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stratiotis-nth · 3 years ago

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Castiel has been able to see Glimpses of people’s future when he meets them for the first time—specifically when he first makes eye contact. It’s the big family secret and Castiel hates that he’s the one stuck with it. It’s infuriating—Gabriel asks if Castiel could make eye contact with some hot guy or girl to see if he’ll get lucky, and Castiel ignores him every time.

He doesn’t see the person’s entire life when he looks like them. It’s more like…a tsunami of information. Sometimes it’s images or feelings or sounds. Usually, Castiel can’t make heads or tails of what he experienced, so he stopped trying to interpret them a long time ago.

At this point, the flood of information is an annoyance, and he’s done his best to just avoid eye contact altogether.

Maybe that’s why Castiel is so quiet and keeps to himself. He doesn’t like meeting new people if only to avoid the data dump of another person’s future. He’s thankful he doesn’t get Glimpses when he looks at anyone he’s already Glimpsed, because he’s never be able to look Gabriel in the face. And anyone who Castiel had accidentally Glimpsed before have long since disappeared from his life, and Castiel is such a recluse that he hasn’t had a new friend in years.

Until Gabriel was an annoying asshole.

His older brother practically wrestled Castiel out of the house they shared to go clubbing. It had been a close fight and Castiel had gotten damn well near to biting Gabriel’s arm—but he eventually lost because Gabriel threatened to trample Castiel’s carefully cultivated garden in the backyard.

For the sake of his plants, Castiel reluctantly ducked into Gabriel’s obnoxiously bright red Camero.

“This is a stupid idea.” He grumbled, crossing his arms and keeping his hands tucked firmly against himself. “I’m just going to be standing there staring at the floor like an idiot.”

“No, you’re gonna keep that chin up and meet some people, Cassie.” Gabriel said briskly as they drove to Downtown. “Glimpsing a few people isn’t gonna change your life. You need friends, my bumbling, weirdo brother.”

“I can live my life just fine without friends, Gabriel.” Castiel snapped. “I have you, my cat, and my garden. I work from home and can support myself if needs be. What else do I need?”

Gabriel sighed.

“You’ll always have me, Cassie.” He said. “But have you ever thought about what you want?”

No. Of course he hadn’t. Castiel hadn’t had the luxury of knowing what he wanted since he first discovered the Glimpses.

“Your Glimpses shouldn’t be what stops you from having a life, little bro.” Gabriel continued firmly. They were in Downtown now, string lights lighting the two way street and neon signs making the air gleam in multicolor. Castiel’s chest clenched with anxiety, carefully avoiding the stream of bodies moving up and down the sidewalks in case he made eye contact with as passers by.

Gabriel pulled into the VIP spot of his nightclub, Sugar+Spice and grinned at Castiel.

“C’mon, brosky, time to swim amongst the fishes.” To complete Gabriel’s inspiring speech, he slapped two condoms into Castiel’s hand and ducked out of the car before he could throw them back.

Grumbling under his breath about invasive brothers, Castiel begrudgingly followed Gabriel through the back entrance of the club.

It was loud, hot, and chaotic. Despite not having made eye contact with anyone yet, Castiel’s senses were immediately overloaded with noise and light. He could barely hear Gabriel over the din, risking a glance up in an effort to read his lips.

This way. He seemed to be shouting. Gabriel grabbed his hand and tugged him along anyway. Castiel allowed himself to be dragged, bumping through a crowd of people with his eyes fixed on their passing feet.

Gabriel took him up to a slightly quieter, less crowded second floor and sat him down at the bar.

“Alfie!” Gabriel called to the bartender, rapping his knuckles on the glass bar top. “Dirty Shirley for my fruity brother!”

“Gabriel!” Castiel hissed. He didn’t necessarily care if people knew he was gay, but he didn’t want Gabriel going on trying to get him laid.

“Coming up, boss.” Alfie called, already moving nonstop and smoothly as he tended to the other patrons lining his bar top.

“See ya, Cassie.” Gabriel clapped his shoulder. Castiel��s heart seized with terror.

“Gabriel, don’t you dare—“

“Sorry little bro, I’ve got club owner responsibilities to attend to.”

And then, Castiel was alone. Alfie’s slim hand set a red-pink colored drink in front of him and moved on before Castiel could think he would wait a second for a thanks. He was probably too busy to care for social expectations like please and thank you.

Castiel didn’t know how long he had sat there, hunched over his drink and staring at the bar top resolutely. Gabriel could drag his ass into public, but he couldn’t make him talk to people.

People seemed to catch the hint to leave him alone, or maybe Alfie had warned them against it before Castiel could sense their presence. Some tried, though, but Castiel just shook his head. That was usually enough to leave him be.

It was well after 1 AM when he’d finally had enough sitting around and staring at his drink to ward off horny one nighters. He stood, determined to find Gabriel and force him to take him home. He was tired, anxious, and terrified of this place and of people. He didn’t like Glimpsing—it was like intruding into their privacy and instead of doing it intentionally like how a burglar would invade a home, it was hurled at him when he didn’t want it. The last time Castiel had Glimpsed, the images and noises had been too much. It had overloaded his mind and nearly made him pass out from the onslaught.

The last time he had Glimpsed was the first time he’d met a future serial killer. One could imagine why Castiel didn’t like Glimpsing anymore.

He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to find Gabriel’s recognizable white dress shoes amongst the writhing sea of legs and lower bodies.

Castiel finally reached the stairs, the door swinging shut and blessedly blocking out the din of the dance floor. The peaceful silent lasted for only a moment, though.

“Whoa, Jesus!”

Castiel slammed into a very solid form and went tumbling backwards, his back hitting the bottom staircase with a painful thud before he toppled back onto the concrete floor.

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry! Jesus fuck, here, lemme help—“

The person he collided into was scrabbling down the last few stairs, kneeling over him and grabbing his arms.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Castiel’s entire body was ringing with the aftershock of his fall. His back throbbed painfully, already promising a nice purpling welt.

Maybe it was the pain, or maybe the ringing in his head muted out higher reason, or maybe just fate, but Castiel drifted his gaze to stare at the person who had run into him.

The moment he met the pair of green eyes the color of matcha and wild grass, he was assaulted with an onslaught of Glimpses.

Warm, comforting yellow and orange, the color that light up a home on a cozy, winter night.

The sizzle, pop and bang of fireworks in a dewy field, ringing with a pair of laughter. Bursting, bright colors lighting up a starry sky.

Metallic, greasy smell of an auto shop, the sharp chemical scent of acrylic paint, the words Winchester Auto in neon lights on the top of a busy garage and art studio.

But the main image, the one that always came through crystal clear when he had a Glimpse—

was Castiel himself.

He couldn’t force the image away, or what followed after.

It was Castiel, looming over the man’s point of view with his arms braced on either of his vision. His own face was slack with pleasure as his entire body moved up and down in a very obvious thrusting motion. His eyes were bright and wide and so full of something warm and gentle and careful that Castiel didn’t believe he could ever really do that.

He closed his eyes, willing the main image and surrounding flashes of senses to fade.

“Dude, please tell me you’re okay.” The man fretted, his hands now cupping Castiel’s face and shaking slightly. The way the man was leaning over him looked so much like how Castiel was leaning in the Glimpse that it brought him back to himself.

He sat bolt upright, smacking foreheads with the man and immediately making himself dizzy again.

“Ow.” They both mumbled. The guy scrambled back to give Castiel some space.

“You okay, man?” The guy asked again, staring at him with wide eyes. Castiel’s first reaction was to advert his eyes, but this time for an entirely different reason than the Glimpse. His cheeks burned with the embarrassment of what he had just witnessed.

“Yes.” He managed, but it sounded strained. The man, apparently took that strain as pain instead of mortification.

“Oh shit, you’re probably all banged up, shit. Did the stair hit your back? Did it break the skin?” Suddenly, warm hands were gingerly touching his lower back, feeling for the welt already swelling. Electrical shocks rippled under his skin despite the layers of clothes between him and the hand, but Castiel hissed sharply when the pressure of his fingers hit the welt.

“Sorry, hang on. Don’t move too much, not until I can be sure you didn’t break anything.” The guy was completely unfazed by touching Castiel. It was a gentle touch, but definitely clinical. Was this guy a nurse? Doctor?

“I used to be a paramedic.” The guy answered Castiel’s unspoken speculation. He gently pressed around the welt. “Anything hurt?”

“No.” Castiel managed faintly, his brain already providing unhelpful scenarios where the man’s hand drifted lower and suddenly his last Glimpse was coming true right then and there—

“Okay, I don’t think anything’s broken.” The guy said, sounding relieved. “Can you stand?”

“Yes. It’s just a bruise.” Castiel said, his defenses rising with the determination to never allow that last Glimpse to come true. There were too many risks, too many dangers associated with having friends, let alone pursue a romantic relationship. For this man’s sake and for Castiel’s sanity, he would do everything in his power to stop that Glimpse from happening.

“I’m alright, thank you.” He said quickly, stepping back to allow an acceptable amount of space between him and the man.

“Okay, uh, good.” The guy said, ducking his head sheepishly.

Please don’t. Castiel begged helplessly, staring as the man glanced up at him through his lashes. He was undeniably gorgeous. Light brown hair styled lightly and freckled, tanned skin. Those enrapturing green eyes that made Castiel want to smother himself in that very shade, framed by long lashes. Plush pink lips and a little scruff that Castiel wanted to feel on his skin. Broad shoulders filled a worn leather jacket over a flannel and Henley. Oil-stained jeans and scuffed boots. Rugged and beautiful.

What the hell did future Castiel do to secure a night with this man? How did an awkward, nobody with a fear of people manage to have sex with this perfect, gorgeous man who could get anyone he wanted?

“Sorry about that, man. I swear I don’t go running into hot guys as a pick up line.”

Castiel’s jaw dropped, and the man went very red when he realized what he’d said.

“Ah, fuck. I-I didn’t mean, that’s n-not—shit, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that—“

“It’s alright.” Castiel cut him off hastily. “I’ve actually got to go. I’m supposed to meet my brother and he’s probably worried that I haven’t shown up.”

The man looked embarrassed but startled by Castiel’s hasty retreat. But he moved to let him up the stairs.

He was already a few steps up when the man spoke again.

“Sorry again, man.”

It was a mistake to turn back around, but Castiel did, perhaps selfish enough to indulge in the man’s beauty one more time.

Then something happened that never happened before. Castiel had another Glimpse when he met his eyes.

It was gentler than the first, like an aftershock after an A-bomb.

Deep, sweet spices mixed with buttery pie dough and tangy apple.

A warm, soft red that enveloping his entire body like an embrace to protect and cherish.

The man’s deep, rough voice murmuring “Cas” with such profound affection and care.

Then, Castiel’s voice answering in the same low, gentle caress of soft happiness—“Dean”.

This could not be happening.

#SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER THIS WAS GETTING TOO LONG AGAIN #IM REALLY BAD ABOUT KEEPING THESE SHORT #BUT I KINDA WANNA WRITE THIS FULLY??#MAYBE? idk #supernatural #cas #castiel #destiel #spn #casdean #dean is bi #dean winchester #deancas #destiel fandom #destiel fanfic

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poisonedapples · 3 years ago

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Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students.

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door.

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

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keigelsss · 4 years ago

Text

A Super Sweet Secret - Gojo Satoru

Merry late Christmas ya filthy animals ;)

Mega thirst moment based on this post and I think it just fits this fucker so well. I wrote part of this at 3am and I hate it so much ... fellow Gojo fuckers come get ya food.

Warnings: 18+, my shitty writing, language, mentions of alcohol, Gojo using infinity (had to do it on em), smut, DIRTY TALK, fingering, oral *fem receiving, overstim, squirting, uh… the pet names are super self-indulgent too oops, literally every grammatical error you can think of (please let me know if I missed any warnings I don’t wanna upset anyone or make anyone uncomfy. That being said minors pls DNI!! I don't feel like blocking anyone today)

Word count: 2.25k (i do be getting carried away)

How do you go about explaining your current situation to the higher-ups if you get caught with him? Do you tell them that, instead of getting pointers on how to guide students down the right path, you’ve been indulging in some very explicit acts with the man who is supposed to show you the ropes? No. That’s not right either but in all honesty, it would have been a lost cause from the get-go. Gojo Satoru is the least traditional in his teaching methods and is without a doubt a troublemaker but his antics are a part of what makes him so charming. It’s that same charm that finally made you cave and accept a coffee date with him on the next day you both had off.

You don’t know exactly when it happened but little by little those morning coffee dates turned into mid-day snack runs, then dinner and overindulging in desserts at the other’s house. Everything took an unexpected turn when you went a bit overboard on the sake one night. The next morning you woke up naked on your couch, the sun in your face, a pounding headache and a large man clinging to your body like a koala. As much as you wanted to maintain a professional relationship between the two of you, it was so hard to not crave another taste of him. He couldn’t resist you either, one bite and he kept coming back for more.

You two are definitely going to get into some serious trouble for this.

After stressful days of exorcising curses Gojo likes to unwind with a sweet treat from his local bakery and you by his side. He’ll find it ridiculously adorable if you have a bigger sweet tooth than he does. On the walk back to his house, you both snag a pastry from the bag of goodies and laugh at the other for not being able to wait until you reached your destination. The two of you arrive shortly after but Gojo decided he wasn’t entirely satisfied...

“Hey, sugar?” he asked while removing his sunglasses, his eyes entirely focused on your movements. You started to place what was left of the little cakes in a dish that was used specifically for the sweet treats of the day, he quickly recalled how you made fun of him for the fancy crystal platter but he admitted to being a bit extra like that. “What’s up trouble?” He let out a soft chuckle and got closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders leaning down to rest his chin on top of your head. “Trouble? That couldn’t be me.” you placed the cover back on the platter and put your hands on his arms settling back into him slightly. “You only call me ‘sugar’ when you want something from me, so what is it?”

Now that was true, he had a list of pet names for you that he liked to pull out for certain occasions and you caught onto that quickly. It’s really not fair at all how he can make innocent words sound so damn sinful when he wanted to tease you. You turned to face him now, his hands resting on either side of you. He leans down and places a feather-soft kiss on your lips, so soft it’s almost like he’s not making full contact with you.

“I thought we didn't do those things when it was just us together like this?” Your eyes fluttered open and he came back in for a real kiss, his hot tongue lingering lazily on your bottom lip but not enough to excite you. He does that on purpose. “I know but it’s just the thought of it, I can tell you're thinking about it too.” He reached for the dessert dish and picked up a small cream filled pastry, he took a bite and offered you the other half. You knew it wasn’t an accident when he got the filling on your lip and chin. He used his thumb to clean up the mess he made then licked it clean, he is actually evil but even if you do hate him sometimes you can’t find it in you to resist him.

“C’mon Y/n, don't you think it would be interesting to try while I go down on you? Just a little bit?” You bit your lip at the thought and he was already excited for your answer. He was right, the idea of him between your legs, devouring you but not quite. Being able to feel everything between the two of you but not making an actual connection. it ignited a small fire within you.

“We can try it once but I can’t promise that I'll like it.”

Truthfully that was all he needed to hear before he began to strip you of your clothes, leaving you completely naked. His large hands began exploring your body, grabbing onto any dip and curve he can find while placing sloppy kisses on your neck. He used both hands to get a firm grip of your ass, lifting you onto the cold marble countertop, you let a small moan escape you at the feeling and he placed a wet kiss on your lips. Tugging on the fabric of his long sleeve you brought it up and off revealing his defined upper body, you could drool if you didn't have some self control. “Satoru not too much okay? It’ll drive me crazy when all I want is to feel you.” The whimper that fell from your pretty mouth was almost enough to make Gojo cum in his pants, you swore you saw hearts glowing in his bright blue eyes. “Don't worry princess only a little bit. Besides you know my sweet girl always gets what she wants.”

If there was anything that came close to what you picture heaven was like, it would definitely be the equivalent to Gojo’s strong, slender fingers expertly rubbing your folds. He always found every sweet spot and applied the perfect amount of pressure without you having to say a word.

“Baby, did I make you this wet?” He used his thumb to spread your slick around, creating a delightful rhythm on your clit. Hips trembling when he grazed that one spot that practically had you gushing for him.

“Yes! It was yo- oh fuck that feels so good!” you leaned forward, resting your head on his chest, admiring the way his fingers looked so mesmerizing covered in the pretty shine of your juices. “You know you're the sweetest thing ever right? So damn delicious. I can spend hours between these sexy thighs of yours.” His breath is hot on the tip of your ear and that smooth voice sends shockwaves throughout your entire body. His free hand wrapped around your thigh and gripped below your knee, shifting the angle at which his fingers were exploring your overly sensitive hole.

“Are you gonna let me make you cum with my mouth? Let me taste how sweet you are?” his lips started to trail the sides of your neck down to your chest. He left a series of kisses on each breast, sucking lightly on your stiff and sensitive nipples. “Ah Satoru please! I want- Ooh want your tongue.” He licked a stripe across your tummy then placed a soft kiss on your belly button, he moved your thighs once more and found a position comfortable for the two of you. Your legs resting nicely on his shoulders while he rubbed circles on your hips and waist. “Look at this gorgeous pussy,” a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “So pretty.” another kiss on your swollen clit, you couldn't help but arch your back off the counter, grabbing a handful of his soft hair. He nibbled on your thigh and a sharp whine fell from you. “Remember to behave sweetheart, I'm supposed to be going easy on you.” His chuckle vibrated against your hot mound and you let out a sigh, releasing some tension from your hands on his head, allowing him to do what he wanted with your body.

