5 (to which Y/N gasped) and his monthly transformations.

That day, Y/N gave Remus a huge hug, not letting go for a long time, muttering into his ear about how strong she thought he was, going through all of this at such a young age.

After that day, Y/N spent weeks reading up on werewolves and how to help them, gathering all of the information possible.

It’s not a walk in the park

To love each other

Y/N’s parents weren’t blood supremacists, but they expected her to behave like a perfect daughter. Though they didn’t believe in pureblood supremacy, they were still a part of the sacred twenty-eight, so they had to keep up appearances and make others believe they did, so Y/N would be disciplined regularly.

Her father was rarely around, not even staying nights at his own house with his family. Y/N’s mother had basically raised her by herself.

Y/N would be told to make friends with other pureblood kids at the parties she was forced to attend. Since she didn’t share the pureblood ideals with the other kids, she never really connected with any of them.

Only one kid managed to pique her attention. She saw him just once. It was the older Black child. He made quite an impression on her when he pranked everyone at the party by mixing something in their drinks, making everyone speak different languages.

Between Remus’s transformations, and the appearances Y/N had to keep up, at one point they hadn’t met for over 3 weeks.

But when our fingers interlock

Can’t deny, can’t deny you’re worth it

The night before Y/N and Remus got their Hogwarts letters, they had a sleepover, mentally preparing for the acceptance.

They help hands, fingers interlocked as they opened their letters the next morning before breakfast.

Y/N watched the pure joy on his face in admiration.

‘Cause after all this time, I’m still into you

Y/N and Remus had caught the Hogwarts Express the same summer on September 1st. They found an empty compartment and sat together.

Three other boys joined them later. Sirius Black. She remembered that Christmas night extremely well. James Potter. Another well-known name in the Wizarding World. Peter Pettigrew. She didn’t know much about him but felt bad for the nervous, petite boy.

The kids became quick friends, but Y/N never left Remus’ side.

When all of them were sorted into Gryffindor, they only became closer. Soon, they formed the Marauders, the infamous band of troublemakers.

Y/N couldn’t help Remus through his monthly transformations, but she was always there waiting for him when he came back, battered and beat up, ready to heal him.

They both managed to hide the secret till their 3rd year, which came as quite a shock to them, but considering the boys’ obliviousness, was understandable.

When the boys found out, Y/N had stood in front of Remus protectively, ready to defend anything they would say about Remus. Just as Y/N was at first, they were more or less unaware of the topic, so with Remus’ permission, Y/N explained to them all about werewolves.

They were extremely accepting of him and insisted on doing their own reading and trying to find a solution to help him.

By the end of the year, the marauders (minus Remus) had found a solution; they would all become animagi to help Remus during his transformations. They attempted to hide this information from Remus, but given that none of them could stay quiet for very long, Remus found out soon enough.

He was completely against the idea. Not only was insanely dangerous, but also illegal.

Although, Sirius and James being the hard-headed people they were, didn’t step down either. Remus ended up begrudgingly accepting that none of the Marauders were going to listen to him.

They all finally managed to turn at the end of the fourth year. James was a stag, Sirius a black dog, Peter a rat, and Y/N a black panther.

The first time they tried helping Remus was in June. The last full moon before the summer break. No one got out unscathed. James, Sirius, and Y/N mainly tried to get Remus to stop hurting himself, stopping him from scratching and biting at his own skin, causing him to attack them in his state.

The entirety of the next day was spent in the Hospital Wing, recovering and convincing Remus that it wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t in control.

He begged them to stop, and not help him during full moons, but they kept reminding him that it was their choice and he couldn’t do anything to stop them.

“We’re your best friends Remus. We don’t hate you, and we want to help you. We love you, and we don’t want you hurting yourself. You deserve this and so much more.” Y/N told him one night when they were spending some time together.

During the summers, the Marauders kept in touch through letters, and Y/N helped Remus through his transformations. His werewolf side seemed much more calm when it was just him and her.

—

The Marauders’ fifth year was eventful. Remus and Y/N were made prefects. Remus shared his first crush with his friends. Sirius had run away from home, and Y/N had her first date, kiss, and boyfriend.

Whenever Remus saw Y/N with her boyfriend, he always had a pit in his stomach. He didn’t know what it was but blamed it on not liking the boyfriend as a person.

Everyone else could see how jealous he actually was.

Y/N didn’t know why, but she would catch herself staring at her best friend of 8 years. She would imagine what it would be like wearing his sweaters and being in his arms all the time. When Remus would talk about his crush, Y/N tried to avoid the topic that was, for some unknown reason, making her uncomfortable.

Remus realized these feelings were jealousy when his best mates were teasing him about it.

Why would he be jealous? He thought.

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sirius simply said, grinning.

“You were thinking out loud,” James said, at the confused look on the taller boy's face.

“No! No, I’m not in love with her!” Remus retaliated. “I like Alice.”

“Sure, you like Alice. But you love Y/N!” Peter quipped from the corner.

That was the moment Y/N chose to enter the common room, causing the four boys to shut up and give her weird looks.

She raised her eyebrows in question at their weirder-than-normal looks. “You guys okay?” she questioned, taking a seat next to Remus on the couch.

She took out her charms book and a piece of parchment to start on the homework.

“Yeah”

“Mm-hmm”

“Totally fine”

“Yup!”

The replies filled the silence as she narrowed her eyes at them, then rolled them, going back to her work.

—

Y/N soon broke up with her now ex-boyfriend, though they ended on friendly terms, realizing they just weren’t meant to be together.

—

Y/N came to terms with her feelings when she was hanging out with the girls in her dorm one winter evening.

They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, by the campfire, talking about anything and everything. Soon the conversation was directed toward crushes. Y/N told them she didn’t like anyone at the moment.

They teased Lily for a while about James. When they all looked his way, he gave Lily a wink. She rolled her eyes in response, but when she turned away, they teased the slight blush on her cheeks.

Y/N’s friends noticed her attention was caught by something else, following her line of view, they grinned seeing Remus Lupin at the other end of it.

“YOU DO LIKE SOMEONE!” Marlene screamed out loud, catching Y/N’s attention along with everyone else’s in the room.

Y/N turns back to the group, eyes opened wide. “What is wrong with you lot?” she whisper-shouted.

“Nothing to see here! Back to your own conversations!” Dorcas shouted, conducting damage control.

“You like Remus Lupin!” Marlene teased, quieter this time.

Y/N glances back at him, who looks away just as their eyes meet.

She blushed at the sight of him hunched over his homework, chuckling when Sirius said something funny.

“Look at her, she’s blushing and everything,” Dorcas teased.

“I like him?” Y/N questioned.

“Yes you do, you dummy,” Marlene taunted.

“So? How are you gonna confess?” Lily asked.

“Confess? No, no, I can’t, I can’t ruin our friendship. I mean, he probably doesn’t even feel the same way anyways,” Y/N rambled.

“Doesn’t even feel the same way,” Marlene mimicked her voice, “Sure. I mean, he’s totally not staring right now,”

Y/N looked back only to see Remus staring dreamily, giving her a smile when he noticed her looking back.

She grins back at him, looking away before she could see other boys tease her new-found crush.

“Okay, so, here’s how you’re gonna confess,”

And with that, the other three girls started cooking up a plan for Y/N to confess to her crush.

—

One night, after a particularly rough full moon, Y/N stayed by Remus’s side all night in the Hospital Wing, refusing to leave until she saw a sign of him waking up.

Remus didn’t wake up until the next morning though, around mid-day.

Y/N was there holding his hand.

Her head snapped up as she saw movement in her peripheral. Remus was waking.

She left Remus’s side, but only to call for Madam Pomfrey. Once she had caught the Healer’s attention, she was back at his side.

Y/N was the first thing Remus saw when he woke up. A grin immediately appeared on his face.

“You okay?” Y/N asked frowning. “Don’t talk, please, you’ll hurt yourself,”

He nodded.

“Miss Y/L/N, can you please step away for a second, Mr Lupin needs a change of clothes,” Madam Pomfrey said strictly.

Y/N squeezed his hand one last time before stepping away, allowing the curtains to be drawn.

—

Remus P.O.V.

