#i’ll sleep fr now good night dash

[dream-gardener]

meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow

[kmclaude]

writing: Her Baby Brother's Confession.

someone once sent in an ask along the lines of au where annemarie lives and plays bad guy, forcing (”””forcing””””) tiefer on jehan....i never completed it but here’s all of what’s written feat, creepy domestic annemarie/tiefer

Annemarie Tiefer spent more time at her brother's home than her own. "Family's important to me," was the default answer, with a dash of "that place has too many bad memories," and an embarrassed little laugh to anyone who pressed the matter — and while there was some truth to the latter, Emilein Tiefer knew his sister swung by the small rectory for two less than godly reasons whenever she had the chance.

"What happened to all the good stuff?" she whined as she dug through his liquor cabinet, stark naked in the kitchen.

"I seem to remember you drinking all of it," came Tiefer's reply from the hallway. He was in pajama pants and still toweling off his shower-damp hair as he stepped in the kitchen. "Oh come on, can you at least put something on?"

"You know I like sleeping naked." It came out whiny, petulant, like she was seventeen instead of fifty-seven.

"You're staying the night!?"

Annemarie shrugged before grabbing an unopened bottle of whiskey near the bottom shelf, making sure to bend over as far as possible. "My new boytoy can't take a hint," she answered, straightening up, "Here's hopin' he gets it the sixth time I ain't 'round when he calls." She collected two tumblers from the cupboards and placed them on the counter with the bottle. "Anyway Fr. Prude, not like you ain't seen this all before."

Tiefer rolled his eyes and went to the freezer, grabbing the icetray and handing it to her, watching her pull out the ice cubes and add them to the glasses. "If you're gonna keep hangin' around like this," he said as he replaced the returned tray, "you're gonna hafta act more like my sister than—"

"Than your lover?"

Tiefer shot her a dirty look before chucking the towel on his shoulders at her, which she wrapped around her waist after making a face at him. She stepped closer, her hands finding their way to his hips.

"C'mon. We're the only ones here, Em."

"For now."

"Oh?"

"I'm watching my godson tomorrow."

"Oh." She dug her nails into his sides, pouting.

"He'll be spending the night. Between the funeral and the new kid, his mom needs a break, so I'll be watching him more often now."

"Still!" She smiled, a too-practiced tic that never seemed to meet her eyes, and tugged him closer. "Tomorrow's tomorrow, tonight's—"

He pushed her away. "A good practice run for you so you don't slip up in front of Jehan."

Annemarie huffed and returned to making their drinks. "Whatever." She poured herself two fingers. "Don't see what's so special 'bout your ex's brat."

"My best friend's son, Anne."

Her lips pursed, as if she were about to say something, but instead she poured her brother three fingers — "You're so much more manageable when you've had a few," she had complained to him one night after he gave her a black eye and she'd pulled a gun on him and held it to his temple while he ate her out — and held out his whiskey. "What a family man you are."

"Oh fuck off." Tiefer took the offered drink.

"Best. Friend's. Son." She clicked her glass with her nail on each word, measured and slow. "Is that all he is?"

"You know what Nathan meant to me."

"I wasn't talking about Nathan, Emi."

Most would take his reaction — widened eyes, the slightest flush, a tightened grip on his glass — as a man trying to keep his cool, keep from backhanding her into the counter for what she was implying, but Annemarie saw it for what it truly was:

Her baby brother's confession.

* * *

Annemarie Tiefer knew Jehan Prêtre, son of the late-as-of-last-fall Nathan, newfound big brother, and most importantly her little brother's favorite godson. Only godson. She knew him OK enough, having been around him — never alone, though, and never for long, as Nathan had kept a civil distance with her, though whether that was for Tiefer's sake or because they had slept together once (after the incident, after Tiefer left town) he had never told her.

But that was all well and good: everyone had secrets and she had come to accept, even appreciate, that, and her and her brother's little façade of everything being tolerable between them had given her some access to the boy under the guise of family — just like that next morning when Tiefer left her sprawled in his bed and returned with the glum little almost-eleven year old (Annemarie had done as told and wore clothes for once.)

"Hey kiddo," she called out from the kitchen.

"'lo Miss Anne." He ran the words together so they sounded more like Mizzanne. It was cute. She could see the appeal. He did take after his daddy.

"You hungry? I'm making pancakes."

She knew him just enough to see a bit of herself in him — eldest kid, dead parent, stuck with a burden of a baby brat, grieving terribly but having to roll with every punch life threw — and, if she played her hand just so, she'd know him enough to see a bit of him in her too.

But first, she had a little favor to do for her baby brother.

* * *

She watched the boy slump in his chair like a doll with cut strings and smiled.

"What'd you give him?"

Annemarie looked up at her brother who stood in the doorway, stripped down to his slacks and a white undershirt, his clerical shirt and collar nowhere to be seen. "Oh you know," she shrugged, "li'l a this, li'l a that." A little butter and extra syrup went a long way in masking the taste of crushed sleeping pills.

"Is he—"

"Oh, don't tell me you're growing a conscience now."

"Fuck off," Tiefer huffed, eyes still on Jehan's slumped form, the slow, steady rise and fall of his skinny shoulders, the peek of his slender collarbones under his t-shirt.

Annemarie didn't miss the hollow hunger that clouded his gaze. She'd seen the way he looked at him, even tried to wring something of a formal confession out of him herself last night, her body against his, her fingers in him and him in her, but he denied everything. It didn't matter: she'd seen the shock of being known.

Finally, in the quiet of the room, he managed to speak: "I do love him."

"I know."

"And I don't want to hurt him. Not like..."

His gaze flickered to her then back to Jehan. Not like you, he had meant to say and they both knew it.

Deserved or not, it hurt. "Of course, honey, of course." Bubbly. Dismissive. "That's why you have me."

Tiefer did not look exactly comforted by her, but allowed her all the same to approach him, hands cupping his cheeks, stroking down his jaw, his throat, brushing his bangs from his eyes as she came closer and closer and too fucking close, her lips against his, warm and wet and teeth biting down, biting hard, against his lip, demanding he let her in, let her take over.

He tried to pull away but she held him still until he let her in, let her rape his mouth until, as with all things, she got bored.

"If I'm supposed to be forcin' you on him, you can't look too happy."

"I know."

"I'll have to rough you up. We hafta make it look real."

"Like you need an excuse."

Annemarie smiled softly — a hesitant sadness flickering there before she scowled and, drawing her arm back, backhanded Tiefer across the face.

[sirensyndicate]

A Fond Farewell

Short Story by Nathaerus Reauloix ~ Mateus

“Grab your cups, lads!” Nathaerus called out cheerfully as he approached his crew at the long table in the galley with a fresh round of ale, “And lasses!” shouted a Miqo’te woman at the far end of the table. He laughed heartily at that, and gave the woman a wink, “Of course. I would never forget the lasses, especially one as lovely as you, but for my error of making you think you’d been forsaken, I will deliver your ale personally.”

He set down the tray of steins and slid two aside as the remainder were set upon immediately by the parched crewmates as they offered scattered thanks and grunts of acknowledgement. As the Elezen hoisted the claimed steins for himself and the woman at the opposite end of the long communal table, a rough looking Roegadyn the size of a bear gave him a jarring pat on the back before resting his lumbering arm over the Elezen’s shoulders, “You’re alright, lad. At first I didn’t think you’d be a lick of help here, what with you lookin’ like a scrawny sack o’ shite like you do, but, this has been a smoother tour than I’ve had in ages, thanks in part to yer skills. Ye’ll be missed, my boy.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Hareswerd! We’ve still got one more night to get through together, hm? It’s not over until we reach the airship dock in Limsa. There’s still plenty of time for me to disappoint you!” Nathaerus said, voice full of mirth as he nimbly pivoted out of Hareswerd’s grasp and made his way to the Miqo’te. 

She swished her tail excitedly as he approached. Circling around behind her, he bent down over her shoulder, chest pressed lightly to her back. He placed his mouth close to her ear as he set down the ale in front of her, “And for you.” he said lowly before dropping his voice to a whisper to continue, “We’ve one more evening on this vessel. Last chance to make good on my offer. Give it some thought, Khipi.” The woman blushed furiously as Nathaerus stood, letting his touch linger gently on her shoulder before making his way to the head of the table. 

He cleared his throat and raised his own glass in the air, “To clear skies, honest gil, and the hardest working crew in Eorzea!”

The motley group at the table cheered and clattered their steins together in a symbol of camaraderie before downing the contents. Nathaerus brought his own mug to his lips then paused, setting it on the table. He snapped his fingers as if realizing something brilliant for the first time, “I should bring a little after dinner drink to some of the skeleton crew for being so kind as to allow us this final farewell.” He grinned conspiratorially, “You all won’t sell me out to the captain for giving the men something to lift their spirits for their selfless deeds will you?” the group scoffed and waved him off. He gave them an apologetic grin for his oversight that would leave his friends deprived of his presence for a short while.

Nathaerus wandered back to the barrels along the wall of the galley, kneeling down to reach the tap. Filling each stein one by one, he tapped an extra ingredient from a vial hidden up his right sleeve ; a simple sleeping powder he’d purchased from an apothecary, to help him get some rest from the constant noise of the airship engines, he’d claimed. 

Some people found the droning of the machina soothing, but no, not Nathaerus. His senses were simply too delicate, and he couldn’t possibly manage without something to help him rest. He would let his crew down if he worked sleep-deprived. He’d be fired, and his poor mother counted on his wages too! 

The apothecary had taken the bait and given him enough to last an entire contracted stint on an airship or, to lace the drinks of the lookouts the night before the end of his contract to allow him to work in peace.

 Offering Khipi a final wink on his way out of the galley, he wandered over to the slim crew that had been left to stand watch over the cargo room making sure to give a wide berth to the helm and the captain’s quarters on his way. The lookouts offered him a nod of thanks and well wishes on wherever his next job would take him. Nathaerus stayed to exchange a few pleasantries before heading back down to the rest of the group. 

He turned the corner of the narrow corridor back to the galley and nearly ran directly into Khipi. She jumped back in surprise and then averted her gaze quickly. 

“I - was getting tired, and I...I wanted to make sure I saw you before I went to bed.” her cheeks flushed as she spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

Nathaerus smirked, olive eyes shining with interest at her sudden bashfulness , “Did you now? What could I, a simple sailor, possibly help the Chief Steward with at so late an hour?” his voice was filled with amusement as he slowly closed the distance between himself and Khipi. For every steady step he took, she shuffled back with equally unsure steps until her back hit the wall at the end of the corridor. Nathaerus placed one hand beside her head on the wall and ghosted his fingertips over one of her shoulders with the other, “Well?” he asked and paused, awaiting her answer. 

In response, Khipi took a deep breath, pushed herself from the wall and jumped, hooking her legs around his waist and digging her hands into his hair, kissing him deeply. Nathaerus returned the kiss while he grasped at her waist, sliding his fingers along her side to fish for the small key ring which she always carried. When his index finger hit the metal ring, he deftly found the clip and released it from her belt loop,tucking it into his pants’ pocket. He laughed softly to break the kiss with the woman, “Now now, Khipi. What would the captain say if he saw you behaving this way, really?” 

The Miqo’te released her grasp on the man and dropped down to the floor with a huff and a light thud. “I’ll be in my room then!” she declared and stared at him meaningfully for a moment before smoothing her hair down and heading off in the opposite direction.That had been a lucky break and easier than he’d expected. He’d planned to spend another several hours drinking with the crew to get an opportunity to free the key ring from her. 

He whistled a jaunty tune to himself as he made his way back to the galley which was in an uproar. Deep in their cups, the rest of the crew had begun a bare knuckle boxing match between some of the rougher members, and the din of the blows combined with the cheers of the spectators was enough to drown out most anything happening on the ship at this time of night. Nathaerus peered in from the doorway taking care not to be seen. 

This was as good a time as any.

He retraced his steps back to the cargo hold, and laughed lightly as he bent down to pat one of the passed out guards on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, my good man.” Nathaerus checked over each shoulder for unwanted lookers-on before he flipped through the key chain, trying several before finally the door gave way with a click of the tumbles falling into place. Nath slipped in and pushed the heavy door shut behind him.

He knew what he was looking for, a crate from the goldsmith’s guild in Ul’dah shipping a custom order necklace for some relocated merchant’s daughter in Costa del Sol by way of Limsa. It would be small, and bearing the emblem of the guild, and he need only find it, pry it open, take the necklace and be gone before anyone noticed he was missing from his own farewell party.

He made his way around the room methodically by the dim light available in the hold. Boxes of textiles, food, and other mundane goods were available in abundance, but the small box of jewels remained hidden like buried treasure. After several false starts, from the corner of his eye he caught the emblem of the Goldsmith’s Guild burned into the wood of a crate in the back corner of the room. He dashed over, and with a practiced hand, prised open the lid. 

There it was, silver chain with a large emerald set in a ring of diamonds attached to the chain. Nathaerus whistled, impressed, as he lifted it from the crate and held it in front of him, the light dancing off the jewels, mesmerizing him. So much so that he didn’t hear the door open behind him. 

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing in here? What happened to the boys out fr-” the bellowing voice stopped and Nathaerus heard the click of a gun, “Yer trying to steal from me, you filthy sky rat! I ought to take the brains out of yer head since you clearly ain’t usin’ ‘em!” Nathaerus slipped the chain of the necklace around his index finger and slowly stood, raising his hands in surrender before pivoting to face the voice he already knew.

The captain was a hulking Roegadyn man, his face was turning red and his rage was punctuated by the barrel of the rifle that he had aimed directly at Nathaerus.

“Captain! I wasn’t expecting your delightful company!” Nathaerus cautiously watched the man as he began, “You could, in fact kill me here, but I suspect that might bode poorly for your operations.”

The man tightened his grip on his rifle, “ An’ how do ye figure that? I kill a thief on board my vessel, and I’m a bloody hero.”

“Hm, not quite. First, you’d run the risk of damaging your cargo since all you’ve got to kill me is that inaccurate rifle. But let’s say for fun you do manage it. You’d still need to answer for why there’s a body on your ship once you dock. You could throw my body over, but I am well beloved by the crew, more than you, with all due respect...sir. The crew would notice my absence and be disinclined to believe your tale about me being a thief all along and get the officials involved when you dock. Then, of course, they would conduct a thorough investigation of your vessel.”

The captain raised his rifle to aim at Nathaerus’s head, “Make your point, and make it fast, you knife-eared piece of shite.”

“Well, sir. I think this might be an issue.” Nathaerus kicked the wall beside him and knocked loose a plank on the wall, sending large satchels of somnus spilling forth. The captain seemed shaken and his grip on the gun faltered. 

Nathaerus left no time for the man to reply, “I chose your ship for a reason. Two, really, but only one that matters to you at the moment.” His face broke into a grin as he continued, “You can either let me walk off of this ship with this trinket whose value pales in comparison to that of your real cargo, or, you can risk having your entire operation exposed. Entirely your call, Captain” he said, the last word dripping with sarcasm.

For what felt like an eternity, the Roegadyn kept the gun trained on Nathaerus before he finally relented with a groan of frustration. “Take the bloody necklace, but you will never work for me again. I never want to see that shite-eating grin of yours for the rest of my cursed life, you hear me?”

Nathaerus spun the necklace around on his finger before catching it in his palm and casually tucking his hands in his pants’ pockets as he made his way to the door.  “That was always the plan.”