Gojo’s tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, curling and sucking at the special spot that only he knew about with perfect accuracy. The buzzing sensation that you normally felt when he's down there was reduced to an incomplete static, like your nerves weren’t fully receiving the information of his movements. Now that? That was different. It really was infinity… a barrier he controlled entirely, the rolling of his tongue feeling more like a whisper of pleasure that was everything and nothing at the same time. You were right to think it would drive you crazy but in the most euphoric way possible. “Oh my god it feels s-so good! P-please don’t stop baby I’m so fucking close.”

The large kitchen was filled with desperate sounds of pleasure and the soft squelching of Gojo’s fingers inside your quivering cunt. This feeling was new but you were instantly hooked. It didn't take long for you to fall over that glorious edge with a broken moan of his name and a string of curses, making little to no sense at all. A deep groan erupts from his chest as he takes in every drop of your release in satisfaction. His gaze found your blissed out expression and he decided to ease up on that invisible veil between you, fingers slipping from your tight whole. You clenched around nothing and the loss of his fingers filling you was enough to nearly make you cry.

“That‘s my favorite flavor right there sweetheart.” he spent some time admiring the way you looked coming down from your high. The rise and fall of your breasts with every breath paired alongside the slight shaking in your limbs from how intense the orgasm was. You're a work of art to him, truly, especially like this. Opening your eyes you find his stupid gorgeous face resting on your thigh, licking his lips simply enjoying your taste. You ran your fingers through his hair one more time before softly squishing his face with your legs, letting out a breathless giggle while regaining some grasp on reality. “I w-want more, but let me feel all of you for fucks sake!”

He instantly obliged, diving right back in, using only his tongue, setting a languid pace. His animalistic groans against your over sensitive pussy were a telling sign that he was enjoying himself, probably ridiculously hard in the confines of his jeans. The thought of his cock deep inside of you was enough to get you shamelessly turned on all over again. If it weren't for his hands on your hips, rubbing easing circles into your soft skin, you would be a convulsing mess on the hard marble beneath you. A dull ache was beginning to form in your lower back, but you could care less. Gojo's tongue was working wonders on that delectable bundle of nerves of yours. His hands started trailing upwards and fondling your breasts, your spine arching under his touch as he pinched your nipples. You both made eye contact and he could tell that you were close to another release, your entire body was starting to shake. “Ye-yeah baby I’m gonna f-fucking cum.” his tongue never relenting on you. You were on the verge of screaming, your thighs were probably strangling him at this point.

“Mhm my little honeypot. Are you gonna make a mess?” he growled delicately against you.

That was also new but holy shit it had your brain short circuiting. Honeypot?! Damn you really could make a mess and that was exactly what you did. His relentless attack on your clit was blinding but so fucking delicious you didn't want it to end. You squirted all over his face, covering his neck and chest with a stream of your juices. The added stimulation of his abilities, and the shock of this new pet name clearly having an impact on your intense orgasm. it could possibly be the best you've experienced. He was aware of that fact as well. “I love when you do that.” honestly you did too. The aftershock of it all had you both mesmerized, your body just a quaking mess, panting and moaning. You struggled a bit to get air back into your lungs but Gojo's hands squeezed on your waist reassuringly. Your hips were beginning to relax and he once again found a place to momentarily rest his head on your thighs.

He huffed a small howl of amusement. You could instantly tell what he was so giddy about. “So? Honeypot?” you questioned him, not in a judging manner but out of curiosity and excitement. “It kind of just came out of me in the moment.” You couldn't help but laugh at his answer, a fitting response. You took a second to relish in the sight of your cum and his sweat tracing his brow. It will forever remain a mystery on how you managed to get so addicted to the world’s biggest pain in the ass, but here you were.

That evil little smirk made another appearance on his face while he brought himself up to kiss you, the taste of yourself was very much present on his tongue and soft lips, you screeched in excitement. He swiftly lifted you off the counter and began his trek towards his bedroom.

“Are you maybe just a bit more curious on what else I can do to that pretty body of yours?”

yeah this is trash uh if you read this sorry for the lack of seasoning in your food

tags: @bobabybo @ibukiirisha

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robthomissed · 3 years ago

Text

Life With Sammy

enjoy these little slices of life that I wrote based on a song that really doesn't mean anything but gave me the idea

inspired by Sentimental by WMD

Before Sammy

Life was…..fine. You were living and things weren’t bad but things just felt a little hollow. Every rainstorm or trip to the art museum or meal cooked for one was nice in a lot of ways but you couldn’t help but look around sometimes and feel like it would be nice to have someone there to share it with. Over time the light and color started to drain and each day was just more of the same. The small voice inside you saying it just wasn’t going to happen, time to make peace with being alone.

But then there is Sammy. He barrels into your life all big blue eyes, loud laughs, and warm hugs. You soon realize life with Sammy means more…

Laughter

He was laughing at you. This boy had the nerve to laugh at you even after you told him you had never learned how to skate. Sammy was managing to keep his amusement to soft chuckles as you wobbled along the wall of the Blues practice rink during a pre-season family skate.

“Come on babe, just slow down and watch me.” Sammy said as he helped you off the ice after your fourth fall in the last ten minutes. You weren’t one to stay patient while learning a new skill because your perfectionistic streak took over which was causing your brain to move faster than your feet could learn.

You let out a heavy sigh and took his hands as he proceeded to skate backward with infuriating ease. You focused your attention on his skates to try and pick up on what he was doing. Just as you thought you were getting the hang of it, Sammy's right skate caught a gash in the ice and he flailed backward dragging you down with him. There was a short moment of panic on your part when Sammy stayed quiet and still on the ice after you landed on top of him with his head tucked into your neck. Then after a few excruciating seconds, you felt him start to chuckle and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You both just laid there laughing to yourselves for a minute before he said “Okay, not that I don't love having you on top of me but let’s save it for when we get home.”

This sent you into another fit of blushing and giggling which you tried to hide by tucking your face back into Sammy’s shoulder. When you did finally manage to get yourself up off the ice Sammy still looked overly proud of himself that he had made you blush that hard.

Rain

You were sitting in Sammy’s car one night in the rain and just talking about life. Nothing and everything. Solving the world's problems and ranking the best place to get frozen custard in town. The rain is hitting the car just hard enough that it blocks out any noise from the outside world and creates a little bubble in time and space. It is only you two and the rest of the world is far away. The light from the streetlights coming through the rain-covered windows is lighting up his face in the most gorgeous way. The raindrops are casting shadows that cascade down the side of his face and make the shine of his eyes that much brighter.

Beauty

Sammy is beautiful in the small moments…

The way the summer sun brings out the auburn in his hair

The way his hand looked holding a wine glass

The furrow of his brows when he really focused on something

The way he always opened the door for you

The hugs after a long day

The way his voice sounds talking to your cat when he doesn’t think you are in the room

The crooked smile he gives you in the morning

The way he blushes whenever you tell him how breathtaking he is

Sammy is beautiful in so many ways and you hope one day he’ll actually believe you when you tell him

Relief

You aren’t stupid. You know the risks of playing professional hockey. You had seen numerous guys go down with various injuries in your years as a hockey fan. But having that knowledge in your head couldn’t prepare you for seeing Sammy crumpled in the corner after a crushing hit from you don’t even know who. The play continues up the ice but you can’t make yourself care as you watch Sammy lay still. Why haven’t they blown the whistle…. don't they see him? Finally, Torey gains control of the puck and the refs blow play dead as Ray trots out onto the ice. Robby quickly skates over to help him get to Sammy as fast as possible. The arena has gone so quiet you are sure the people around you can hear your heart pounding. Sammy begins to stir just as Ray and Robby reach him and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Okay. He’s moving. That’s good. Vince and Rouzy deliver a couple more trainers from the bench and then join Robby who is hovering just far enough to be out of the way but close enough to feel involved.

After a long few minutes, Sammy gets to his feet mostly on his own, and after a second of leaning on Vince and one of the trainers he skates off by himself. You stay in your seat for a few minutes unsure of what to do until Sammy texts you telling you they are sending him home but they want you to drive. You are greeted by Sammy’s widest smile as soon as you enter the training room. It makes you feel better that he isn’t flat on his back and seems to be mostly normal.

He gingerly gets himself off the training table and gives you a hug.

“You okay?” you ask into his shoulder

“Yeah babe, I’ll be okay. Just shaken up a bit so they don’t want me driving home” he says after placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay good because I want you to stick around for a while,” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry you are going to be stuck with me for a long time” Sammy punctuates his teasing with a poke to your ribs which gets a giggle out of you.

“I think that is a burden I am willing to bear.” you tease back and break into giggles when he sticks his tongue out at you.

“Alright goofball let’s go home and get you off your feet”

Quiet

Sammy has a bit of a reputation for being loud. And he is when he is out with friends or when he gets excited about something but he also has a quiet side. Your favorite times with Sammy were when he was just walking around the apartment in his comfy clothes, a glass of wine in hand trying to decide what movie to watch. It was just so quietly domestic and made your heart do all kinds of fluttery things.

One night he catches you just staring at him while he is puttering around the kitchen making himself a late-night snack. When he notices he just stops what he is doing and asks “What?”

“Oh nothing.” you say quickly looking away trying to hide your blush from being caught.

“No no, tell me.” Sammy says as he circles around the kitchen island to stand in front of you and lean on the counter to block any potential escape.

“It’s- it’s just… I don’t know. I’m just really happy I get to see you like this.” you say blushing and barely making eye contact. Feelings are hard okay.

“ Like what?” Sammy says with just an adorably confused look that twists your gut a little bit more.

You sigh a bit and take a moment to find the right words. “Just this quiet side of you. I love your big and bubbly side but it is nice to know you are comfortable around me like this.”

Sammy looks at you still kinda confused, not saying anything and you begin to panic. “You know what, never mind just ignore me. Just go about your business”

After a few moments of silence, you suddenly find yourself pressed into Sammy’s chest as he tries to almost climb into your lap which is difficult since you were already perched rather precariously on the kitchen counter. You really can’t do anything besides hug him back and chuckle a bit.

When Sammy pulls back he just takes your face in his hands and kisses you on the forehead. “I love you babe. Of course I’m comfortable around you. So stare at me as much as you like.” He gives you a cheeky wink and turns his attention back to his snack.

Pleasure

All the years around various trainers and medical staff must have been what gifted Sammy with the unique ability to consistently find the knot in your shoulder with devastating speed and accuracy. The first time you had asked him to give you a quick shoulder rub after a long day you were not prepared for the targeted attack of his thumbs on your shoulder blades. He actually got a little scared when you let out a little noise of pain after he found a particularly sore spot one night.

“Oh no, did I hurt you!? My mom says I don’t know my own strength sometimes.” You didn’t even have to look back to imagine the way his eyebrows were knitted together with concern.

“No babe it’s fine. It’s that ‘hurts so good’ kinda thing. Keep going” You reassure him while rolling your shoulders to encourage him to continue.

Sammy seemed less than convinced but resumed his task nonetheless. He seemed to be holding back a bit though until he found a particularly tough knot and really went to work on it. You couldn’t hold in the winces and sighs as you felt the tension melt out of your body. It was your turn to be confused when you heard Sammy start quietly laughing behind you.

“Oh what now you are taking pleasure in my pain?” you asked with more than a little sarcasm.

“No, it’s just that I have only heard you make those noises under….different circumstances.” Sammy said with a smirk clearly heard in his voice.

You just rolled your eyes and turned to stick your tongue out at him because you couldn’t really come up with any clever retort. Sammy just continued to look very proud of himself when you announced you were going to make popcorn and he better have a movie picked out by the time you got back.

Struggles

You would be lying if you said that Sammy being out of town so much for a large part of the year wasn’t a strain on the relationship. You were the kind of person who really valued routine and knowing that your partner would be there when you got home most nights. You knew that that wasn’t going to be possible with Sammy and it had actually been the reason you had turned him down the first time he asked you out but thankfully he had persisted and you had decided he was worth it in the end. There were still hard days though because you would come home wanting to cook dinner together and cuddle on the couch but would be greeted by only your cat who was a great cuddle buddy but no replacement for Sammy. On those nights you would call Sammy just to hear his voice and see his smiling face. You were also usually treated to a few guest appearances by Vince and Rouzy who seemed to be ever-present around Sammy on road trips.

So while you still have bad days and crave the stability of a partner with normal working hours you know you wouldn’t trade Sammy for the world when he stumbled in the door dead on his feet but still trying to tell you every stupid thing Wally did and handing you some random airport trinket from whatever city the team had most recently visited.

Promise

Since Sammy had come into your life things had just felt better. You looked forward to getting up every day and seeing what was in store because you had someone to share it with. Sammy being in your life made you want to strive for more. He pushed you to be your best just like you did for him. You both made the other want to keep going to see where life would take you next. You never knew what was around the bend but you did know that you didn’t have to face it alone anymore.

Life with Sammy means more of everything...

#sammy blais #st louis blues #st louis blues fic #sammy blais fic #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl #hockey #missed writings

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ladyvader23 · 4 years ago

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The Lost Saber

Set in the Dad Vader Chronicles Universe, this short is dedicated to @silvereddaye as a belated birthday present! Silver is such a great friend. She works so hard for her Star Wars server, and she’s so talented. Her art is beautiful, and I have the privilege of playing D&D with her, where she has one of the coolest characters ever! She’s just so awesome and I wanted to write something for her and the idea of Leia stealing Vader’s saber just...seemed entertaining enough for that very occasion. I hope you enjoy Silver!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vader did his best not to panic. How many places could his lightsaber be, after all? He was certain he’d had it on his belt when he’d returned home the night before. He was certain he’d had it when he tucked the twins in bed. Leia had, after all, asked him about it, and he’d explained its properties as a weapon and companion in battle. It was an odd choice of a bedtime story, he had to admit, but she’d seemed satisfied afterwards and didn’t complain when he told her to sleep.

Then he’d seen it in his meditation chamber that morning, and he distinctly remembered grabbing it...but now he was in the Imperial Palace and it was gone.

And the Emperor was watching him expectantly, a disobedient moff shaking in his boots as he awaited judgement.

The plan was to scare him before killing him by igniting his saber and casually and slowly moving towards him, letting the tip of his saber singe the ground. Then he’d stab him and let the man die a slow and painful death.

But there was no saber on his belt.

“Have you lost something, Lord Vader?” On the surface, Palpatine’s voice was as benevolent as ever, but there was an edge of annoyance there. Vader didn’t need the Force to tell him that.

Vader didn’t answer. Memories of all the times he’d lost his saber as Anakin flooded his mind, memories full of Obi-Wan giving him long admonishments and lectures that...he’d basically given Leia the night before. What kind of father was he, if he couldn’t even follow what he’d told Leia? Already he could picture both of the twins losing their lightsabers and when he brought it up, they’d point out that he’d lost his and--

He crushed the man’s windpipe and he dropped to the floor.

“That was not what we decided.” There was definite venom in the Emperor’s tone.

“The wait for punishment had the same effect.” Vader pointed out.

The Emperor scoffed and waved him away, irritated. “Come back when you are prepared for your job.”

Vader didn’t argue, and he was grateful that he didn’t have to explain the embarrassing situation further as he strode out of the throne room.

Where could it have gone?

He racked his brain, trying to remember what he might have done that would have required him setting it down. He couldn’t think of any, beyond briefly stopping by Captain Piett’s office to have a word with him. Had he set it down there? He didn’t know why he would have…

His comm rang and without thinking, he picked it up. “I am busy, this had better be an emergency.” He snarled, assuming it was an idiotic officer with news on Rebel movements.

“Um. Hi, this is Miss Kengall, Leia’s teacher?”

Vader stopped in the middle of the ornate palace hallway. He paid no mind to the guards side-eyeing him from where they stood. “Is something wrong?” Already his mind conjured up a million things that could have happened--most of them caused directly by Leia. But if someone had threatened her and he was without his lightsaber...though he technically didn’t need the saber to protect his children...

This day couldn’t get any worse.

“Well,” Vader’s jaw clenched. This woman didn’t know how to get to the point, did she? “Leia...um. She’s got your lightsaber.”

He stopped cold.

“It was show and tell. She wanted to show your--oh, stars, she’s turned it on--”

He heard the whoom of a lightsaber waving around, along with children exclaiming in wonder.

An image of Leia chopping a limb off of a child, or worse, entered his mind. While he’d dismembered plenty of people with a saber, it somehow was very different when the one wielding the weapon was a five year old.

“I am on my way.” He turned the comm off before the teacher could protest and began hurrying as quickly as he could towards his speeder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he arrived at the school, he found Leia waiting for him in the principal's office. Apparently, her teacher was at least competent enough to get her to hand over the weapon, because it sat on top of the principal’s desk.

“Ah. Lord Vader.” A short, portly, balding man greeted as he entered the office. “I was just explaining why--”

“Leave.” He growled as he glared at Leia. He watched her sink into the too-big seat, as though that would spare her from his wrath.

“But...it’s my off--”

Vader stretched out a hand. The man flinched, but rather than strangling the idiotic man in front of his daughter, he called the saber to his grip.