Once Remus managed to change into the hospital gown Poppy provided him, careful not to touch any fresh wounds, she turned around.

As he sat in his bed, Poppy handed him some potions to drink.

“That girl must be smitten with you,” she said absent-mindedly.

Remus almost choked on the potion at the off-handed comment.

“What?” he managed to say between a fit of coughs.

“Well, she didn’t leave your side all night, I’d say that she’s pretty smitten by you,”

With that, Poppy left.

—

Y/N P.O.V.

Y/N paced around nervously until she saw Madam Pomfrey step out. She practically ran back to his bed.

“Miss Y/L/N, since you refuse to leave, can you make sure he takes a sip of this potion every hour? It will help with the pain.” Madam Pomfrey said before taking her leave.

Y/N noticed Remus was now sitting up, face contorted in slight disgust due to the taste of the potion he just took.

“Hi Remmy, how are you feeling?” Y/N asked, concerned.

“Fine,” he practically groaned.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help more last night-” Y/N choked on her words as she stepped forward to hold his hand. Tears pooled in her eyes as she imagined the amount of pain he must be going through.

His warm hand squeezed hers in an attempt to console her.

“I’m fine,” he rasped out.

“Is there anything you want?” Y/N asked, wanting to ease his pain as much as possible.

“No, I’m more than happy with you here,” He whispered.

She chuckled in response.

“You really gave us a big scare there, Sirius and James have only gone to class ‘cause they had to make notes for the two of us, otherwise they refused to leave too,” Y/N rambled on.

“Have you eaten anything?” Remus asked her.

“You shouldn’t be worrying about me, You’re the one who needs to be taken care of right now-”

“Have you, though?”

“What?”

“Eaten anything?”

A smile fell on Y/N’s lips at his caring nature. “Yes, I had some toast, that Prongs and Pads got me, wasn’t feeling-”

“I like you.”

That stopped Y/N’s talking.

“Huh?”

“I like you Y/N/N, like more than a friend,” he let the conversation trail off into silence, only disturbed by the ticking of the clock in the room.

He brought up her hand that was still clasped in his to his lips, pressing them to her hand and murmuring “Y/N/N?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, just in shock. I um, was not expecting that today, but, I like you too. Like a lot.” She replied feeling butterflies in her stomach at his actions. A blush rested on her cheeks.

“Really? Despite my ugly scars and furry little problem?”

“Okay, first off, your scars are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. Secondly, your furry little problem makes you who you are. The strongest and bravest person I know,” it was now her turn to bring his hand to her lips.

They never broke eye contact. “Can I kiss you?” Remus asked her.

He heard her breath hitch in her throat.

She leaned in, giving him a peck, testing the waters, before going in for a real kiss.

It was perfect.

When they pulled apart, both of them smiled as if drunk on love.

Y/N didn’t know where she found the courage, but she said “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“You’re sure you want to do this Y/N/N?” Remus asked.

“Yes, Remus. When you helped me rebuild my sand castle, that was when I knew, I wanted you in my life forever. I needed someone as sweet and kind as you. When you told me about your furry little problem, you told me your deepest, darkest secret…And that’s when I knew, we could trust each other with our lives. I don’t know when I started liking you as more than a friend, but I do, and you’re my best friend and…maybe boyfriend?” she ended in a questioning tone, “That is if you’ll have me,”

“After that sappy speech, how could I not say yes,” he replied, grinning like an idiot.

She simply laughed and gave him a peck on the lips.

They pulled further apart when they heard applause, confused.

The curtains were drawn open entirely to reveal the rest of the Marauders standing there.

“Finally! I thought you’d never confess!” Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Seriously mate. Congratulations though you two,” James said as he swung an arm around Sirius’s shoulders.

“Yeah!” Peter squeaked.

Y/N laughed at their antiques, squeezing Remus’s hand at the embarrassed look on his face.

I should be over all the butterflies

But I'm into you (I'm into you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Even after years of being together, every time Remus held Y/N’s hand, she felt safe and comforted. Every time he complimented her, the butterflies in her stomach went crazy. She would blush every time he kissed her, or hugged her.

She should be over all the butterflies after years of being together, but she’s still into him.

Y/N continued to become a healer, to help Remus after his transformations. She would stay up all night beside him, making sure to get him medicine as soon as he woke.

The two best friends fell deeper and deeper in love with each other as each day passed.

Let 'em wonder how we got this far

'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you

A/N: So I've been obsessed with the Marauders even more recently, especially Remus and Regulus. I hope you liked this song-fic!

-TheBlueBookworm is out~!!

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00queasy00 · 1 year ago

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What is your favorite fic/s right now?

ANON!! thank you so much for asking this <3 <3

here's a handful of fics that bring me so much joy, that made me feel things, and/or had me rambling about it to my partner! >:3 please heed all warnings, tags, and ratings <3

tomarrymort fics i've read recently and fallen in love with:

- Cold Dish by Ailora - Sand In My Shoes by purplewitch156 - Anonymous Letters by JayGwen23 - Eat Your Heart Out by evaleon70 - Flinch by ApplesinaBasket for dutch (itsevanffs) - squatter’s rights by pwplicity (duplicity) for ApplesinaBasket - If it Pleases Your Grace by Blue_Pandas for exarite - The Night He Left by VanillaGhost

Fics I've read a while back & each continues to haunts my days (1000% Affectionately): these are a mixed of ships/fandoms

- Burnt Ice Cream by Rhodium - Butterfly Heart by The_Fictionist - Sola Fide by crowthing for Anna_Hopkins I recently been reunited with "Sola Fide" <3 I read this story when I first discovered the ship and I didn't bookmark it the first time. worst mistake. i honestly thought it was lost or deleted or something ;___; - In which Harry visits the owlery a lot, Malfoy does too, Krum loves love, and it's all Fay Dunbars' fault by dracorights - My Lord, Master, My Soul by FletchleyRose - Away Childish Things by lettered - In Perfect Unity by evaleon70 - Mysterion Begins by indirectkissesiniceland - Triad by Persefata - The Care and Keeping of Tom Riddle's Diary by wynnebat - Phantom Touch by SolidMisfortuneandThings - *gasp* A Child by ohohgee - The Retirement Plan by Smile_AM - Artificial by WoodlandAsh - may i have this dance? by panthocha - Deep and Deeper by orphan_account - Self Sovereignty by Lady_Bluebird - Honestly, anything written by Severus_divides_into_H , duplicity , Lomonaaeren, LadyInStarlight , Nyoschief , appleapple and TrashKing (Vanya_Deyja)

#fics #asks #thank you again for this anon ^__^)/

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farore-or-less · 10 months ago

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WIP for Forgotten Instincts

I'm chugging along with this next chapter, I promise! This one is a tough one because I'm making sure I get a few things exactly how I want them, and as a writer it can be difficult to articulate certain scenes into the proper words. But we are on Chapter 16 now (my god, we're 16 chapters along already!!) and we're at that rising action stage to carry on the remainder of the story and I can't thank you enough for reading, commenting, and enjoying this fic I've decided to share with you all <3

You can read Forgotten Instincts on Ao3! (Mind the tags and rating)

Spoilers and teaser below the cut:

Excerpt from Chapter 16: Sands of Indisputable Time

The snowy cabin looked just like it did when they had first arrived—when they defeated Vah Medoh and spent their first night together as an unwed couple. Everything was well organized and put away, no fire burning in the fireplace and the bed was neatly made, but as Link ventured deeper into the cabin he found new evidence of her. When he pulled the blankets off the bed and pressed them to his nose, he could smell the flowers still layered in the sheets with the spice of lust and her. Even beneath the musk and severe cold that was slowly fading her away, she lingered like a memory on the cusp of being forgotten, but he remembered. And he would never allow himself to forget.

As he explored the quiet cabin, he came across a handwritten letter sealed in an envelope on the desk—the same one he had stood over when he discovered Zel wasn’t her real name. The letter wasn’t addressed to him, but he opened it anyway. It read,

Dear Selmie,

I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to rent your cabin. The morning sunrises were the most beautiful I have ever seen and the nights stayed warm and cozy with a fire burning. I know you said you wouldn’t charge me for the stay, but I’ve left you a pouch of rupees to show my appreciation. I hope we can meet in Gerudo Town to go sand surfing some day.