[lovedcult]

happy birthday to the bestie @summerlost​​ 💗💭 !!!!!!!!!!!!!  jia. 🙈 what a crazy year it's been. all these memories we've made together. girl you crazy 😫but im not even about to put all that on tumblr 😂. congrats on another trip around the sun, im so proud of you ❤ love u girlie see u at the club LMFAOO😂❤❤❤🎉🎉🎉🎉 

( jk ur real bday message is under the read more ilu HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABEY )

literally me preparing this message just hours before ur birthday but i was determined to have it ready by the time it hit midnight for u so HERE I AM HELLO 🤍 going to try and make this letter heartfelt and cute because we never say things like this to each other but u really have become such an important person in my life in such a short time u just mean very much to me and i really do want you to know just wonderful and special u are to me !! we have only known each other ?? like 5 months ? is that right ? girl idk but within those 5 months we have managed to talk to each other like every single day except maybe 2 days isn’t that so crazy ? so i want to thank u for always keeping me company and crying over txt with me and just being such a warm source of happiness in my life, it really has been so wonderful to get to know you and to be ur friend 🤍 

going to list some things that you’ve done for me that maybe you don’t know you’ve done for me but you deserve to know .. i know i said i was gonna get mushy here but good ness .. anyway it’s so nice to wake up to messages from u everyday and to go to sleep after talking to u all day and knowing that i will have a friend whenever i need it like fr i don’t know how we do it because i am usually so bad at communication rip ..... it has just always felt so easy to talk to you and we clicked right away and there was never a moment of awkwardness like there can be when first meeting someone which thank god .  i’m more comfy with u than i have been with some friends i’ve known for 5+ years and i think that says a lot about our friendship as well as you as a person. we talk literally all the time and it just makes me so happy, i look forward to talking to u every day 💗 whether its about our ships or personal lives or random shite or my godson pumpkin it never matters to me, i am just so happy you are here and that i get to know you

did you know i like never listened to taylor swift before meeting u ? apart from that one time i saw her live in concert when i was like 12 but i don’t even remember that NSNSNSN but i’ll have you know the songs you’ve showed me are special to me now and i enjoy listening to them and she will now forever remind me of u! i have a tendency to try to get into things and like what my friends like so just know whenever you show me stuff i will file it in the heart shaped jia folder in my brain and keep it there forever. literally no matter what it is. tht goes for pacrim too that was so random but i became obsessed with it right after u showed it to me and i’ve actually watched it twice more after we watched it together <3 speaking of, i hope we can have more movie nights together or just cute lil kosmi dates in general because they are so fun and we have a watchlist piling up already so we should crack that open when we can … whenever ur nawt busy being a doctor or whatever

reminds me; do u remember that time i panicked because i ate burnt chicken nuggets and u told me i was gonna get c*ncer ? girl fun times NMDCNBJSAKFJSFJSDV just so you know i WILL be directing any of my future health concerns to u because i might just break otherwise bc i don’t know how to survive and we don’t want that i don’t think so glad i have a smart sexy big brain friend like u in my life

i hope you have a wonderful wonderful wonderful day today which you just might because it’s also txt comeback today ( u fuckin lucky bitch i cant believe they are obsessed with u ) you deserve it so much !! you work so hard all of the time and i know school can be stressful as well as life but i really am so proud of u because u are doing great things and it will all pay off. u are never alone through any of it either so when it gets too hard u will always have me beside u !!! promise !!!! i love u lots !!!!! even tho ur a gemini !!!! but ur my gemini !!!!!!!

also want to mention how just WONDERFUL it has been writing with u omg ??? we have 11 official plots going on rn as well as a bunch of unofficial ones and it has just been the loveliest experience getting to write and ship with u with every single one of them and it’s just been so fun. u are such a talented writer and u put so much effort and thought into all of ur muses which i immensely applaud u for. you should know this already though considering i am vocally in love with all of them ( when jungjae finally d words i will be coming to sweep up sooyeon i really dont care what u have to say its out of ur hands ? let it go ) … jia best rp partner .. i��ve never had a writing partner that gets so involved with our plots the way you do with me and shows the interest that you do and it means so very much to me, i feel very lucky and im forever thankful u messaged me the day u did and introduced urself because i am a scared bitch and probably would have just admired u from afar on the dash instead <3 i hope we can have 327234 more plots and ships in the future because u have managed to make each of them so special. 

i feel like this letter is so all over the place but am i gonna go back in and make it prettier ? naur because im a mess writing it so ur getting the full heidy emotional love spill experience .. this is the first bday im spending with u so i had to write u this & let u know just how much u mean to me . literally thinking abt u all the time and am always hoping u are happy and having good days on the other side of the world <3 ur just that wonderful. thank u for being my friend beyond the rpc and i hope the future can bring us even closer together !!!! i love u so much stinky ( with affection ) stay sexy ......... <33333

us btw

[basicjetsetter]

At the End of the Day (I)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: Lil Fluff, Lotta Angst, Language, Violence – an extremely violent scene, might not be suitable for some, don’t continue to read if it triggers you.

Summary: All Bucky wants to do is protect his family and keep them happy, keep them safe. But no matter what he does, danger hunts him down and makes his life a living hell. It has a name. Baron Zemo.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Bucky. I hope y’all love it as much as I do. If you want, you can listen to Sometimes by H.E.R. The fic isn’t inspired by the song, but I felt like it fit. (Gif not mine, all credit to its creator). Also I apologize if the translation is wrong. Happy Reading!!

Part II

Bucky had it all planned out.

Race out of the debriefing room as soon as the meeting adjourned, jump into his car, still grimy and clothed in tactical gear, and gun it to his house to get there in time for dinner. For the most part, the plan was successful. He left the Compound at 3:45 p.m. and made it to the driveway by 5:50. The clock on the dash reads 6:18. He can’t get out of the car. Every time he attempts to unfasten the seatbelt his muscles lock up until he caves under the exhaustion.

Missions never take this much of a toll on his body, but to be fair, he did hurl himself out of a ten-story building like an idiot. He remembered how the world outside swayed, remembered hearing Sam shout into the coms, telling him that everyone was safely out and that he needed to get out too. There was nothing else they could do.

The floor underneath his boots shuddered. Stairs were out of the question and there was no time for Sam to figure out which side of the building Bucky was in. So he jumped.

By now he’d thought he’d be used to imminent death. After all, it came with the job. And yet this knowledge didn’t keep him from squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath until his lungs cried for air. It didn’t help his hammering heart or the tight clench of his gut as he plummeted to meet the concrete.

Everything had gone a bit fuzzy afterward. A lot of people rushed in to see if he was still alive. He thought he saw a familiar face, but chalked it up to be a trick of the light. Sam and Wanda hovered over him, repeatedly asking if he could hear them and if he was alright. Nothing hurt too bad. He somehow managed to rotate enough so his left side took most of the impact. His head hurt like a son of a bitch, though, and his mouth tasted metallic and felt like sandpaper.

Medics pawed at him the entire way back to the Compound, checking his vitals, shining bright lights in his eyes to rule out concussions. One of them suggested he be left in their care for the night.

What he needed was a goddamn aspirin and a nap. If he let them hook him up to all those machines, he’d be stuck in there for… Christ knows how long. Hours? Days?

Bucky just wanted to go home to his girls.

Instead of listening to the docs advising him to do such and such, he thought of you seeing him like this, bruised from head to toe, covered in rubble and blood. You’d seen him look worse, but every time he came in with even a cut you worried at your bottom lip and a small crease of a frown darkened your features. But he knew you’d be relieved to have him at home in one piece.

So he disregarded their caution. Within 48 hours he’d be right as rain. The perks of being a souped-up solider, he thought ruefully.

Only one good came out of this mess. Bumblebee is going to go through the roof with excitement. He can hear her screams now, “No way! That’s so cool! Mama! Mama! Did ya hear that? Daddy jumped out of a building!”

6:32 p.m.

He wouldn’t be able to tell her anything if he couldn’t haul his ass out of the car.

Bucky groaned as he grabbed hold of his canvas bag and slung it over his shoulder, then kicked the door of the Jeep open. He gingerly climbed out, whimpering with each movement. He shouldn’t have sat in there for so long. All his muscles are stiff as a starched shirt. He leaned against the car door to close it.

As Bucky limped up to the front door he heard the sounds of Bumblebee and Tater, their golden retriever puppy, running around and you laughing as Bumblebee huffed in frustration, “Give me back my shoe, Tater!”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth curved into a large grin despite his crushing headache. He put his key in the lock and frowned when it didn’t click. Already open. Sighing deeply, he twisted the knob and pushed open the door. Scampering feet ran out of the kitchen into the foyer. “Daddy’s home!”

Sure enough, Bumblebee, and Tater right on her heels, dashed into him just as he dropped his canvas bag on the ground and jumped into his open arms. He grunted in the effort to keep her up in his aching arms, staggering back a couple of steps. “Jeez kid, you’re getting big on me.”

She pouted. Miniature versions of your eyes examined his face. “Are you okay, Daddy? Why’re you all purple and blue?” Her smooth, chubby hand brushed away a stray hair from his face. “Does that hurt?”

Had he winced?

In front of him, he heard a sharp inhale. Shit. Reluctantly, Bucky lifted his eyes and met yours. He’s probably not his usual sight for sore eyes. In fact, he’d be willing to bet that he’s the cause of those sore eyes.

You assessed him from head to toe, no doubt noting how he shifted your daughter to his right side to protect his left.

“James.” Your tone is viperous.

He’s in for it. “Don’t say it,” he pleaded.

“Buchanan.”

Bucky hid his face behind his daughter’s shoulder. “Doll, I-“

“Barnes. What the hell happened to you?” You didn’t wait for an answer, striding over and taking your daughter out of his arms and setting her down. “Honey, why don’t you go finish up your dinner. Daddy and I need to talk about grown-up stuff.”

The girl looked up at her dad with a defiant set of her mouth. “I want Daddy to come and eat with me.” She is her mother’s child, but the way she held herself reminded Bucky so much of himself before he became a pawn to Hydra. Cock-sure and confident, ready to hold his own. That’s his little Bumblebee.

You sighed. “He’ll be there in a minute, baby. I promise. Go on,” you smiled sweetly. He knows you don’t want her to worry, but you aren’t doing a good job at neutralizing your frantic expression.

Your daughter still didn’t budge.

“Celeste, please. For Mama?” you supplicated, leaning down to meet her stricken gaze.

“Is Daddy in trouble?” she asked, her voice now small and quavering. It broke his bruised heart.

Bucky’s knees buckled as he kneeled and he did his best to minimize the sound of his groans. “No, no, Bumblebee, I’m fine. Mama just wants to take care of me, that’s all. As soon as we’re done, I’m all yours.”

“Promise?”

He nodded and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Super promise.”

She perked up as if her mood hadn’t soured at all and skittered off into the kitchen, Tater trailing after her with a tiny shoe in his mouth. Bucky waited until he heard her chair scrape across the floor then peered up at you. “Might need some help getting up here, Doll.”

Despite your apparent anger, you giggled lightly and held out your hand. Bucky grabbed it with his right and pulled himself up, but leaned against the wall adjacent to the front door for support, panting.

“God Bucky, you look awful,” you whispered, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Did you get hit by a train?”

“Sort of.” At your stern frown, he confessed. “I-uh… I may have jumped out a ten-story building and the ground might’ve broken my fall. It’s nothing,” he rushed. “I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

He sucked in a breath as you softly pressed a hand to his left side. You set to work on undoing the harnesses and buckles of his vest. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Lie to me.” Bucky fixed his mouth to deny it, but you continued. “We’ve been married for six years… Don’t you think I know you like the back of my hand by now? You aren’t fine. It’s not nothing. You’re human, no matter what you or anyone else thinks. You can still feel pain.” Your voice dropped to a murmur.

At first, he thought your silence resulted from the weight of your words because now he certainly felt like he got hit by a train. But he followed your eyes. You’d successfully ridden him of the top half of his tactical gear, laying everything in a heap at the bottom of your feet. Angry welts, cuts, and bruises smattered down his chest in an intricate pattern, ranging from red to purple to blue. The puffed scar connecting his cybernetic arm to his shoulder paled in comparison.

Hearing you sniffle brought him back to the present.

“Jesus Bucky.” Tears shone in your eyes, pooled, then fell down your cheeks.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to come home after being away for three weeks and immediately upset his girls. The sheer sadness laced in your words hurt him more than his wounds. And that sadness wouldn’t just go away in a few hours.

Bucky pulled you into his arms, welcoming your soft body against his like a heat compress. You smelled like roasted garlic chicken with a hint of buttery, herbed mashed potatoes, and lavender soap. His stomach growled.

“Remember that time we took Bumblebee to Wollman Rink and she accidentally fell on her head and got that nasty bruise?” Bucky asked, resting his head on your shoulder and pressing small kisses to the side of your neck. A small sigh of contentment sifted into the air.

“Yeah.” Another sniffle. “Sam, Wanda, Peter, and Rhodey all bought her big teddy bears and ice cream to cheer her up. My poor baby. I never wanted to hear her cry like that again.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, recalling how every rational thought fled his mind as he rushed to his daughter, cradling her small body to his chest. They took her to the Med-Bay and she stayed there for a week and he never once left her side.

“We didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Sam all but locked us out of her room and told us to take a shower and change into some fresh clothes.”

You cocked your head back and gazed confusedly into his pale blue eyes. “You going somewhere with this?”

“We can’t…” he paused, clearing his throat. “There is a healthy amount of worry we’re allowed to give before it becomes too much, you know. We’ll go mad wanting to keep each other out of harm’s way and that’s exactly what you’re doing. This is my job, Doll. I get hurt. We just gotta accept that.”

You pulled out of his arms and crossed yours. You didn’t damper the bitterness as you spoke. “You’re such a hypocrite. What would you do if I came home covered in bruises and cuts every night? Huh? Shrug it off? That’s what you’re telling me to do?”

Bucky didn’t know if he should answer, so he kept his mouth shut, down-casting his eyes. That’s not quite what he meant, but it’s in the same vein.

“Alright. Fine.” You turned away from him and walked out of the room, into the kitchen.

That didn’t turn out how he wanted it to, but Bucky didn’t have the energy to go after you. You need time to simmer. 

He picked up his stuff and dropped it off on the foot of his office, quickly showered and changed into a pair of gray sweatpants. His muscles appreciated the warm water and comfortable clothes.

The lights in the family room and dining room were shut off by the time he finished, leaving only the kitchen to be illuminated in a faint glow. A stack of dishes sat in the sink and the leftovers were contained on the counter, ready to be put away in the fridge. On the other side of the house, down the hall, the light in the second guest bathroom gleamed. He heard the splash of water and giggles. Bath time.

Despite his cloudy mood, he smiled. Bucky missed this.

After he scarfed down some microwaved chicken, mashed potatoes and carrots, he got to work on the dishes.

The act always soothed him. When every second of his day had to be calculated down to the last minutiae, taking the time to listen to his thoughts became a welcome gift. But all his thoughts led back to you. Your warm body in his arms, your head propped against his chest as you made little sighs of happiness. He understands why you’re upset, and no, he wouldn’t like it if you came home hurt every night as he does. Hell, he wouldn’t be able to stand to be away from you as long as he does now.

You’re concerned for him. The least he can do is empathize and lessen your fears. Him not saying anything translated to you as, “Yes, I’d prefer if you didn’t care about me.”

“I’m such an asshole,” he muttered, tossing the dish towel onto the counter after drying the last plate.

He heard you shuffle behind him and he turned in time to see you drop an armful of blankets and pillows onto the couch.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, acknowledging the clean dishes. “If you need some more pillows there’s a couple in the hall closet.”

Before you could lope off into your bedroom, Bucky called out, “I’m sorry.”

That stopped you short.

He chanced a step forward, then another, until you put a hand out to confirm the distance. “About earlier… You were right.” Bucky itched to hold you, but instead, he settled for pulling his hands through his damp hair. “If the situation was reversed, I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it and the fact that you’ve been doing it every day since we got together… I’m gonna be more careful. I promise. I can-I can request some time off. We can—”

You interrupted him, so quiet even his enhanced hearing strained to pick up the noise. “Do you know why I handled it, Buck? Why I never complained?”

He shook his head, again finding his tongue too tied up to answer.

“Because it’s your job. You’re an Avenger. You’re this awesome superhero who saves hundreds of people every day. How can I complain?” Your words choked off with emotion, yet somehow you managed to push past it, sounding rugged and defeated. “H-How can I be so selfish to want to keep the Winter Soldier safe? The craziest thing is, I never see him when I look at you. The soldier, I mean.” You bowed your head and swiped away ceaseless tears. When you brought your eyes back up to meet his, both of your eyes glistened. “I see you, Bucky. And you’re someone I can’t lose.”

