#in my defense my friend took me to do late night ceramics

[genshin-impact-updates]

Happy Birthday, Sangonomiya Kokomi!

As the leader of Watatsumi Island, it's been a long time since I've led my people in moving forward against the current.

Your efforts are essential to the peace and harmony we now enjoy.

The other day, while the soldiers were chatting, they were expressing their wishes to spar with you again.

So for my birthday, I would like to invite you to Watatsumi as an honored guest. Captain of Swordfish II, your platoon awaits.

Thanks to chiri for the fantastic artwork

[blessednereid]

First Line Tryouts

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Mentions/Warnings: Implied Smut, making out, cursing, eating/food mentions, mentions dead bodies, slasher film mention, dementia mention, slight domesticality(?)

Word Count: <4,200

A/N: This took so long im so sorry, tried to sum up the events of ep 1, while adding some isaac moments! Enjoy! LMK If I need to add anymore tw’s or cw’s.

Taglist: @rogershoe Dm me to be added to the taglist. 

~---~---~---~---~

There was a week left until your second semester began. Isaac was determined to thank you for everything you had done for him since he told you about his dad. 

He enlisted Stiles and a reluctant Lydia to help him with the planning. Isaac was going to make a picnic basket with your favorite foods. After that, Stiles would drive him to Lookout Point, and Lydia would take you there right after he gave her the go-ahead to let her know it was ok to leave. 

Lydia would take you to the mall so that Isaac could prepare the picnic basket. He had bought assorted fruits, a platter of ham and cheese pinwheels, passion-fruit fruit champagne, your favorite desserts, and your favorite chips. He packed a picnic blanket as well as two smaller ones so that you both could lay under the stars and watch them dance. 

After everything was packed, Stiles drove him to the point in the woods, and two miles away from his destination, he called Lydia and gave her the signal. 

When he reached the peak, before he could do anything, Stiles scolded him.

"Hey scarf," he barked. Isaac turned his head.

"Don't try anything with my sister tonight, alright? You may not be in the house, but I will still be watching everything?"

Isaac paused. "Aren't you going back to Scott's house?" 

"I have eyes everywhere, Lahey," he stated simply before waltzing away.

~---~---~---~---~

When you arrived, Isaac had everything set up, the picnic cloth was laid down on a flat chunk, the colorful plastic champagne glasses he had bought were carefully placed down on top of the plates, 

When you arrived, Isaac had already laid everything out. The picnic blanket was spread out on a flat chunk of land, and the ceramic plates sat on top of it. There was a bundle of spoons and forks, knives, and colorful plastic champagne glasses for the both of you. 

"I-saac, haha," you chuckled.

He bowed. "Good evening, madame. How can I serve you today?" He walked over to you and led you to the setting. 

"Isaac, you didn't have to do all this, you know?" 

"I know, but you've done so much for me recently, and I wanted to thank you."

You looked at him fondly, and he stared back at you before breaking away to grab the fruit. He fed you a strawberry, and after that, you both took turns tossing berries into the air and trying to catch them. 

~---~---~---~---~

After you both were done eating, Isaac packed all the remaining food (which was a lot) into the basket and tossed you a cover. He pulled you closer to him once you were wrapped in the blanket and laid down to watch the stars with his favorite person in the world. 

"That's Orion's belt, right there," you thought out loud. 

"That's the big dipper then," 

"How do you know so many constellations?" Isaac questioned, and you frowned. 

"I- uh…" 

"What's wrong?" He looked at you with worry.

"It was something me and my mom did before she died. She would go out to the woods with me—" you paused."—and she would show me where all the stars were. Stiles was never interested. My obsession with finding the stars became so big she decided to get me a telescope and a big book of all the constellations." 

"Oh, so I'm guessing it's a touchy subject?" 

You laughed. "It's a subject that brings up memories. To be honest, I haven't tried stargazing since my mom's death. This was nice." 

"You never told me much about your mom…" 

"And you never told me about yours," you hit back. 

"Touché." 

You went first. "Before everything, my mom was…in all aspects… perfect. Every day when we came home from school, she would have lunch ready, even if we already ate, just some chips and cookies on the table for Stiles and me." 

You smiled. "Mom would take us outside to the backyard and play soccer with us, us two against her. I think she would go easy on us." 

"When she got diagnosed, she started becoming less… tolerant of us. She would yell for the tiniest things,  and they didn't hurt me as much because Dad would always remind us that she didn't mean it, but I guess it always hurt Stiles more—"

"How do you mean?" Isaac asked.