Your friend,

— Z

Placed beside the folded letter was a pouch that Link recognized immediately. Bulbous and made of black leather, the thin drawstring rope that held it together was frayed at the ends and pulled taut to keep its contents hidden within. Sturdy yet worn with age, it would dangle off her belt for easy access or she’d tie it onto Jassa’s saddle whenever they traveled from place to place, region to region. It was Zel’s money pouch, and it was loaded with rupees. All that she had possessed.

Seeing that overly-generous display made his heart ache and his feelings turned sour like spoiled milk. He knew what she was doing. Zel was punishing herself in more ways than one, offering up all she had because she felt like she didn’t deserve anything anymore, and it was all his fault. He made her feel like more of a monster than she truly was, had backed her into a corner of her own design and if he’s unable to make things right between them, she could get herself into tumultuous trouble and he would be powerless to help her.

So he has to find her… and soon.

#zelink #legend of zelda #loz #botw #breath of the wild #zelink fic #zelda and link #link x zelda #fanfiction #the legend of zelda #slow burn #sorry for the angst

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dadbodbuck · 5 months ago

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seven several sentence saturday

tagged by @jewishbuckley and @sonofatoasterwaffle

too lazy to count but please enjoy a little hospital fluff from my eddie breakdown fic (the rest will not be so nice)

Chim does make Buck carry half the food back, and when they get there, Tommy, Eddie, and Chris are quietly concentrated on the puzzle again.

“Is that puzzle really so interesting?” Buck asks, startling them.

“The alternative is staring at the wall for another day,” Eddie says, “Hey, is that food that doesn’t come on a tray?”

“Just what the doctor ordered,” Chim winks, throwing Eddie a bag of salt and vinegar chips. Eddie grins as he catches them. Chris gets gummy bears and splits a sandwich with Eddie, and Tommy looks a little awestruck when Chim hands him a Coke Zero and barbeque chips.

“You remembered my gas station snack order?” Tommy asks, “For five years?”

tagging anyone who somehow hasn't been tagged yet but wants to participate!

#fic tag: all your letters in the sand

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fellow-travelers-fic-recs · 10 months ago

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Feel Good Fics

A collection of fics with various tropes like angst with a happy ending, fluff, time travel and canon divergence to suit the requests in this ask.

✨ Be sure to show the authors plenty of love and appreciation with kudos and comments on the fics you enjoyed!

#angst with a happy ending ❤️‍🩹 A Joy, Hard Learned by @partialresonance // partialresonance [E, 12K] Tim and Hawk get snowed in together. Later, Tim comes back from the war a changed man.

The dynamics between Tim and Hawk are on another level, which just adds to the heat on this already scorching hot, emotional smut. That said, it’s only one layer of this fic. The building angst with the happy ending that follows, absolutely stellar! Not to mention, the cozy winter atmosphere. What else do you need? Grab yourself a nice cup of cocoa and settle in by the fire with this one!

❤️‍🩹 Anywhere With You by @kayleebye // kayleebye [T, 3K] Hawk shows up at Tim’s door with news after breaking-up with him several weeks ago. Tim isn’t interested in hearing anything from Hawk, but one sentence changes everything. Will Hawk and Tim finally have a chance at happiness?

This one I haven’t read yet, but it’s got a lot of what you’re looking for… true love, angst and a happy ending fix-it all wrapped up in a snug little 3K word package. Give it a shot!

#fluff ❤️‍🩹 A Package of Sunshine by @bluebellsinburbank // ConsumingLove(Bluebellstar) [T, 1K] Hawk and Tim have a day at the beach.

This should be called A Ray of Sunshine, because that’s exactly what it feels like. It’s so refreshing to have these fluffy moments, a snapshot into a happier time between these two. And delightful banter with Marcus and Frankie in tow… We love to see!

#fix-it, #time travel, #canon divergence ❤️‍🩹 Cheek to Cheek by Iviviendo* [NR, 1K] A special guest arrives unannounced at the Laughlin house on Christmas Day in 1953.

A fluffy little Christmas fix-it, light and cozy. I felt like I was right there at the dinner table, laughing and singing along with the rest of the family. Even Tim’s grandma is pleasant and cheerful, a welcome change from the cranky Grandma Gaffney we see in the book.

❤️‍🩹 Everything, Everything by tinypurpleghost* [E, 4.8K] Hawk wakes up in 1968 and everything is different.

A sprinkle of angst with a heavy dose of heart-warming fluff, along with some wonderfully tender (and super hot) smut. Short and sweet, this time travel fix-it will be the perfect balm to mend your broken heart.

❤️‍🩹 the pawn in every lover’s game by hyperfixfic* [G, 8K] Lucy decides to face Hawk after Mr. Laughlin slipped a letter under Hawk’s apartment door instead of ignoring the problems of her marriage. And there are many.

This one is more book-inspired, and Lucy-focused, which is something of a rarity. Love to see it!

❤️‍🩹 Sands of Time (Turn Backwards) by @brouill3r // brouiller [NR, 7K WIP Ch.3/?] 1987 Hawkins Fuller is full of regrets for the life he’s lived, though Tim once told him he regrets nothing. Hawk so wishes he could say the same.

In the still night air of a hotel room, clutching a cracked paperweight to his chest like it’s carved of the finest gold, Hawk gets his wish.

Or, a time-travel fix-it fic that nobody asked for.

This has me glued to the edge of my seat. The pacing of the first chapter pulls you right in, adding to the tension in with its punctuated rhythm–absolutely perfect for the mindset of Hawk trying to come to grips with what is happening around him.

❤️‍🩹 Again, only better by@madsmeetsmisha // madsmeetsmisha [M, 11K WIP Ch. 4/9] Hawk had no idea what was really going on here. All he knew was that he was back in 1954 and a completely distraught Tim was standing outside his door. And he also knew that he certainly wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

*DING DING DING… Haven’t read this yet, but by the summary and tags, this sounds like it might check all (or most) of your boxes… Tags: fix-it, someone dies from AIDS but not Tim, second changes, all the fluff we need to get over this

❤️‍🩹 Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps It’s Real by drabbleswabbles* [NR, 24K Ch. 9/?] And then it happened. The metallic screech of the gate, the shuffle of men stepping out beyond the prison walls. And suddenly there he was. His hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it. And his glasses were different. But it was him. Their eyes met. Tim stared at him in wide-eyed shock before recognition melted his features into a confused outrage.

Basically a fix-it in which Hawk finds himself back in the early 70s.

I haven’t had the chance to dive into this one, but it’s at the top of my list, along with so many other readers who can’t stop singing its praises. I’m sure you’ll love it just as much as they do.

❤️‍🩹 The Twelfth of Never by ghostandwitness* [M, 973 WIP Ch. 1/?] What if Hawk didn’t prevent Tim from passing the security clearance?

A retelling of Hawk and Tim’s story where their affair is continued through Tim’s employment at State, for those of us who want a different ending (but of course, not without a hard time getting there-After all it’s Hawk and Tim).

I feel like this one might be flying under the radar, but it deserves all the fanfare. So far, this one is fantastic, and while it’s still currently a WIP, and can’t guarantee it will be exactly what you’re looking for, I can confidently say it will be enjoyed.

❤️‍🩹 But If You Don’t Dear, Confess by@bluebellsinburbank // ConsumingLove(Bluebellstar) [G, 3K] “Have you ever considered yourself to be in love with another male?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it?

Giving gifts, receiving gifts, walking like a gay man - like that could even be quantified; sex and sodomy. Those things were nothing, a mere drop in the ocean compared to that one question.

Had he ever been in love with another man?

For a moment, he almost expected to think of Kenny. That sweet boy who loved beautiful things, who’d followed Hawk into a war none of them had any place being.

But Kenny was the furthest thing from his mind. No, his mind was alive with memories of his Skippy.

Or, Tim Laughlin is a little harder to get out of Hawk’s head, and the choice between yes and no isn’t as easy to make.

This is part 1 of a series that follows Hawk and Tim as they run away to Italy together, after Hawk fails the polygraph on purpose. Each fic is a standalone, so if you’re uneasy about getting too attached to a WIP, this might be for you!