Bucky didn’t react fast enough. As soon as he took that last step forward to stand right in front of you, you turned and dashed into your bedroom, shutting the door. He didn’t hear the lock turn.

He walked over to the door and placed his hand on the knob. Pressed his ear against the wood. You sounded close. Crying with your hands clamped over your mouth to muffle the sobs. Nothing would be able to stop him from going in the room to comfort you, locked door or not. But if you wanted him to be near you, you’d have left the door open.

How had this whole day turned to shit?

He went into his daughter’s room. You being upset with him and him landing himself a night on the couch were huge setbacks, but he’d be damned if he didn’t tell Bumblebee a good-night story. She loves those. He loves telling them to her.

They have their ritual every time he’s home. She’s usually sitting up against the headboard, wearing a toothy grin. He’d come in and she’d scoot over to the side to let him lie on the bed with her. Some nights they’d doze off together.

When he cracked open the door and peered in, her back faced him and the blue covers were drawn up over her head.

Bucky took a seat on the corner of her twin mattress, feeling how it slightly bowed under his weight. Tater is curled up on the other corner. His head rested on his paws and his eyes dolefully glanced up at Bucky.

“Bumblebee,” he whispered, stroking her head. “Hey, kid. You sleep?”

Silence. He heard her breath quicken. She’s still awake.

“You mad at me too?”

He held his breath. Utter silence.

“Guess I can’t blame ya.” Exhaling slowly, Bucky leaned in and kissed the back of her head. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I love you.” Then he got up, turned on her rainbow nightlight, and delicately closed the door.

The family room felt too small. Too still. Too vacant. Trying to sleep on a couch, especially this one, in particular, had to be the worst sleeping arrangement he’s ever experienced, on par with sleeping on dirt floors and metal cots.

A previously recorded football game is playing noiselessly on the TV. All the lights are turned off. The exhaustion Bucky warded off earlier returned in full force. He blanked out by the time the game reached the second quarter.

“Good evening, Sergeant Barnes,” a distant voice lulled. It’s familiar. Accented. It stood nearby, standing right above him. “Or would you prefer Winter Soldier?”

Bucky’s eyes opened as slow as a stream of molasses. His head swam and his body felt out of place. He didn’t know what was up or down, left or right. That wasn’t what shocked him, though. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t even twitch his pinky. 

Isn’t he supposed to be in jail? How did he find me? How the hell did he even get in here?

As far as Bucky can tell he’s still in his family room, laying on the couch. The covers around his body have been thrown back. A needle is sticking out of his right arm, connected to a small drip bag.

“Whahh—” he slurred. It took him a while to pull his eyes away from the needle and up to the man looming above him with a gaunt smirk.

God no.

“Oh good, you remember me.” Zemo pulled up a chair and sat right by Bucky’s head. He’s wearing a plain black sweater and dark jeans. “Don’t worry, it isn’t poison. Simply a temporary sedative. The effects will wear off as soon as I take out the needle.”

Bucky tried to scream with everything inside of him. He called your name over and over again, but nothing came out higher than a whimper. Even if you heard him, he doubted if you’d be able to alert the others in time. What if he already got to you? Or Bumblebee? A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

Zemo watched in amusement at the emotions flitting over Bucky’s face. “You’re a hard man to find, but easy enough to keep track of. Your little band of do-gooders always makes the front page. But you know what those covers don’t show? Hm?”

He held up a picture frame level to Bucky’s eyesight. It was you, him, and Bumblebee, all going down a slide together. Sam took the picture a year ago. You were at the top, holding up your then three-year-old daughter, and Bucky at the bottom. Bumblebee gripped his long strands of hair with a vicious glee in her eyes. Your eyes are closed from laughing and Bucky is looking up at his wife and daughter with a rapt smile.

“You have a lovely family, Sergeant Barnes. Reminds me of mine.” He pulled out a small folded copy of a photograph, creased due to the course of time.

Bucky saw a family, but he didn’t take them in. He didn’t want to care.

Zemo paid him no attention as he stared fondly at the picture, taking them in for himself and then comparing it to Bucky’s family.

“You see, I went about this all wrong the first time around. Taking on the Avengers as a whole resulted from my hubris, if you will. I saw the potential to exploit a weakness and work around the outside. Some might say I instigated the War. No,” he smiled and took the needle out of Bucky’s arm. “I merely set them on the right path.

“Captain Rogers was indeed quite fond of you, but I knew Stark wouldn’t be so disillusioned to your heinous crimes. Though, I admit I may have given him too much credit. A tin man set up to fight against two of the world’s best super soldiers? A failed endeavor, yes, but necessary. It brought me reason. Why influence a whole and almost succeed when I can influence one at a time. Leaves less room for marginal error, don’t you agree, Soldat?”

As the sedative ebbed away, feeling gradually flooded into his fingertips and toes. In a couple of minutes, he’d be free from the immobilizing numbness. He prepared his body to spring.

Zemo pulled one more object from behind his back. A red book. An old, red book with a black star branded on the front.

An icy gust of recognition shot shards of panic through his system. It couldn’t be. He’s fixed. Shuri fixed me.

The man went on in relish. “Of course you recognize your creator’s book. A handy thing, this is. Hydra is many things, Sergeant Barnes. Many things. But one thing they remain to be is prepared.” He thumbed through the pages, stopping to the last several pages. “Two steps ahead and all that stuff.”

Bucky forced out the word, “Why?”’

“Why?” Zemo mocked. “Why is it that an abomination, a murderous machine such as yourself, can have this type of happiness at the end of the day? Doesn’t it strike you as unfair, Sergeant Barnes? Why should you have this beautiful family while mine doesn’t even get an ounce of recognition? No front covers. Not even an obituary. I’m simply taking matters into my own hands and dealing justice where justice is due. And Sergeant Barnes, you have over 70 years of undue justice stacked against you.”

Tears stung Bucky’s eyes. Every inch of his body trembled. His teeth painfully chattered. He felt his lips move. “No, please. No, no, no, no, no. God no. I can’t. I can’t.” Not to them.

“This is the way it has to be, Sergeant Barnes. I truly am sorry.” Zemo rose from the chair, walking around to the back of the couch. “Возвращение (Return).”

Bucky’s whole body drowned in a cold sweat and the blood drained from his face. Those bastards! Those goddamn fucking bastards! He pushed off the couch on jelly legs, falling in a heap of blankets.

“сброс настроек (Reset).”

Anger propelled him to his feet and he staggered drunkenly around the couch, standing arms-length away from Zemo. Only a few feet stood between him and the front door.

“не помнить. Добро пожаловать назад зимний солдат (Forget. Welcome back Winter Soldier).”

Zemo closely watched the man standing rigid in his sweats, chest heaving. Bits of his hair is in his face and one blanket is caught around his ankle. He heard the harsh grinding of his metal palm curling into a fist. The asset’s face smoothed over into a mask of stiff submission and indifference.

“Ready to comply.” Mechanical, detached, lethal.

“Terminate everyone inside the house.” With those final words, Zemo withdrew from the house, exiting out of the front door. It slammed shut.

You weren’t really asleep.

Even trying felt like a waste of time. The king-size bed swallowed you with its vast amount of unfilled space. Sleeping in an empty bed was hard enough not knowing where Bucky was. Turns out it’s even worse when he was just outside the door and down the hall, sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.

You knew that he knew the door wasn’t locked.

Relief and an inkling of regret settled your nerves thirty minutes after you closed the door. He wasn’t going to come in. He was giving you space.

Is it wrong to want Bucky laying here with you, even though your heart wasn’t ready to face him? Maybe you’re being ridiculous. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s an amazing father to Bumblebee. He’s an amazing husband. Work doesn’t consume him and if it does start to become an obstacle in your marriage, Bucky’s quick to rectify the problem.

You inched over onto his side of the bed and buried your face in his pillow, taking in his heady scent. Were you too hard on him? Were you irrational? Bucky can’t help who he is. 

He’s your daughter’s hero.

He’s yours too.

At 2 a.m. you fretfully turned back over to your side of the bed when you heard one of the doors slam shut, ringing out like a shotgun

You’re on your feet and rushing out without a single thought of caution to stall you. Bucky is out there. So is your Bumblebee.

Bucky stood in the middle of the room. Blankets are strewn around and one of them wrapped around his ankle.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

His head swiveled up at the sound of your voice. Empty, calculating eyes snapped to yours.

Something’s wrong.

You tripped back a little, finding your balance against a wall. Fear mounted in your chest. “B-Bucky?”

No reaction.

“Buc���"

In an instant he advanced towards you, stepping out of the blanket as if it was never there. A scream caught halfway in your throat as metal coiled around your neck. Squeezing. Squeezing. Squeezing.

Black pinpoints and stars shaded your vision. He watched you splutter. You’re sure he didn’t feel your nails clawing at his shoulder.

None of the things Bucky taught you about self-defense came to mind. You couldn’t think, but you had to act. Instinctively, you kicked out. One kick landed dead in his hard abdomen. It felt like kicking at a boulder. He coughed out a surprised grunt and his grip slackened. You aimed another kick at his crotch, dead on the center, and the hand around your neck loosened enough to send you scrambling on the ground.

Your lungs scorched. Your palms and knees ached from landing unceremoniously on the hardwood flooring. By the time you began to crawl away, it was too late.

Bucky regained himself quicker than humanly possible. His hot flesh hand snagged your ankle in a bruising grip and yanked you back.

You cried out, hoarsely. “Bucky stop!”

He paid you no attention. Almost didn’t seem to hear you at all.

His hair fell into his face, darkening the mask that slid into place. He barely struggled to pull you underneath him. Strong, thick thighs caged your lower half to halt your flailing legs as he straddled your hips.

The pressure instantly returned. Both hands crushed your windpipe. His fingers dug into your skin. The wedding band fitted on his flesh hand bit deeper than the metal of his cybernetic hand.

In a last-ditch effort, your fingernails impaled his forearm, breaking the skin. Five half-moon crescents beaded up and trickled in lines of scarlet red, slicking along his arm and on your fingertips.

He never flinched.

Tears streamed out the corners of your eyes.

Darkness bled into your vision, starting at the corners and then filling in the rest as the seconds ticked by. Each beat of your heart painfully thudded in your chest, each thump clunking slower and slower. More spaced out.

Numbness spread until you resigned to it.

Your lids slid shut. You didn’t want those eyes to be the last thing you saw. Those arctic blue, barren eyes. Not Bucky’s eyes.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

“Stop it, Daddy! Stop it! Get off of Mama!”

You wrenched your eyes back open in time to see your daughter smacking her father over the head with her rainbow nightlight.

Hope and absolute dread wracked your body as Bucky unclasped his hands and turned to look at the small girl standing her ground behind him, nightlight half-raised in the air for another strike. Tater is in front of her, barking viciously at Bucky.

“Run!” The word tore itself out your mangled throat. “Run!”

Bumblebee watched in horror as Bucky rose to a towering height, and she let out an earsplitting scream as he ripped the light away from her, then gripped the front of her Avengers pajama shirt, lifting her into the air.

“BUCKY NO!”

Past the rush of oxygen flowing back into your lungs and the thunderous beats of your heart, you heard terrified crying.

Your baby.

Wailing. Scared.

For a second, you’re back at the skating rink and your eyes land on Bucky, sitting on the ice, cradling her to his chest. Nothing else mattered.

Bucky frowned.

The first sign of emotion flickered over his features since you came out of the room.

Confusion.

You saw his eyes drop to the ground, saw him shake his head. Then he looked at the girl in his hold.

Recognition.

Grief.

Fear.

Horror.

Agony.

Bucky trembled, slowly and shakily lowering Bumblebee back onto her feet. She skittered around him, putting as much space between them as possible, and stumbled to your side. Tater is still growling at him.

You watched his eyes reluctantly settle on your body, watched his face crumble.

Bucky choked out. “I’m sorry.” He took a step back. He looked at his arms and saw the indents of your fingernails. Saw the imprint of his hands around your neck. Took another step back. “I…I…I didn’t—”

He turned and ran out of the house.

[baepsaets]

The Call

(a/n: thank you all for 4k, and happy birthday jk! to celebrate, here’s a oneshot i’ve had typed out for a bit but didn’t want to post just yet. i’m working on a collection of oneshots that will all loosely be connected, all of them frat!jungkook related. they are all stand-alone, although they exist in the same universe).

summary: the only time you take the obnoxious frat boy from your chemistry class seriously is when he calls to tell you your close friend is having a bad trip at a party.

warnings: drug use mention (but not jk or the reader - and yes, this drabble is inspired by a true story. party safe lovelies!), enemies to friends to lovers (but just the friends part in this fic) (although jk is jealous lmao)

Frat Drabble: 4.3k

Your bare feet pounded on concrete as you ran down the block, glancing at your phone to check the time. It had been three minutes since Jeon Jungkook had called you from your friend’s phone.

It was a Friday night, which meant you’d had a hot date with your couch and Netflix, enjoying the time you got the spend alone while your roommate went out. When your friend had called you half-past midnight while you were in the middle of your latest binge, you’d been surprised, but answered anyway. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Uh, (Y/N)?”

Your blood went sluggish. The voice on the other end of the phone was male, and definitely didn’t belong to your friend. “Who is this?”

“It’s Jungkook. From Chem 201?”

Jeon Jungkook. The current bane of your existence—or at least, the bane of your chemistry class. He was seated next to you, and with an assigned seating chart, there was no way to avoid him.

The two of you had admittedly started off on the wrong foot. He’d caught you in a bad mood, but then had matched that mood with his own. But it wasn’t your fault that he was completely intolerable. Just a stupid, smug frat guy. He was probably going to school on his dad’s paycheck and didn’t care about failing. He certainly didn’t care about passing, from what you’d seen of his test results before he’d shoved them into his cluttered backpack.

It had all happened because he’d sat in your seat. From then on, it was like the guy had developed a special grudge against you. And you, who was a good student—you, who had to work hard to maintain a scholarship. You—who was sarcastic and could come off as a little bitchy—yes, you—were all too willing to respond in kind.

First, it had been the man-spreading. Jeon Jungkook sat like he had the biggest elephant nuts of the century. He sat with one leg pressed against you, the other stretched out lax in front of him. It was the touching that bothered you. Jungkook created heat like a furnace, and you didn’t like being touching by people you didn’t know or like. So, you scrunched away from him, curling around the other armrest until your other seat neighbor glared at the both of you. Your row already had such limited space. It was a lecture hall, for God’s sake.

Not to mention all the women that flocked to his seat. You’d had to ask more than one girl to move after coming into class and finding them surrounding him, like he was God’s gift to women. As if. Sure, the guy was nice to look at, but he knew it, and his confidence bordered on an arrogance that made your blood boil. It only got worse when he watched you shoo them away—smirking, knowing it annoyed you. A type of smirk that said, “Don’t you wish you were them?”

No, you self-assured motherfucker. Quit looking at me like that.

Then, it had been the pen clicking—fuck, the pen clicking. Murder was imminent. By the second week, Jungkook had figured out that you hated pen clicking, so that’s exactly what he did.

After that came the Hydroflask Incident. Namely, Jungkook had spilled almost his entire hydroflask on your backpack. That was the worst one. All of your surrounding seatmates had gasped in horror and let you used their desks to air out your papers, which were almost soaked. Luckily, you hadn’t had any textbooks in your backpack at the time. Jungkook had apologized for that one, even looked a little guilty, but it didn’t matter—Jeon Jungkook was obviously the scum of the universe, and you would never accept any apology from him even if he begged you on his knees. He was trash, and that was that. You didn’t waste time on trash.

His face flashed in your mind—wide-eyed, soft-lipped. Why was he calling you from your friend’s phone? They weren’t hooking up, were they? The thought filled you with unexpected horror. “Where’s (Y/Fr/N)?”

There was a deep sigh. It really wasn’t fair that he sounded so good over the phone—everyone sounded ugly over the phone. It was the law! “Listen—she’s in pretty bad shape right now. She came to a party at my frat house and she ended up—maybe taking something?”