"He was always a mommy's boy. One night we went to visit her at the hospital, I went to the vending machine to get snacks for Stiles and me, and he was gone. When he came back, he was crying nonstop. I kept trying to get him to tell me what was wrong, but he wouldn't tell me.  The next day it was like he just forgot about it." 

You both sat there in silence for a while longer. 

"My mom…. My mom was always working. She had her own business making soaps and perfumes and stuff like that." 

"She would always ask—" he gulped. "—she would ask my brother and me to help her with her orders. We would always make a mess, so after we were done, she made bubble baths for us." He giggled at the memory. "When she died, I guess we all changed a bit." 

"I got a little shier, Camden got more impulsive, Dad just lost his filter. He put more effort into making sure we were disciplined." He saw your eyes squint. "He didn't hit us back then. He just had stricter rules." 

You pulled him closer to your chest, and you guys just stayed there, looking at the stars, and feeling, even more, closer to each other than before.

You broke the silence.

"Isaac…" 

"Yes, Y/N?"

"I love you…" 

He leaned down to your face and pecked your lips.

"I love you too," he smiled.

~---~---~---~---~

"Y/n!" Isaac was trying to wake you up. You had fallen asleep watching Nightmare on Elm Street. You had been desensitized to all the blood and gore because you and stiles would always stay up late and watch slasher films. This was when your dad worked extra shifts at the Sheriff's station, and your mom was at the hospital.

"N/n, Wake up!" 

He grabbed your ringing phone and pulled it up to your ear, despite knowing he would face your wrath for doing that later on. Stiles had just called you for the 4th time that night, and you weren't waking up.

When you still wouldn't wake up, he did the only thing he could think of, as illogical as it was. He laid down flat on his back and rolled over, pushing you off the bed. You woke with a start. 

"ISAAC, WHAT THE HELL!!"

"Stiles has called you 4 times in 5 minutes, and you told me to wake you up whenever someone calls you…" He fake-pouted. 

Your expression softened because you couldn't resist his cobalt eyes, but you were still angry. You answered the phone and shouted at Stiles to release your frustration. 

"Stiles, what the hell, you're across the hall. Did you really have to call?"

"Hurry up and get ready, Dad just went out, and we need to go get Scott."

"Why do we have to follow dad? It's his job."

"Someone found a dead body, but half of it is missing,"

"Ok, I'm coming," You said while putting on your jeans. 

"Oh, and leave the golden retriever."

"His name is Isaac, not 'golden retriever,' Stiles!" you scolded. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, hurry up!"

You finished putting on Isaac's hoodie and turned to face him. 

"I gotta go, love."

He pouted. "Why can't I go with you?"

You went to give him a hug. "We should go with the least amount of people possible., so we don't get caught…" you lied. 

"Is Scott going?" He was always able to tell when you were lying. He knew all your tells and your poker face before you were even dating. 

"Fine, It's Stiles."

"So, I realized. Do I really look like a golden retriever?"

You shrugged and said in a pitchy voice, "An adorable golden retriever?" 

He sighed. 

"Be safe, and come back before midnight, please? I don't wanna go to sleep without you…"

"Nervous for tomorrow?"

"It's the start of first-line tryouts. I really wanna make it this year,"

"I'm sure that you'll make it Isaac, you are one of the most hand-eye coordinated people I know, and at every game, I will be there to cheer you guys on!"

 He smiled at your statement and kissed you. 

"Be sa—"

"Y/N, Hurry up!" Stiles shouted from downstairs. 

~---~---~---~---~

You stayed in the car while Stiles was getting Scott, silently cursing him for not allowing Isaac to come but going to get Scott. 

Scott and Stiles got out of the house and piled into the car. 

"Next time you wanna leave the 'golden retriever,' Stiles, we're also leaving the poodle," you angrily intoned.

Scott took up an offended expression. "Poodle?"

"Would you rather chihuahua?"

"Nevermind..."

"No, we're not leaving Scott. He's my best friend," Stiles said defensively.

"Oh yeah? Isaac is my boyfriend, yet he couldn't come!" 

"My car, my choice of guests."

"Fuck off, Miechyvslaw!"

~---~---~---~---~

"We're seriously doing this?"

"Obviously," you stated simply.

He started driving the car, and they headed to the woods where the search party for the body and the other half of it would be located. 

"You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town," Stiles said.

"I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow."

"Right, cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort," Stiles sassed.

"No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making the first line."

"Hey, that's the spirit. Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one."

You interrupted their bickering. "Just out of curiosity, do either of you know what half of the body we're even looking for?"