*Authors: If you have a tumblr (or other socials) you’d like linked, let me know and I’ll add it. Also, if anyone doesn’t want their socials linked here, please let me know and I’ll gladly remove it.

#ftfics collections #ftficrecs #fellow travelers fic recs #fellow travelers fics #fellow travelers #feel good fics #fluff #angst with a happy ending #fix it fic #time travel au #canon divergence #canon divergent au #ftfics jan24

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weirdcharacter · 1 year ago

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I don't know what's worse, that Arno would go to Mariane first to break the news of Bellec's death before going to the Council because he knows how much he meant to her, and Mariane just remaining deadly silent and quietly leaving the room because if she doesn't she *will* kill Arno and she cannot risk her place within the Brotherhood.

Or Arno going to the Council first because it's about a Master Assassin and it's about making sure Elise is not wrongly accused of a crime she did not commit, and Arno explaining to the Council what happened, and the Council scolding and Elise standing there trying to defend him and an Assassin telling her to wait downstairs because it's not the business of a Templar and Arno trying to make sure Elise is safe while also trying to convince the Council of what happened and some assassins witnessing the scene unable to decide on what to do, intervene or stand still or leave, and in the middle of all that chaos... no one noticing the shadow standing in a corner.

Another Assassin in the room. And she is standing still, still and quiet. She is one with the crowd, as she was taught. and she listens. she listens to the Elise trying to defend Arno, and Arno trying to defend Elise, she listens to the Council scolding and screaming about murders and vengeance, and Arno screaming back about justice and truth.

And she stands still. Quiet as a shadow. Until the Council asks for everyone in the room to leave, everyone except Arno and Elise.

She knows where the body is. She heard Arno talking about the tracks he followed, the tracks leading to the Sainte-Chapelle.

So she becomes one with the crowd. She weaves out of the room, out of the headquarters, and she runs.

She runs like she never has before.

She runs, climbs, jumps, falls. Gets up, runs. Runs.

Runs.

Until she sees it.

The Sainte-Chapelle.

And she never tells anyone that she came here, that she found him first. She leaves long before anyone else comes by to find the body.

A few days later, she follows Arno in the underground tunnels. She is quiet, she is patient. She makes sure no one is around, makes sure he is alone. And when the moment comes, she grabs him by the shoulder, slams him against the cold hard wall, presses her hidden blade against his throat and mutters a few words. Words that will haunt Arno as much as it will haunt her.

"I wonder why I have not killed you yet."

Not me being this close to writing a fic set in AC Unity where my Assassin is part of Arno's crew and creating more drama-

#when I tell you there is drama #I am NOT lying #when I tell you that following this interaction they don't speak for over a YEAR #and every time Arno tries to seek her out or to leave her a message she just ignores him and sands far so far he can never see #I also have this headcanon that similarly to Elise; Mariane also writes letters to Arno #but Arno writes back and usually they write silly letters to mock each other or tease each other about a mission or something #like kids do in a way #but during that one year Mariane never sends any letter to Arno #and Arno writes - or at least tries to write - but he can never find the right words #because how could he? He robber her of her family and her mentor - he cannot blame her because he understands her pain #ho he does understand - but he also know he was in the right - or does he know? Sometimes he almost doubts #almost feels like he should have spared Bellec and given the Council a chance to judge him - given Bellec a chance to explain himself #at least give him a chance to say goodbye - but he did not #and he cannot help but blame himself - and as time passes Mariane cannot help but feel like her heart is ripped apart #because she mourns Bellec - she truly does - but she also hurts because of what Bellec did and she hurts because of what Arno did #and she hurts because she feels like the days of silly letters and coop missions are over. She feels like she lost everything #all she has left is her blade her cameo and a creed to hold onto like a kid hold onto a broken toy #so yeah that one year is kinda not fun for her and for Arno #okay i really have to play that sequence 8 now i'm so excited to write more about them and to do that I need to KNOW what happens next #hehehehe #ALSO MOONI IF YOU SEE THIS IDC IF YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ASSASSIN'S CREED I WILL TAG YOU IN THAT FIC AND YOU WILL CRY ABOUT IT

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its-jaytothemee · 7 months ago

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Until I Met You - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: A Grym Task

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 4,450

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: The team starts the daunting task of infiltrating Grymforge. Part 15 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: Have some more comforting conversation between Halsin and Tav. Getting close to the end of act 1! Thanks for continuing to read :)

Halsin woke up covered in fur and feathers. Scratch was lying on his side with his head in his lap while Sniff was curled up on the other side nestled in the crook of his arm. On the other side of Scratch was…Lunari?

Odd…

He gave each of them a few light pets on their heads before sitting up to stretch his stiff arms. Tav didn’t seem to be awake yet.

He glanced at her tent and noticed the clasps on the entrance were undone. As he looked around camp, a trail of footprints caught his eye. He followed them out of camp to find Tav sitting at the edge of the pond they had visited together. Her eyes were fixed on the dark water in front of her.

“Tav?”

No response.

“Tav, are you alright?” She kept her eyes forward seeming to not notice his approach.

He picked up a small rock and tossed it into the water, lighting it up with the tiny glowing creatures. Tav jumped at the change in scenery and whipped around to face him, tears streaming down her face.

“Oh shit, you startled me.” She grasped at her chest with one hand.

“I’m sorry, I tried to call out to you, but you didn’t respond.” A pang of guilt stabbed his gut.

“It’s…it’s okay.” She took a couple of breaths to compose herself before quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Would you like to be alone? I didn’t mean to–”

“No. I don’t want to be alone,” She cut him off as she pulled her knees close to her chest. “I just…I found myself walking here. It’s comforting.”

Halsin walked up to the edge of the pond and sat next to her.

“I know what you mean. Between the dancing lights and the ripples coming out from the rocks, this is as good a place as any to contemplate your thoughts.” He thought back to all the nights he spent by the water’s edge at the grove. Watching the waves alternate between pulling away from the shore and crashing back onto the sand. Skipping rocks when the water was calmer so he could watch the ripples disappear into smooth water again.

“Yes, of course.” She smiled weakly before turning her attention back to the water.

“What’s on your mind, friend?”

“Tev.” She sighed. “He’s been on my mind often since I was abducted. Every time I’m stuck or frustrated, I wish he was here. He always had the answer, he always knew the next step.”

“Where did you get abducted?” Halsin had been curious about everyone’s whereabouts when they were taken.

“Candlekeep. I had only just arrived when the nautiloid appeared in the sky.” She looked away from him.

“What were you doing in Candlekeep?”

She tossed a small rock in the water as the lights started to fade.

“I travelled there seeking knowledge of Shar and her curses.” A few more tears escaped down her cheeks.

Halsin eyed her curiously.

“Have you also been looking for a way to get rid of the curse?”

“Not exactly.” She sniffled and hugged her arms tighter around her legs. “I know I told you that I lost Tev’aron to the curse. But the truth is I don’t know what happened to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had been separated for weeks during the fighting. Being part of different squads took us away from each other more often than I liked. When I was finally able to meet up with others who made it out, no one could tell me what happened. I kept tabs on Harper safe houses for months hoping he would show up somewhere. I even sent a letter to the High Harper herself; she didn’t know either. After a couple of years passed with no trace of him, I just assumed…” She paused to take a deep breath. “I assumed he succumbed to the curse.”

“Unfortunately, that is a very rational assumption to make.”

“That’s what I told myself. I told myself I had to move on, that if he had survived, he would have found me. So, I left the Harpers and set off to make my own way in the world. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the hope that maybe he was alive. I thought that maybe he could have lived and found a way to survive even amidst the curse and maybe he was just trapped there.”

Halsin nodded along with her story.

“That hope came and went over the years. But at some point, I decided I needed to know for sure if it was a possibility, so I started the journey to Candlekeep. They have the largest collection of knowledge in Faerûn, so I figured it was my best bet. The mind flayers arrived shortly after I did. Then I was whisked away to the nautiloid, got eye-fucked by an illithid tadpole, and crashed on that beach.”

The lights in the pond had faded but Tav made no move to disturb the water again.