You sat up straight on the couch. (Y/Fr/N)? Yeah, she did some wild shit, but she’d never been a drug user. Hell, she’d tried pot back in high school and hadn’t even liked it.

“Taking something? Like what?”

“Uh—shrooms?”

You jaw dropped. Whatever Netflix show you’d been watching turned into static background noise. “What?”

“It was an accident! She was drunk and I think some guy offered her some, and she ate them without realizing it. I’ve got her cornered in my bedroom, but she’s having a really bad trip.”

That was all it took to get you scrambling to your feet. You were wearing a loose shirt and panties, but you tugged on a useless pair of sleep shorts while keeping the phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder.

“Do we need to call 911? Does she need a hospital—?”

“It’s not that bad—,”

“Not that bad? How do you know that? What if it was laced with something and she dies?”

This was so fucking typical. Jeon Jungkook, frat guy extraordinaire, not caring about a girl getting drugged in his own house. Why even call if he was going to act like it wasn’t a big deal?

“It’s not—,”

“This is your frat house, Jungkook! You’re responsible for what happens in it!”

“I fucking know that!” he finally snapped. You went silent in shock. “I know that, okay? We’re all freaking out right now and we already shut down the party! Jesus, Jimin broke that guy’s nose once we found out! I’m calling you because while I was looking through her phone to find someone to come help us, your name was the only one I recognized.”

You bit your lip, chastened. “What’s the address?”

“I’ll text it to you right now. Just—get here soon, okay? I’m afraid she’ll hurt herself.”

This was your worst nightmare, you realized. Something bad like this happening to someone you loved. You didn’t open up easy, so the people you did care about, you cared about hard.

“Has she thrown up?”

“I thought about making her, but I’ll be honest, I don’t know how to handle a situation like this. Alcohol and weed are the only stuff we allow on our property, so whoever this guy was, he snuck in.”

You slipped on your flipflops and dashed out the door. You were surprised to see Jungkook’s frat house was only several blocks away. Perfect, because you didn’t want to wait for an Uber, if you were even lucky enough to find one at this hour. You ran a hand through your hair and tried to shape it into something presentable. Had you showered today? No, you hadn’t. But that didn’t matter.

“Just—sit with her until I get there. Please.”

“I already have been,” he said, surprisingly gentle. “I got her some water and tried to get her to eat, but she wouldn’t take anything from me. She can’t recognize any of us, and she’s scared to death. That’s why I decided to call a friend in her phone. I don’t know anything about her family and didn’t want to immediately call the police and get us all busted. The guy swore up and down it was just shrooms before we kicked him out.”

“Maybe the police are what that guy deserves,” you huffed, pressing the button for the elevator. You lived on the seventh floor and planned to sprint the entire way there, so you might as well conserve your energy.

His silence was telling, until, “If she wants to contact the police after this, we’ll help her.”

Your jaw dropped. You knew damn well that half the people that went to his frat’s parties were underaged, drunk and maybe worse. Calling the police would get everyone in a lot of shit. Some of them might even get expelled, arrested.

Frankly, you had expected him to beg you not to let that happen. His easy compliance shocked you.

Along with his easy compliance, his compassion shocked you as well. He said he’d been trying to care for your friend before calling you, which was more than you expected from some random frat guy who didn’t know her from Eve. A surprisingly kind gesture, from someone who had only shown you distain.

“Well,” you grunted, after collecting yourself. “We’ll see what she says. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You hung up without another word. The elevator was approaching the first floor, and when it opened, you sprinted out of the lobby and down the street, following the path Google Maps had given you.

You were completely out of breath by the time you found his frat. You’d lost your flipflops somewhere after the first block. It was an old, big house—almost mansion-like. Beer bottles and plastic cups were littered across the lawn, signs of a party ended too quickly. You bounded to the front door and knocked loudly.

No reply. You knocked again, longer. Nothing. You were ready to try the door handle when it turned, and the door was pulled back.

A hard-faced and intimidating boy opened the door an inch. He looked young, but still a little older than Jungkook. He stared at you in frustrated annoyance.

“We said the party’s over.”

“I’m (Y/Fr/N)’s friend,” you panted. “Jungkook called me.”

Immediately, the boy’s face morphed into one of relief. He swung open the door, and you realized he had bright blue hair. “Thank God. I’m sorry. I thought you were here for the party.”

Your lip curled in disgust at the though. “Well, I’m not. Excuse me.”

You shouldered him out of the way a bit, taking in the space. It was definitely a frat house. It smelled like an aging brewery. There were several other men in the room who openly stared at you. For a moment, you were embarrassed by your attire, but the moment passed quickly.

“Where’s Jungkook?” you asked the room. Several of them pointed to a staircase in the corner. “Thank you.”

You took the stairs two at a time before almost running into someone at the top. He must have been waiting for you. For the first time, the sight of Jeon Jungkook filled you with complete joy and relief. His face, in comparison, was more shocked and horrified.

“Jesus, (Y/N)—where are your shoes?”

“Where is she?”

“You’re barely dressed—,”

“Jungkook.”

He sighed, accepting defeat. “She’s in my room, this way.”

Jungkook led you down the dark and empty hallway until you came to a door. It had several posters hanging on it, but you didn’t know of what. He pressed his ear to the door for a moment to listen before finally opening it, sensing your worried impatience.

The light was off. You got a sense of a modest-sized space, painted a dark color. There was a desk with a wicked gaming center set up on it, a dresser, and—there, a bed. You could see a shapeless lump on it that turned into a person the harder you stared.

“Hey, (Y/Fr/N),” you said, soothingly. She was curled up in a ball at the foot of the bed, head buried in the blanket. You turned to Jungkook. “Could you give us some privacy?”

His face creased. “She might get violent.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

Your friend looked up when she started to register your voice, and said, “(Y/N)!”

She scrambled off the bed and threw herself at you. Jungkook tensed, and moved almost as if to defend you, but all your friend did was collapse in your embrace and begin to sob. She blubbered something, but you couldn’t make out what she was saying. You were certain it had something to do with whatever hallucinations her bad trip was producing.

Jungkook looked at her guiltily. “Has she ever taken anything like this?”

“She’s smoked some weed, but nothing more serious.”

You led your friend to the bed and helped her lie down, still shaking and sobbing. You held her hand and she gripped you tightly, like she was afraid you would let go.

“It’s okay,” you reassured her, keeping your voice calm and steady without being too sappy. “I know it’s bad right now, but you’re safe. I’m here with you, and this will be over soon.”

You laid down until you were across from her, watching her rock back and forth. You used your thumb to wipe her wet face. “Jungkook—could you bring me some tissues?”

You didn’t look as he left, or when he came back. He handed you a roll of toilet paper.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s all we have.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, voice still soft. You didn’t see it, but Jungkook’s gaze lingered on you, suddenly struck by your kindness. In class, you were often so cold and reserved. It was startling for him to see you so suddenly and painfully human.

He felt guilty for thinking that. He wasn’t going to lie and pretend he liked you, but he didn’t not like you, which you seemed to assume.

It was like you purposefully made yourself hard to get along with. Jungkook was an easygoing guy—maybe a little introverted, but friendly, at least. At first, he’d thought you were that way too. Until he very quickly realized you were just stuck-up and mean.

Well, that was harsh. You weren’t mean, and if you were, it was because he messed with you. To be honest, he couldn't actually pinpoint exactly why he liked doing that. Sometimes, it was just nice to get underneath your skin. To see your perfect composure crack, with just the clicking of his pen.

He just wished you didn’t look at him like he was a bug to be squished underneath your shoe.

Jungkook didn’t consider himself a frat guy, whatever that was. He was a guy, and he was in a frat. Why did putting those two together suddenly erase every other part of his personality? Before, he was Jeon Jungkook—kind, honest, handsome, talented, funny. But now, he’s Jeon Jungkook—frat guy.

That was the only part you seemed to care about. Why should he be compelled to think any kinder about you? To him, you were just a judgmental, possibly even cold-hearted classmate.

But that was before—before he saw you like this. Before he watched you wipe snot from your friend’s nose with your sleeve when the toilet paper wasn’t doing the job. He sank to the floor, mollified with the knowledge that your friend probably wasn't going to attack you at any given moment.

You wiped the snot from your friend’s nose, and the drool from her mouth. You tried to wipe off her smudged and running makeup as best as you could. She was still sniffling, eyes shut tight like she was afraid to open them.

After what must have been at least an hour, her trembling stopped. Her hand was lax in your own, and her breathing evened out. She had finally, finally fallen asleep, while you murmured reassurances into the still space between her face and your own.

You observed her, making sure she didn’t look sick or sallow. Making sure she was still breathing. Your own eyes were dry and stinging, but you weren’t tired enough to sleep. Another half-hour went by like this, until you felt confident enough to extract her hand from your own and carefully climb off the bed.

Your body was slightly sore, and you turned to stretch—and saw Jungkook asleep by the door, body slumped forward.

You stopped. He looked softer in his sleep. His face was suddenly round and painfully young. His mouth was open slightly, air whistling between his lips. His hair was stuck up in front from constantly running his hand through it, and his skin was paler—too pale. His dark circles stood out. He was still wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which you assumed he’d been wearing at the party.

A glance at your phone confirmed that it was only three in the morning. You walked back around the bed and covered your friend with the blanket, making sure she was comfortable. You gently removed her shoes. She snuggled deeper into the pillow, still clinging to sleep.

You moved back toward the door. You crouched down until you were close to Jungkook’s face.

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching out to poke his shoulder gently. He jumped suddenly, whacking his head against the door.

He gasped in pain while you cringed for him. Reaching up, you cradled the back of his head and rubbed gently to help with the pain. It was a sudden, intimate gesture, but you were still in mothering mode. He allowed it, staring sleepily into the dark. You glanced back at your friend to make sure she hadn’t been woken by the thud.

“Can we step outside?” you asked, voice still low. He winced and nodded, climbing unsteadily to his feet. The two of you slipped outside, leaving your friend comfortable and still asleep in the bed.

The hallway was pitch black, but you could see light coming from the bottom of the staircase. Jungkook slipped his hand in your own and led you in that direction. His hand was warm and slightly rough, and you squeezed it subconsciously. He squeezed back. In the darkness of the hallway, so late at night, and after dealing with such a scary and pressing situation, almost nothing felt real—it was almost like a strange dream.

He let go of your hand at the bottom of the staircase. You let him.

A lamp glowed dimly in the corner. In the living room was another boy. You recognized him as the one who had answered the door. He was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He jerked up when he saw you.

“Is she okay?” he asked, speaking in a whisper. Like it was too late at night and the room was too empty to use a regular speaking voice.

“I think she’ll be fine,” you replied. “She’s gotten past the worst of it, and now she’s asleep. I wanted to grab her a glass of water for when she wakes up.”

You turned toward Jungkook. “Where’s your kitchen?”

The other boy jumped off the couch before he could reply. “I’ll show you.”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook said, lowly. Almost gruffly. His morning voice? “I’ve got it.”

Taehyung stopped and raised an eyebrow. He eyed Jungkook, suspiciously. Something passed between the two of them, but you were too tired and mentally occupied to focus on it.

You tugged on the sleeve of Jungkook’s shirt and demanded, “Kitchen.”

The weird eye contact between Jungkook and Taehyung was broken, and he turned to you. “Yeah, it’s this way.”

He led you, but Taehyung followed anyway. The kitchen was modest and much cleaner than you expected. As if sensing your surprise, Jungkook snorted.

“You really think we’re animals, don’t you?” he asked. He opened a cabinet and grabbed a glass, while you flushed.

“I don’t,” you defended. You were feeling a bit ashamed. You’d thought some harsh things about Jungkook, and even if you hadn’t said them out loud, they still influenced how you’d treated him. Tonight, you’d gotten an opportunity to see a different side of him—one that you hadn’t allowed yourself to see before.

Suddenly, everything he’d ever done to you felt petty. So, what, he clicked his pen? He spilled water on your backpack? What did stuff like that matter? Why had you let it affect you so much?

“Yes, you do,” he replied. “You’re always so quick to think the worst of us.”

“Bold statement to make from a boy whose frat hosted the party my friend was drugged at.”

He and Taehyung winced, but then so did you. You could recognize a low blow, even if you were the one that had delivered it. There must be something wrong with you. Hadn’t you just been thinking you were being a huge bitch?

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, immediately. “I know that’s not the whole picture. I didn’t mean for it to sound that judgmental.”

Jungkook stared, and you flushed. “I mean—I know I can do that. Be more judgmental than I realize. And it’s true that sometimes I’m more inclined to think badly of you. But I know that’s just me being a bitch about it.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Taehyung butted in, drawing your attention and Jungkook’s ire. “This is our frat, and it’s our fault something like this happened. We should be more careful about who we invite and who we let in.”

Taehyung moved until he was standing next to you and continued. “It’s easy to have a negative opinion on frat life. I’m sorry that we had to prove you right tonight.”

Your flush deepened, but this time because of attention instead of embarrassment. Christ, where had Jungkook been hiding such a handsome and well-spoken frat brother? If you’d met him first instead of Jeon, maybe your opinion on frat life wouldn’t be so negative.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at the interaction. It made his skin tingle and his chest burn. He filled the glass he’d gotten with water and thrusted it toward you. “Here. We should go back up.”

Taehyung looked at him in confusion as you took the glass. “Just stay down here and sleep on the couch with me, man. I was gonna stay to get an early start on cleaning tomorrow morning.” He looked at you suddenly. “What did you say your name was again?”

“She didn’t,” Jungkook said, at the same time you replied, “(Y/N).”

Taehyung smiled. It was boxy. Adorable. “(Y/N) and (Y/Fr/N) can sleep in your bed, and you can sleep down here with me. Right?”

Jungkook frowned. “I’m fine on the floor. I want to be there if something happens.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jungkook shot you such a sudden glare that your teeth snapped shut. Taehyung eyed him again, except this time in amusement.

“Okay,” he shrugged. He looked back at you and smiled, but there was something more to it—it was playful, teasing. “Thank you for coming over, (Y/N). You’re a devoted friend.”

You smiled at the compliment. “I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’re doing a lot more than a lot of people would be willing,” he corrected, making your smile widen.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Jungkook snapped, sarcastically. “We need to go back.”

You narrowed you eyes at him, but let it go. It was time to let it all go. You were tired of being bitter and thinking you were justified for it. 

The three of you wished each other good night before Jungkook took you back to his room, hand on the small of your back while you climbed the dark staircase. You stopped near the top, where it was still bright enough to see most of his face.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned. You nodded and looked away.

“Yeah, I just—,” and you stopped, unsure. “I’m sorry, I’m so bad at this. But I just feel like I owe you an apology.”

His jaw dropped. “What?”

You sighed. Did he have to be so dramatic? This was already hard for you. “I meant what I said earlier, about thinking the worst of you. When we first met, I was already in a super bad mood. We got off on the wrong foot.” You looked at his face. “I definitely thought you were just some ignorant fuckboy frat guy, but worse than that, I really didn’t try to see you as anything else. I accepted my bad impression of you and let it color my judgment toward everything you did. That was wrong of me.”

You glanced down the hallway, toward his room. “Thank you for calling me. I’m really grateful you were able to take care of (Y/Fr/N) before I got here. You didn’t have to do that. She’s not even your friend.”

Jungkook watched your face closely as you continued. “So, what I’m really trying to say is—I’m sorry for being rude. I’m sorry for not taking the time to get to know you. And I’m sorry for not giving you a chance. It’s a bad reflection of my character. Thank you for putting up with me, and thank you for helping me tonight.”

You waited a bit in stuffy silence. You weren’t sure what you were expecting—for him to laugh in you face, maybe. For him to at least acknowledge your apology. You were getting nervous until he finally said, “I’m sorry, too,”

You let out a surprised noise, and he continued. “You’re not the only guilty one. I did the exact same thing. I didn’t take the time to get to know you because I thought you weren't worth getting to know. I thought you were rude and uptight, and I went out of my way to annoy you because of it. That was wrong of me and I was being a huge dick. It wasn’t until tonight that I saw you as like, an actual person.”