"Uhhh-" Stiles stuttered.

"And uh- what if whoever killed the body is still out there," Scott questioned.

"Also, something I did not think about."

"It's comforting to know that you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail," Scott stated. 

Stiles and Scott continued bickering, but soon, you saw a flashlight.

"Shit! Hide!" you warned, but Stiles kept going. You leaped forward, trying to grab his shirt and pull him back, but your dad caught you.

"Hang on. Hang on. These two delinquents belong to me."

Stiles sighed. 

"I told you to hide, you brat!" you whispered to him.

"Daaaaad!" He enunciated. "How are you doing?"

"So, do you, uh, listen into all my phone calls?"

"Not the boring ones," Stiles said. 

"So, where's your usual partner in crime?"

"Wh-who Scott? Scott's home, he said before continuing to ramble.

Your dad had called out for Scott, and when he didn't respond, dragged you and Stiles back to the Jeep. 

~---~---~---~---~

You went back to your room once you got to the house and found Isaac asleep on the bed.

"Izzie!" You grabbed a plush pillow from beside him and whacked him softly with it. 

You went home that night, not knowing where Scott was or what had happened to him while worrying about what Melissa would do to you if Scott got bitten by a coyote and she found out you lured him out there.

He stirred but didn't wake. You groaned and moved beside him.

"Isaac?" you shrilled. "Isaac, you were supposed to wait for me to come back!!"

You shook his body left and right until he woke up groggily.

"N/n?"

He fully opened his eyes and groaned at the comfort that it was you.

"You scared me!" he complained.

You began shuffling towards him and running your hands down his covered pectorals. "Aww… what can I do to make you feel better?"

"Anything?" he said before sucking in a breath.

"Anything, baby," You nodded. 

He pulled you onto his lap and started kissing you passionately, your lips meshing together. He trailed his lips from yours to your cheekbones, then to your jawline, nibbling slightly. You moved your hips forcefully against his, and he brought one hand down to your waist.

"Hey, is this ok?"

You nodded vehemently. 

He pushed your hips back and forth along his while leaving dark red marks towards the base of your neck and your collarbone. He sucked a hickey onto a pulse point, making you let out a moan, which you tried muffling by pressing your lips together. 

He brought his hands to the hem of your shirt and tugged slightly before looking up at you. You replaced his hands and pulled your shirt off of your torso. 

He placed open-mouthed kisses onto the tops of your breasts, causing you to throw your head back in delight. He brought his hand back to the small of your back and shuffled you forwards on his lap. 

He turned you over onto your back and continued to kiss from your chest up. He stood on his knees in front of you and pulled his shirt off of his body. He placed one more brief kiss on your lips before gripping your thighs and lowering down your body.

~---~---~---~---~

Stiles drove you, Isaac, and Scott to school the next day. When you got out of the car, Scott and Stiles were talking about a bite that Scott had gotten when he went to the woods, but he assured you that you wouldn't face Melissa's wrath. 

When you saw Lydia amongst the crowd, you dragged Isaac all the way to her. Lydia had never liked Isaac, feeling like her best friend could do much better than someone who wouldn't even talk to her(you) for extensive periods of time. 

"Hey Lyds!" you said with Isaac's face buried in your neck. He was not fond of Lydia either, not that she had done anything, but he had picked up on her apathy towards him and just decided he would do the same. 

"Hey Y/N! Isaac." You all walked into the building and headed for your respective classes. 

~---~---~---~---~

You had English first, and the teacher was rambling about the dead body found in the woods. 

A familiar faced walked into the room, and you almost squealed. It was your godsister, Allison Argent. You knew that her family was moving to  Beacon Hills, but you hadn't known when they would be arriving. 

Chris Argent, Allison's dad, was your mother's best friend in high school. When she gave birth to you and Stiles, she made Chris your godfather.

You quietly clapped your hands at her appearance. She smiled at you before taking the seat diagonally across from you and right behind Scott. You noticed how when he turned around to give her a pencil, he looked highly flustered. 

Before you could point this out and tease him about it, your teacher began to talk about the novel you were reading as a class.

~---~---~---~---~

When you got out of class, you decided to introduce Lydia to Allison. 

When you both approached Allison, she squealed and ran to give you a hug, almost causing you to stumble. You hugged her back for a good five seconds before letting her go. 

"That jacket is absolutely killer! Where'd you get it?" Lydia asked the brunette.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco."

"And, you are my new best friend!" Lydia said before greeting her boyfriend, Jackson, who had come up behind her. 

"Hey? What about me? Already replacing me with my godsister?" you asked before you felt two slender arms wrap around your waist.