“Then I met you.” She turned to face him. Even in the dark, he could see the tears shining in her eyes. “Ever since I’ve realized I would have to go to Moonrise again, I’ve been absolutely terrified. Not just of the curse, but what I might find when we get there.

“You’re the first person I’ve met who will willingly go into that curse. I know you can’t say why yet, and I’m not going to press you. But you seem to know more about those shadows than anyone else I know. So, I have to ask you, Halsin…”

His heart was racing, his chest tightened as he waited for her to finish.

“Is there any chance Tev survived?” Her brother’s name caused a crack in her voice, breaking the dam that had been holding the rest of her tears.

Halsin considered her question carefully before answering. Giving his honest opinion would likely crush her, even though he suspected she already knew it. They both saw what happened to those around them who were caught too long in the shadows. As much as he wanted to give her comfort, he didn’t dare to fan the flames of hope, not this time.

“Tav, I would like more than anything to tell you there’s a chance of finding him, of finding anyone still alive after all these years. But that would be a horrible disservice to you. You know as well as I do the darkness that chokes the land.” Each word felt like a dagger being driven further into his stomach. She clenched her jaw as a few additional tears rolled from her eyes.

“I know. Gods, you must think I’m so stupid.” Tav turned her gaze forward as she hurled another rock into the water. His heart ached watching her lip tremble as the lights returned once again.

“Never.” He slid across the dirt to sit a little closer to her. “I dealt with the aftermath of the curse by retreating into myself. The only way I could cope was to assume everyone left behind was lost. I had to, Tav.” He took a deep breath as tears gathered in his eyes.

If he had allowed himself to believe that anyone had been left alive, he couldn’t have taken over as Archdruid. He would have lost himself scouring the lands to find any survivors.

“You, on the other hand, have held onto a small sliver of hope that Tev could be alive. And I think that hope helped keep you going. We chose different paths, but they were ultimately the right ones for what we needed. I cannot assure you either way whether your brother is alive or not. I would not dare to hope, but that does not mean you have to lose yours.”

“And what happens when we get to Moonrise?” She looked at him with frightened, pleading eyes. “What happens when we get there, and I have my answer? What happens if I finally lose that hope?” Her voice quieted with each word, until it was but a shattered whisper when she finished.

Halsin didn’t have an answer, so he just pulled her into a hug at his side. She kept her arms wrapped tight around her chest as she leaned on his shoulder. He hadn’t been entirely truthful with her of course. The hope he had wasn’t for any of his fallen allies, but for Thaniel. He prayed every night that his old friend was still alive somewhere among that curse.

Hope for Thaniel surviving was much different from any mortal surviving the curse, but what comfort would that be to Tav right now?

What would happen to him if that hope was lost? What would happen if the last one hundred years were for nothing?

A hundred questions raced through his mind, causing him to hug Tav tighter.

“No matter what happens,” Halsin took a shaky breath as she cried against him, “I’m very glad to have met you, Tav. And I’m very grateful to not be facing this alone anymore. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to truly call a friend.”

“Me too.” Tav brought one arm around his waist and pulled herself even closer to him.

Not another word was said between them, the only sounds were those of rocks hitting the water and their breathing. They sat and watched the glowing pond for a couple of hours before going back to camp. Tav gave him one more quick hug before walking off to her tent to gather her things for the day. Despite standing by the fire and once again surrounded by furry friends, he couldn’t help but feel a shiver flow across his body, already missing the warmth of her company.

***

The others were just starting to stir as Tav left her tent again. They were all preparing for the journey across the lake to the ruins, to face another True Soul and deliver his head to the Sovereign.

“Morning, soldier.” Karlach stretched as she skipped up to Tav’s tent, a big yawn stifling her words.

“Morning, love.”

“What’s wrong? You look…upset.” She tilted her head to the side as she gave Tav a concerned look.

“Just had some bad dreams is all.” Tav waved her hand trying to project indifference. Karlach moved like she was going to say something more, but Halsin came to join them.

“Here.” He held out a couple of small potion vials to the two of them. “I made some extras for you to take along with you today.”

“Thanks!” Karlach beamed at him as she took one of the bottles.

“This stronghold…you must know more about what we can expect there.” Tav hoped more than assumed.

“Precious little.” He admitted. “But the fortress mentioned by Sovereign Spaw is promising. I’m sure that you’re on the right path.”

“We’ll report back tonight with what we find.” She secured her quiver of arrows across her back. “Keep an eye on Lunari until I get back? I have no idea what we’ll be facing there and…” She gave a loving look to her furry friend. Lunari had been through so much with her, but their journey became more dangerous with each passing day. She couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her.

“Of course. I can hardly think of a better way to spend the day than surrounded by these lovely companions.” Scratch was already leaning against his legs.

“Thanks love.” She smiled as she turned to follow Karlach, but Halsin caught her hand.

“Tav…” He looked down at her palm embraced in his hands. “Good luck, and please…be careful.”

“Aren’t we always?” She winked as she gently tugged her hand free.

After a short walk, they arrived at the lake shore again, staring over the waters black as the abyss. The musty smell wafted over them as they approached the dock. A combination of damp Underdark air, mushrooms, and a sweet smell she couldn’t quite identify.

An unfamiliar vessel bobbed in time with the waves, waiting for a captain. Looking over the design, it seemed easy enough to sail without much trouble.

“So, what kind of monsters like to prowl the waters of the Underdark?” Karlach looked over the lake in front of them.

“Nothing friendly if our previous experiences have been any indication.” Gale tightened the strap of his bag around his shoulder.

Tav beckoned everyone to follow her onto the boat. She climbed the steps to the top platform where a steering mechanism sat locked in place. Wyll found the lift for the small anchor that kept it in place and brought it back onto the deck, allowing the raft to drift away from the dock.

They rode in silence, wary of drawing attention to themselves on the silent lake. The glowing mushrooms lining the stone walls around them and the small lantern on the boat were their sole sources of light along the winding waterway.

Behind them, the sound of another craft gliding through the water startled them out of their silent ride. A boat sailed up next to them, identical to the one they rode. Her companions all stood up, the air between them growing more tense with each passing moment.

“Elf! What are you doing on Gekh’s raft?” The duergar jumped over to their boat. “Where’s Gekh? Who are you?” He glared at her before his eyes darted around to her companions.

More slavers…

Tav didn’t say a word, she simply drove her shoulder into the man, shoving him into the murky water beneath them. Lae’zel gave a snarl of approval.

The other duergar jumped into action without hesitation. One jumped onto their boat while two of the others began a barrage of arrows. Another one on the lower deck of the other boat pulled a bomb out of his pocket.

“Bomb!” Tav screamed to her companions as she took her aim at the one who stood poised and ready to throw the small bomb onto their boat. She fired just a moment too late. The bomb soared from his hand just before her arrow pierced his neck, sending him stumbling backwards into the water.

The explosion rocked the craft. It had landed next to Lae’zel, and she was thrown from the deck.

“Lae’zel!” Wyll yelled as he released a crackling Eldritch Blast from his fingertips toward the archers on the other boat. One was launched into the water and left behind as they continued to sail away.

Astarion and Wyll dashed over to the edge of their raft to find Lae’zel holding on to one of the spikes for dear life. They quickly heaved her back onto the deck. Her head was bleeding, and she was taking deep, ragged breaths.

Karlach sunk her axe into the stomach of the duergar who had jumped onto their raft. He fell with a loud splash into their wake. Tav fired more arrows back at the other two duergar. A pained grunt from Gale startled her and caused an arrow to go whizzing past the archer across the way.

“Take that one out!” He yelled as he pointed to the duergar woman on the top deck of the other boat. “She’s trying to charm us!”

Tav whipped around and shifted her focus to the spellcaster. She grabbed one of the new arrows they picked up from the hobgoblin trader at the myconid colony. The arrow flew from her bow to strike the duergar woman in the chest. As it hit, the tip exploded in a bang of thunderous energy, sending her flying off the deck.

Karlach leaped over the small gap between the two rafts to cut down the last archer just after it took a final shot, sinking its arrow into Tav’s shoulder.

“Tav!” Gale called out to her as she dropped to one knee.

“I’m okay.” She drew in a sharp breath. “At least that’s the last of them.”