“...Very well.” The principal attempted to sound calm as he stood. “I’ll...I’ll leave you to it.”

Vader waited until the man was gone and the door had firmly closed before he took a few steps forward. The office was small, so it only took him two steps before he was towering over his daughter.

He didn’t even know where to begin. It was pure luck that no one had been injured because of her foolish actions. She refused to meet his eyes, too, which told him she knew she was in big trouble.

“What have I told you about asking for permission before taking things that are not yours?”

That seemed like a reasonable place to start, even though taking a lightsaber was far more serious than her taking one of her brother's toys.

Leia squirmed in her seat. “I...I have to pee--”

“You do not. Answer my question. Now.”

He had never harmed his children. They were far too precious. But he had no qualms about using the vocorecorder in his helmet to its full intended effect when the time called for it.

“...I need to ask.”

“Why?”

Leia squirmed more. “Because it’s not nice.”

He hadn’t ever explained it that way. He was a Sith, he did not care for niceties, but he supposed it worked. “And why else?”

“Because it’s against the law and I’m not allowed to break the law till you say so.”

That was the reason he’d always given when explaining why stealing was wrong.

“And did I say so?”

“No.”

“Then you should not have taken my lightsaber.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What you took from me is very serious, Leia. You could have hurt or killed one of your friends. You are too young for such violence.”

“I just wanted to have the coolest show and tell.” Leia mumbled.

“I could have assisted you with finding something far less dangerous.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. He hadn’t actually ever shown Luke or Leia what a lightsaber could do. There had been no reason to. They were too young to accompany him anywhere that would have shown them how dangerous it was, and he doubted any of their cartoons portrayed lightsabers.

“Leia. I want you to watch closely.” He said, igniting the blade. As the hum filled the room, she reluctantly looked up.

Just as he turned and sliced through the principal's desk with ease.

She jumped, staring wide eyed as the metal desk collapsed, the edges where he sliced through melting. He turned the saber off and motioned. “One day you will learn to wield your own saber, but without proper training, you could have done this to one of your friends or your teacher. Do you want to do this to them?”

Leia was still staring wide-eyed at the desk as she vigorously shook her head.

“Do you understand why I am so angry with you for taking my lightsaber?”

She nodded.

“Explain it back to me.”

She finally tore her eyes away from the desk, huffing as she did so. She never liked it when he made her prove that she understood, but she also knew he would not give in until she’d done it. “I could have hurt someone.”

“And you could have hurt yourself.” Carefully, he knelt down to her level. It was more difficult than usual, given the room’s small size and the chopped desk in the middle of it, but he managed. Barely. He reached up and cupped her cheek. “One day I will teach you to use your own. I promise. But for now, I do not wish to see you hurt because you didn’t listen to me. Do you understand?”

Tears welled in Leia’s eyes and she nodded before throwing her arms around his neck.

He was still angry...but it subsided slightly with her little arms around his neck, and he patted her back soothingly.

“You are grounded for the foreseeable future. No holovision. No friends. Not until you can prove that you’re responsible again.” He told her as she pulled away.

She pouted and held up two fingers. “Two days.”

“This is not a negotiation.” He pointed at her. “Prove you are responsible and we will revisit the matter of privileges.” He paused. “And I’m sure you are likely suspended from school as well. You will have plenty of time to think on the meaning of responsibility in the meantime by writing a letter of apology to your teacher.”

Her pout deepened into a scowl, but she knew when he was unswayable.

He stood and clipped his saber back to the belt where it belonged. “Get your things. We are leaving.” He told her as he motioned with his hand and the door to the office opened.

Where the principal stood, waiting.

“I...ah, assume Miss Leia understands what she did was wrong?” The man nervously asked as Vader approached, blocking his view of the office within.

“I have dealt with it.” Vader answered simply. “How long will she be suspended?”

The man swallowed nervously. “I...that won’t be necessary--”

Vader took one threatening step forward and shoved his finger into the man’s chest. “I do not care for your fear of me. You will discipline my children the same as you would any other. How many days would you suspend a child for such an infraction?”

He watched the man pale. “Uh...I, uh...thr--three days?”

Vader’s gaze narrowed. That seemed lenient for a child who’d brought a weapon to school. He leaned forward until he was practically in the man’s face. “You are certain?”

The man shrinked away from him. “...A-a week, but it was really--”

By then, Leia had emerged from the office, her pink princess backpack slung over her shoulders. Vader stepped away from the man and placed a guiding hand on his daughter’s back. “She will see you next week, then.”

Without another word, he guided Leia past the school secretary droid and to the front office door.

He did not miss the principal gasping, “What happened to my desk?” before they left.

#darth vader #leia organa #dad vader series #leia and vader #star wars #fanfic #my own writing

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rymndsmth · 4 years ago

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querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy!

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling.

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive.

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend.

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about.

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed.

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung and his girlfriend).

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller.

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores.

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place.

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion.

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned.

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea.

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot.

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing.

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition.

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later.

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood.

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived.

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history.

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide.

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen.

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter.

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons.

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag.

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush.

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it.

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest.

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all.

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued.

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though.

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips.

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush.

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her?

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him.

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors.

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table.

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you.

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down.

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished.

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his.

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow.

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did.

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin.

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers.

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes.

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.

#*throws this and runs to take my dog for a walk*#jang han seo #vincenzo #fics.n

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lifewithsyfe · 3 years ago

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PLAYING WITH FIRE

Not quite sure how to put this into words, but someone else needs to know what I know. This story can save so many people and I won’t feel right until it’s consumed by as many as possible. I can’t express how many times I’ve tried to get this out. I almost even gave up on it, but God wouldn’t let me. So, let me make another attempt at it - this is how I escaped the devil:

It was a Friday night, April 5th, 2019.

I’m at El Rey on U street, having a few cold ones by myself. Just got off work, taking it easy...

Then, I end up running into and old “friend” I used to hangout with. Known him for about 7 years at the time: (Dave) - tall, black, dreads, above average build.

After a couple of drinks, he asks if I want to hangout at one of his friends house. Said we can smoke there and that she has a lot of drugs.

So I accepted cuz I was originally going to let the night unravel on it’s own and it didn’t sound like such a bad idea at the time.

It was a habitual routine I developed during my heartache…

I’d go out alone, run into a group of people I knew, bar hop ‘til we ended up at an after hours spot (or someone’s place) and shamelessly sleep my next day away.

So we get to the front of his friend’s building and it’s like a 60sumn-year-old lady:

(Robin) - fat, white, short, blue hair, top row gold grill and “ride or die bitch” tattooed on the back of her neck (amongst a couple others, but that one stood out most cuz it was in my face, while she was unlocking her apartment door).

At first, I thought it was a descriptive-type of tattoo. Like, she was saying that that’s what she was.

But in retrospect, it was almost like it was something she was saying to me - you’ll see what I mean later, if you don’t get it now.

Oblivious to what was about to happen next, I continued to walk through that door...

Something felt off, but I just figured it would be something low-level weird.

I’m always seeing signs that show somebody dabbles in magic or the dark arts, but I figured “if I’m not actively practicing divinity or doing weird rituals, it won’t personally affect me…if I don’t create a ceremonial invitation, then I’ll be okay.”

Now, I’ve already had a good amount of spiritual experiences at this point (good and bad), but for some reason I just didn’t think anything like this would happen…at least not to me.

I thought I had it all figured out, cuz I thought I’d seen it all - or at least enough.

I should’ve known though…I was just so emotionally numb at the time, I was doing anything to feel anything.

I mean aesthetically, she looked like she’d have a few good stories or something. Needless to say by now, but I ignored the red flags.

So, moving forward...

We walk in, sit on the couch, watch skate videos and start breaking down.

After a few minutes of small talk, they offer me some acid from a vile. Emphasizing how it was very high grade stuff - but I didn’t need much convincing anyway.

I was very into psychedelics and considered myself extremely experienced in that realm.

But just because I did it a lot, didn’t mean I was. You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t though.

It was usually my go-to for when I needed that unrivaled escape from reality.

So yeah, I took the witch’s brew thinking it was something I considered fun.

Once it starts to kick in, I can feel her beginning to stare at me from the end of the room - with a big grin on her face.

She then suggested that I take my jacket off cuz I’m going to end up getting really hot, and cackled like it was the funniest thing the world to say.

It was something she said a couple of times too. At first I didn’t know exactly what she meant, I just thought she was a basket case - but she was implying that I was going to end up in Hell…you’ll see what I mean.

A few moments go by and they suggest we move the party to the rooftop cuz her place was limiting and we could see more from up there.

Plus, she wanted to blow bubbles…and I figured “tripping indoors is boring anyway, why not?”

Now because I took my jacket off and left it in her apartment, I began shivering after a while.

I didn’t expect for it to be that windy, I wanted a nice little breeze.

So she says she’ll get me one, cuz she had to go in for more soap anyway - comes back and asks to put this fur coat on me.

It was a nice coat, so I let her.

So I’m cozy now and she gives me a tour, showing me the cool visible parts of the city.

Telling me not to be afraid of my true potential and that I can obtain everything I want.

I was feeling pretty good about those words, until I thought “that sounds familiar…what if she isn’t speaking in general?” - but I just chalked it up to her being an old hippy.

She then grabs my arm and tells me to look at this red wall, as we walk to the other side of the building. I figured it’d be something visually enticing she was trying to share, but this was going to be her first attempt at hypnosis.

She asked if it felt like my soul was being massaged - encouraging me to ride it out. Essentially, trying to get me to put my guard down, saying “this is where dreams become reality.”

Then, I began seeing holographic outlines of people in the wall. The traces reminded me of a glowing snail trail.

Right after, I saw myself turn into a block of flesh and almost being slid into the wall if I stared any longer.

But like I woke up in one of those falling dreams, I snapped out of it.

With a laugh attached, she says “damn, almost!”

And that’s when I stopped letting myself be completely naive. The veil was clearly being lifted before me and I needed to be alert. It’s just, I had this slight muffle surrounding my common sense.

Now I knew hallucinogens were considered sorcery in the Bible, but I figured - one more time won’t hurt. It’s not like I wasn’t still smoking and drinking.

It’s just crazy, cuz it was after learning about what the fallen angels taught us, is when I decide trip again.

I blatantly chose to play with fire and defy God that night.

See, these hypnotic spells are telepathic contracts. Once the manipulator is installing a vision, it’s at the last second where it becomes your choice to see what happens next.

It nudges at your curiosity, feeling like it’s a part of the trip you’re supposed to let ride out.

But every time I almost did, my heart wasn’t having it and I’d snap out of it again.

Every time she would cast a spell, I could feel my soul almost getting pulled out - with a malicious presence surrounding me.

The goosebumps I got from this thing, felt like it was ready to defile me in every way possible.

In disbelief that what I thought might be happening, wasn’t - I tell myself “let me not cause a ruckus for no reason, I am trippin’ after all. Think of something positive.”

But now my eyes are shifting everywhere, cuz I keep getting a glimpse of whatever’s approaching.

Even with that many peculiarities, something kept me in denial.

Still though, she tries another set-up and tells me to look at how high up we are, as she gestured for me to look down from the rail. As if I didn’t already know, but I go cuz I also didn’t want to be rude.

So I grab the rail and lean over…

(Dave) says “don’t let go,” giving me this wide-eyed look with a smile and said “you feel it, don’t you?”

Then just like that, my heart jumped and my mind began getting flashes of demonic symbols and images like subliminal messages.

My vision was about to go black, like the circle closing at the end of a cartoon…until I snapped out of it and backed up with my head on a swivel, angrily questioning them.

That’s when I caught (Dave) behind me, quickly hiding his hands.

Now I’m on survival mode and it feels like I can’t even make a step without risking my soul. I can feel that I’m being made a fool out of, but of course they gaslight me and try to calm me down…

I still didn’t want to believe I was in this kind of mess, but I’d be naive to let all that slide so easily.

So with caution, I’m trying to plan my escape - playing it as cool as I can, but my body is getting heavier by the second.

She then lifts her speaker and says “listen to these different frequencies, it can change your mood.”

I really wasn’t trying to listen, because I needed to leave and I didn’t trust her at all now. Especially not with anything sound related.

But then out of nowhere, I hear a distorted garble come out of the speaker and hit my ear.

I said “huh!?”

Then (Dave) was like “oh, you heard that...?”

I looked away and acted oblivious, cuz I felt that if they knew I could hear that, they’d bring out the big guns.

(Dave) laughed, saying to Robin “wait, he still don’t know what this is yet?”

Unintentionally, or intentionally letting me know.

So I tried to leave and they started laughing. Trying so hard to keep me there…

(Dave) said “you already ‘bouta do it, it’s better this way anyway.”

Then he was like “look at my hands, this shit trippy, right?”

Followed by him creating an infinity symbol with his waving hands.

Now this infinity symbol was made of light and floating in mid-air in front of him after he did it.

Right after that, he did the hermaphrodite/goat-headed deity’s pose, flipping his hands and head perfectly in a stiff dance.

Which then caused me to see it’s true form in my minds eye. I snap out of it once again, trying to get a hold of my reality.

Once I can see them again, it’s like time stood still and only I could move.

I’d look around and they’d be frozen.

At this time, I can hear them having two conversations, simultaneously.

All I caught was (Dave) say “he can’t hear us in this plane.”

Then as he slowly got up - like I was tuning through a radio, I hear a screeching static clear up. The sound then becomes like an electronic bleating and bellowing from a goat, in-sync, surrounding him.

At this moment, I’m a part of their their collective conscious conversation - essentially telepathy.

Then they began letting me know who they were.

Saying that they were angels, that they were around before us and that I can be like them.

The whole time they were talking to me, they were trying to weaken and hypnotize me with hand signs - trying to convince me. Thing is, when they did try to convince me, they’d always talk around the subject at hand - but once you know what the subject is, the situation becomes clear.

A lot of people might think they’d get physical and get out of there. I just don’t think they’d understand how it is fighting sleep paralysis, awake.

I also knew that one false move would take me to the ‘sunken place.’

I knew I couldn’t just stand there though, but right before I grab the door to get to the elevator, (Dave) says “okay, you gon’ be waiting on that elevator forever; this is a REAL trip…c’mon, I thought you liked this shit.”

Mockingly he asked “yeah, I guess you gon’ think twice about taking LSD again huh?”

I was thinking in my head “fuck, did I really just lose my soul? Is this how it happens? Is this where it all ends?”

I thought that was it, so I was about to give in and accept the offer - see what benefits I could get, if any.

Then from there, every time we almost sealed the deal, I would feel a hungry fire approach me from behind.

The one time I decided to look for where it was coming from, I got a vision with an orange blur in it - slowly materializing, until I could make something out of it. With the bit that I saw, I knew it was me being swallowed by fire and not dying.

Immediately after, almost as if I had touched the flames themselves, I yelled in confusion “wait, what? No! Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior!”

To which (Dave) nonchalantly responds “okay, you do that...that [N-word] died a long time ago.”

I look at him with disgust and continued to pray.

Telling God that He would never abandon His children if they encountered evil and that if there was a way for Him to save me to do it.

(Dave) says that I’m blowing his trip and leaves to the gas station.

At this time I could’ve left, but I still didn’t want to be alone in an elevator with him.

So as I’m praying, I begin to feel the dark grip they had on my heart loosen up. It was like my heart was pumping electricity throughout my body, then all around it. I could feel the forcefield - Christ had arrived and I could move my body freely. No more fear in taking the wrong step.

So on (Dave’s) way back, (Robin) announces it and says let’s go downstairs and get him. That’s when I hear (Dave) say - not yell, “open up” from all the way downstairs and I was amazed...I was like “wait, can he still hear me?”

With him responding “DUH! Damn, you some shit!” and continued on his way.

So if I was to leave, this was going to be my chance.

In the elevator she tries enchanting me again, but I rebuked every attempt.

I’m trying to maintain focus the best that I can, so I don’t slip - which made this elevator ride unnecessarily more intense than it needed to be.

Once the elevator door finally opens, I see (Dave’s) silhouette behind a thick glass rail, carrying an ominous slouch.

Walking towards me, he notices that I’ve calmed down. So when he sees my face, he smiles and asks “oh, you’re good now?”

I replied “I am and I’m not with the goofy shit y’all up to - I’m gettin’ the fuck outta here.”

So as I’m walking towards the exit, he yells “that’s not the way out!”

To where I respond “fuck y’all!”

You would’ve thought I opened the door before touching it, the way I left out so fast.

As that door closed, I did a little jog to get across the street.

But a few seconds later, I feel this tingle in the back of my brain, as though it had neck hairs that stood up.

I look over my shoulder and noticed he decided to follow me…of course. Shortly after I noticed him - with that bull-like slouch, he started running.

Now I was a little ahead of him, so I didn’t start running yet. I had to make sure I knew where I was going before exerting my energy.

Every time I moved my head, I could feel the tingle coming from his direction.

So there was no losing him - but I am fast.

I couldn’t call a ride because my phone was dead and I couldn’t go to anyone’s house at the time, cuz it was around 5am now.

As (Dave) got closer, I felt my vision going black and my body getting heavy again. A lot stronger this time…time to kick it into high gear.

Once it clicks into my head that the easiest place to catch a taxi in such a heated moment would be in Adams Morgan, an opportunity presented itself.