"Never!" Lydia smiled. "We can all be friends." 

You could hear a girl talking about Lydia or Allison or both, and you decided you would defend your friends. 

You walked over to where she was talking to Stiles and Scott.

"Hey, what's going on over here?"

"Oh, Audrey here was asking what Allison did to already be hanging out with your exclusive clique."

"Uh, nothing? She's just Allison." You said, looking at Scott and Stiles but directing it towards Aubrey. You then turned on your heels and walked away.

You had found that your friends had told Allison about the upcoming party and were just about to head to the lacrosse practice for the day.

~---~---~---~---~

You gave Isaac a good luck kiss before he went out to the field, and Lydia looked at you weirdly.

"What is it?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

"Nothing, Nothing."

"Why do you have such a problem with my boyfriend?"

She turned to look at you. "I don't know, maybe it's because you caught feelings when he hadn't said a single word to you for a week and didn't for another week after you first kissed him"

"It could be that when you asked him out and actually confessed your feelings, he waited a week to give you a response and made you think that he was rejecting you, which made you cry?"  

You rubbed your temples. "Lydia, I explained all this to you. He's a shy guy. He just doesn't talk much to people, and he thought I was playing a joke on him."

She shook her head. "Mark my words, Y/N, he's going to end up breaking your heart, and when he does, I'll be left to pick up the pieces."

You groaned. "Allison, does Isaac look like someone who would hurt me?"

"No? He looks like… He looks like a golden retriever!"

The three of you burst out laughing, and Lydia promised to try and be tolerant of Isaac.

Suddenly, it was Scott's turn to try guarding the goal. He allowed the first shot through before finding his footing and blocking the rest of the throws. 

"Who is that?" Your godsister asked. 

"Hmm… I'm not sure who he is," Lydia said questioningly.

You scoffed. "That is Scott McCall. Stiles' best friend. Why?"

"He's in our English class. He seems like he's pretty good," she said sagely.

She changed the subject. "Speaking of Stiles, how is he? I haven't talked to him since I got back."

"He's-" you tried answering but stopped short. "Wooh! Go, Isaac!"

He smiled at you before going to shoot lacrosse balls at the goalie.

On the final day of tryouts, you and Isaac had done stretches, though he didn't know why, and they had run laps around the field before practice had started.

The coach started talking to the players, and you, Lydia, and Allison sat in the stands. By the time practice was over, Scott had made the first line, but Stiles and Isaac didn't. To cheer them up, you had taken them to their favorite to-go restaurant and bought dessert for them.

~---~---~---~---~

It was a Friday night. You were particularly sad, not only because Isaac couldn't go with you, but because Isaac had his weekly dinner with his dad today. So, he wouldn't even be there when you fell asleep. 

Scott and Stiles had gotten into a fight earlier, so he wasn't going to the party. This left Jackson to drive you, who was taking Lydia to the party. This didn't make you too happy, seeing as how Jackson was a self-entitled bastard who got his status from his family and isn't grateful for any of it. 

You didn't understand how Lydia had decided it would be a good idea to date him. But, you knew that the same way she couldn't change your mind about Isaac, she wouldn't change your mind about Jackson. 

You wore a pink satin body-con dress that reached your mid-thigh. Isaac had picked it out for you when he realized he wouldn't have been able to attend the party. He was ok with it being as short because he knew all the guys there would remember what happened to Garrett Ferrero after he started hitting on you at a party. He had to get nose surgery because Isaac had broken it, and his nose swelled up so large, he didn't come to school until it shrunk.

You paired it with opaque tights with fishnets on top and a pair of red, 3-inch, cut-out heels. As for makeup, you had outlined your lips with a black lip liner and smeared a cherry red lipstick over it. You applied minimal foundation and went for a nude eyeshadow look. 

When you stepped out of the bathroom in your outfit, Isaac nearly went feral. He lightly kissed the expanse of your neck, knowing you would kill him if he messed up your makeup, and he ended up backing you both into a wall. 

You had to swat him away after a few seconds of this affair because you had to leave soon, and so did he, albeit reluctantly. You put a black jean jacket on top of your outfit before heading downstairs. 

He left your house a few minutes before you did, but just before you left, Stiles pulled you aside.

"Hey, Y/N, just watch out for Scott today, and especially Allison." Stiles was overprotective of both of you. Before Allison and her family began moving around, she was like a sister to both of you. You three did almost everything together. 

"Stiles, what's going on?"

He sighed. "Ok, this is going to be hard to explain, but you have to go. So I'm going to give you the brief version right now and explain later."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue. 