Shadowheart came over to inspect her wound.

“It’s okay, Shadowheart. Go check on Lae’zel. She looked to be in pretty bad shape.” Tav nodded toward their battered githyanki friend.

“Gale, help me get this arrow out so I can heal myself.” Tav sat down on the deck with a grunt.

“Alright my friend, on three. One, two…” Gale yanked the arrow from her shoulder causing a yelp of pain from Tav.

“What happened to three, you ass?!” She blinked the involuntary tears away from her eyes.

“I didn’t want to give you a chance to tense up.” He tossed the bloodied arrow aside and helped her grab her pack. She fished out the small potion vial Halsin had handed her before they left, grateful that he had taken the time to make them a few extra.

The crimson liquid filled her mouth, the taste reminded her of wine that had gone sour. A warm feeling from the potion spread from her throat to her chest, slowly making its way to her wound. She winced as she felt the skin pull back together, like invisible stitches working to close the gap.

Shadowheart seemed to have Lae’zel back on her feet, and the others seemed to have gotten out of the fight with only minor scratches. Tav waved Karlach back over to their raft as she walked back over to the rudder controls.

“Onward?” Tav asked, still out of breath.

“Let’s go harvest ourselves a drow head, darling.” Astarion plopped down beside her.

Not long after, their raft sailed into the mouth of a cave that gave way to an imposing fortress. A giant statue of Shar greeted them as intricate iron doors on metal gears embedded into the stone walls lifted to allow them passage. One thing that could be said about the goddess, she had style.

Now that she had arrived, a feeling of dread washed over Tav as she recalled the fortress. Embarrassed that she didn’t realize earlier that this was the place they had been searching for.

Grymforge.

She had always sort of thought it was just a legend – a scary story they told each other around the campfire to make their enemy into an abstract fairy tale villain rather than a flawed, mortal man who fell too far into Shar’s embrace. But no, this is where Ketheric Thorm and his Dark Justiciars gathered their numbers during the fighting at Moonrise. The Sharran structure, proximity to Moonrise Towers…it had to be.

Shadowheart gasped audibly as they passed through the entrance. Tears glimmered at the edge of her eyes. She started to mutter under her breath, Tav assumed it was a prayer of some kind to her dark lady.

“Hey, look alive. We’ve got a welcoming party.” Tav nodded toward the small inlet where other rafts like the one they sailed on were docked. She heard the familiar stirring of her companions as they put themselves on guard. They only had a short time to rest since their fight on the water, but everyone had recovered well enough.

“What do we got here, dead hoon walking, seems like.” A bald duergar woman offered them a cold greeting when they disembarked from the craft. “Got any reason I shouldn’t sever your head and toss it to the Rothé?”

Tav was in no mood to banter with slavers today. She jumped off the raft to glare down at the duergar.

“I’ll be severing yours if it’s all the same.” She sneered.

“We’ll see about th–” The duergar grunted as she winced away from them. Tav felt the familiar squirming of her tadpole in her brain.

“I’ll be…you’re one of them cult-freaks. Felt the tingle.” She shook her head lightly. “Let’s talk business then. Your Twat-soul friend Nere caused a rockfall. Trapped himself like the tight wad he is.”

“So, we have to free Nere before we cut off his head? Sounds like a lot of wasted effort.” Astarion whined.

“Forgive me if I’m not in much of a hurry to rescue him.” Wyll folded his arms over his chest.

The other bearded duergar with her spoke up next.

“Couple gnome slaves stuck with him too, little bastards.” He scowled.

“You have the gnome slaves here?” Tav’s angry whisper didn’t even phase the two duergar in front of her. They simply laughed at her outburst.

“Deep gnomes, mostly. Easy to feed, fat thumbs for digging. A few were caught on the other side of the cave-in with Nere. I’m sure they’re getting quite the thrashing from him, that drow’s got a temper, he does.” He laughed at the thought, the sound threatening to release the rage pooling in Tav’s chest.

Fragments of memories flashed in her mind. Noravi. Her father. Bruises barely covered by makeup. Whispered threats smelling of wyvern whiskey. A torn dress billowing behind her as she sprinted through the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

A black hand on a gold cufflink.

“My father has an uncanny aptitude for procuring…reluctant workers.”

Noravi’s words were seared in her mind even a century later. Her focus snapped back to the present. The stonework making up the Sharran fortress surrounding them boasted stunning purple, blue, and gold hues.

But Tav only saw red.

She drew her bow with frightening speed and shot an arrow directly into the eye of the duergar woman in front of her. She barely had time to breathe or even blink before she hit the ground. The man next to her gawked at them in stunned silence. Astarion seized the opportunity to drive one of his daggers into his throat before he could call for help.

“Maybe a bit of warning next time you want to murder someone in a crowded fortress, Tav?” Astarion wiped the blade of his dagger clean on the fallen duergar.

“Slavers only understand one language. And they only deserve one fate.” Tav spat the words as she clenched and unclenched her hand at her side.

“Yes, very heroic, darling. But in all seriousness, we should probably have a plan to go along with that righteous fury.”

Lae’zel and Karlach quickly disposed of the bodies into the water, taking care not to let them splash too much.

“Hey, soldier, what the fuck was that?” Karlach tried to keep her voice down, but the concern was obvious in her tone.

“They’re keeping slaves here, Karlach.” Her blood boiled just beneath the surface of her skin. The heat clouding all rational thought.

“Don’t get me wrong, I hate slavers as much as the next decent person, but you scared me a bit there, Tav. You had a manic look in your eyes that wasn’t…you.”

The tears that ran down her face were as hot as the skin they dampened. She chewed on the inside of her cheek until the taste of copper covered her tongue. What if these slaves were tied to her family? What if they were tied to the Sylvyres? What if today was the day her new friends found out about her past? What if today was the day she was forced to introduce them to Lady Tav’ahria Mendelre?

“Fine. Let’s make a plan then.” She said through gritted teeth. Right now, the only plan rattling around in her brain was to kill any slaver on sight.

“Is there no chance we can talk our way out of this? Have a civilized conversation?” Gale, ever the optimist, suggested.

“Gale, my friend, we’re here to kill a bunch of cultists, cut off the head of a drow, and deliver said head back to a colony of living mushrooms. I don’t think we can get much more uncivilized.” Astarion rolled his eyes as he leaned on a nearby crate.

“Technically, all mushrooms are living. I believe the word you were looking for is sentient.” Gale pulled a mocking face at Astarion.

“Trust me, Gale. There’s no talking with people like this.” Tav interrupted their banter. “They have no regard for anything than their profits. All they want is to feel power over others.”

“Then we need to be smart about this, approach it with careful consideration before we go in with our weapons drawn.” Wyll stepped up next to her.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

“Before we do anything, we need to find out where this cave-in happened. Once we know where we’ll find Nere, then we’ll be able to find out more about what we’re up against.” Her temper had cooled, and her breathing was back to normal.

“Good plan. Maybe we should have a little signal when shit’s ready to go down. You know, so we don’t have another…” Karlach looked at the water where they dumped the bodies. “…incident.”

“What like a safe word?” Astarion giggled.

“That’s not a bad idea. Anyone says the safe word, we know to prepare for battle.” Gale agreed. “Could come in handy later on as well.”

“Karlach? Any suggestions?” Tav looked to her friend.

“Um…Whizbangs.”

“Whizbangs?” Astarion made a face.

“Whizbangs.” Karlach gave a decisive nod of her head.

“Okay then, anyone says ‘whizbangs,’ get ready for a fight.” Tav put her bow away as they started their way up the stairs.

She took careful note of the location of the docks just in case they needed a quick escape. Taking slow, careful steps, Tav led her party through the ruins. She tried to project an aura of confidence and belonging, the impression of a True Soul.

“Fascinating architecture. Doesn’t match the style of any Underdark civilization that I know of.” Gale’s eyes darted around them as he spun in place, taking everything in.

“That’s because it doesn’t belong to an Underdark civilization.” She grumbled.

“She’s right. This is a fortress dedicated to Lady Shar.” Shadowheart’s voice was full of admiration of her surroundings.

Tav kept her hands balled up at her side, thankful that her gloves kept her nails from digging into her palms. At least now they knew that this was most definitely the stronghold that Halsin had been searching for.