Ahead of me was a crosswalk and the orange hand was counting down it’s last seconds. Everything I ever learned told me I wasn’t going to make it, but I wasn’t going to stop running either.

So when my foot lands off the sidewalk, is when the cars to my left and right begin to move.

That’s when everything moved in-slow-motion…and a burst of energy launched me across the street.

I’ll remember that moment as my own Air Jordan.

That moment bought me time, but he kept going too. This is when I start hearing echoed garbles crawl off buildings and jump into my ear “you acting like a bitch - come back!”

Perfectly as if he was next to me…I look behind me and it’s like he hasn’t broke a sweat. Completely focused.

From the gas station diagonal to the 9:30 Club, to the McDonald’s in Adam’s Morgan.

My body wanted to give out most of the way, but soul wouldn’t allow it.

I just had to keep running until I found a taxi - which I did.

That’s when (Dave) caught up, yelling “you look like an unk right now!” cuz 4 taxis stopped for me in that intersection.

To where I respond “I don’t give a fuck, I made it out alive!”

I get in the car and tell the taxi driver to drive towards Maryland, that I’ll give him the address on the highway.

Finally, after surviving a living nightmare, I made it home.

I went to my room, played some worship music, got on my knees and wrung myself out of tears to Christ.

Afraid to sleep because I knew they could contact me in my dreams.

So I didn’t until the drug wore off in the afternoon the next day…

I even felt that burn on my back as if it was sunburn for the next couple of weeks.

I’m so grateful to still be alive, because I’m 100% positive I’d be in Hell (with something else in my vessel) if I didn’t call on God that night.

It was like I was tiptoeing on a needlepoint to keep my soul.

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hermits-that-craft · 3 years ago

Text

In My Dreams (Will You Remember Me?)

Flower Husbands Fic - Chapter Nine - I’ll Keep Him Safe From The Dark Things That Wait

AO3 and Trigger Warnings in reblogs.

“Goodmorning Fwip!” Jimmy says, landing on the path outside of the Grimland city. Fwip smiles at Jimmy, his red goggles over his eyes. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great, Jimmy.” Fwip says, smiling. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” Jimmy replies, taking off his elytra. “So, trade deals?”

“Right.” Fwip laughs. “I forgot that’s why you’re here. I’ll be honest, I thought I would be giving you a tour of Grimlands.”

“I’d love a tour.” Jimmy smiles under his mask. Fwip lights up at that, smiling wider, less sheepish than only a few moments ago. “We can always discuss trade deals afterwards.”

“Speaking of which,” Fwip opens the gates for Jimmy, inviting him into his empire. “Did you have any ideas of what you would like?”

“Honestly, my advisors told me to go for an equal amount of gunpowder.” Jimmy responds, ducking through the gates. “But we can iron this out later.”

Jimmy whistles as he straightens up. The Grimlands are magnificent. People rush around the city, bumping into people and walking faster than Jimmy thought people would have any reason to. The city is filled with life, storefronts lit up with people looking around inside. Children in neat uniforms dash down the streets with their friends.

The city is lively, but there’s no street vendors. No people busking in the morning light, no one selling fresh fruit and freshly cooked pies on the intersections. People race down the streets, but no one stops. No one talks to each other, save for teenagers hurrying not to miss their first classes. The city is full of life, but does that life disappear with the end of the morning rush?

“You gonna move, or are you just going to stay there and gawk?” Fwip asks, leaning against a light post.

“It’s so busy.” Jimmy says, moving to avoid bumping into a woman in a suit.

“Oh, don’t worry. It practically empties in fifteen minutes.” Fwip smiles, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. He hasn’t removed his goggles yet, even though its not that sunny. “After we get something to eat, the streets will be ours.”

“I ate before I came.” Jimmy says quietly, trying to avoid taking his cod head off around Fwip.

“Aw, that sucks.” Fwip pouts. “I booked us in to eat at my favourite cafe.”

“I suppose I could get something small.” Jimmy winces, trying not to offend the other ruler. “As long as I don’t have to remove my mask!”

“Don’t worry, you won’t lose your head.” Fwip laughs, leading Jimmy though the city. The houses tower over the pedestrians, the streets narrowing and winding until Jimmy’s head is spinning.

“Can we slow down, Fwip?” Jimmy asks, trying to keep up with his guide.

“If we slow down the crowd will separate us, just try to keep up!” Fwip grabs Jimmy’s hand, pulling him along down the street. The streets blur together, sharp corners and large courtyards and narrow streets and large crossroads make Jimmy’s head spin. Will his empire become like this, after he’s dead?

He wouldn’t be able to recognise it.

Fwip pulls him through the open door of a small, homely cafe. A tabby cat stretches in the sun yawning as a young woman sweeps the floor with an old wooden broom. There’s plants stretching over every inch of spare space, including the ceiling beams and the edges of paintings that litter the walls. An elderly woman sings to herself as she washes some plates, soapy water barely remaining in the tub. A young man, his hair tied into a neat bun, smiles at the two emperors with a smile that screams home. Like Jimmy’s come home, even though he’s never been in this shop before. It’s…

It’s nice.

“Welcome to The Rockrose and the Thistle cafe, how can I help you?” The man asks, a kind smile on his face.

“Hey Iorro, could I have my regular?”

“Of course, Lord Flynn.” The man smiles, wider than before, and Jimmy can feel his heart begin to race. “And for you, honoured guest?”

“A hot chocolate and something small?” Jimmy asks, and Fwip gives him a nod, almost thankful.

“Could I have a name to go with that?”

“You can refer to me as Jacob, but you can’t have my name.” Jimmy says smoothly, and Iorro laughs, tilting his head back.

“You’re observant, it took Lexi hitting me to stop me from taking our lovely king’s name.” Iorro says, and the young woman stops her sweeping.

“Iorro, if you touch these men’s food, I swear-” She laughs. “It’s a pleasure to have you both, I hope you enjoy your meals. I’ll handle the cooking. Iorro, swap with me.”

The fae man - who’s tall, taller than Jimmy thought he was, towering over Jimmy - takes the broom off of Lexi before he starts to sweep.

Fwip leads Jimmy into a side room, one that forgoes the plants for window seats and a small block of deepslate redstone. Jimmy takes the seat closest to the window, watching as the people outside of the cafe mill about, laughing inaudibly and racing to the next place. The crowds slowly dissipate as he watches, and Fwip laughs.

“Not many cafes in the Cod Empire?” Fwip asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“None like this.” Jimmy admits. “This place is something else.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good.” Jimmy says, as the door creaks open. “Definately good.”

“Coffee with three shots of espresso?” The elderly woman asks.

“Thats mine.” Fwip says, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?” Jimmy asks incredulously.

“Don’t try to talk him out of it, boy.” The woman says. “He’s been ordering this for years. At this point it’s the only thing keeping him awake. I assume you have the hot chocolate?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Jimmy says, and the lady laughs.

“What would be more lovely is if you talk this man out of drinking that every morning.” The lady deposits their drinks in front of them, steam swirling out of the cups. “Have a good day, emperors.”

The woman walks out of the room, and Jimmy looks down at his drink. A small cod is made in the foam art that floats on the top of the drink, and Jimmy coos. Lexi drops off two sandwiches to the table, which Fwip takes with a smile.

“Jimmy, they gave me your marshmallows.” Fwip says, holding out two towards Jimmy. “You want them.”

“I’m not five, Fwip.” Jimmy says. “Of course I want the marshmallows.” Fwip drops them into Jimmy’s drink, and Jimmy laughs as Fwip hisses at the splash from the hot milk.

“Don’t laugh at me, that hurt.”

“What did you expect?” Jimmy says, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “Wow, this is really sweet.”

“They must like you.” Fwip says. “Cause my coffee’s burnt.”

“That sucks.” Jimmy offers, downing the rest of his drink. The sweetness is strange - the marshmallows must have had extra sweetener, normal hot chocolates aren’t this saccharine.

“You ready to leave now?” Fwip asks, standing up.

“Sure.” Jimmy stumbles a bit as he stands, btu he lets Fwip lead him out of the cafe.

They walk through the empty city for a while, the silence overwhelming. Jimmy wants to say something, to break the awkward silence that threatens their every step, but he can’t. He knows the words he wants to say, but they get lodged in his throat and twist around his tongue, like a vine is creeping up and strangling him.

Fwip leads him into an alleyway, one too small to be of any use besides a shortcut, but the only place it leads to is the wall. Jimmy sways a bit, turning to face Fwip. This isn’t where they’re supposed to be.

Blink.

Fwip smiles.

Blink.

Sausage laughs in the distance.

Blink.

Jimmy’s swaying. He can’t stand up for much longer.

Blink.

Fwip takes off his goggles.

Blink.

Jimmy’s on the floor now.

Blink.

Fwip’s eyes are as red as Joey or Sausage's eyes.

Blink.

Blink..

Blink…

---

Jimmy’s head rests on some cold stone. It’s nice, really. He feels so hot, like there’s fire under his skin, burning at his lungs. But it’s also too cold, he’s shivering. Where is he? He was just with Fwip, what happened, did he faint? A breeze passes his face, and his eye slowly opens.

Where is his mask?

Why won’t his other eye open?

“Good morning Jimmy.” Fwip says, leaning against the wall. “Took you long enough to wake up.”

“Where…” Jimmy tries to sit up, finding himself unable to.

At least Dogwarts didn’t get him. I can’t lose him.

“What?” Jimmy mumbles out loud. What is dogwarts?

“Don’t worry, Timmy.” Sausage says, pushing Jimmy’s head back onto the altar. “None of this will hurt, we just need your help.”

“What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sausage kneels down in front of Jimmy, looking into the Codfather’s eyes. “You’re going to meet a friend of ours.”

“He’s already met me before.” A deep, warped voice says, and Jimmy’s heart leaps into his throat. No. Not here. Not now. “He’s much more expressive without the head.”

Jimmy flings himself backwards, putting as much space between him and the demon as possible. Sausage and Fwip laugh, pushing Jimmy towards the altar. Jimmy tries to struggle, but the world spins and-

And there’s blood on the floor. It’s dry, dark brown, but it’s his. His arm hurts. Why didn’t his arm hurt before? Why didn’t he notice he was bleeding? Why did Fwip hurt him?

“So he’s come out of shock.” Xornoth laughs. “Thank you both for collecting him, we truly can hit my brother hard, having something of his.”

“Jimmy isn’t Aeor’s champion?” Sausage asks, and Jimmy blinks.

The gods have never loved him, why would Sausage think one of the elfs would?

“No, he’s the champion's soulmate.” Xornoth laughs, walking up to the trio. “He’s important, not important enough to matter, but important enough to kill.”

“Too scared to kill me yourself?” Jimmy snarks, shaking. He’s not scared, really he isn’t.

He’s been here too many times, in his nightmares, for this to have any effect on him. He’s shaking because he’s cold, not because he’s scared. It’s too hot, but he’s still cold. The blood oozes out of him - will his arm go septic, if he escapes? How will he escape, why was he paying attention to Xornoth he should have focused on escaping.

“Too busy,” Xornoth says. “To bother myself with pest control.”

“Should we sacrifice him?” Sausage asks, and Jimmy stills as he feels the sharp blade of an axe gently tap his neck.

“Wouldn’t it be a shame,” Jimmy closes his eyes, trying to fight back tears as his fate is sealed. “If such a lovely altar wasn’t used.”

SolidarityGaming was sacrificed on the altar by MythicalSausage

#in my dreams (will you remember me?)#imd(wyrm)#empires smp fic

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magalidragon · 4 years ago

Text

fire on ice | a crackish Jonerys drabble

Soooo... @moggett reblogged this post and well I felt compelled to write a drabble for one of those prompts so I give you this crack fic-- a funeral home meet cute!

I give you....FIRE ON ICE! And this is also partially @youwerenevermine‘s fault, lol, because we literally had same idea for one of the prompts.

“Thank you so much Mr. Snow.”

Jon nodded politely, solemnly, his gray eyes the perfect amount of sympathetic, sad, and he hoped the right amount of ‘normal’— lest people think him a total fucking creep—while he shook the hand of the Greatjon Umber, whose son Smalljon Umber had unfortunately encountered the wrong side of a chainsaw while out trimming trees.

Greatjon began to go into a tale about his son—who by all accounts had been a horrible person—speaking like he was the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror for all his ‘talents’ and ‘successes.’ “Hmm,” he murmured, walking him slowly to the door. “He sounds like quite a man your son, thank you Mr. Umber, we will speak later regarding tomorrow.”

“Of course, thank you again Mr. Snow.”

The door shut loudly behind him, Jon slumping against it, relieved. He glanced at his cousin, who had emerged from the basement, shaking her chopped bob out of its messy little knot atop her head. “He gone?” she demanded.

“Aye.”

“I had half a mind to sew his arm on backwards.”

Jon closed the doors to the viewing room where Smalljon rested in repose until tomorrow when he’d be taken to the Karstark’s castle for the final funeral and ultimate burial in the crypts, as was custom for the Northerners. He clicked his tongue. “Arya, be nice.”

“Remember when his wife died, and he squeezed my arse?”

“Aye, I remember.”

“Thought so.” Arya checked her phone. “Your beloved texted me. We have another on the way. This one fell from the Wall. Ygritte said he’s a fucking mess.”

He made a face; he hated that she referred to his ex-girlfriend as his ‘beloved.’ “Will you stop calling her that?”

“She works for the morgue Jon, what were you thinking?”

“It’s hard to find women in this line of work.” He heard the bell ringing on the other side of the old stone house that served as their place of business and home—the five-floor monstrosity he knew people in town referred to as ‘Castle Black.’ He did wear a lot of black. Came with the territory. He waved off Arya. “Just make sure you finish up with Mr. Lannister before the end of the evening.”

“The rich dude who died on the shitter? Yeah, no thanks, that’s all yours.”

“Do you want to take this one? Where the fuck is Robb anyway?” Robb was the master of this shit, not him. He was better with the dead.

Arya walked away before he even could try to play ‘Dragon, Wolf, Lion’ with her or answer as to where her eldest brother happened to have gone off. Guess it was all him. He caught his reflection in one of the mirrors in the hallway, adjusting his black tie at his neck and raking fingers through his curls. It did nothing to tamp them down. He schooled his expression, solemn, and pushed through the dark wooden doors from the funeral home side of the floor to the entry way. He let them swing back and folded his hands in front of him.

“Welcome to Three Wolves Funeral Home, may I help you?” he asked, voice gentle; you never knew who might be waiting to speak with you on this side of the building. He’d been accused too often in Robb’s post-services discussions of being too cold.

The woman standing in a dark red dress with long black overcoat was not someone who appeared to be in mourning, but then you never really knew, some people were good at masking emotions. Her silver hair was in an elegant, braided knot at the back of her head and she had large black sunglasses folded in her hands, gazing at the table with various brochures for caskets.

She turned, blinking wide violet eyes at him, her lips crimson, face pale. “Good afternoon,” she greeted him, eyebrow arching. “I’m inquiring as to your crematory services.”

“For yourself?” he blurted, before he realized how it sounded.

She smirked, while he flushed, thrown off by her stunning beauty. He tried to school his expression again; she could very well have been there for her husband, boyfriend, or other, he did not need to stumbling through this. He wished Robb was there. “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Well, I can assure you I’m not here to burn myself alive, but you know…” She inspected her hand, a couple rings on them glittering gold. She grinned up at him. “I have heard stories my ancestors were immune to flame.”

His throat constricted. “Apologies. Can I help you?”

“Your crematory services?” she wondered again, walking by him and into the showroom, running a finger over an ebony casket.

“Ah…I am afraid Three Wolves does not offer such services. We can, however, assist with selecting one, urns, and preparing a memorial service.” He wondered what she was doing; she was now leaning down to look underneath a massive white casket. No one really cared what the underside looked like. He gestured towards the office. “We can speak in private, if you wish?”

The woman shook her head. “No I’m fine, thank you. Just doing a little bit of research.”

“For a relative?”

“Something like that.” She wore very high heels, which clicked loudly on the hardwood. She glanced sideways; eyes shrewd. “Are you one of the Three Wolves on your sign out front?”

“Yes, Jon Snow, I’m the mortician.” It sounded so creepy like that, but it was the truth. Robb handled the hand shaking, the business side. Arya was their resident makeup artist—she could do wonders with faces practically taking them on and off—but he was the one who handled everything else.

“Hmm, yes I heard of you.” The woman offered her hand. “Dany.”

“Jon,” he repeated, like an idiot. He was put off by her beauty, rather disarming. He swallowed hard again. “Nice to meet you. Is there…”

“This was enlightening Mr. Snow. I’ll be back.” Dany wiggled her fingers, waving, striding out decisively. “See you later.”

What the seven hells was that about? He spun on his heel, about to ask her what else he could help her with, when the front door slammed shut, bell ringing on her exit. He heard the door from the services wing open, Robb walking in. He scowled. “Where were you?”

“Talking with the Umbers, heard it went well, did we have a customer?” Robb adjusted his tie, eagerly seeing dollar signs. “Where are they?”

“They left.”

“Damnit Jon!”

He rolled his eyes, storming by. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“With Tywin Lannister? Better make him look good, the Lannisters are paying through the nose for this.”