“What did you see me as before?” you asked, slightly amused.

“I don’t know. A robot or something.” At your offended look, he was quick to continue. “But no offense! You’re just always in class, always paying super close attention, never talking. Sometimes, I don’t even think you breathe.”

You tried to find it in yourself to be offended, but then—you laughed. You laughed hard enough to make the water in the glass you were holding slosh precariously, and until finally, Jungkook laughed too.

“Yeah,” you agreed, still chuckling. “I’m sorry. I take myself a little too seriously sometimes.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he said. “I probably don’t take myself seriously enough. I know I’m goofy, but my grades—,” and here he stopped, grimacing, “—are bad. Really bad. Especially in chemistry.”

“I can help you out, if you want,” you offered. It was time to start wrapping up your conversation. You didn’t want to leave your friend alone for much longer. “We can study together.”

He seemed shocked. “Really?”

“Totally,” you agreed. “I mean, I suck at chemistry too. Maybe we can help each other.”

Jungkook stared at you a moment longer. If seeing you act kind with your friend had been a shocker, this was somehow even worse—seeing you actively friendly. He was certain, after tonight, and after your apology, that your cold and anti-social persona hide a surprisingly welcoming and caring heart. How willfully blind he must have been to have missed it.

Then he smiled, almost shyly. A surprising bunny smile, very different from the smug one he usually wore in class. “Yeah. Maybe we can.”

The two of you went back to his room. He creaked open the door and let you through, closing it behind him. It was still dark, but your eyes were more adjusted. You could hear your friend lightly snoring on the bed, and could make out a lump under the blanket.

As you made your way deeper into the room, Jungkook seated himself by the door again and leaned against it for support. You winced in sympathy for his back.

“I’m sorry you have to sleep on the floor,” you whispered. Jaw clicking, you suppressed a yawn. Maybe you would be able to get some sleep.

“It’s fine.” And then, “I’m used to having plenty of women in my bed.”

You scoffed lightly. Of course he’d say some stupid shit like that right after your heart-to-heart. “Don’t ruin our friendship before it can begin, Jeon.”

“Is that what this is?” he asked. “A friendship?”

“Go to bed.” You set the glass down on the bedside table and climbed in next to your friend. She was still sleeping peacefully, mouth ajar and breathing evenly.

A minute later, once the two of you had settled, you heard a quiet, “Good night, (Y/N).”

Your lip quirked as you tried to suppress a smile. “Good night, Jungkook.

[a-casual-dragonkin]

Thank you, @dragonbleps-fr for tagging me in this. i haven’t done one of these ever

Rules: answer 17 questions, and tag 17 people

Nickname: i go by several nicknames, but i tend to go by either M&M or Emberhope on Discord, 

Zodiac sign: Aries

Height: 5′6″

Hogwarts House: i’m not sure, but most likely either hufflepuff or gryphondor (if i misspelled either, i’m sorry that i’m an uncultured s w i n e)

Last thing I Googled: fear reaction image... don’t question it...

Songs stuck in my head: Mii theme but it’s September, or this variant of the mii theme made uncomfortable

Number of followers: 48

Sleep: as for the time i tend to sleep, usually between 10 PM and midnight. as for adverage sleep per night, 8-10 hours usually

Lucky number: i don’t have one.

Dream job: marine biologist

Wearing: jeans and a plaid, button-up shortsleeve shirt

Favourite song: most likely Thnks fr th Mmrs by Fall Out Boy. it’s jus,,, mmm it’s so good,,,

Favourite instrument: for jokes Otomatone, in serious, either violin, acoustic guitar, or piano

Aesthetic: water dragon. gemstones, seashells and the beach,,, it’s so prebby,,, as for a legit aestetic, pastel colors, especially for blue/purple most likely

Favourite author: sort of a toss up for me, really. either Erin Hunters for Warriors, Rick Riordan for Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or Chris d'Lacey for The Fire Within and its sequels

Favourite animal noise: Kookaburra. love the nutty laugh they make

Random: i drank fish medicine when i was little, i’ve never broken a bone so far, i’m slightly tone deaf, i taught myself how to do art in the fifth grade bc i was super depressed and didn’t know about it, i’m more scared of a fictional character than i am of irl fears i have (spiders, scorpions, and wasps/bees), i’ve never been on a roller coaster, i get night terrors if i don’t sleep with a plush/ stuffed animal, and i found out the hard way that nitrogen is flammable. there’s loads more, but i’ll give y’all those for now.

Tagging: literally anyone who finds this on their dash can feel free to do this, bc i doubt my mutuals would like to get tagged to do this, and i doubt i even have enough mutuals to tag 17 of them

[queenborhapreaderships]

rekindling the flame - chapter 1

Hey everybody! So this is that rami x reader (with a dash of freddie feels) I was talking about earlier! It’s not done, so I guess this is chapter 1? I’ve never cut a fic into chapters before because I’m a stubborn perfectionist but like. Eh. Ya know? Thanks to everyone who told me to go ahead and post this! Also, if anybody would be interested in a tag list, hit me up. I’ve never done one before but I think I can grasp the concept, haha! Anyways, here we go! (pls let me know if you like it, fr)

-description-

You're the daughter of Jim Hutton, so growing up was a roller coaster. With Freddie as practically a second father, things were never boring. But time passed and things changed. Everything changed. Not knowing how to process any of your past, you flee to the states in an attempt to write music and find yourself. It pretty much turns into instant isolation! That all changes when you get a call from your Uncle Bri about a movie being made on Freddie. Secrets come to light and you just might find yourself falling in love with the boy with the beautiful eyes along the way.

-word count- 2,987

ao3 link

You’re alone when you get the call. You’re alone a lot these days, but you work best without the distraction of friends pulling you out to party and get drunk every other night. Besides, you really want to focus on this latest song you’ve been writing. You just can’t seem to get the bridge right, the chord progression is off in the tiniest way and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. Suffice to say it’s been driving you absolutely mad.

Your eyes light up when you strum the new experimental chord you’ve thrown in, but you’re interrupted by the harsh ringtone of your cell.

“Goddammit” you mumble to yourself and sigh as you put your guitar down on top of its case. You look over and feel yourself involuntarily smiling at the contact name. It’s Uncle Bri, you wonder what he’s up to these days. It’s been a while since you’ve heard from him. Too long, actually. That’s hardly his fault, you’re aware of the fact that you’re isolating yourself but you really can’t really garner up the energy to care, as bad as it sounds. You pull yourself out of your thoughts and reach over to answer the phone.

“Hey, Uncle Bri!”

“(y/n)! I’m glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing, my dear? We miss you!”

“Aww, I miss you guys too! I can’t complain! I’ve been working on my music a lot, so that’s been taking up the majority of my life at the moment” you sigh, suddenly wishing you’d have managed your time better. You really do miss your goofy Uncles.

“Ahhh, just like good ol’ Freddie, I see” you can hear the smile toying with his voice.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that”

“Well, I would,” he says triumphantly. “Anyways, do you have any serious, unmovable plans for the next, oh, say 8 or so months?” you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Um, not that I know of...” you say, although it comes out more as of a question

“Perfect! Then I’ll be flying you over here to the UK pronto. You’ve got work to do” he says and hangs up in a haste.

You pull the phone down and stare at it. That was. Odd.

It’s not until later you realize that this is all for that movie that you’ve been hearing rumors about for months. You weren’t sure if it was actually happening or not, you feel like you definitely should have considering who you are, but Uncle Bri certainly wouldn’t be uprooting your life for anything unimportant. You’ve settled into a nice routine over in the states. For a movie this important though, this central to who you are, you’d be upset if you weren’t involved.

~~~~

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you don’t remember as much about your father’s partner as you wish you did. Let’s be real though, he was practically your second dad, he raised you until you were almost seven. You have faint memories of calling him papa. Your dad didn’t love it at first, he was probably worried about what Freddie thought. He, of course, absolutely adored it and as well as he adored you. So, papa, he was.

The memories you do have, you wouldn’t trade for the world. For the entire world. Some of your favorites were Freddie making you breakfast and cuddling on the couch. He would always read to you before bed and find your favorite stuffed bear before tucking you in and pecking your forehead. Sometimes, your favorite nights, he would sing you to sleep. You were probably too old for lullabies, but Freddie never failed to deliver, not even towards the end. His favorite song to sing you was I Was Born to Love You. He sang it slow and soft, making sure you took every word to heart. Sometimes you dream about it, wishing for just one more day together with the two of them.

You don’t have much to do on the hellish flight ahead of you, so you pull up the folder you keep on your phone of pictures of your dad and Freddie. They looked just as happy as they were. You smile as you scroll through them, pictures the world hasn’t seen. Pictures of the two with their cats, pictures of all three of you together.

You feel your eyes mist up when you get to one of your favorites. At first glance, it appears to be the most mundane thing in the world, but to you it’s everything. Freddie’s balancing you on his hip and he’s got his other arm wrapped around your father, kissing his cheek.

“Oh, fuck” you mutter under your breath, tearing yourself away from the grainy image. You’re finally realizing just how difficult consulting on this movie is actually going to be. You miss your dad and you miss Freddie more than words can say.

You never really dealt with your fathers' death nearly a decade ago. Freddie’s death probably messed you up in more ways that you’re even able to conceptualize because you were so young at the time. He was just a part of you. A part of your history. A part of who you were and who you are.

You’ve got a lot of shit to work through, and god, you hope you’ll be able to hold it together for just a while longer. This movie is important to the two most important people to you. You’re certainly not going to ruin your chance at making it the best it can be because you can’t look at the main character of the film without losing it.

You swallow the lump in your throat and reach down to rummage through your bag for your headphones. You close the photos app and pull up Spotify instead. Zoning out and distracting yourself with music is always how you’ve dealt with the brunt of your emotional issues since practically the beginning of time. The second the first note rings out, you feel a weight lift off of your shoulders and you sigh in relief as you settle in for a long ride.

~~~

You’re pretty damn sure that finally getting off the stuffy plane and stretching your legs is the best feeling in the world. You’re instantly proven wrong though when you spot your uncles waiting for you. They’ve got a dorky sign with “(y/n) Hutton” scrawled across it with a few shaky hearts at the bottom. You can’t help but chuckle, your heart swelling at the gesture.

You quicken your pace and when they notice you barreling towards them, your clunky bags in tow, their faces light up. Their sign and your suitcases are instantly ditched in place of Uncle Rog opening his arms up for you to crash into. Of course, you do, without a second thought and you hold on tight. It feels like if you don’t, he’ll disappear right out from under you.

“Oh, love, how are you? How are you, really?” Uncle Rog says, pulling you away from him to study your face. You sheepishly avoid eye contact, aware that these two know you better than most.

“You know, we do worry about you. More than you think.” Uncle Bri chimes in, responding to your silence. He then reaches over and takes his turn to pull you into a hug. You close your eyes and bury your head in his shoulder. You barely muster the strength needed to keep your voice from shaking.

“I know. I just missed you guys, is all” you break away and get your bearings together. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the two sharing a skeptical glance, but luckily they drop it for now.

~~~

To say the studio was huge would be an understatement. You’d never dealt with anything this major in your entire life, sure you’d been going to your Uncle’s concerts since you were little. That was different though, that was second nature. Music has always been second nature. This? This is a different world, man. There are more… rules. You’ve never been one for rules.

So far, you’ve been introduced to a lot of the key players in the movie, big execs and such. They���ve all been very graceful and polite if not slightly intimidated by you, which you find hilarious. You still haven’t met any of the actors yet, but you’d been given their names and have already done extensive googling. They all seem like the perfect people for the parts.

You’d actually seen a bit of Rami, Freddie’s actor’s, work in the past. The Night at the Museum trilogy is a goddamn classic and your friends have forced you to watch a couple of episodes of Mr. Robot. So you’re definitely excited, if not a little nervous, to meet the boys.

It’s almost like the universe can read your mind because when you and your uncles turn the corner, there they are. You can tell they’ve met before because Rami, and if you remember correctly, Joe are waving and they all walk over.

“(y/n), you haven’t met the boys yet, have you?” Uncle Bri asks, and before you have the time to answer, he’s introducing you to them respectively. You do your best to remember who is who, it shouldn’t be too hard but this would not be a great situation to slip up. There’s Ben, Joe, Gwilym, and finally, you reach Rami.

His eyes are even more striking in person. You think he’s saying something but you can’t hear a word of it. A poke on your shoulder pulls you out of your trance and you realize you’ve been staring at him for a longer amount of time than would be considered socially acceptable. You glance over at Uncle Bri, a thanks for snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry! Zoned out there for a second, it was a long flight” you grin and do your best to sound casual but you’re definitely rattled from your mistake. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you see Rami’s warm smile.

“Don’t worry about it, I totally understand. You flew in from the states, right? That ten-hour flight can be brutal” you nod and he continues. “Anyways, I was just saying how much of an honor it is to be playing Freddie and if there’s anything you ever need or want to talk in regards of the script or characterization, I’m always here. You probably have more influence than me when it comes to that actually, but the offer is always on the table! The same goes for all of us.” He gestures at his castmates and they all nod accordingly. He sounds incredibly sincere and it’s impossible not to grin.

“I really appreciate that, guys. I’m here if any of you need anything too! If you need help going over your lines or if you have any questions about my uncles, dad or my experience with Freddie as a father figure, I’d be more than happy to let you in on everything I know” You’re not, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but why else are you here?

You hear a chorus of thank you’s and wave at them as they rush off to hair and makeup, already late. You look down and try to swallow a smile, you’d be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend it wasn’t endearing. The three of you continue down your path and you feel Uncle Rog bump into you.

“You okay, (y/n)?” he says, trying poorly to hide his shit-eating grin. Oh god, what does he think he knows now?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired…” you taper off when you notice the look the two give each other.

“Okaaay, whatever you say,” he says in a sing-songy voice. You groan and roll your eyes.

“Well I don’t know about you two, but I’m gonna go explore the set,” you say, trying to get a minute to yourself. It’s just all been a little overwhelming and the last thing you need is your uncles scheming over whatever it is they’re scheming over because if there’s anything you know, it’s that look.

“Have fun, love. We’ll be here if you need us” Uncle Bri reminds you for the thousandth time. You thank him and wander off on your own.

~~~

As the days go by, you fall into a routine. They don’t need you there at a specific time so you definitely consider yourself lucky in that regard. All of the actors have to be at hair and makeup typically at around 6. You shuffle in at a comfortable 10, say hi to anyone who isn’t currently working on a scene, and hide away in one of the back rooms with the writers.

The script has already been put out of course, but they still meet every day to talk about potential revisions or go over their work with the rest of the cast and crew. While definitely on different sides of the globe from each other, what they do isn’t very far from what you do. At least it’s on the same planet. Which would be a first in this new world of Hollywood. So you’d say things are going pretty smoothly. You haven’t yet had to dig deep and reveal anything about yourself or your history that you didn’t want to.

Of course, though, the universe can’t let you stay comfortable for very long. It needs to have its fun in throwing you for a loop just once you think you’ve got things figured out. This loop comes in the form of none other than Rami Malek. At first, that is.

It starts like any other day. You come into the studio in your baggy hoodie, with your messy hair strewn everywhere, and your headphones in with the volume up as loud as it will go. You yawn and scrub at your eyes. You were up pretty late working on that same damn song, it’s just been eating away at you. The day you figure out how that bridge works will be a goddamn national holiday in your book. You groan and continue down the winding hallways.

When Rami comes up behind you and taps your shoulder, you jump out of your skin and your soul just about leaves your body. You rip your headphones out and turn around to see him giggling like a toddler and you gasp, grasping your chest dramatically.

Your heart flutters at the carefree expression on his face and you swallow down and try to ignore the emotions so obviously bubbling up to the surface. You can’t help but stare though, it’s not your fault that he’s absolutely breathtaking. You’re confident that his jawline could cut steel. This time, your admiration slides and he doesn’t notice because he’s still pulling himself together after the little incident.

He’s wearing Freddie’s angry lizard jacket and he’s got the fake teeth in. He’s the spitting image of Freddie and it honestly would have been a little jarring if it weren’t for him being so warm and open, squashing any possible nerves you may have before they even have the time to fully form.