Light clinking sounds started to drift into their ears the further in they wandered.

“Sounds like mining tools.” Tav muttered to the others.

“Must be our cave-in.” Wyll suggested. “If we follow that sound, I’ll bet my good eye that we find the gnomes and Nere.”

“Stay close together, keep your eyes sharp.” Tav grabbed her bow and held it at her hip, ready for anything.

“Play along, try leaning into the True Soul role to get us as close as you can.” Astarion whispered.

“And remember, the safe word is whizbangs.” Karlach whispered. Tav took a deep breath and led them into the large chamber at the top of the stairs.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin x tav #halsin fanfic #bg3 fluff #halsin fluff

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hyprfixate · 2 years ago

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hold on tight ↝ [L.F.] :: part one

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: you're unhappy. you're almost certain that there isn't anything in this world that can make you happier, and you're right. what you don't account for, however, is something otherworldly flipping your life on its head. or, should you say someone

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee felix x (she/her) reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 3.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: angst, non idol au, fantasy au kind of, felix is an angel literally and figuratively, mentions of suicidal thoughts without going into detail, reader is depressed, she/her pronouns used for the reader, slowburn, strangers to lovers, putting angst again bc thats how much angst there is.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: i wanted to post the whole fic at once but college + adhd + eds = no writing time :(. so here’s part one! i hope you guys enjoy it <3

(ignore formatting mistakes i beg </3)

You open your eyes to find yourself, of all places, in an elevator.

You’re not exactly sure where you expected to be, but an elevator was definitely not in the realm of possibilities.

“Um… hello?”

As expected, no one answers you.

The elevator is moving, though, and it dings with each floor that it passes. Your eyes nearly bulge from your head when you see there are 4,000 floors this elevator can go to, and you’re only on the fourth at the moment. With a sigh, you slump against the wall and prepare for the long ride ahead of you.

“Great,” you mumble to yourself. “Just another place to be stuck in.”

Your pessimism is one of your worst qualities, you think. While there is very little about you that you would deem “good”, your pessimism seemed to be the overarching issue, not only for you but for those around you.

The dinging of the elevator grows bleary, and as you pull up to the 10th floor, the ding sounds more like the low groan of a dying man. The doors part slowly, and you come face to face with what looks like a waiting room.

Is this some kind of joke?

A plaque on the wall reads “Purgatory”, and just under that plaque is a plentiful head of sandy brown hair. The owner of the head looks up with a grin, and you’re nearly mesmerized by his beauty. Perfectly sculpted features on the most symmetrical face you’ve ever seen, with freckles littering his face and cheeks like flecks of gold in the sand. To add to his otherworldly good looks, his body is outlined in a pale gold, flickering like the flame of a candle. Your eyes roam his body for identification, but the name tag on his shirt is too far for you to read. You continue to hold his gaze as the grin on his face falters.

“Um. Hi?”

Collecting himself, he clears his throat, shuffling with papers on his desk. “Hi,” he manages out. “My name is Felix, welcome to purgatory. Can I get your name please?”

Your name comes out in a voice just above a whisper, and he hurriedly types it into his computer. The room is silent while you wait,and you notice he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze. The awkward energy in the room comes to its peak when after a moment, his thick eyebrows mesh together in confusion.

“Sorry, could you repeat your name for me? I may have misheard you.”

You nod, repeating and even taking the time to spell it out, letter by letter. Felix’s face is still scrunched in confusion as he mutters the letters back to himself under his breath. Moments pass, and the confused look does not leave his face.

“Do you… have another name by chance? A birth name?”

“No,” you say carefully. “I’m not adopted or anything.”

“That’s.. weird,” he mutters. “Your name isn’t coming up in the system for some reason.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “What do you mean?”

Felix reaches over to the front of the desk, grabbing the phone off of the receiver and holding it between his ear and shoulder. “Everyone gets a death report,” he explains as he punches in some numbers. “It details which part of the building you go to, how long you have to stay in this department, the people you left behind— all the technical stuff. For some reason yours isn’t coming up.”

He holds up one finger as the person on the other line answers, turning away and talking in harsh whispers.

There’s a feeling of anxiety brewing in your stomach as he talks, and you feel like you could throw up.

Felix’s conversation wraps up quickly, with a satisfying clack once he puts the phone back on the receiver. “Guy will be down in a second,” he says. The soft smile is back on his face as he gestures to a plastic chair nearby. “Please, have a seat.”

You nod wordlessly as you make your way to the decrepit looking chair. There’s a sneaking suspicion in your brain as to why your report won't come up, and you hope to all powers above that you’re wrong.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your pounding heart as you wait for Guy to come down here and explain what’s going on. From the corner of your eye you see Felix sneaking glances at you, scribbling furiously in a notebook as he does. The glow around his body is growing brighter, almost blinding you. You’re about to mention it when the ding of the elevator catches your attention.

Both of you turn your attention to the entrance of the office, watching as a couple walks in, hand and hand. They smell like fire and burning rubber, and judging from the bright red mark across the girl’s throat, a car accident did them in. Felix sneaks one more glance at you before putting away his pen and turning back on his customer-service smile, asking the couple the same questions he asked you a moment before.

Unsurprisingly, their reports show up as expected. Felix prints them out and says comforting words to the couple, sliding a box of tissues to them when the girl starts to weep. He points them in the direction of a grand staircase before wishing them well. As they disappear up the stairs, you notice a pair of feet coming in the opposite direction.

“Oh! There’s Guy. He’ll sort this all out.” Felix’s customer service grin is back on his face, but you notice apprehension and questioning in his eyes.

Guy steps into the room, and you’re immediately overwhelmed by his presence. He’s absolutely massive, and his face glows so bright you can barely make out his features. All you see are his eyebrows, mouth, and nose. He rests the file folder he was holding on the front desk, leaning forward with ease.

“Hey,” he says. “You called, Lixie?”

The brunette nods, gesturing in your direction and introducing you. “Uh, she came in earlier, I took her name, but nothing came up. I think something’s wrong with the computer.”

“That’s… interesting.” Guy turns towards you, eyebrows raised. “Hey there. Can I get your name?”

You tell him your name, spelling it out for him the same way you did for Felix. He nods quietly and opens the file folder, flipping through documents quickly. The anxious pit in your stomach grows with each passing second, and it’s taking everything in you not to throw up right then and there.

He reaches the end of the folder, confusion appearing on his otherwise blank face. He leans over the counter and turns the computer monitor towards himself, typing in your name and clicking around several times.

“See,” Felix says, his large eyes peering up at Guy. “Nothing.”

Guy stands up to his full height, placing his hands on his hips and sighing. He shakes his head and lets out a huff of air that sounds almost like a laugh. Felix’s big brown eyes never leave his face, even when Guy picks up his manilla folder and tilts his head in the direction of the staircase.

“You two, please follow me.”

It’s obvious from the way his eyes go wide and sparkly that Felix has never been in Guy’s office before. He bubbles with childlike curiosity as he looks at the books on the shelves, taking time to read their titles and inspect their binding while Guy scours through his desk for– well, you’re not sure what he’s looking for. You assume it’s important though, as he’s mumbling to himself as he searches (you swear you hear a few expletives come from his mouth as he does). After a minute or two, he produces a much older looking manilla folder. This one is stained with who-knows-what, and it’s covered in dust particles and stray pen scribbles. He tosses the folder onto his desk with an exasperated sigh.

Seemingly only now remembering that you two are there, Guy gestures to the loveseat next to his desk. “Sorry! Please, take a seat.”

The two of you shuffle over silently. Felix sits at the edge of the couch, hugging a throw pillow to his chest.

You tuck your hands between your knees, seeking warmth and comfort. You’re tired and extremely confused– for the most part. Though you’re almost certain why you’re here, you still have a lot of questions about what the front desk worker, Felix, has to do with any of this.

Guy looks over at the two of you, and you can see his lips are curled into a small, soft smile. “There is really no easy way for me to explain this,” he starts. He reaches a hand up, and you assume he’s running it through his hair. “I guess I’ll start from the end and go backwards. You two can’t stay here.”