“Aye,” he said idly, heading downstairs and to his ‘lair’ as Robb referred to it. He shook his head, preparing in the locker room, putting on scrubs and his protective gear. When he tugged on gloves, walking over to the block of freezer drawers, he rolled his eyes again, making another face. He was better with dead people anyway.

-----

A couple of weeks later, Jon saw the beautiful silver-haired woman again, this time from the front step of the funeral home, while Arya sat on the railing, Robb in shocked horror as the sign went up across the street.

Dracarys Funeral Home and Crematory Services

“How did this happen? We had the run of things here!” Robb exclaimed.

Arya cracked her gum. “Want me to get info?”

The silver haired Dany waved from the front step of her home. “Hello Starks!”

Jon shook his head, appalled. “I thought she was just asking because someone died…like they all do.”

“You didn’t think that she was scoping the competition?” Robb shouted.

“I told you I’m better with the dead than I am the living!”

“Oh leave him alone,” Arya chided. She rubbed Ghost’s ears—his great white wolf—gazing across the street again, shrugging. “Maybe we can make this work. Jon, you were the one who met her, maybe you can get some more info. They do crematory, we don’t. Maybe we can make a deal or something.”

Robb nodded, poking his shoulder. “Go over there, find out more.”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to do this. “I have that Wall guy to deal with.”

“Jarl will keep, go find out more.”

He slid away from the column, clicking his tongue for Ghost to follow him, the two of them crossing the street and up to Dracarys. He entered into the front room, seeing that everything was a shade of black and red. He glanced at Ghost, who was scanning the space with his bright ruby eyes, white fluffy tail wagging slowly. “What do you think?” he mumbled.

The walnut wood stairs creaked in the back, drawing him towards the door leading away from the showroom and sitting area. He peeked into another part of the old house, just like how their business was set up, with a viewing room and seating area. He moved to another door, which was open, leading down a set of stairs.

A massive black cat yowled from a sunbeam near the door, hissing at Ghost and running off. Ghost didn’t bark but took off after the cat. He sighed, calling out. “Please don’t kill her cat!”

He went down the stairs and pushed open a set of swinging double doors, pausing at the sight. It was state-of-the art and he scowled at some of the fancy equipment he’d been trying to convince Robb to upgrade to for the last year. He ran his tongue over his teeth, arching a dark brow at the woman who had been wearing head-to-toe designer when he’d met her and now was in black scrubs and protective gear, leaning over a dead man, a kit of makeup and brushes next to her.

“Jon Snow,” she called.

“Daenerys Targaryen.” He used her full name. The proprietress of the competition, he would not refer to her as Dany. “You could have told me you were moving in across the street.”

“And you would have shown me around? I think not.”

He stepped closer, curious at what she was working on. His eyebrows flew to his forehead. “Greyscale, huh?”

“Hmm,” Dany murmured. “Yes.” She looked up, grinning. “I saw you coming over, decided not to stop you from finding me. You’re not squeamish.”

“No I’m not.”

“They call you the King of the Dead.”

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d been called. “And you are?” he retorted.

“The Dragon Queen, I suppose you could call me. Or at least, that’s what they called me at mortician school.” She selected another brush, grinning. “I’m offering a service that your busines does not Jon Snow, that’s all.”

“The North doesn’t burn their dead.”

“I know, but many in the South do. There’s plenty of them moving up here.” Dany stood and pushed the gurney with the greyscale man into the freezer, closing the door. She removed her gloves and gear, walking by him, and began to wash up. She tossed a serene smile over her shoulder. “I think we can make this work Jon Snow. Don’t worry about it.”

“Robb isn’t used to competition.”

“And you?”

He shrugged. “I work better with the dead.”

“So do I.” When she finished, she studied him for a few seconds, which unnerved him. He tore his eyes from her, wondering what she was doing. She approached him, hands on her hips. “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?”

He frowned, nose wrinkling, surprised. “Coffee?”

“A hot beverage, sometimes served with milk and sugar? Other times with various accoutrements like cinnamon or chocolate?” Dany’s smile softened. He saw then how gentle she actually was, how soft. It was comforting and he wasn’t even grieving. She must be very good at her job, he thought. He was numb, unsure how best to reply. She patted his arm, stepping by him. “Come on, I’ve got a lovely blend from Braavos.”

In the kitchen on the third floor of her house, where he assumed, she lived, she prepared the coffee. He wondered where Ghost had gone. “This how you get all the competition?” he managed to get out. “Ply them with coffee?”

“Just you.” Dany sat down across from him at a small bistro table in a large bay window, with a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance. She passed him the mug of coffee and used a small ceramic pitcher to pour milk into her coffee. Lifting it to her lips, she smiled again, warm and eyes dancing. “You intrigue me.”

He sipped his coffee—it was very good—a small smile on his lips. “You are an interesting one, Dany…if that is your real name.”

“Only my friends can call me Dany,” she mouthed.

“And we’re friends?”

“Well I hope we’re not enemies.”

Jon figured he’d have to wait it out and see for certain, but he didn’t think enemies was the best word for it. He was not good at this sort of thing, so he chose to continue drinking his coffee. He set the mug down on the table, sighing and cocking his head, a slight furrow to his brow. “I’m not good at this.”

“I know,” Dany shrugged. “But I am.”

Well that was that then, he figured, smiling at her.

-----

“So where did you two meet?”

Jon wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, as one of Sansa’s friends from King’s Landing had cornered him, trying to get info on Robb. “Where did I meet…?” he echoed, playing dumb.

Margaery Tyrell frowned. “Where did you meet Daenerys? Sansa didn’t tell me. In fact, she’s being really weird about things. Won’t even tell me what Robb does for a living.” Her eyes lit up. “I like a challenge.”

“Um, well…”

His wife of the last two hours emerged at his side, looping her arm through his. “We met at a funeral home,” she said, smiling at Margaery’s wide-eyed, horrified expression. Dany gazed up at him, love shining from her beatific face. “In fact, we contemplated holding the reception there, but figured everyone might think that a little weird.” She smiled even wider. “Also in the future, please keep the Fire on Ice Funereal Services in your thoughts for any funereal needs!”

Jon stifled a snort, glad to be rid of the odd questions. He smiled down at his beloved. “We didn’t actually consider the reception there or…did you?”

“No of course not, I don’t want to mix business and pleasure.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we did?”

“Nah, I came to scope out the competition and this really cute guy who couldn’t look me in the eye without blushing wandered in.” Dany rose on her toes, pecking his cheek. She patted her hand against his chest. She beamed again. “Best decision I ever made. I could have sent Viserys.”

At the mention of her annoying older brother, Jon shivered. He squeezed her close. “Very well then. Let’s at least try to figure out a better story, you’re scaring people.”

“Well it is the truth.”

Jon shook his head, but smiled anyway, his arm around her and hers around him, both of them walking off into the crowd of guests. He even thought that he overheard someone say the King of the Dead had found his queen. He kissed her temple, sighing. He certainly did.

THE END

#jonerys #Jonerys au #Jonerys drabble #worst prompts challenge ACCEPTED #I blame Erika for this one #crack fic totally

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misssophiachase · 4 years ago

Text

You Make My Heart Smile

So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.

I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT

I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE

Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime.

Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile.

3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm

“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time.

Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

But yet here she was running his life.

Still.

“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”

“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”

“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder. “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”

“I don’t need publicity.”

“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed.

“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display.

“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”

“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”

“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”

“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that.

“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”

1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm

“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea.

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind.

“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”

“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”

“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”

Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.

“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that.

Although this one was another kind of beast.

The effortlessly attractive kind.

For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place.

Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself.

So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious.

“You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”

The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.

“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”

“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”

“Mmmm, you do have a point.”

“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”

“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”

“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”

3:15pm

“Caroline Forbes?”

“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”

Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly.

It was paralysing.

But good paralysing he decided.

“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it? Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”

Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”

“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him.

Until now.

Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.

Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional.

“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”

Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile?

Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever.

This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?”

“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.”

Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought?

Care Bear. Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again.

Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act.

Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out.

“How do you feel about fish?”

Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone.

“Depends on the context.”

“The context?”

“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”

Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear. Again.

“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”

“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised.

Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface.

Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance.

4:45pm

“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day..

This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”

“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly.

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”

Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef. He’d been unusually kind and patient.

The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression.

He didn’t smile.

Not once.

A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?

“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”

“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped.

“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”

Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile.

“What was her specialty?”

“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory.

“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame. According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”

“Over your dessert?”

“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”

“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”

“So, why do you like food then?”

“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.”

He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”

“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”

“Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”

“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”

Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself.

Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?

4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am

Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory.

That’s what scared him the most.

Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours.

He wasn’t this guy.

At all.

But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left.

The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course.

“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”

“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”

“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.”

Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.

“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed.

“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”

‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”

“You’ve done your homework clearly?”

“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.”

Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her.

“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”

“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”

“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”

“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”

Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away. She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.

“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”

His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable. It didn’t take long for him to reply.

“You make my heart smile.”

Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans.

#you make my heart smile #happy birthday #tnapki #klaroline fanfiction #misssophiachase

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nxrthmizu · 4 years ago

Text

| snakes | Suna Rintarou

»»——⍟——««

song | Trust Fund Baby - Why Don’t We

pairing | Suna Rintarou x Reader

words | 1.8k

warning(s) | The reader has undertones of someone who’s sort of mean and sadistic? The story also relates the reader to a snake. I like snakes. I think they’re cool. But if you’re scared of snakes and you’re uncomfortable with the idea of being referenced to a snake,,, don’t read, I guess?

author’s note | I rewrote this five fricking times and I still hate it but I’m not writing this again so have this

»»——⍟——««

Confidence.

He could feel it radiating off you in waves. Your presence diffused into the gym, alerting every person in the room of your arrival. Attention was drawn to you like moths were drawn to the light, every pair of eyes magnetised to your form by the gym door.

Kita instantly rushed over to greet you politely, the details of your conversation too far away to be heard. For a brief moment, Suna registered just how well the two of you looked together.

L/N Y/N, the representative and top student of his class, the newly-elected second-year secretary of the student council. No one doubted that you would take the president position in your third year, not with the ‘perfect student’ image you had going on.

Kita Shinsuke, also top in grades, captain of the volleyball club, well-liked by the staff and students alike due to his politeness and nature.

The two of you looked like a perfect imitation of what a modern royalty would be like. A combination of grace, elegance, and a face that was hardly fazed by anything. Something similar to bitterness ate away in the bottom of Suna’s heart as he turned away, muttering about putting more practice into his blocks.

“What was she looking for you for?” He overheard Aran asking.

“Oh, she’s filling in some missing information for our club. She came over to clarify some details.” Kita answered easily.

Suna wasn’t really surprised when a couple third years, belonging to the student council committee- Showed up on the doorsteps of your shared class, asking to see you. Later on, he learned that the entire council body had brought up your name when asked which second-year should be elected as the secretary. You were well-known, even among the third years, as someone who possessed high intellect and organisation abilities, so it wasn’t a shock that your name was the one that nearly everyone suggested.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that you weren’t completely that ‘perfect student’ act that you’d put up.

If only they knew just how cunning, sly, and sarcastic you really were.

»»——⍟——««

If Suna had to describe you in one word, it would be snake.

You were the definition of elegance, grace, and beauty. Every movement you made was meticulously calculated and not a single joule of energy was wasted or passed off as inefficiently used. There was never a hair out of place, and your skirt was never creased, no matter how long you had been sitting at your seat.

Of course, Suna hadn’t always thought of you as a snake. It was only after that one fine summer day in his first year that his perception of you took a 180 turn, revealing to him what you truly were like.

He had been on his way home, bag slung over his shoulder, when he caught the slight noise that seemed like a whimper. Never one to leave his nose out of someone else’s business, Suna slunk around, careful to stick to the shadows until the shocking sight befell his eyes.

“So, you’re the one who’s been bullying [your brother’s name]?” The voice that dripped from your lips was distasteful, as if the junior high student that you had cornered in the alley was a filthy peasant compared to your royal status. “You don’t look very fierce now, do you?”

If sarcasm was an art, then you’d probably be a DaVinci-level expert. He would even go as far as calling you a prodigy. And if there was a championship for the world’s most sarcastic human being, he would instantly sign you up. There was no doubt that you’d take home the no.1 trophy in that category (not that you weren’t already taking home trophies in other competitions, of course, he overheard that you recently dominated an advanced maths competition).

“I— I’m sorry!” The student shivered under your piercing gaze. “I— I won’t touch him again, I promise—!”

The laugh you responded with was overly sweet, combined with something from a Disney movie villain. If the movie also, by chance, happened to have ‘horror’ as its’ genre. Your eyes carried a maniacal threat that Suna believed wholeheartedly that you were capable of carrying out. “Bold of you to assume I’d even let you do it again.” You whispered, just loud enough for Suna to catch your words.

The junior high student scrambled off, too busy getting away to notice Suna by the entrance of the alley. He slipped away before you reappeared at the beginning of the alley, having fixed your hair and flattened your skirt.

You looked like a snake that had just finished a very satisfying meal. Suna could hardly believe that he had just heard you— the pride and joy of every teacher, the ‘perfect student’— spitting insults and threats at 200 words per minute, all while maintaining a ‘polite’ and ‘sweet’ tone.

He was a little breathless after the whole ordeal. He could barely imagine what you would say to him if you’d caught him listening— But damn, part of him wanted to find out if he could withstand your literature-form venom. Truly, you were a snake— A creature that could hold its’ elegance even as your tore your prey apart (verbally).

Suna always liked snakes.

»»——⍟——««

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with L/N, Kita.” Aran teased, Suna overhearing as he stepped into the locker room for morning practice. Freezing in his tracks, the middle blocker curved right round the bend, staying out of sight. “There’s been a lot of rumours about how nice the two of you look together.”

The volleyball captain only hummed in response, which, for some reason, pissed the hell out of Suna.

“Come on, tell me something.” The other third-year complained. “She’s really pretty, I’d totally see why you’d go for her.”

Something about the situation made Suna’s blood boil. He bit back his rising anger, setting aside the cause for the moment. Why was he getting so riled up? He never cared much about things in general, anyway, so... So why was the image of you and Kita, matching polite smiles on your lips— Why did it make him so furious he had to physically resist the urge to punch a wall?

“The two of you do look nice together, though.” Aran continued as Suna pushed down the urge to strangle his upperclass-man. “Gives me the vibes of—”

Before Aran could finish his sentence, the dark-haired middle blocker marched into the locker room, apologising for how loudly he had slammed the door open. “Sorry.” He drawled lazily, restraining the lava-hot anger in his blood. “I pushed too hard.”

»»——⍟——««

You didn’t even blink, much less jump when Suna appeared abruptly by your desk. Instead, you simply set down your pencil and gave him a warm smile. “Can I help you with something?”

Ever the helpful class president, Suna bit back to himself. No, no, he wanted you to like him. Not get a bad impression of him. “Do you... Think you could help me with the physics homework?”

“It’s due tomorrow.” You said slowly, both of you aware that the assignment was well over forty pages. “Have you... Tried it?”

“Yes.” He answered. “I’ve got a few questions I need help with. Are you free to stay back today?”

This raised a tentative eyebrow from you. “Don’t you have volleyball practice?”

Dammit, why did you have to have such a good memory.

“Academics are more important than the club sometimes.” He shrugged. “I’ve got permission to skip.” No, he didn’t.

“Alright then. I’ll meet you in the library after school.”

»»——⍟——««

He watched you through hooded eyes as you reviewed his work. So you did know how to let loose, Suna murmured to himself in amusement, eyeing your untucked blouse and the beige sweater you’d thrown on in a defence against the library’s air-conditioning.

“You’ve got most of the parts down, which bits do you need help with?”

The rest of the time was spent going over the questions, your patience filling the silence along with his occasional ‘ohs’. Your handwriting flooded through his homework in neat rows, providing an easy-to-follow, step-by-step guide on how to work through the questions, for revision purposes.

“So.”

You broke the silence, the two of you walking side by side, leaving the school together because he offered to buy you some food as a payment for the tutoring.

“Are you going to tell me why you faked confusion and asked me to tutor you?”

He winced. How could he forget that you were always straight to the point?

“What do you mean?” The look on your face clearly said ‘feigning ignorance, eh?’.

“I’m going to be frank with you,” You deadpanned. “You’re among the best at physics in our class. Some of the questions you asked me to help you through were ones that had been discussed in classes, and I know that you are listening even though you have your head on the table.”

Alright, so he had under-predicted exactly how observant and attentive you were.

“Then why did you agree to help me?”

“You saw me that day, didn’t you?”

He stopped walking. “Which day?”

“That day. In our first year. When I threatened that junior high kid in the alley.” You stopped too, to turn your expressionless gaze on him. “You’ve looked at me differently since that day. I heard someone else’s breathing at the alley, but I didn’t see anyone so I figured they’d ran. I guessed it was you.”

“... Yeah.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

“Mind what?”

“The fact that this...” You gestured to yourself. “Is a lie. This whole ‘perfect student’ image is an act that I put up to please my parents. I’m actually someone who has really mean thoughts. I could be a really toxic friend. I’m also probably a sadist.”

Suna blinked quietly at you, running your words through his head a couple more times for good measure. “You remind me of a snake.”

In that one sentence, you realised that if there was one person in the world that was going to be fine with your personality the way it was, that person would probably be Suna Rintarou. The two of you continued your walk to the takoyaki shop Suna offered to buy you food from, continuing meaningless chatter on the journey.