“Sorry!” he chokes out, swallowing the last of his giggles. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me walking up, but I guess not,” he says and gestures at your headphones dangling down and twirling together.

“Jesus Christ, Rami. You do know that you almost killed me, right? I literally almost died right here!” you say, still playing it up a little bit. You can’t keep a straight face for long though and break eye contact to laugh under your breath. “Anyways, what’s up? I haven’t seen you in a while! You look great, I must say” you point out, referencing the outfit.

“I always look great, darling,” he says, putting on Freddie’s accent. You raise your arms in surrender and he shoots you a grin. Suddenly he’s Rami again, just like that. “So I’ve got that one big scene tomorrow and I feel like something is off with my performance and I just can’t put my finger on it. I was wondering if you were free later tonight after we’re done shooting to go over the script with me?” you’re not sure if he’s doing it on purpose, but he’s giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, I know that feeling,” you say, thinking back to your stupid song. Maybe you can play it for him and get his input? You quickly brush off the thought, this is about him, not you. “And of course! I’d love to!” You can’t even pretend you aren’t honored and a little excited to see him later. Even though you’ve fallen in love with your little routine, you have a real soft spot for this boy.

“Perfect! I can’t wait to see you then” he waves as he walks off. You wave back and once he’s turned the corner, you can’t contain your giddiness. Before you know it, you’re hopping and -hopefully- internally squealing like a schoolgirl. He’s just so cute, okay? It’s not fair. It shouldn’t be legal.

~~~

You spend the rest of your day curled up in the bean bag chair in the corner of the writers' room going over a thousand different scenarios in your head, both eagerly and anxiously awaiting the end of filming. You’ve really been thrown for a loop here, going from total isolation to the midst of practically a high school crush. You’re not even entirely sure why, there’s just something about him. You’re not quite sure whether you like it or not, but there’s one thing you do know. Denying it won’t get you anywhere, you’ve been down that road before.

[akaashirabu]

interconnected (nct winwin, soulmate au)

soulmate au where every night, a random sentence your soul mate has said that day appears on the back of your palm. The first time you encounter each other, a soul mark will appear on your body; when your soul mate is in the vicinity, it’ll slowly move, as if reaching out. When you two touch, the tattoos will connect with each other.  

word count: 2,860 words.

She felt a tingle on the back of her right palm, surprised by the sensation, she knew she had to check what would be written there tonight.

“I lost my airpods, should I buy a new one?”

It seems like her soul mate had lost his airpods, poor him…or her since she didn’t really know who or what gender is her soulmate.

It had been exactly 2 years since the first time she’d been receiving random sentences from her soulmate. Apparently, when you turn the age of eighteen you’ll start receiving random sentences your soulmate has said that day on the back of your palm. At first, she didn’t really believe the stories from her parents and brother but when she received the first random sentence, it was surreal and up until now she still wasn’t used to it.

She find it weird actually; every night she would receive random sentences but not a single one gave her a clue on who’s her soulmate yet. She didn’t even know if they’re from the same country, so basically she knew nothing about her soulmate.

Anyways, she didn’t have time to worry about it since university is giving her total stress and all she wanted right now is to survive all of her subjects and graduate as soon as possible.

------

"Excuse me, coming through...Excuse m-e" she was pushing her way through the sea of students flooding the hallway.

It was the only way to the study hall where her class is and she's already 30 minutes late.

"Damn why did I overslept agai—whoops—" she was mumbling to herself and ended up on her bottom as she collided on a sturdy thing, someone rather.

Panicking, she stood up muttering a sorry and bowed an apology to the person she bumped into as she dashed away.

Finally, she managed to arrive at the study hall and she was bewildered at what greeted her.

The study hall was empty, not even a single soul inside.

She sighed, fishing her phone from her pocket as she checks the date today.

It was a Thursday and she doesn't have classes on the said day. She automatically ruffled her hair in annoyance.

"I'm so stupid" she mumbles.

Closing the door of the study hall, she called one of her friends. It took a while for them to answer though but after a good 3 minutes they did.

"What do you need?" the person on the other end of the call asked, sleep evident in his voice.

"I came to class on a Thursday" She answered with a deep sigh.

"Oh? You woke me up to say that?"  He complained.

"I don't have classes on Thursdays, remember?" 

"You overslept again, panicked, rushed to class but it's a Thursday and you don't have classes so you found the study hall empty. Great! You really are dumb." He said in one go.

"Thanks for making me feel a lot more worse; what a great friend you are" She sarcastically said.

His laugh can be heard and she can only roll her eyes at him.

"Come on, cheer up, let me just put some clothes on and I'll treat you to a nice cup of coffee, okay?" he says.

"Yeah" she said and hangs up the call, not even letting him say another word.

Walking her way to the café where she works part time, she felt her shoulders slump. She's still feeling bad about oversleeping and also the fact that she's feeling a lot more tired than usual. Being a working student was taking a great toll on her.

Speaking of close friends, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul or Ten just like how he wanted to be called was actually a senior of hers who's majoring in dance. She met him through a mutual friend, Johnny and unfortunately, they’ll be sharing a Chinese class this semester. Ten was a social bee and was friendly to everyone but was extra friendly with her because according to him they simply share the same interests but that still made her think otherwise because they’re nothing alike.

"Psst, Pink head here!" Ten called.

It hasn’t been that long since she sported a rusty pink hair but Ten’s already making fun of it.

“You haven’t taken a shower” She said, scrunching up her nose.

“Ya! I still smell nice though” he counters.

She reached for a cup on the table; the one with her nickname scribbled on it while the other had handsome10 written, to which she rolled her eyes at.

“You look extra ugly today, pink head” he said.

She almost spit her coffee but thought of a counter. “You might as well go to the doctors to get your eyes checked”

Ten chuckled. “Seriously though you don’t look nice”

“I’m not in the mood to joke with you shiten” She glared at him.

Ten immediately straighten up, looking at her with a serious expression. “Okay hands down. I’m serious; you look so tired and pale. Are you even eating properly?”

“She had been skipping lunch!” Taeyong, her co-worker who was behind the counter butts in the conversation.

She sighed. “Ya I didn’t! I’m okay and yes I’m eating properly” 

“Are you sure?” Ten asked, trying to look straight at her to see if she’s lying or not.

“Yeah I’m sure”

Ten didn’t buy it but he trusts her anyway. “Just promise you’re going to tell me if something’s wrong okay?”

“Okay?” She says, asked rather.

“I’m older so you can depend on me” he proudly says.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up shiten, you’re only a year older than me”

“Still older than you though” He counters.

“Hey Tae, is it okay if I take over Jaehyun’s shift today too?” She asked Taeyong, ignoring Ten who pouted in return.

“Yeah, I think he would love that, he’s busy with his research paper anyways” Taeyong answers, tossing her the staff room keycard.

“Don’t you have classes today?” she turned to Ten.

“Oh yeah I almost forgot, I have ballet” he stood up, taking a hold of his cup of coffee.

“I thought so” she sighed.

“I’ll be going first okay? Text me!” Ten waved goodbye to her.

------

She immediately went home after her shift at the café. She forgot she needed to finish a plate due on Saturday so she needed all the time she could get to finish it on time.

As she dumps her drawing tools at her table, she felt a tingle on the back of her palm.

“I wanted to try Oolong Milk Tea.”

Oh so her soulmate is into milk tea when she actually prefers coffee.

She was about to go back to focusing on her plate when she noticed something on her wrist.

There she saw a small mark of a Yin; she couldn’t believe it and initially reached out to wipe it but it’s still there, scribbled in black ink.

to: shi10

hey, something popped up in my wrist. what do u think this means?

-Photo Attachment-

fr: shi10

gurl, are u kidding me? u don’t know what that means?

to: shi10

I wouldn’t ask if I already knew.

fr: shi10

oh god, where in the mountains do you live. It must be your soul mark, which means you already encountered your soul mate, genius.

Her phone started ringing, Ten calling her, being the impatient person he was.

“When did it show up?” He asked.

“I don’t know, I only noticed now when the daily random sentence popped up earlier. I don’t even know about this soul mark thingy, my family didn’t say something about this one” she complained.

“I think they did, you just don’t pay attention.”

She sighed. “Okay, point taken.”

“Oh my god, this actually means your soulmate is studying in Hanyang too” Ten said from the other line that made her roll her eyes.

“We’re not sure, Ten”

“Ya I’m pretty sure about it!” yelled Ten.“So did you encounter anyone suspicious earlier?” he added.

“What do you think? I encountered about sixty people earlier in the café, how could I possibly know if anyone of them is my soulmate.” She stated the obvious.

“I don’t know. Maybe you felt butterflies or whatever.” Imagine how Ten would carelessly shrug as he said that.

She groans. “ugh shut up. Anyways, I’m hanging up. I still need to finish my plate, it’s due this Saturday.”

“Hey, don’t stay up too late, are you forgetting about our Chinese class tomorrow?” Ten reminded her.

“I know. Bye” she said and immediately hangs up the call without even letting him talk…again.

------

The next day, she had barely made it in time for their first day in Chinese Class.

“Let me guess, you overslept again.” Ten whispered as their professor, Mr. Wu started his lecture.

“No shit Sherlock.” She rolled her eyes at him.

After about 20 minutes of lecture, Mr. Wu instructed the class to pair up for an activity and of course she’d choose Ten. He’s the only person she’s familiar with in this class anyways.

She was trying to figure out how the two of them would pass this activity when Ten suddenly spoke.

“Hey, is it just me or your soul mark has been moving since the start of the class?”

“Huh? I think it’s just you” she shrugged.

“No, look” Ten insisted that she look at her wrist.

And no doubt, he’s right. The mark has been moving slowly and noticeable when you look closely.

“What now?” she asked, clearly not knowing what the hell is happening.

Ten looked up from his phone. “It’s says that when your soul mark is moving, your soulmate is in the vicinity. It’s reaching out like…wanting you close to your soulmate.”

“You mean…my soulmate is here? In this class?” she says in an audible whisper.

She and Ten then frantically looked everywhere inside the classroom, trying to locate her soulmate.

“If your mark is moving, your soulmate’s mark must’ve been moving too. He could be anyone in here.” Ten says.

But suddenly, her soul mark stopped moving. Then it means your soulmate is not within the vicinity anymore.

“I think he’s not here” she says, disappointment evident in her voice.

“You’re disappointed? I thought you didn’t care about this soulmate stuff hmm?” Ten teased.

“Ya! It’s not like that” her cheeks flushed crimson pink.

“If you said so.” Ten laughed.

She gave him a glare and nagged about how they should finish the activity.

-----

That afternoon, she had to go to the café to fill up for Jaehyun’s shift again. She mentally groans thinking of how that dude gave her his shift for today after she took over for him yesterday.

“Hey you’re here!” Taeyong beams.

“Well unfortunately, I’ll be taking over Jaehyun’s shift again.” She sighed.

Taeyong pouted. “He seems busy nowadays.” he said and she nodded.

It was a busy afternoon for the café, lots of students getting their daily dose of coffee.

“Can you go give that chocolate cake to that table over there?” Taeyong asks.

“I’m on it” she answered.

She placed the cake on the table and was about to go back to the counter when she bump into someone, the coffee he’s holding spilled all over her. Thank god she’s wearing an apron.

She kneeled down to pick up the empty cup of iced coffee on the floor “I-I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to-“ she wasn’t able to continue what she was saying when she realized the person was also picking up the empty cup and their hands accidentally brush against each other.

As if it were magic, she felt that slight burning sensation on her wrist and the butterflies on her stomach. She looked up and he too was looking at her.

It’s as if time has stopped and the only people present are him and her. The both of them looked at their wrists, their soul marks glistening in red ink. Her’s is a Yin and His’ is a Yang.

She couldn’t believe what’s happening and didn’t even know what to say. By the looks of it, he was too. As they continue to look at each other, their soul marks then turned to a complete Yin Yang symbol, back in its dark ink color.

Getting a grip of himself, he got a handkerchief from his pocket and slowly handed it to her, a shy but sweet smile showing up on his face. She, on the other hand, can’t help but be flustered at the sight of this handsome man in front of her.

“Sorry uhm…(Insert your name), I wasn’t looking on where I’m going and bumped into you” he says.

Her eyes widened. “H-how do you know my name?” she asked.

He smiled and pointed at her nametag. Oh Of course, she had her nametag. She mentally face palmed herself, her cheeks flushing in deep crimson red because of embarrassment.

She used the handkerchief to wipe the coffee that was spilled on her.

“Uhm thanks for the handkerchief…uhhmm?”

He looked at her again with that sweet smile. “Sicheng, Dong Sicheng.” he spoke.

“Uhm…Thanks Sicheng and don’t worry it’s okay” she says.

“Uhm Hello?” someone butts into their conversation. They both looked to the side to see Taeyong and Ten, judging them.

“Are you guys going to just stay there?” Ten teasingly said.

“Oh let me get that.” Taeyong intercepts, getting the forgotten empty cup of iced coffee.

She and Sicheng stood up to give way for Taeyong who’s cleaning the mess from the spilled iced coffee.

There was suddenly an awkward silence after that so Ten decided to break the ice.

“I think you two should talk.” He says.

She then found herself on a bench outside the café, sitting beside a handsome young man, who’s supposedly her soulmate she’d been receiving random sentences for 2 years now.

“Pink…” he spoke.

“Huh?”

“Chinese class …” he mumbled. Actually, right when she saw him, she’s been racking her memory to remember why he’s familiar.

She straightened, suddenly remembering the Chinese class with Ten earlier where her soul mark started moving.

“Oh yeah…but uhm what about pink?” she blinked and took notice of how they had similar hair colors. How come she didn’t notice it before? “Ah oh…the hair...”

He looked at her, as if surprised to know such fact.

“So uhm…soulmates eh?” he shyly said.

She fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “Uhm…I guess so.”

He was contemplating on what to do but screw it, it was now or never.

“Can I?” he asked, asking her permission if he could touch her wrist.

She nodded, her cheeks flaming again.

He delicately brushed his fingers on the Yin Yang mark on her right wrist and she felt a sudden tingle where he touched.

“Would you believe me if I say that I’ve known all along that you’re my soulmate?” he says.

She looked at him, not knowing what to answer so instead she asked. “How?”

“It was this one night when the daily random sentence popped up and it said ‘I had to take over Jaehyun’s shift again.’ and coincidentally Jaehyun and I share the same English Literature class so I asked him if he knows something about it. And then, things start to make sense.” He explained.

“But...how come we didn’t encounter each other sooner if you knew all along” she mumbles.

“I also have no idea, I guess it was timing. I didn’t get the soul mark until yesterday when we accidentally bumped into each other. And I confirmed it earlier when the soul mark started moving during Chinese Class…and I’m sorry I was nervous so I went out of the room and didn’t approached you”

She didn’t say anything and just reached for his wrist. She softly brushed her fingers on his soul mark as if trying to confirm it’s real. As she touched his soul mark, he felt that tingle even up to his spine; he realized how he must’ve really liked her ever since the first time he’d watched her from afar.

“I like you.” He says.

She was blushing madly. Imagine how this handsome man was smiling sweetly at her and telling her he likes her. And for goodness sake, he was her soulmate. Isn’t this going a little too fast though? But in the back of her head, she’s screaming how she already likes him a lot, as if they’ve known each other for so long.

“I think…I like you too but I want to take things slow” she shyly says.

“I’m cool with that.” He chuckled.

“So uhm, Sicheng, I’m (Insert your name), nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, (Insert your name).” He then showed you that sweet smile that makes your knees go jelly.

And that was the start of your journey with your soulmate.

Come to think of it, he’s Chinese so why was he taking Chinese classes?

Well, let’s just say a sneaky little Jaehyun told Sicheng that you were taking that subject this semester.

[mintyjin]

neighbor au: mark tuan

true story: when I moved states, my mattress got lost and I slept on the floor for two weeks. we also lost all of my hangers so I couldn’t even unpack my clothes lmao

the first time you met mark was when you were moving in

somehow you lost your mattress in the transit

would be a great time to own a sleeping bag, but lmao you do not

and your couch wasn’t coming in until the next weekend

it’s not exactly an ideal situation

so you go to the apartment door next to yours and tentatively knock

in the seconds after you knock, you look down and see the owner has a food and water bowl set up for any stray animals

which is super adorable awh

the door opens and wow ok he’s gorgeous and kind to animals? wow

pull yourself together, y/n, you need a place to sleep