Your eyebrow quips upwards, but Felix makes a face that looks like he’s just been kicked out onto the street. You suppose that really is the case.

The brunet next to you stutters and his voice shakes. He’s confused, rightfully so, but you keep your eyes pinned to the floor in front of you. Guy simply holds up a hand and pleads with Felix to let him finish.

“Felix,” he continues. “Have you ever noticed that you’re surrounded by a–”

“Gold outline?”

They finish their sentences at the same time, and Guy nods. “It’s a rare phenomenon. Extremely rare. I’m sure before today you’ve never seen anyone else with one.”

Your attention peaks at that, and you glance up. You’re about to ask who else has one, when you catch sight of yourself in the reflection of the window behind Guy’s desk. You look the same way you remember, but you’re surrounded by bright, flickering gold light. It shines around you like sparklers on the fourth of July, the same way you noticed Felix’s did when you were downstairs in the lobby.

Felix meets your gaze in the window and nods. “What does it mean?”

“Well… For you–” Guy’s attention shifts to your direction, “- for you it’s a sign that you’re here before your time. You shouldn’t be here yet. You shouldn’t be dead yet.”

The anxious pit in your stomach widens and swallows you whole.

You barely register Guy’s explanation to Felix of what he means. Panic engulfs your senses and you’re trying your hardest to hold it together. You don’t want to cry in the afterlife (betweenlife?), you did enough of that when you were fully living.

Of course, you think. Of course you’re here before you need to be. That would just be your luck right? Despite the months it took to gather the courage to take that final plunge into darkness, you’ve still somehow made a mistake– one that seems to take more than just a quick fix.

You notice, through your spiraling thoughts, that the voices around you have stopped talking. You lookup and notice Felix’s eyes are on you. His expression reads pity, and you scowl, annoyed by the thoughts you think are running through his mind. You turn your attention back to Guy, and you’re grateful that you can’t make out his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

You nod. “Sorry. I must have zoned out.”

Guy nods slightly, knowingly, but he chooses to continue with his speech rather than to dwell on it. You dig your nails into the palm of your hand and force yourself to keep focused. Felix swallows thickly and decides to turn his attention away from you.

“Where was I?” He rubs his hands together in thought, clapping softly when he gets back on track. “Right. Now, while that might be the case for her and for other people, you glow for a different reason, Felix. Almost the opposite, actually.”

It’s Felix’s turn to look confused and anxious. He rubs his hands against his thighs. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Guy slides the dusty old folder to the edge of his desk as an invitation for Felix to take it. He reaches over for it, and with wide eyes he notices his name stamped on the top right corner.

“You’re very special, Felix,” Guy continues. “Everyone who works here was alive at some point, except for you. You’re what we call a wandering spirit.”

You glance over at Felix, who’s brown eyes are vacant as he peels through the file. “What… what does that mean?”

“It means that you have a purpose, a very specific purpose on Earth, but your spirit was born before its time. That’s why you’ve been here for so long. Your job here at purgatory was busy work, just a time passer until the day you’re needed on Earth. And it seems like that day is today.”

Guy lets out a long, watery breath. “Felix Lee, I would like to formally introduce you to your guardian angel assignment.”

“Guardian angel?”

You blink curiously. “I’m confused.”

“Well. His job is to watch over you, protect you, keep you out of harm’s way.”

“I get that,” you mumble. “But why does all of that matter if…”

You trail off in the middle of your sentence. Realization rears its ugly head like an unwanted pimple, and you freeze on the spot.

Guy doesn’t even get the first letter of your name out of his mouth before you’re disagreeing, anger and fear taking over your actions like a wounded stray animal. You’ve managed to propel yourself halfway across the room before you even realize what’s going on.

“I’m not going back,” you cry, anxious hands wringing together feverishly. You avoid Felix’s gaze, trying to keep your focus on the massive man seated behind the desk. His mostly featureless face looks surprised at your outburst.

“Wait, what? What’s going on?” Felix quips. His big brown eyes shift between you and Guy as though he’s watching a ping-pong match.

Guy sighs. “Felix, your assignment is to go to Earth and watch over her. Make sure that she doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t… what?”

“Kill myself,” you deadpan. He whips his head in your direction. “You’re coming to Earth to make sure I don’t kill myself.”

Said “guardian angel” drops the folder in his hands, sheets of paper fluttering down to the floor. His ears are beginning to grow red, and he mumbles apologies as he makes quick work of gathering what’s fallen to the floor. When he sits up again, he looks directly at you. His eyes are wide and his lips have flattened into a thin line. Felix stares holes into your face, a myriad of questions swimming in the back of his mind. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but he closes it again.

“I’m sorry,” Guy says. You can’t tell who he’s talking to. “I know this is sudden, I know that this isn’t what you, either of you, expected or even wanted.” His gaze settles on you before he continues. “But you don’t belong here. Not yet. There’s so much more for you to learn about and discover.”

You shake your head furiously. “No.” Your voice comes out stronger than it feels. “No, I can’t go back. I don’t want to.”

There’s sympathy on Guy’s face, but he isn’t wavering. “I’m sorry.”

Felix has remained silent, staring at the ground in front of him with an alarming amount of focus. His hands are clasped together over the folder in his lap, but his leg is bouncing at an incredible speed. For a moment, you imagine the panic going through his mind: he’s being forced to leave the only home he’s ever known to play babysitter to someone who doesn’t even want to be alive. His problems take a back seat in your mind as you mull over that last part.

Someone who doesn’t even want to be alive.

Guy is speaking again, this time to Felix. You can’t find it in you to listen, or even pretend to be listening. Your mind is swimming with thoughts, memories of your life and everything that led up to this moment. You’re shaking, knees wobbly and trembling as you realize that you’re once again destined to be stuck in a situation you don’t want to be in. Your eyes dart around the room and you begin looking for an out; a window, an air vent— if it came to it you’d close your eyes and pretend that you weren’t even there.

Guy stands up and begins walking in your direction. You inch closer and closer to the corner, only for him to walk right past you. You notice that there’s a small, unassuming door in the wall behind you.

“There’s really no time for any more questions,” he murmurs. “I have to get you two back to Earth where you belong.”

“Wait…”

Felix’s voice is hoarse with trepidation. He’s still staring at the ground, body slightly trembling as he gathers up all his fleeting thoughts in attempts to make a coherent sentence. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Everything you need is in that folder, Felix.” Guy’s booming voice has an edge of softness to it, the kind of fondness only achievable by a parent. “I know you can do this. Both of you. Everything is going to be okay.”

Guy reaches a massive hand towards the doorknob. He’s shaking a bit himself, and you imagine he’s feeling nervous about sending Felix away from the only home he’s ever known. From what you’ve gathered, Felix is the only one who’s been here as long as he has. He must feel like a son to Guy, and now he has to watch his son leave the safety of their home for the first time.

The door in the wall opens, and a bright light floods your senses. You squint from the corner you’re huddled in. There are tears streaming down your face, and it is taking every ounce of your control not to begin screaming and throwing yourself around on the floor. Guy turns around, motioning for you and Felix to come to the door.

“This passageway will take you back in time by a few days,” he says. “From there, it’s all in your hands.”

He looks over at you, calling your name softly. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can do this. You can go back. You won’t be alone.”

Against your better judgement, you look over at Felix, whose freckled face is also littered with tears. His big, brown eyes are still downcast, but sensing your gaze he glances up and gives you the smallest smile. He scrubs his cheeks with the back of his hand before he reaches out to you. “We can do it,” he whispers.

There’s desperation in his voice the next time he speaks. “Please. Let me do this.”

Only hesitating slightly, you uncurl yourself from the corner of the room and take a step towards Felix. He closes the gap between you two, slipping his long, slender fingers in your grasp. He gives your hand a squeeze, then looks up at Guy. They stare at each other for a moment before Guy steps out of the way, allowing space for you and Felix to walk through the door.

Felix takes the first step, letting the hand connected to yours stay behind him. Your feet feel heavy, but you allow yourself to get pulled a bit. With one final watery sigh, you follow him into the white light. It swallows both of you whole, and you feel both weightless and weighed down at the same time. Felix’s hand seems to disappear from your grasp, and before you can fully register it, you feel yourself falling from a great height.

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