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“I like snakes.”

“That’s cool. Me too.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I think they’re pretty cool. They’re like spiders, except they’re not insects. I don’t like insects very much.”

“Hmm. I like snakes cause I think they’re really elegant. And pretty.” He paused for a moment. “Like you.”

»»——⍟——««

taglist. @mrs-kuroojinguji @procrastination-lady @miel-meraki @shoyosun @aka-a-shii @shibayamasbae @churochuu @seijohlogy @dearsukuna @whootwhoot

Haikyuu!! gen taglist. @owlywrites @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @our-tall-slytherin-queen

#suna rintarou #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fluff #what even is this #fluff?#suna rintarō #suna #suna x reader #inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #cady writesss «#cadowly's songfic december

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Purpose of Hearts | Song Mingi (ATEEZ)

Summary: Two lives. One purpose. And a hope that someday, their voices would be heard.

Part of @atbzkingdom's timecapsule collab! Song: Utopia by ATEEZ

Genre: angst, slice of life

A/N: This is a love story but it also revolves around issues of modern society as well as the environmental crises that have been happening lately. I wish to incorporate more of these real-life elements in my stories because that's the only way I can communicate to people the importance of living a life that does not take away what Nature has made for us. So I hope that you guys aren't too harsh on this one, considering I worked really hard to write it. Thank you all. Love, mae xx

>>>

The first time I saw Song Mingi was by accident. I had been late to my interview that day, rushing in and out between my room, the kitchen and the bathroom to get my scrambled self organized, throw on a blazer over my white shirt and black slacks — honestly, had I washed it before?— while barely managing to shove a toast in my mouth as I ran down my apartment stairs two at a time, almost tripping over my own feet as I did so.

That was probably the first time I had overslept ever since reaching Seoul and in all honesty, that had done nothing to set my mind at ease as I caught sight of the overflowing crowd of people moving in the direction of the subway.

Every morning was the same, packed in like tuna fish that wriggled forward in too-tight compartments that made it impossible to breathe, also another reason why I always woke up an hour before the rush of workers came through.

“Excuse me,” I pushed at someone’s shoulder getting shoved into my face, trying in vain not to let my nerves get the best of me, “sorry, but you’re crushing me—“ “Oh sorry,” a man that looked like he was in his forties dipped his head in what seemed to mimic a bow, before he slowly tried edging back, in vain.

I huffed into the window pane, my breath fogging up the glass as I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for the ride to be over. 10:45.a.m, my watch said. My interview was at eleven. There was no way I was going to make it in time.

It felt like eternity had passed before I finally heard my desired station being called out on the intercom. I slowly turned my entire torso to face the exit with slight relief flooding through me. I hadn’t died. Things would be okay, it would be okay—The doors slid open and no sooner had I stepped through that I felt a shoulder shove into mine.

I stumbled, throwing my hands out before me to brace myself for the impact only to feel warm fingers grip onto my forearm to pull me up and away from the throng of people flowing out of the train.

“You okay?”

A deep alto resonated in my ear, causing me to look up into an unfamiliar face. There was no doubt that this stranger was tall. Taller than the average in Korea, no doubt. He had a nicely shaped nose, perfectly sculpted for his side profile, I couldn’t help but notice.

“Yeah,” I checked my handbag and quickly dusted off my pants, “thanks. Would’ve gotten crushed back there.”

“No problem.”

Needless to say, my interview was a complete and utter failure. That evening, I binged on some Mcdonald’s followed by a whole pint of ice cream while watching an entire K-drama on my own, ignoring the distinct ping! of my phone that signalled the upcoming stream of messages left unread. But I couldn’t do it. Not now, not when I felt like my life was falling apart and I felt powerless to stop it.

Why? I had thought then. Why me? Why couldn’t I succeed like all my my fellow friends did?

It was true that Marine biologists were at an unfair advantage from the get-go. Jobs were harder to find when you started out in a niche. I had known that much when I’d enrolled for the degree, when I’d cried by myself countless nights knowing that my future was all but a bleak, weak canvas of nothingness. But I couldn’t give it up, no matter how much I wanted to force myself to, for I knew that if there weren’t people like me around to help restore marine ecosystems, then the world as we knew it would end much quicker than intended. I didn’t have the heart to give all of that up when I felt partly responsible for all the lives that mankind was taking away.

All these thoughts were a dark cloud, each and every one of them slowly creating a storm that was out of my control as I went on in my day to day life. It consumed me from the inside until there seemed to be nothing left but an emptiness that blocked everything out. And that scared me.

That was when I met Song Mingi for the second time.

It was around late evening when my restless self decided to take a walk to clear my head. It seemed like my feet had a life of their own for no sooner had I allowed my mind to drift off that I found myself boarding a train to nowhere in particular. A heavy sigh left my lips and I sat back in one of the many empty seats. The peace and quiet was a nice change from the constant bustle and movement, and as I gazed out at the inky darkness of the tunnel, I noticed someone shift from the corner of my eye.

He was sitting on the opposite side, one row before mine, his gaze hollow and empty and directed at the ground, seemingly as lost in his thoughts as I was. I wouldn’t have recognized him if not for that particularly perfect nose slant that instantly caught my attention.

That man. The man who’d helped me out of the subway.

And as if sensing my gaze, his head turned around slightly to catch my eye. Though he was too far away for me to notice, his head cocked to the side as he searched my face for a minute. Before he nodded in acknowledgement.

I nodded back, looked away. Heat crawled to the back of my neck, embarrassed.

I need to get out of here, my mind raced.

The next stop couldn’t come fast enough. I jolted up from my seat once the station came into view and quickly scrambling for the exit, I failed to notice the said young man do the same until I bumped into him as we stepped out.

Stumbling to the side as his briefcase clattered to the floor and spilled the array of papers hidden inside, my eyes widened in horror as some of them started flying away as the train whizzed past. I launched my body onto the ground, curse words spilling from my mouth as I helped him gather the mess of artworks that decorated the floor, from pens to pencil scrawls to pastels to dabbles of oil paintings that even in the shitty yellow lights lining the station, they looked ethereal and raw with talent.

“I’m so sorry,” my head was ducked, I couldn’t possibly face him, as I quickly stacked up the papers.

“It’s okay,” was his only reply as we managed to gather most of his work. My eyes flew to the ones that now laid on the train tracks, crumpled and matted with dirt and practically unattainable.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated hoarsely as guilt filled me up to the brim. It wasn’t enough that I was having a shitty day. No, I had to go and ruin someone’s day as well.

Fuck me.

“It’s alright, really. They weren’t that important to begin with,” he held out his hands for the remaining papers and stuffed them into his briefcase once I handed it over, making sure that the lock was set right before straightening up to face me, “they’re just practice drawings.”

“Still though,” all that pain and effort, gone and wasted because of my stupidity.

He chuckled then and I looked up at him, quite surprised at the grin tugging at his lips, “honestly, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

I nodded and decided to drop the subject, wondering how it was possible to feel even sorrier for myself when I thought I had already hit rock bottom. We walked up the station staircase together in silence, which I would’ve probably found awkward if not for the fact that I was mentally beating myself up for acting so foolishly. He must’ve noticed the tired lines of my face, for his voice rang out in the silence as he stepped out into the street:

“Hey, if you still feel bad about the papers, don’t,” he stopped, gazing down at my form with what I hoped to be a reassuring smile, “it would’ve been another story though, if these were my finals.”

I flinched, though I forced a faint smile back, “okay. I’m sorry. Again. Please don’t curse me to death or anything,” an idea popped into my head, “are you heading home right now?”

“Uh—yeah. Why?”

“Please…let me buy you a drink. Coffee? Iced tea? I just—“ my fingers were already scrambling for some money, “please. I feel terrible about this.”

He cocked his head as an amused smile graced his lips, “wow, you really do feel bad.”

“I do. Please?”

And that was how we found ourselves sitting at a cheap plastic table outside the convenience store that night, huddled in our too-thick sweaters and blowing at our hands while holding our beers close. Conversation flowed naturally as we sat and breathed in the night air, allowing life to pause for a moment and enabling my brain to disentangle itself from overthinking too much. It was nice in a way, the distraction of having someone to talk to, just so that I didn’t have to wallow in my own self-pity.

I learnt that his name was Song Mingi, and that he had recently graduated from Art School with a dream to be a full-fledged artist. He had one cat that he’d named Kimchi and absolutely adored anime because of the art style and the unique story lines. I learnt that he was quite fluent in Japanese and loathed the subway as much as I did.

“Right now though, I’m working at a design company,” he took a sip of his beer, head tilting and side profile backlit by the fluorescent convenience store lights. He appeared softer, younger somehow, than his actual age.

“You like it?”

“Not really.”

I threw him a pointed look, “is that how you say no?”

“Alright. No,” he laid his chin in his palm, “I hate it. I feel like I’m wasting my time.”

“But it covers the bills.”

“Yup.”

“That sucks.”

“It does,” he took another hearty sip as I gazed down at my own drink. And here I was, jobless and with no ambition, no dream to chase. Because I was burnt out before even starting.

“And you?” he asked as I glanced back up into his eyes — gentle eyes, I found. He had very gentle eyes, eyes that seemed to know a lot more than what he let on, “what do you do in life?”

“I am unemployed,” the words sounded even more grim as they fell from my mouth, and I averted my eyes to the table to avoid his own out of embarrassment, “and I’m pretty sure I failed all the interviews I had this week.”

“What did you study?”

“Marine biology,” my throat felt rough, choked up with emotion as I thought of how ridiculous I must sound to this total stranger who was both talented and seemed to have his life together. Maybe it was insecurity that made me spit out, “don’t laugh.”

A pause, before he said, “why would I? That’s amazing.”

My eyes slid back up to his, “I—because…well…” and I couldn’t help myself from spilling it all out. How I came to this major because this was presumably the most passionate thing I’ve ever stumbled across in life, how I’d studied so hard not to fall behind when all my classmates seemed to pass their exams with flying colours, and how out of all of us in our year, I was the only one still roaming around like a lifeless soul while most of my peers had landed themselves some high-standing positions at big-shot NGO’s and companies focusing on Marine Environment protection and sustainability.

I didn’t realize that my eyes had filled with tears by the time I was done rambling about the fact that our planet was dying and nobody seemed to be interested in that fact whatsoever. Not until Mingi’s hand came into my peripheral and I blinked, catching sight of the napkin he was offering me.

“Thanks,” I murmured, voice small as I quickly wiped away my tears. My cheeks felt hot, flushed from a mixture of alcohol and from the way his eyes were intent on my face.

“I…” Mingi bit down onto his lower lip. He’d moved on to his second can by then, “I don’t know what to say. You’re…”

I waited for the insult. For him to laugh at my ridiculousness. Or maybe offer sympathetic words that were devoid of meaning.

“You’re amazing.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly, my eyes fluttered up to his.

“What?”

“All these things you’ve told me, they’re so…real. And I wish I could be more like you, you know?” he leaned back in his chair, “I’m always complaining that my life’s not good enough. That I don’t have purpose. These kinds of thoughts that make you question your existence. But then you come along and you tell me all these problems — real problems that should concern everyone around us — that make me open my eyes.”

Was this flattery? A compliment? I didn’t know how to take it, considering the fact that I’d basically laid out all my cards in front of this man who’d been a total stranger just a few hours ago.

He continued on despite my silence, “the world needs more people like you. Kind people, who really want to change the world for the better. Not because they want to prove something. But because it’s the right thing to do.”

My heart lurched in my chest. Stranger or no stranger, hearing that made some of the weight lift off my shoulders, even just a little. How stupid. How pathetic, that all I wanted to hear was to be praised and recognized by someone who I barely knew.

Nevertheless, it warmed me. The warmth of his tone as he gazed at me from across the cheap table. That was incomparable to an entire life filled with nothing but disappointment.

“I—“ a hollow chuckle escaped the back of my throat, “I don’t know what to say.”

He was the one to flush this time, “sorry, I didn’t mean to pry—“

“No no! Don’t say sorry,” I protested, eyes darting between him and the drink in my hand, “it’s—it’s refreshing, compared to what I’m used to hear.”

"Wah, I mean...I took art so I'm not one to talk."

I can't help but giggle, "so we're just a bunch of nerds. Bet you watch anime too."

"Don't get me started unless you want to stay here till four in the morning," he chuckled.

I wasn't really sure how to describe that night in particular. It felt like catching up with an old friend and yet, I barely knew this man. Somehow though, it seemed like he understood the pain that simmered in me, the feelings that I bottled up for all this time and it brought me comfort that someone else could empathize with the thoughts that pulled me down by the ankles every time I tried to swim.

Something had changed between us by the time he walked me back to the station that evening. What had started out as a coincidental meeting of two strangers had ebbed into the softest brushes of friendship. I was more than giddy to exchange numbers in hopes of meeting him again.

That night, I fell into a deep and soundless sleep. The best sleep I'd had in ages.

>>>

The third time I saw Song Mingi, we promised to change the world.

It started out as him inviting me over for his apparently out-of-this-world shrimp pasta, to which I'd scoffed and broke his heart by stating that I was vegetarian. But that had only fueled his desire to make me fall in love with his cuisine as he promised me the best alternative to that.

He'd bought wine for the occasion, had managed to secure the apartment all to himself that evening, and had even decorated the table with soft scented candles and matching plates that brought out the magical air of first dates.

That was enough to bring a smile to my lips and I had looked over my shoulfer at him in amusement, "aren't you a romantic?"

I swore I caught his flush even in the dim golden hues that bathed the room, though he answered back with a scoff, "I'm an artist. Of course I'm a romantic."

"I was friends with some art kids, back in uni," I said as I sat down at the table, Mingi following my movements as he placed the pot of pasta between us, "and I gotta say, I felt like they were more cyberpunk and dark than actual romantics."

"Yeah, even art kids have their own little gangs," he wrinkled his nose, "honestly, I was pretty normal. Didn't dye my hair, no piercings in my nose, no tattoos 'coz I hated needles. People would keep asking me if I was a design student."

"Wait--isn't that like, kind of the same thing though?"

"It's different in the way we approach the subject matter. But yeah, I don't get it either. Why can't I be an artist and a designer? I don't want to choose."

"Ah, let the existential crisis strike again."

We clinked glasses, gobbled up the pasta with vegan meat that he'd replaced -- with too much confidence bordering on arrogance, I might add -- and as we spoke, my attention couldn't help lingering over his works until at some point, Mingi had relented and gestured for me to grab his sketchbook.

And that had been a game changer. It had opened my eyes.

Sure, I'd seen his sketches when I'd caused his spill a few weeks ago. But at that time I was all too panicked to actually care what had been sprawled over the paper...until now.

"So you draw characters?" My mouth was practically hanging open as I constantly gazed at the array of faces sprawled before me. They were beautiful. Stunningly so. And haunted somehow, as if wrapped in narratives of their own.

"Yeah. I like faces. I like people." I heard the shyness in his alto as he stood next to me, hand going to scratch the back of his neck, "I think they all carry so many different stories."

And they did. Their eyes said something different within each and every scene. My heart tugged with emotions I couldn't quite decipher for myself as I pondered oveer his intent.

That was when the idea hit me.

"Mingi," I turned to him, "you said you wanted to tell stories?"

Raising a brow, he said, "yeah?"

"How comfortable are you with animated movies?"

"Hm. I did some modules back in college so I'm not unfamiliar with it. Why?"

"This is going to sound crazy okay?"

Alarm flashed through his features. He blinked, "okay."

"Let's make an animated movie. About the ocean."

>>>

And he said yes. Just like that.

He heard me out first, worked through all the logistics of how we were going to create something together that would bring to life a vision of a new world, a world that would bring life within the marine ecosystem. Our meetings were flexible, in-between scraps of time that we'd get either during his lunch time or during evenings where we'd get dinner and discuss. But while I was unsure of whether I'd pushed him before even asking him about it, I caught a glimpse of the twinkle in his eyes, and that had made me pause for a minute.

It was the look of pure love.

Love for life.

In all honesty, a little part of myself fell for Mingi there and then.

"I was thinking it to be more like a kid storybook," I told him from my place on his sofa, watching him at his tiny kitchen desk sketching out some panels, "so that it's got a light mood with dark undertones."

"Yeah, it'll be more effective that way," he murmured, brows stitched together and lips puckered. That expression took ten years off his age, "I was thinking maybe we need a protagonist. Maybe she's a mermaid or something. Has animals friends and lives in the corals--"

"And she watches as all the fishing destroys her home," I finished with barely restrained excitement, "and she falls in love with a fisherman who decides to help her out!"

Mingi's eyes lifted from his paper -- that must've been the first time in a full hour since he was so focused on the task at hand -- and locked on mine. A grin slowly spread across his face, "I like that. A lot."

There was something in his gaze that made me heat up, though I made an attempt to shrug and look away to avoid the heat slowly spreading through my limbs as if someone had suddenly turned up the temperature in the room.

My week followed with a few more interviews, most of which were unsuccessful. One of them seemed interested enough -- a Marine conservation company that focused on dolphins and whale protection -- but upon scheduling an official meeting with the manager, I couldn’t reel in the horror that struck me as soon as I stepped foot into the enclosure. The dolphins barely had any room to swim around, let alone the condition of the waters that were more of a murky green than health aquamarine blue. The animals themselves didn’t look too happy to be here and god knows one could understand, considering the circumstances and the fact that this pool was the size proportionate to a tuna can.