you give him a small smile and say, “Hi, so I’m Y/N, I’m in 307? I just moved in today.”

“Oh hi! I’m Mark.”

you exchange pleasantries and talk a bit but then you remember why you came

“So this is weird and sudden but my mattress is missing and I don’t have anything to sleep on, would you happen to have a spare sleeping bag or something?”

and his eyes get a little wide and he’s like, “Ah, no, I don’t.”

you’re like ok,,,, guess i’ll keep asking around then ,,,,

and you’re about to wave goodbye and continue your search when you hear mark say, “You can borrow my couch if you want? I’ve got takeout on the way and I always order to much to eat by myself…”

sleeping on the couch of a guy you just met would ordinarily seem like a questionable idea but listen, you’ve been moving boxes all day. you’re tired. you’re hungry. you just want something soft to sleep on

besides, this guy is your next-door-neighbor, you’re going to see a lot of each other, anyway

so you end up sitting on his couch beside him surrounded by more takeout boxes than you’ve ever previously seen in one place

he’s digging into some lo mein like it’s nbd that he ordered not one, not two, but three boxes of egg rollls to eat by himself

“You like documentaries?” he asks

“True crime or wildlife?”

he just smiles and passes you the general tso’s chicken

five minutes into the documentary, he notices you look cold

so he leaves for a minute and comes back with the fluffiest, fleeciest blanket you’ve ever seen

you swaddle up in it and smile widely at him and go to take a bite of some fried rice

“So… where are you from, again?” he asks

you tell him where you’re from and why you moved and he’s so interested in what you have to say 

he tells you he knows what it’s like to leave everything familiar behind for a new city with new opportunities 

you’re like oh????

he’s like yeah I’m from LA and this is not LA so

and you’re shocked because wow LA that’s so so cool and he gets kind of shy but he answers all your questions about the city nonetheless and tells you his funny stories of what it was like to grow up there

when you tell him your own weird childhood stories, he laughs and it’s the strangest and most infectious laugh you’ve ever heard 

so you just start dying

and he can’t stop laughing, either, cause every time he looks over and sees you still laughing, he loses it again

y'all a mess 

you ask him about the animal food bowls outside and he explains that there are two or three cats in the neighborhood that regularly make their way up to your floor of the apartment building somehow 

and he takes out his phone to show you pictures of all of them 

like a proud father or something 

c u te 

but eventually you both start yawning incessantly so he’s like, “You don’t have to sleep on the couch- you can take my bed-”

“The couch is fine! I won’t take your bed,” you insist 

a bit of an argument follows but not the angry kind

more like the “listen here you stubborn but super cute person” kind of argument 

cause mark is super duper duper cute like you’re not gonna deny it 

but you’re too polite and feel like you’ve already intruded too much to allow him to give up his bed for you 

and he eventually just shrugs and is like, “The couch is all yours, then. Bathroom is down the hall on the left.” 

you smile and arrange the blankets and pillows he’s given you to just the way you like them before waving at him and saying goodnight 

he just shakes his head, smiling, and goes into his room

in the morning, you eat leftover takeout for breakfast 

he offers to help you unpack but you’re like absolutely not you’ve done enough and I’m very particular about where things go

and then you go home 

well, next door

it’s a week or so before you see mark again

it’s 8:30pm and you’re finally getting home after a long, dreadful day

and- just your luck- it started raining on your way home, so your clothes are drenched and it’s cold cold cold 

as you walk into your apartment building, wringing water out of your shirt, you see the elevator doors start to slide shut

“Hold the doors please!” you call and to your luck, the person inside hears and actually listens 

you dash in and turn to see mark

he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats and is holding approximately 31 bags of groceries but he’s just as cute as you remembered 

“So I’m guessing you didn't want to take multiple trips?” you joke, motioning to the absurd amount of bags in his arms 

he laughs and says, “Something like that.” 

you’re like ok but fr that looks painful let me help-

and now you’re in his apartment again! helping him put away the groceries 

and you weren’t really paying attention the first time you were over but his apartment is actually very nice 

especially for a single guy in his 20s whom you watched consume a ridiculous amount of takeout 

everything is very soft and clean

he’s got photos and knick-knacks on every surface but you can tell they’ve all got some story or meaning behind them 

nothing looks cluttered or anything 

just comfortable 

it’s quiet between the two of you and you’re about to leave when mark asks if you ever got your mattress 

thankfully, you did, and you tell him that it came the afternoon after he let you crash on his couch 

he’s like ah, that’s good. but don’t hesitate to tell me if you ever need help again! 

you say you definitely wouldn’t hesitate 

he kind of blushes a little bit after that

“Actually, Y/N, can I have your number? I mean, we’re neighbors and all now so I thought-” 

“Yeah, of course! But you have to text me when those cats come by.” 

his expression softens and he says, “And you can text me anytime, even if you don’t really have anything to talk about.” 

boiii you can’t go around saying things like that you’ll give us all heart attacks 

but both of you are too red-faced and flustered to talk much after that little bomb so you go home and take a shower and try to clear your head 

it doesn’t work 

mark tuan is like a song stuck in your head 

the next night your phone chimes as you’re getting into bed and you groan until you realize it’s a text from mark 

to be more specific, it’s a picture from mark of two adorable little cats right outside your door 

you better bet you bolt outside, barefoot and pajamas and messy hair and all

the sight that greets you is almost too cute for words 

mark, in striped pajamas and fluffy hair, with one cat in his lap and the other nuzzling against the palm of his hand 

when he hears your door close, he looks over to you and gestures for you to sit next to him

you sit right beside him, so close your shoulders are touching and you can feel the soft warmth he radiates 

“This is Charlie,” he says softly, his voice slightly raspy in the late hour, as he pets the cat in his lap, “and that’s Violet.” 

“They’re adorable!” you reply, reaching towards the one he called Violet and running your fingers through her soft fur 

“Do you want to feed them?” he asks

you say yes yes yes and he pours some small treats into your hand and shows you how to hold your hand so that the cats will eat from it 

when they take their first shy bites, you look over to mark with a positively gleeful expression and he thinks that even in the bad apartment hallway lighting, even with your messy hair and pajamas, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen 

but you’re a bit too preoccupied with rather elegant felines to notice he’s staring at you

but when the cats walk away, he takes a deep breath and steadies his nerves and reaches out to lightly brush a piece of hair from your face 

you’re a bit flabbergasted by the action and stutter instead of speaking 

he’s ok with that 

“There’s this documentary series on Netflix I think you would like,” he says, “can it be our thing?” 

“So is this a date or what?” you ask, hoping your raised eyebrow hides the blush spreading across your cheeks 

“It’s a date, if you’re ok with it.” 

you are

you are so very ok with it

you start watching the series that very night, swaddled under that big fleecy blanket 

and you may or may not be holding his hand

the moral of the story is that true crime docs really bring people together

I mean, hey- you met the cutest, sweetest boy you’ll ever meet in your whole life

and you wouldn’t trade that for any genre

[azunara-archive]

can u believe. its an azu lore post. i know its been a while huh.

ngl i just tagged a bunch of people drac tagged yell at me if u dont want future pings

@unkorea @deadlanddisciple @littleshroomclan @fusefr @incalyscent-fr

"The eldest will go to my sister, Kast. He'll thrive in the Bone Castle, I'm sure of it." Revenant spoke, the skydancer hunched over a small nest of hatchlings, wings half-spread in a protective gesture. He wasn't looking at them, instead focusing on his mate across the nest.

"They're one of our longest standing allies anyways. It'd be a good show of faith. I think the youngest should go to Leechroot--you and I both have sisters there, and she'd be in good hands." The Nighthawk--Mephala--replied, scratching her ideas in the dirt. She was reluctant to get up and get paper and ink, preferring to stay here besides her mate and children.

"The middle child, then? Perhaps the Bloodborn--" Revenant began, only to be cut off by Mephala.

"No. I will not have any of my children near my father."

"CamelCase, then? I had family there, and they're an equally long-standing ally. Kalea spoke highly of her mother as well, and it's one of the few clans that Houndmaster approved of. It seems like high praise in my opinion."

Mephala nodded, gently scooping one of her children back into the nest--the eldest and only boy had tried scrambling out and making a run for it, but she gently nudged him back into place. His youngest sister watched the flurry of activity in the ceilings as Mephala's albino deathseekers came and went. Their eldest daughter was curled up, seemingly asleep, but the way her head flicked slightly with every movement betrayed how intently she was listening to the world around her. She likely heard every word and was pretending she hadn't. Mephala smiled to herself, humming a lullaby she remembered faintly from her childhood.

Her brother had gone, her sister was getting final words of advice from their father, and Namira was stalling. She always knew she'd leave her parent's side at some point, that was inevitable. But now that they were big enough to fend for themselves they had to leave in true Plague fashion, despite their youth. And as her parents had stated multiple times, it was too dangerous to stay in one place.

Her brother had been excited to leave on his own, departing at first light without even waiting for his parents to escort them to the edge of the territory. Namira snorted to herself--of course he'd be eager to go, he was always complaining about how quiet everything was, how his sisters never wanted to wrestle or play--nevermind that he was bigger than them and often beat them handily.

Her sister was about to take aloft with their father now, which didn't particularly surprise Namira. She always had a talent for necromancy, it wasn't surprising Revenant coddled his imperial daughter a bit more. She looked up to the sound of wingbeats as her father and sister took off. She watched them briefly before turning back to her own meager belongings.

A few old notebooks of her mother's, a pair of daggers, a worn doll in the image of the Gladekeeper, and a set of dark leather armor. There was of course the bird food and leashes and jesses their mother gave them as as well as the birds themselves in gilded cages, and each had received a trinket from Revenant's first resurrected bone construct--a good luck charm of sorts.

She pricked her feathers as she sensed her mother behind her. Mephala's shadow cast over her and Namira tied everything together before speaking, "Time to go?"

Mephala gave her daughter a gentle nudge, "You've gotten better at noticing what's happening around you. You'll make an excellent spymaster, little raven."

Namira turned to face her mother with a small smile, blinking hard to chase the tears out of her eyes. "You really think so?"

"Of course. I've included a list of some of my lesser contacts in those books. It will be a good place for you to start. Some day, you might even surpass myself. I look forward to that day." Mephala smiled at that, even as she was crying. Her throat tightened--was this how her mother had felt, long ago when they were released into the Wasteland? Mephala had been younger than Namira before her, and ill-prepared by comparison, and yet there was still that stab of anguish as she prepared to let her daughter go.

"You have your map, right?" Mephala said after a few seconds trying to recollect herself.

"Yeah," Namira said, her voice hitched high with a sniffle. "I do."

"I'll take you to the edge of the territory. You'll have to fly the rest of the way through the Plateau, and then you'll have to cross through the Wasteland before you reach the Tangled Wood--but it'll be okay. The Plateau is an easy flight, and you have Plague magic in your blood. You won't fall susceptible to anything there, and you're a swift flier. You can outrace anyone who gives you trouble, and most won't if you tell them you're the daughter of the Nighthawk. Your birds will give your heritage away sure enough."

"Still, you be careful. Send me a bird when you make it, okay? And don't take any unneccesary risks."

Namira nodded, unable to bring herself to speak. She made a choked noise before crashing forward to embrace her mother, burying her face into her mother's shoulder one last time.

"I love you, my little raven. Fly swift, fly well."

It had been a few hours since her mother had turned back to the small stretch of territory they owned. Namira had flown a swift pace to get through the Plateau as quickly as possible, but now she had slowed down significantly, each wingbeat cause a pulse of pain along her spine.

The bird cages on her sides rattled as the crows inside chirped irritably, and her belongings weighed heavy on her. Still, she had to find a safe place to land. She scanned the Wastelands below her and for miles it was flat stretches of land. Too exposed for her tastes. Closer to the Arcane border there was a forest of sorts--rotted and still pestilent like much of the land, but at least she could find a place to lay low and sleep for the night.

She tilted her wings and adjusted her flight, soaring onwards. It took another hour of steady flying before she was over the forest itself. As she drew closer, she saw a huge pillar of white stone, dappled with bleeding red pools. It unsettled her for some reason, and she veered away from it. Perhaps staying in the forest wasn't such a good idea after all. She sighed, rallying herself for another few hours of flight.

Suddenly, her back and wings became ablaze with pain as something crashed into them, as if someone was shredding her upper half with thousands of claws and teeth. She twisted, plummeting as she tried to see what was attacking her. The creature was blurry, hard to pinpoint as it moved erratically, as if her brain refused to recognize it.

It clawed its way higher into the sky for a second swoop and Namira let herself fall further, eyes squinted as she tried to figure out what the thing was. It appeared almost like one a heartred croaker, with huge fleshy wings and a reptillian face. But something was very wrong with it.

Its wings were crimson, but that was because it was lined with hundreds of visible veins, making the wings pulse with each movement. Namira realized now that the underside of its belly was crimson with veins as well, a rosy shade of red that stood stark against the sky. It had no eyes either, instead empty sockets with roses sprouting from them, and flashing rows of teeth as it snapped at the air aimlessly.

The ground rushed up to meet her--boughs of blood red trees and bone white branches stretching for her in a fatal catch. She frantically braced her wings to try and slow her descent--the beast above her had no such fear of the ground evidently as it dove madly towards her at full speed.

Namira squeezed her eyes shut as she collided with the trees, hearing the branches snap and break under her weight. The branches tore at her flesh and she winced in pain. However, slowing down had prevented her from the fate that the beast was experiencing. It dashed itself against the trees, moving too quickly and impaling itself on a branch.

She let herself fall to the ground and collapse, panting hard. After several seconds she did a quick assessment--miraculously, all of her belongings were intact, and the birds in the cages were rattled and angry but otherwise unharmed. "Thank the Gods," Namira whispered as she sat up on her haunches, looking around her. Night was rapidly falling, and she had to find somewhere to camp for the night. She started slowly moving in a direction, limping along in pain.

Half an hour later and she realized everything still looked largely the same--she was definitely lost and had zero way of figuring out any rhyme or reason to this forest. "Figures," Namira hissed to her birds, "I bet the others got to where they needed just safely, and here I am stuck in this damn forest."

She shook herself, trying to calm herself. "Okay, okay. What would Mom do? She wouldn't panic, right, so I gotta stay calm. Just stay calm. It'll be alright."

"Namira, come quickly! Help!" A voice rang out and Namira froze. It was her brother crying out for help, and she raced towards the voice, ignoring her pain. His voice grew louder, more desperate, when she suddenly froze. There was no way he would be here.

His route took him much farther south, closer to the Water border than the Arcane border. What was he doing calling for help?

"Namira, please!" Her sister's voice rang out then, followed by a chorus of her mother and father and brother all begging her for help. She recoiled, confused and afraid as the forest came alive with the desperate pleas of her family.

Something was coming now--she could see something moving swiftly through the trees. Its movements were erratic and too quick for her eyes to follow, much like the beast she had faced earlier. The voices followed after it, chorusing along as it screamed. Namira backed away, wings fluffed up in distress.

"Go away!" She yowled, setting off running once more. The voices followed, except instead of a chorus of pleas for help they became mad laughter, her entire family howling in mocking laughter.

Then she realized there was literal howling.

Something crashed into her, knocking her into the ground. The forest came alive with a chorus of snarls, and Namira was aware something was standing over her. She curled up in fear, wings folded over her head as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

There was a shriek in the woods as the horrible laughter became different voices, then howls of anger, then silence. Namira opened an eye to see a huge black wolf standing over her. The wolf had shots of silver in their fur and was covered in scars, yet it still snarled ferociously as it kept a protective position.