The cherry on top though, was definitely the orcas. Top fins flipped to the side and with only three left -- the information board stuck to the entrance stated that there were at least ten of them -- it definitely appeared more to be a morgue than a conservation area.

At this point, I couldn't stop the tears. Pain scratched through my chest before I swivelled around with barely restrained anger, "you--" my nostrils flared, jaw clenching, "that's--that's what you call keeping them safe?"

The manager's eyes narrowed, "With all due respect, we--"

"You're killing them!" I yelled out, unable to restrain myself, "this is called murder! And you call yourself a marine conservation? What is wrong with you!?"

Needless to say, I was kicked out a few seconds after that.

But the damage was done. My heart was aching, practically empty of anything else apart from the horror I had just witnessed unfold before my very eyes. If they had a good reputation and were treating their animals badly, how about the ones that didn't have any funding? The ones that had smaller acres and less manpower to help?

How many animals were they killing in the process?

Sure, not all of them were like that. But that was a bit slap in the face. By reality.

Mingi noticed my wallowing silence when he came over that night -- I had cooked vegan burgers for the occasion -- though I tried to hide it behind the pretence of tiredness and lack of sleep. He wasn’t convinced though, for as soon as we’d dumped our plates in the sink and collapsed onto my worn-out red couch with frayed fabric ends hanging from its sides, the first thing he uttered was:

“Did something happen?”

I looked up, surprised that he’d picked up on my nonverbal cues since I usually prided myself on always managing to keep my emotions in check whenever I was in the public eye.

Admittedly though, this was a feeling I had never felt before. This wretched, this broken-hearted. I had seen documentaries, countless videos of slaughter and poor conditions.

But this, this was something entirely out of its league. This was horrendous. I couldn’t understand how one could even do such a thing. How one could think of this as humane, as a service to those beautiful animals that never hurt anybody.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Mingi continued in a rush, “I didn’t mean to pry--”

“They barely have any space,” I cut him off, voice practically on edge as the sight of the dolphins flashed through the back of my lids, “they--they looked ill. Mingi, you should’ve seen them. They didn’t--they didn’t look like they were going to survive in there and, I--I couldn’t not do anything so--”

My tears had already gathered at the corner of my eyes and I buried my head into my arms so that he wouldn’t have to fall victim to my sobs. It surprised me, though, when his warmth came to wrap around my figure, hand pressing against the back of my head so that I was nestled into the crook of his neck.

The murmur scratched the back of my throat, “I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” Mingi’s soothing alto washed away the nervous thought that maybe he was doing it out of sympathy. Out of pity, even. But he sounded more comforting than uncomfortable, which made me cry even harder into his shoulder.

It might have sounded stupid to anyone else; crying about animals that still had a chance at life, crying because they were forced to be in cages that didn’t serve them any better purpose than leaving them out to sea as dead meat. But I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t help my heart, from the deep sorrow that washed through me every time I pictured those lifeless creatures -- usually so alive and vivacious and just amazing to be around -- just wallowing in the waters like a bunch of dead floating bodies.

This wasn’t about allowing them to live. This wasn’t about carving out a better future for these animals. This was merely about trying to build a good reputation, and feeding off all the money they received because of good samaritans that wanted to do good and yet, had no idea of what was going on behind the scenes.

It was horrifying. Heartbreaking. And I couldn’t stand by to watch them all fall to pieces, to be killed to extinction.

“It’s okay,” he shushed me when he heard my sobs get a little louder. One of his hands soothed down my back, stable and comforting. I tried breathing in and out, raggedly, but eventually slowly settling into small hiccups as the night wore on and the pain subsided.

How stupid. How embarrassing. What an idiot.

Those were the thoughts that circled my brain as soon as my consciousness cleared.

"My neighbour had a cattle field,” Mingi said a while later when we sat side by side, one of his hands still on my back and rubbing slow circles. I had grabbed a pillow, hugging it for comfort, “back when I was still a kid. I had to walk to the nearest bus stop because we were so far out. We didn’t have any buses coming our way. Whenever I passed by that farm though, I’d feel so helpless to see all these cattle, bunched up together. There was barely enough space for them to breathe, let alone move.”

I sniffled and wiped my nose, nodding at him to go on.

“So one day, oh god. You’re going to laugh,” he chuckled softly, rubbing his face with his other hand, “one day I decided-- you know what? They didn’t deserve to live like this. I felt sorry for them. And they were getting slaughtered. Every single day. I was so angry that I went over to the backyard fence that afternoon and just opened the gate.”

“You did what?” My eyes bulged out of their sockets.

Mingi burst out laughing, “I know, I was stupid. And I wasn’t thinking about how this was the man’s hard work you know. It was what paid the bills. But I was naive and I just really wanted to help the cattle. So I set them free,” His laughter dimmed into chuckles, “all fifty-five of them.”

“Holy shit Mingi,” my mouth formed an ‘O’, “you’re crazy!” I started cackling, imagining a younger version of Mingi storming up to the fence with that same determined glint in his eye. I’d definitely done some crazy things back when I was still a child. But this one was unheard of.

He joined in and soon enough, we were laughing our heads off for god knows whatever reason. All I knew was that the ache in my heart had dissolved into a tiny stub the size of a burnt-out cigarette and my stomach now hurt from too much laughing.

“Don’t worry Y/N,” Mingi smiled down at me, those feline eyes soft and the curve of his full lips lighting up his features, “if they can’t see the wrong they’re doing now, then our project will.”

Right then and there, I believed him.

>>>>

I fell in love with Song Mingi the same way I fell in love with the sea.

I was not, until I was.

And when the realization hit me, I was in a little too deep to retract my footsteps.

Maybe it was in his gentle demeanour. Something I wasn't used to in guys. But Mingi had a sensitivity to him, a way with human emotions that made it easy to communicate. He was soft and kind and so open to everything and anything I said. He had a stubborn streak, but mostly for things that concerned his self-worth. And I hated how he couldn't admire his talent the same way I did.

But that was the thing with artists right? They always shied away from the limelight, let their works of art speak in their stead.

And what I loved the most about Mingi, was the fact that he listened. He actually took the time to listen and remember the things I said. It might have been little, insignificant. But it wasn't for me.

"Y/N! Guess what I brought for you!" He hollered one particular Wednesday night after work. He practically lived here, for his things were already sprawled onto the kitchen table from last night, and the night before.

"A donut? A latte? A pizza?" I called back while stirring the red bean stew as a quick dinner. The lack of response caused me to turn around, only to be faced with a bunch of red roses. I yelped in surprise, "what the-- what's this for?!"

My face heated up on its own accord as Mingi laughed and said, "Happy International Women's Day."

"What?" I blinked in shock, my curry now forgotten on the stove, "you mean, happy valentines?"

"Nope. No mistake. Today's International Women's Day," he grinned, "so here you go, a bouquet of roses to one of the strongest women I know.”

My face explode with heat and if it weren’t for me averting my head and hiding my face amidst the roses that tickled my nose, he would’ve guessed the way my heart beat for him. Too fast for it to be normal.

Another time, we’d been hanging out by the Han River sloppily eating our way through ice cream in zero degree weather and he hadn’t hesitated to give me his hoodie when he’d noticed the raw redness of my hands, the sniffles coming from my nose.

“You’re cold,” he’d stated with a small tut of disapproval. I protested with a shake of my head, but it had been no use. He was already pulling his coat off and not a second later, his hoodie was flung onto my face.

“Ow,” I mumbled as I maneuvered my hands through the sleeves, chest warming at his kind action. Mingi was a sweetheart, no doubt. And I really needed to stop crushing on him. He, however, did not make it so easy.

“Thanks,” I glanced back at him after stuffing my hands into his hoodie pockets. It smelled just like him, as if Mingi himself was wrapping me in his arms. The thought made my heart melt, “you didn’t have to, you know. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Sure, Y/N. You look like you could fly away if I pushed you too hard,” he reached over to ruffle my hair and I’d pouted then before jabbing playfully at his shoulder.

The more I spent time in Mingi’s flat, the more I got to know of his entourage, met his friends and saw how they genuinely cared for the said young man. In return, he met mine and it had become a habit to drag him along wherever I went and vice versa. So much so that it elicited a few curious glances and poignant questions that I tried avoiding at all costs for fear that they’d find out my true feelings.

“Mingi’s never been an outgoing kid,” Hongjoong said -- he was one of Mingi’s older childhood friends and they’d known each other all their lives -- during one of the evenings when the boys had crashed into Mingi’s living room and the flat had turned into a Mario Kart competition. Much to the displeasure of Mingi’s flatmates.

“Huh, that’s something I can’t quite picture,” I replied, gaze trailing back to Minig’s face as he yelled and high-fived Jongho and San. A series of groans echoed from the opposing team.

“Yeah, he’s grown out a lot more since university,” Hongjoong took a sip of his beer, “he does gets quite emotional from time to time. That’s why I worry about him so much. He’s sensitive.”

“I guess all artists are, in a sense.”

The man nodded, “yeah, but he’s been a lot brighter. Ever since you two started that project.”

I tried not to show that I was slowly becoming a blushing mess but it was hard to keep my feelings in check when Hongjoong’s eyes were piercing on my own, suddenly alert and filled with an intensity that made me want to squirm.

“You like him?”

The words were like icy shards. I froze.

I couldn’t keep the surprise from my face when I turned to face Hongjoong. My mouth suddenly felt as dry as sandpaper.

“Mingi’s fragile. If you’re gonna play him, I suggest you don’t.”

“I’m not--” the words ached as they escaped my voicebox, “I’m not playing him.”

“Then please, take care of him. He doesn’t show how weaknesses to everyone. But he has a habit of overworking himself, especially when it comes to pleasing others,” Hongjoong shot me a look.

My mouth reacted before my brain did. I blurted out, “why are you telling me this?”

And there was that look in Hongjoong’s eyes; the dark softeness filled with affection for the said young man that reminded me of that of a father’s. When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “because he cares about you, a lot. And I don’t want him to get disappointed.”

I wasn’t sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment. Hongjoong’s words bordered on threatening, though I knew that it wasn’t the case. He was just doing his job after all; looking out for Mingi. But if he thought, for one moment, that I would go out of my way to hurt the latter, then that statement was proven wrong the moment I realized my heart beat for him.

As the coldness of spring melted away with the warmth of summer, sakuras went into full bloom and more and more people gathered outside to take pictures, couples strolling hand in hand while enjoying street snacks that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Empty streets suddenly turned bustling, just like our current storyboard coming to life.

“I don’t get it though. Why does the fisherman do that when he knows he’s going to go jobless when he exposes the fishing industry?” Mingi asked one night while we watched the animation roll by in comfortable silence. The frames were almost done at this point, with only the ending to wrap it all up and the music to be added in the background.

I leaned against his desk table, slightly curving of his sitting form, “because he loves the mermaid,” I went straight to the point, not realizing that my voice had dropped to a whisper until Mingi turned in my direction.

“He loves the mermaid just enough that he’s willing to sacrifice all of that?”

It sounded dumb when he put it so simply. So I shrugged, “people do stupid things in the name of love.”

A slight pause as my words buzzed through the air.

"Would you?” He spoke up,” do that?”

My eyes dropped to his face. The depth of his orbs reflected in the dim light of his room had my heart shaking and impulsively, my hand went to fist onto my jumper sleeve. Just enough to keep me grounded.

“What--” I swallowed thickly, “do you mean?”

A few beats of silence ensued. Our eyes locked.

“Would you give all that up for the one you love?”

I kept my eyes on his even as heat littered through my cheeks, “yeah,” I bit my lip, “yeah I would. Probably.”

Something flashed in his eyes then. Something different, darker than what I was used to seeing. A silent breath escaped my lips. Electricity curled through the air, buzzing in-between us.

I didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare look away.

Mingi’s eyes traced my every feature, gaze flickering to my mouth.

My lips parted on their own accord and he must’ve heard me, for his eyes flickered straight back up to mine and-- had his eyes always been this intense? This beautiful?

His hand suddenly fluttered over my arm. He tugged.

I stumbled into him.

And then his lips were pressing onto my cheek. Softly. A little shy. Breaths warm where his mouth hovered right upon my skin that burned as butterflies suddenly exploded through my stomach. A gasp died in the back of my throat and as I gazed down at him in growing surprise at his stroke of boldness, I saw his eyes widen in realization of what he'd done.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get into your space--" his scrambled murmur died when I shook my head to silence him, a slow smile spreading across my lips. I didn't know what to say though, what to do.

I finally found my voice after a while, "what...was that for?" I asked, tentative.

Mingi's head ducked shyly, hand going up to rub at his neck while avoiding my gaze like the plague, "I don't know," he admitted, "I just--I wanted to cheer you up. I guess?"

"You guess?"

His orbs flickered to mine, "don't make fun of me," he sounded like a child and a giggle erupted from my mouth, "I'm not. Just making sure what your intentions were."

I almost missed him murmuring out, "even I'm not sure."

That shut me up. I blinked at him.

"You looked sad," he looked away, "I don't like seeing you sad."

Was that a confession? Or was it just me being overdramatic?

I didn't bother responding out of fear that flat-out rejection was waiting for me just behind the door that broke the boundary between friendship and romance. I moved away and his arms dropped, clearly sensing that something had changed in my demeanour. For the rest of the night, we didn't address the issue, made it out to have been an accident, a small 'slip' if you will. In truth, I was a coward. Couldn't muster the courage to spill out the weight that was heavy on my heart and would rather lock up my feelings away, push them at the far end of my mind.

Maybe it was for the best. We were partners only for this project.

After that, who knows when I'd be seeing him again?

>>>

The day our story came to life was the day I almost told Mingi how I felt about him.

"It's done."

My brain couldn't process what my eyes saw. The animation kept on rolling forward and repeating itself, the melody becoming a numb buzzing background noise as the roaring excitement flooded through my veins, my heart beating so loudly I feared its sound echoed through the room.

Mingi sat next to me at his swivelling desk chair, chin on his palm and eyes glancing between me and the computer screen.

Ever since that night, there had been a weird tension every time we looked at each other for too long. It felt like an itch under my skin I couldn't quite reach, something that made me want to squirm restlessly.

"That..." my throat went dry. It was beautiful. The shading, the fluidity of the storytelling. Everything. "It's..." I struggled to find my voice.

It was beautiful.

"It's beautiful."

Choking up on the wave of emotion crashing through me, I couldn't restrain the sob echoing through the back of my throat and turning away from the young artist to hide the tears welling in the corner of my eyes, I jumped when a warmth ghosted over the back of my elbow.

"You okay?" Mingi's alto rang deep. He'd risen from his chair and it took me aback to see how tall he actually was. I barely reached his throat.

I nodded, fervently wiping the tears away, "I'm fine. Just-- it's hard to watch."

"Yeah," his features softened, "it was hard to draw."

If I was an emotional wreck, I couldn't imagine how hard he must have struggled throughout the whole thing. My body reacted before my brain did, arms flinging themselves around Mingi's neck as I heard him stutter out with embarrassment.

Burying my face into his chest, my body melted into his scent of soft men shampoo followed by a citrus aftertaste. His figure stiffened for a few seconds, before his arms slowly laced around my middle with a hesitance that made my heart flutter to my throat.

"Thank you," came my muffled mumble, "thank you, for doing this."

A small noise of approval rumbled through his chest, palms smoothing over my back in a manner so soothing it makes my limbs turn to mush.

We headed out to buy some tteokbeokki straight from the street vendor later that night along with some pizza to honour our success -- or more precisely, Mingi's success since he was the one doing the majority of hard work -- and as we settled ourselves on a bench in a nearby park of the neighbourhood, I looked up at the night sky with a soft sigh, knowing that after this night, my chances of seeing Mingi would be slim to none.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. It was more because he probably had a life of his own, a life he wanted back. He had friends that cared for him, had a stable job he needed to dive back into. He didn't have as much free time as I did.

Something like a jagged rock cut through my chest at the thought. I wasn't going to life; it hurt to know that Mingi's face wouldn't be a regular in my daily schedule.

But he'd done his part. The rest -- figuring out how to pitch that project to our sponsors -- was up to me.

"Have you made a list of who you're going to pitch it to?" Mingi's voice drew me back to reality and I blinked up at him, catching sight of the beer he held out in his hand.

I took it gratefully, cracking it open and taking a huge sip. The liquid felt good sliding down my throat, the familiar sensation of alcohol warming up my stomach.

"I have a few names in mind," the night breeze was cool as it washed against my features that seemed permanently doused in embarrassment, "I might try and pitch it directly to the National Ocean Board*. Though apparently, you need like a contact to get to the organization itself so I'll have to figure that out."

He hummed in agreement, "the hardest part's yet to come."

"No," my eyes swiped up to his, hating how easily he pushed aside his efforts, "you did everything, Mingi. I--I'm really grateful. I don't know how to thank you."

"You came up with the idea. You're the one who wrote the entire storyboard," he shrugged as he took a sip of his own beer. I tried not to stare too long at the bobbing of his adam's apple -- he looked so fine. There was no doubt about that. Even in his casual hoodie and training slacks decked in shades of black and grey, there was no denying that he had the charm and the aura of a model itself.

"I'm just the one who knows how to draw," he continued in an easy tone, which made me snap, "that's not true and you know it," my eyes narrowed, hands clenching a little harder on my can, "you can draw, sure. Anyone can draw, or learn how to anyway. But you can tell stories and trust me when I tell you this-- not everyone can," I shook my head, "not in the way that you do, anyway. It's magical, it makes you dream, it makes you think that maybe--" the words caught in the back of my throat as I swallowed thickly, "maybe there's still a little bit of hope left."

A soft pause ensued. The crickets chirped in the distance paired with the distant hum of cicadas. I kept my eyes glued to his, insistently trying to prove my point as we kept our gazes locked for a few seconds too long. And then, his features softened and his face broke into a soft smile.

A small that took my breath away.

He reached up so suddenly that I didn't have time to register the fact that his hand came to a rest upon my head. He ruffled my hair, in a manner so gentle that I stopped breathing for a full minute.

"Thank you," his murmur washed against my face, breaths tingling my cheeks and causing a splatter of warm peony to rise through the back of my neck.

I wished to believe it was the alcohol.

"No need to thank me," was the only thing I could mumble back, if only to hide how scrambled up my brain had become.

"You'll let me know, right?" Mingi allowed his hand to linger for a few drawn out seconds, before he dropped his arm and took another sip of his beer, "if ever we get a breakthrough."

"Of course I will. What sort of question is that?"

"I don't know. In case you decide to run away without any credits to the artist," he flashed me a teasing smile and I shoved his shoulder in response, "thanks for having absolutely no faith in me."

He laughed, "I'm joking."

"Oh, you're not. You're actually really serious about me stealing your work aren't you?"

"What? Of course not Y/N! Who do you take me for?"

"Who do you take me for?!" I huffled out playfully, " asking me these stupid questions--hey!"

I didn't have time to defend myself when he suddenly pounced onto me, fingers finding my weak points right underneath my armpits. I squealed, bursts of laughter and cries of protests falling from my lips as his hands scrabbled against my sides in an attempt to make me pay for my earlier comments.

"Mingi! Stop it--" I choked on my own laughter, hands failing to find purchase to push him away as he continued his attack without mercy, "that's for using me!" he gloated.

My beer caner spilled over the ground halfway through our playful fight and it wasn't until I managed to grip his wrists that I realized our provocative position; Mingi's body was hovering over mine that had toppled onto the bench, back pressed against the cool metal as I gazed up, transfixed, into those gorgeous feline orbs glinting in the dark light of the park.

The playful air stilled in light of the realization dawning upon me; that he was so close I could kiss him if I wanted to. His lips were mere inches. Would he straight-out reject me if I attempted to bring him closer? Those sinfully rose-tinted lips that looked plush and inviting-- my heart fluttered to my throat just thinking about it.

No.

Don't do it. Don't ruin what you have, a small voice echoed in the back of my mind.

Mingi, maybe upon noticing the change in my demeanor, slowly pulled back and pulled me along with him so that I straightened up. His head tipped down to the spilled beer cans at our feet, and chuckled.

"Well, that's a waste," he commented lightly, as if we hadn't just engaged in something a little more intimate than interesting conversation, and that made my heart sink a little.

"Sure is," I avoided his eyes at all costs, kept my gaze lowered in case he caught a glimpse of what he shouldn't be seeing in the first place.

The words were lingering on the edge of my lips the whole night, deliberately playing back and forth between what was best for us right now, at this particular moment. And if Mingi noticed, he didn't comment on it, though from the way his eyes would find mine in concern every time a silence lasted for too long, I suppose he suspected that there was something a little more that was bothering the depths of my heart even though I forced plastic smiles over my face and pushed my eyes into crinkles to mimic my usual happiness.

My lips held onto a bitter aftertaste when he said our goodbyes that night, as I held onto his sweater a little longer than usual, numb from the cold and the things that clogged up the back of my throat.

It tasted sour.

I love you.

>>>

Y/N: They said they would sponsor it.

My fingers shook with every key tapped onto my phone, brown orbs glued to the screen as I awaited for Mingi's reply. He was online, I had seen his status a few minutes ago before I mustered up the courage to tell him the great news that would've once made me ecstatic, would have me jumping around in joy and barely restrained excitement at the thought that my voice, our voices, were finally being heard after months of toiling and searching and begging and being thrown out of doors.

After that particular night where we'd celebrated our win, I'd been trying my best to avoid the said man when possible. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. On the contrary, I had to physically dig my nails into my palm so as not to dial his number every evening when the silence, the overbearing numb emptiness, became too much to bear. But I didn't want to overwhelm him, not if he didn't want anything to do with me.

He never took the step forward to contact me first. I guessed that this was my answer.

Instead of pondering over what could have been, I decided to delve deep into my search for sponsors. Easier said than done though, considering that there were numerous marine protection companies that were using greenwashing for their customer market and blatantly refused to take part in such a 'horrendous, misleading act' as they called it. To fund myself for the time-being, I was grateful enough to get a job as a cashier in a Pet Shop from across the street from my apartment. It wasn't much, but it paid the bills and I was able to spend as much time with animals instead of human beings. Life seemed to crawl by at a slow snail's pace for some time, going through the ministrations of life and falling in a routine of going to work, calling companies and sponsors during my lunch break, gong back to work, then getting home and trying once more to search up other kinds of sponsors in hopes that they'd give me the time of the day.

It wasn't until a few months later that a small company in the outskirts of Seoul reached out to me. They introduced themselves as a branch of a bigger Western umbrella and after running a background check, I counted them as credible and accepted an interview.

Which led to the current situation.

My phone buzzed. Screen flashing: Mingi is calling.

My brain backtracked. Huh?

Fingers shaking, I almost missed the green icon before pressing the device to my ear.

"Hey."

"They accepted it?!"

A smile instinctively hitched my lips upwards, "yes," I murmured, breathless. Then, said it a little louder, "yes!"

Mingi laughed, "oh my god! They accepted it!"

I couldn't help but laugh along with him. His effect on me was incredible, lit me up on the inside and for a second I wished I could get a glimpse of his face.

I suggested that we meet up at a nearby café to discuss the details, which was weird, considering that it had been a few weeks since I last saw his face. I couldn't blame him, for he'd been having a tougher time at work and I was burnt out. Coupling that with our lack of communication and you got a friendship that was slowly fraying at the ends.

I forced my heart to mentally put out a front so as not to jump on him the moment I caught sight of his face. But that didn't prove necessary, for the moment I stepped into the quaint coffee shop filled with the mixed scent of books and fresh espresso Mingi was already wrapping me up in a huge bear hug, so tight I could barely breathe, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of his shampoo.

"It's been awhile," he grinned, pulling back to gaze down at me and I swore I felt my chest tighten at the softness swirling through his dark pupils. Everything, every emotion came rushing back like a tidal wave.

"It has," I managed to cough up despite the fact that my heartstrings seemed to be dancing around in-between my lungs. Just tell him already! "You look good, Mingi. Better than the last time we met."

"That's because we managed to finish our project before the deadline," he grinned as he tugged me over to his table. I took note of the worn-out black edge of his sketchbook peeking out of his backpack and had to smile. Typical of him, to be carrying out of his sketchbook even now that he barely had no time for his personal art.

We caught up on each other's lives and about the specifics of the sponsor. They were willing to advertise it on their social medias, their websites, as well as present it to the National Ocean Cleanup Day that was soon approaching, which was an opportunity for all aspiring artists and storytellers to present their art in hopes that it would be seen by an influential eye. Every commission would be ours and they'd only take 5% commission for their advertisement, a pretty good deal considering their reputation.

"I still can't believe they want to advertise it," he raked a hand through his dark locks. They seemed to have grown a little since then, "It feels surreal."

"It'll be a good opportunity for you too," I smiled back, "to get yourself known as an artist."

"Oh actually, there's something I haven't told you yet."

Leaning forward in my seat, my eyebrow rose in curiosity, "spill."

"Well, I'm actually quitting my job next month."

I blinked, "wha--wait, really? Did you get another job?"

He shook his head at that before his smile broadened, "nah. I'm not about that life anymore. I want to do what I really want," pausing slightly as hesitation flashed through his features, I offered him a reassuring smile, "I'm going to be a full-time artist."

My mouth dropped open in surprise, eyes widening, "Oh my god--No! You're kidding?!" and when he shook his head once more with that knowing smile I knew too well, my hands shot up instantly to grab at his with barely restrained excitement, "I'm so proud of you, Mingi! What--How did you--What have you planned?!"

"I haven't really planned anything yet," though his tone was unsure, there was no denying the full-out grin on his face, "but I've been gathering a bunch of my sketches. They all follow the same theme so I might just go with that."

"That's amazing!" I couldn't believe it. Tears were filling my eyes, "what concept are you going for?!"

And that was when his gaze locked onto mine.

"The sea."

I probably looked like an idiot. Staring at him like he'd grown another pair of eyes and not really comprehending his words for the first few seconds they settled into my brain.

That was when it hit me.

I gasped.

"W--Why?" was the only thing I managed to stutter out.

Though there seemed to be a layer of pink dusted across his cheeks, Mingi answered confidently, "because of you."

I gulped.

"I got inspired, kind of," his head dipped down, dark pupils lowering to the table as if he was too embarrassed to meet my gaze, "I couldn't understand how someone could be as passionate. I--I live in my head most of the time, never really notice all of these outside problems. And it's bad. I know it is.” His eyes fluttered up to mine and I lost breath at the intensity present in them. They swirled with a gentleness that was seldom present, a vulnerable sheen of maroon reflecting in the depths of his dark irises and yet, so intense at the same time that I flushed right down to my feet.

“But you don’t. You live to make the world better and I—I wish I was more like that. I want to be more like that. Because these things matter just as much as what I want to show inside my head,” he paused, hesitating for a few beats of silence before continuing, “when you first told me about the animation, I was—I’m not going to lie to you—I was scared, that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill your expectations. That I didn’t have that in me,” his hands, which had unknowingly turned to grasp mine, slowly interlocked his fingers with my own, “but I’ve never seen someone look at me the way you do.”

“How…” my words trailed off as I struggled to form a cohesive sentence, “how did I look at you?”

“Like you believed in me.”

Tears suddenly pricked at the corner of my eyes. Because he was right. I had had so much faith in Mingi that I lost my own. I had no purpose, while he did. He was so overwhelmingly talented at what he did that I wished I was more like him.

And all along, he was admiring me for doing whatever the hell I wanted.

“I—“ I tried turning my head, hid it in my sleeve so he wouldn’t see the tears brimming in my eyes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Hm, I guess you can say ‘thanks Mingi, for seeing me as your role model’ or ‘hey that’s cool. I actually inspired someone’. Something along these lines,” he grinned as one of his hands released mine to cup my chin. Turning my face towards his once more before brushing the tears away, he murmured, “why are you crying?”

I sniffled, “because that’s the most wonderful thing someone’s ever said to me and I can’t help but love you even more—“

The words had bubbled out without warning and instantly my mouth clamped itself shut. I stared at Mingi’s shocked expression, looked back down at the cracks on the veneered table before me, and tried withdrawing my hands from his grasp.

Except, he didn’t allow me to.

“What…did you say?” his voice had dropped even lower. My heart jumped to my throat, nerves suddenly jittery, “you…love me?”

I tried chuckling, though I sounded more like a dying animal, “of a sort. You know, like a friend loves another fri—“

His pointed look shut me up and I brought my eyes back to the table. How embarrassing. How stupid. What an idiot. You’re such an idiot! My mind kept on screaming over and over and over again.

“Y/N.”

I didn’t dare look up, for fear of seeing someone I shouldn’t. For fear that one glance might break my heart into little pieces without warning.

He squeezed my fingers as a sign. His hand tilted my chin up to his. My gaze insistently glued itself to the crack running along the table’s edge.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

No. My heart screamed out. No, this is all wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Fine then. You give me no other choice,” he sighed in what sounded to be exasperation and before I knew what was happening, I felt the softest touch of blossoming warmth over my knuckles. Eyes shooting up with a silent gasp, they went straight to Mingi’s as I took in the way his lips were brushing against the back of my hand.

To say that I was combusting like wildfire would be an understatement.

“Does that answer your question?” he whispered.

“Uhm…no.”

His gaze darkened. My stomach churned.

“I love you.”

I swear I could’ve burst out crying then and there.

“You—“ my throat was dry. Hearing myself say them sounded pathetic, borderline ridiculous. Hearing it fall from his mouth though…that was exhilarating. Magical, “You…love me?”

When he nodded, fresh tears welled up in my eyes. Mingi couldn’t help but chuckle then, reaching over to wipe at my cheek, “why are you crying?” he sounded amused.

“I don’t know,” I blubbered back, “because I thought you’d say sorry and tell me we’d never be able to meet again and I don’t know how I was going to live if that was the case—“

“I don’t think I’d be that drastic, Y/N,” bringing my hands up once more, he allowed his lips to brush against my knuckles, the mere action comforting me, “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Pretty obvious? Jesus Mingi. I can’t read you. You’re not obvious at all!”

“But what about that kiss on the cheek I gave you that time?!” He pouted, “that must’ve counted for something!”

“Well you didn’t do anything else after that so how was I supposed to know?”

“I thought that you were disgusted when you didn’t respond because you didn't like me that way,” his pout deepened and I laughed at how childish he looked. A grown young man who was on the brink of a breakthrough in his career, acting like he was merely a five year old child, “how was I supposed to know then?”

I bit my lip to stop the grin from spreading over my face. I failed, smiling so wide my face practically broke in two, “you’re kinda cute when you’re mad.”

Huffing and muttering some in-comprehensive words under his breath, he tightened his grip on my hands and lifted them to press against his cheek, where his face mellowed out into that soft, crooked smile that turned his eyes into half-moons, “so does this mean we’re dating?”

“Well that’s kind of bold of you, considering you didn’t ask me,” I tried keeping a nonchalant air, only to burst into a fit of giggles as the said man threw me a horrified look, “but I literally poured my heart out!”

“I’m joking you big baby,” I ruffled his hair for good measure and though he grunted, there was no denying that the grin on his face was a permanent one. It made a series of butterflies flutter in my stomach and biting my lip to keep myself from giggling like a silly schoolgirl, I felt the slightest tremors of happiness that sounded like my heart cartwheeling in my chest.

Mingi accompanied me home that night, not hesitating to slip a hand into mine and intertwining our fingers throughout the whole train ride. We probably looked like a pair of idiots, smiling so wide at nothing at all that it wasn’t surprising if we scared off a few passerby’s. As we walked up the street towards my flat, we chatted about nothing and anything at all and somehow, I felt a sense of peace that hadn’t been there ever since our project was completed. As though all the puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place and now actually made sense.

It was calm inside my heart, inside my mind. The turmoil of waves that always seemed to brush a little too close to my sanity were now reduced to nothing, giving way to the calm sandy beach hidden below.

“That was a little too short for my liking,” Mingi’s statement caused me to blink back to reality and the fact that we’d already arrived at my doorstep made my excitement drop to disappointment in my stomach.

I turned to him nevertheless, graced with that soft smile that rendered me weak and made my throat clog up with unspoken emotion, “well, thanks for walking me back home,” my hands knotted themselves together, a habit of mine whenever I felt the nervousness take over.

“You don’t have to thank me, you know,” he flashed his pearly whites.

I turned away, feeling my cheeks warm up before Mingi gently grasped the back of my elbow. Tugging me close so that I stumbled into his chest, his hand was hesitant as it fluttered over my face, hovering a little distance away from my cheek before he mustered up the courage to cradle it in his hold. His other arm wound around my waist to pull me a little closer still and I would’ve lied to say that I was completely rational at this point in time.

My sanity had practically flown out of the window back then. Only leaving Mingi and his warmth in its wake.

His brown orbs held mine for the briefest of moments, as if asking me in silent permission whether he was allowed to take this step forward that would change our relationship forever.

So I did it for him. Pressed up on my tiptoes and claimed his lips.

Just like he’d claimed my heart.

The stifled yelp muffled at the back of his throat was one of surprise as I slanted my mouth against his and slowly, but hesitantly, moved my lips in a dance I’d hope he wouldn’t find to his dislike. But I was worrying for nothing, for a growl rumbled through his chest instead and he kissed me back with barely restrained vigour, hands pressing me close to his chest so that I gasped into his mouth. He took that to his advantage, tongue darting out to meet mine and drawing out a soft moan from my voicebox.

We parted for air after what seemed like forever, and that was when he pressed his forehead against mine with a tender, crooked smile that made me want to slap myself for wondering whether this was actually happening, that this was real.

“So,” his murmur washed over my face, nose bumping into mine, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Depends,” I shot back with a smile of my own, “Is it a date?”

“What do you mean?” he whined, “of course it’s a date.”

Laughing and pecking his cheek once, twice, three times until he turned his head to capture my lips with his, I pulled away with a breathless grin, pretty sure that I looked like a complete idiot with butterflies practically roaring through the entirety of my abdomen, “then sure, I’d love that.”

I didn’t know anything about what would happen to our small animation once it would be aired. There was a slight apprehension prickling at the back of my mind every time I thought about it, but somehow all this was overshadowed by the abundance of joy swelling through my chest every time I caught a glimpse of Mingi’s face, knowing that he was mine and that he believed in me, even if the rest of the world didn’t.

And that in the end, it would be okay.

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