She realized then she wasn't alone--other dragons had come. There were two imperials, both wearing ferocious wolf capes, and a wildclaw with a dark wolf pelt matching the wolf that stood atop Namira. One of the imperials then spoke up, the one with a white wolf fur cloak.

"S'good thing we heard you, huh?" She said with an easy grin. "You would've been dinner for that beast if we hadn't come along."

"Are you well?" The other imperial asked, moving closer to inspect her. The wolf stepped away to stand by the wildclaw, letting the imperial look closely at Namira. Namira froze as the huge imperial loomed over her, yet there was something familiar about the dragons, something in the smell.

The wildclaw came closer then, wiping her sword clean and sheathing it in one smooth move. She inspected Namira, head tilted, before she finally spoke, "One of the Blood Queen's spawn."

Namira blinked in confusion, peering at the wildclaw. How--?

"Her magic's odd, though. S'got nature and arcane along with Plague." The white-wolf imperial piped up. "Smells like home too."

"...Then they lived." The gray-wolf imperial mused. "Unbelievable. I thought we were the only survivors."

Namira shuffled upright, squinting at her rescuers. "Wait, who are you? Do you know my parents?"

"My name's Kalea!" The white-wolf imperial chirped, and then gestured to her twin, "This is Kyrja."

"And I'm Mellori," the wildclaw stated calmly, a hint of amusement tracing her features as Namira's eyes widened.

"The Houndmaster?" Namira asked, "Mom and Dad talked about you, said you were one of the bravest dragons they knew."

"And humor me, who were your parents of Saeva Renatus blood?" The wildclaw said.

"Mephala and Revenant."

"As I figured. It's good to hear others of our clan managed to survive." Mellori seemed pleased by this knowledge. "I was always sad that our pack had been crippled so."

"We should get her back to the camp." Kyrja said calmly, "She's pretty hurt."

"C'mon, hop on my back." Kalea grinned, stretching out so Namira could clamber aboard. The skydancer obliged, and from her perch realized that beyond these dragons there were numerous strange creatures--bone constructs like her father's, but imbued with steel as well and dog-shaped. Such was the Pack of the Houndmaster, she supposed.

"Y'think Anaimia will be angry?" Kalea asked as she padded along. Namira simply listened to the conversation--now that she was safe she was too exhausted to really contribute. She hadn't realized how tired she was.

"Doubt it. She has strong lineages and I'm sure even Anaimia has heard of the Nighthawk," Kyrja replied.

"Oughta let her stay, then. I kinda feel bad for her, though. Never gonna get to where she was going." Kalea's voice was quiet, and Namira could barely hear it.

"She'll be safe here." Mellori said smoothly, "I will keep an eye on her, as a child of my packmates. The--" Mellori's voice drifted away, or perhaps more accurately, Namira drifted away into sleep, lulled by the rocking movements of Kalea.

Her last thoughts before she fully slipped unconscious was how would she explain what happened to her parents.

[scribsallaround]

The Church Interlude

Background: Angelica and John Church married straight out of college and had a daughter named Catherine. He dies of cancer 3 years later. Skip another 3 years, Angelica meets Lafayette and he becomes her first boyfriend since John died. Without further ado, I present the Church Interlude. He'd gone peacefully in his sleep in late May. His favorite time of year, and his favorite month. She showed him pictures of Catherine and sunsets and his favorite things, but he never saw them, of course. He was practically in a vegetative state by the time he finally passed. She screamed and cried and rocked her baby with silent tears, staring into her eyes that so resembled his. She wanted the child to know her father, but that wasn't an option. It wasn't long before the day rolled around again. This year would mark the 5 year anniversary and, per usual, she wasn't prepared. She gradually grew worse and worse in the week leading up and, that morning, curled into a ball and sobbed. And that's how Lafayette awoke to her shaking body on May 28. But he knew what was happening and simply wrapped his strong, comforting arms around her and let her sob into his chest. Once she wore herself out, she silently slipped out of bed, and he followed suit. He changed on his side of the room while she got in the shower, and gave her privacy, going to wait downstairs, browsing through the pictures of his love and John and Catherine. Usually, one of Angelica's sisters would come over and watch Catherine, who knew very little of the significance of the day, but Lafayette assumed he would take care of the little girl while her mother visited John. So he was understandably taken aback when Peggy Schuyler knocked on the door. “Hey Laf,” she greeted with a sad smile. “How's Angie holding up?” “She's…alright, but why are you here?” She snorted indignantly. “Umm, rude.” She strode past him into the house and plopped into the couch, leaving him to close the door behind her with a very confused expression on his face. “I'm here to watch my favorite niece.” “But I thought I was watching Catherine,” he told her, even more confused, if that was possible. “Well you thought wrong. She called me last night to make sure. I come every year.” “Are you sure you heard her right, because-” “She did,” came a soft, somber voice from the stairs. Angelica ascended, seeming way too old to be 27. Grief matured her in a way that made Lafayette squirm with discomfort. She didn't deserve all this hurt when she was still so young, with so much to live for. It just made him want to hold her in his arms forever, or at least until she looked like her normal happy, bubbly self. Immediately, he went to meet her at the bottom of the stairs, gentle kissing her cheek. She tried to smile, for him, and he saw the twitch of the corners of her mouth, but other than that, she just looked exhausted. “Hey sis,” Peggy murmured gently, squeezing her older sister tightly. “Am I watching Kit-Kat?” “Yes,” she answered softly and, before her boyfriend could get a word in, she turned and gently held his hands. “I was hoping…well, would you maybe…come with me?” Go with her? That was…unexpected, and Lafayette couldn't quite figure out how he felt about it. He was happy, jubilant even, that she would want to include him in one of the most tender memories of her past, but he didn't know if he was ready to meet John. His girlfriend’s late husband was always a matter that made him anxious, looming in the shadows like an expectation to live up to, a goal to reach, even if she had assured him months prior that she didn't expect anything but for him to be himself. Still, he knew that meeting John was a privelage, and that it was almost essential in order to continue dating - and sleeping with - his dark-skinned beauty. Her eyes widened with fear as he hesitated, and she snatched her hands from his quickly. “I’m sorry, I-I shouldn't have asked so much fr-” “Non non! I didn't mean…I don't…” he sighed, gathering his wits and gingerly bringing her hands to his lips. “Mon Ange, it would be the greatest pleasure to meet John. Of course I’d love to go with you.” A smile - a REAL smile - flushed her face, and she kissed his lips, gently but earnestly. “Thank you. He’d want to know I was happy.” She was happy. That meant the world to Lafayette. She said she was happy with him, and dear God, did it send him over the moon. “Alright, love birds, don't you want to be gone before Kit-Kat wakes up? I still need to make breakfast.” Peggy smirked, arms crossed and her hip popped out. Angelica almost chuckled, and Laf let out a huff and shook his head in amusement. The youngest Schuyler, and all the other Schuylers too, were like family to him at this point. “You're right. Take care of my baby girl, we'll be back in a bit,” Angelica told her sister, giving her a final peck on the cheek before interlacing her fingers with Laf's and leading the way outside. “Do we need to stop for anything?” he asked, twiddling his thumbs. He wasn't used to being the passenger, but Angelica insisted on driving, and he didn't have anything to do with his hands considering that taking out his phone would have been incredibly rude. “No, I have flowers and…a blanket in the back.” He tried not to show his surprise, but uttered a simple, ‘oh’. Then, after a moment, “How long do you want to stay? Should we pick up lunch?” “Er…sure.” It wasn't something she usually did, but it didn't seem like a bad idea. The blanket was because she usually just lost the strength and the resolve to remain upright, and she didn't feel like sitting on the grass for an hour, crying. A picnic definitely did sound like a better idea than her annual sob-fest, and so she turned at the next exit towards the store. She needed him, Lafayette, beside her. This year, there was no question about whether she should go or not. She had to, and he had to be at her side. Lafayette, on the other hand, felt intrusive. “You don't have to if you don't want - I just thought maybe you'd want something to eat if you got hungry. I want today to go as smoothly as possible for you.” “I know. I want food,” she agreed with a little note of finality in her voice. Sitting back in his seat, Lafayette turned to watch out the window, and they stayed that way until stopping at a rather empty grocery store to pick up some sandwiches, and they were on their way again. “Hey John,” Angelica sniffled quietly to the tombstone as she laid out the blanket and sat gingerly, legs tucked neatly under her. Lafayette lingered behind her, a bit hesitant and fearful of interruption. His hopes of remaining as nonchalant and invisible as possible were, however, dashed, as Angelica introduced him. “This is Lafayette.” She wanted to continue, to gush about all they'd done and how happy the Frenchman made her, but it felt like a betrayal somehow. She had to remind herself that John wanted her to move on, but even moving on felt horrible. ‘He wanted this for you,’ she repeated over and over again, almost like a mantra. “Hello, John,” Lafayette greeted, concealing any trace of uncertainty he had as he sat beside Angelica, a little clumsy while attempting to fold his long limbs into a comfortable position. Once situated, he continued. “Angelica’s told me a lot about you. All good things, of course.” Angelica couldn't help but smile at his effort to make small talk. It meant so much to her that he would accept the unexpected excursion so casually, easily adjusting to the situation. His flexibility was one of the things she admired about him. “Lafayette and I have…well we've been dating for a few months and I…I'm happy,” she murmured with a smile, taking Lafayette's hand and squeezing his hand tightly. In return, he raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to its back and letting it rest softly on the blanket. There wasn't really much to say after that. Well, there was one thing. A few things. Too many things. Things they didn't feel they should share, things they feared to voice in front of the other, things that just didn't coincide with the time or place. So they sat in silence, trapped in their thoughts although they both stared intently at the plain black marble headstone. Finally, Angelica stood, relinquishing his grip to go find a water spout for the flowers. While Lafayette cut open the packaging, freeing the bouquet and beginning to trim the awkwardly long stems, he heard the sound of gushing water and a squawk of surprise. He whipped around just in time to see his girlfriend struggling to spin the dial and cut off the flow of water. But her legs and shoes were already soaked. “Crap,” she whined glancing around until she caught Lafayette’s eye. “Are you okay, ma cherie?” he asked, brows furrowed in sympathy. “Yeah, I'm…alright, I guess,” she sighed, shaking the excess moisture from her hands. “I'm going to go clean up.” “Do you want me to go with you?” “No, I've got it. Sorry.” “You have nothing to be sorry for. I'll be here when you get back, mon coeur.” She smiled softly and picked her way through the grass, padding off down the sidewalk, leaving Lafayette alone on the blanket with John. “I worry about her a lot,” he admitted, much to his own surprise. “She has so much hurt from you and now…she doesn't know yet, but her father's sick. Philip is really sick, John, but he made me promise not to tell her when I went to visit him alone a few weeks ago. You see, I asked him a very important question, and now I have to ask you. I need your permission to ask Angelica's hand in marriage.” He was glad to finally get it off his chest, and he let out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding. “It's soon, I know, but I love her. I love her with all my heart and soul, for her torn trust and her aching past. I just want to help her, John. If I could take it all away to bear it myself, I wouldn't flinch, wouldn't hesitate. I just want to make her happy. And I…I don't want to sound cocky o-or rude, but I think…well, she says it all the time…that I make her happy. And I can't even put into words how happy that makes me. She and Catherine…they're my world, John.” He paused a few moments, waiting for God knows what. Lafayette surely didnt know why a pang of surprise hit him when nothing changed. Sure, he heard the wind in the trees and a few birds here and there, but that was all. Nothing out of the usual. He let out a sharp laugh, smiling sheepishly at the headstone before him. “What am I doing. Talking to a headstone…” he mused. “I'm back.” Angelica's voice startled him, and he tried to cover up the jolt he'd given when it pierced his thoughts. However, she giggled when she sat next to him, leaning into his shoulder and sighing contently. He wrapped an arm around her and rested his own head atop hers. “He was a good man,” she muttered, and at first Lafayette thought she was talking to herself. “He loved Catherine.” “He was a good father,” Lafayette chimed in quietly. Just by looking at pictures at the Schuyler-Church household, it was obvious how much John had adored his family. Shifting through the pictures in the attic had given him an even more in-depth look at what kind of person he had been, and what kind of person Angelica had been. Kind of a stereotype, in all honestly. There were pictures of him smashing ice-cream into her face, selfies from the NYC boardwalk. Roller coasters, beach trips, vacations, and more portrayed the younger couple in their highschool years. Engagement announcements, wedding shoots, pregnancy pics, and family photos with Catherine dominated the next few years and then…almost nothing. But Lafayette knew why. In the last few pictures, John’s hair was visibly thinning, Angelica looked like she'd aged 4 year in only a fourth of the time, and Catherine…well, she didnt change a bit except grow up. They always made him smile sadly. He couldn't say he'd never wished to have been there. Once in awhile a thought that made him shake his head in guilt permeated his mind;’What if I had been with her instead of John?’ He knew it was horrible, because it made him FEEL horrible. But the thoughts remained. Would she have been happier? Would they be married? Have a few kids? His stomach churned at the thought, though he couldn't tell if they were ecstatic butterflies or regretful worms. Either way, he didn't like it. It was a few minutes before she spoke again, and it was only after she let out a breathy laugh. Feeling his curious gaze on her, she said, “Did I ever tell you about the time John fell asleep while he was supposed to be watching Catherine and the only reason he woke up was because…” The look on his face made it obvious he wasn't familiar with the story, and she let out another laugh before restarting. “Catherine was probably 4 or 5 months old, and I think it was my first BUSY day back at work after maternity leave, and I was just exhausted, so I told him he'd better watch Catherine while I slept, because she'd just woken up from a nap and there was no way she was going to sleep and time soon. So last I saw, he was watching animal planet with Catherine in the living room while I go up to rest.” “Next thing I know, I hear a very worried John calling my name as he comes upstairs. He fell asleep, and she decided to snack on the pen in his pocket,” she laughed. “Had an eye for fine dining even at 4 months,” he crooned, and she only laughed harder, earning strange glances from other visitors as she covered her mouth with her hand and squeezed her eyes shut. It was by far one of the best ways to see her. She looked happy, and content. She looked like a teenager again. They ate their sandwiches and chatted idly. Angelica told him stories, and he told her about his family. It was nice, certainly peaceful, but still humorous. It was by far one of on the nicest experiences he’d ever had. It would change his life. By the time they finished lunch and started getting ready to leave, the mood had lightened considerably, and they had both adorned wide smiles while they packed up. “Can you take this to the car?” she asked, handing him the bag with all their things. “Of course, mon coeur. The blanket too?” “No, I've got it,” she smiled, squeezing his hand. “I'll be done by the time you bring the car around.” “Alright, I'll be back soon.” He turned and headed off to load up the car, leaving her alone once more. She watched him walk away with a grin before sighing and turning back to John. Sitting down, she couldn't wipe the smile off her face. “I love him, John.” The words spilled past her lips before she could stop herself and she didn't want to stop. “For years and years I wondered how you could ever expect me to move on from you, but I think…John, I really think he's the one. I haven't been this happy since before we found out you had cancer. I could never have asked for a better second chance. Catherine absolutely adores him. So does my family. My father is happy that he works for Washington, my sisters love his sense of humor, he's just…he's perfect. He's not you, but…” She shook her head, the crooked smile still presenting itself. “He's perfect.” “Are you ready?” Lafayette asked simply a few minutes later, watching Angelica fold up the blanket. “Yeah,” she responded with a nod. She felt more free, almost. like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She draped the blanket over her arm and stood on her tip toes to give him a quick but earnest kiss, and his arm wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting on his chest as they turned and left. It was then that he realized something. The usual dreadful feeling of jealousy or guilt that usually came at any mention of John had left him. The entire time they had retold stories of their younger years, he hadn't felt it once. They had turned the haunting pain to joy, thinking of the good rather than the bad, and unintentionally showing each other that it was okay to remember their loved ones without necessarily feeling horrible. They both felt better, liberated. The sign Lafayette had waited for didn't come through a voice or some strange happening that could only have been power from beyond the grave. Instead, it came in a form that was far more crucial to their happiness. It came in their peace of mind. That was his sign.