"The night Scott got bit by that 'coyote'... it wasn't a coyote. It was a wolf, and wolf hairs were reported on the autopsy of the dead body. Scott has been experiencing heightened senses, and he's been stronger. Y/N, he hasn't needed his inhaler all week."

Your eyes widened. You didn't know what to say.

"So… you think he's a werewolf."

"Better to be safe and absurd than sorry and sad. Tonight's a full moon, and he just wouldn't cancel that date. Just look out for them, you know?"

You bobbed your head up and down vigorously. 

You left the house, and outside were Jackson and Lydia, in the front seat of his Porsche. It was a nice ride but a bit overly embellished for someone who only just got his license.

 ~---~---~---~---~

Later at the party, you had last seen Allison and Scott as they were dancing. You were dancing with your friend, Marya Cullen. She was a freshman, so she didn't really know most of your other friends. You had met her through your job at Forever 21, and you instantly clicked. 

She was really drunk, so you called another one of her friends and asked them to take her home. Marya had given her friends a list of the people allowed to drive her home if this happened. 

It was just as you were putting Marya in the backseat, you saw Scott walking away from her, dazed. While that happened, a mysterious guy who looked much older than you were approaching Allison. 

"Hey, I'm her friend. I got it, thanks!" 

You walked with Allison back to her house after grabbing all your belongings and immersed in conversation, mostly about how weird Stiles was being. Stiles was driving in his Jeep when he saw you coming from Allison's house. You got into the Jeep, and you both went home. 

When you got there, you changed into your pajamas and laid down onto the surface of a cold bed. You grabbed your thickest pillow and pulled it into your arms, trying to create some semblance of a feeling of Isaac laying down with you.

~---~---~---~---~

You awoke to bright sunlight and a buzzing phone by your head. Isaac had been calling you to ask you to let him in the house. You realized it was high time that he gets a key to the front door. 

You went downstairs to greet your boyfriend, and you noticed that he had brought Starbucks. You almost caused him to fall to the floor had he not caught you in time. He set you on the floor and kissed your lips before heading to the kitchen.

He had gotten your regular order, as well as your favorite drink, and he had gotten his order as well. 

You guys say down to just eat and relax.

He took a sip of his iced coffee before saying anything.

"My dad wants me to work at the graveyard," he said, pensive.

You choked on your food. "What?" 

"Well, he said he's cutting off my allowance." 

"So he said I can either earn it by working at the graveyard or stay broke." 

"That's fine, darling?" 

"I know, but I still want to get a job to save so once I turn 18, I can move out. And, he is willing to let me choose my own hours, or really just give me hours that don't interfere with lacrosse practice."

You gave him a solemn look and whined. "But that means we won't have as much cuddle time?" 

"He shouldn't even be in your room," your dad said, approaching you from behind.

"Hi, dad."

"Good morning, Mr. Stilinsk—"

"Isaac," your dad interjected. "It's fine. You can call me Noah." 

Isaac smiled. 

-------fin--------

[valberryy]

efficacy. — zhongli

hi!! this started out as an oc fic, but i thought i'd convert it to a reader insert!! i tried to change some of the more "explicit" oc info, so hopefully it's fine now!

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injury/death, contemplations of/vaguely attempted murder, slight swearing. if these topics are sensitive to you, i'd recommend clicking away.

i. 

[Name]'s life would be nothing without order. They found a certain comfort in routines—working at the bookshop with Jifang in the afternoons, working for their less-than-legal clients once night fell. There was an odd kind of safety they found in it, in completed contracts and crossed-out bounties on a board: as they wiped the blood off their blade at sunrise, they found themself glad they no longer lived at the whims of ice, and snow, and migrating deer.

Tonight was odd, though. 

A dagger twirled deftly between their fingers, and [Name] raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the informant sitting before them. A mask and hood alike obscured his face, and he seemed almost to hesitate slightly beneath their burning gaze—a newbie, then, or a fool.

"So?" they asked, their voice like a whip-crack in the silence. "Don't waste my time."

"Apologies," he said, and [Name] had to resist the urge to scoff. At another raised eyebrow the informant dug through his things and passed them an envelope. 

Gingerly, they tore it open. "...Wangsheng?" they muttered to themself, before glancing back up. "I trust you have the right compensation?"

A stiff, "Of course," was their only response. 

The knife between [Name]'s fingers stilled, before it became embedded in the cheap wood next to their now-client's head.

They stood, gave an almost-mocking flourish of a bow, and walked off without another word.

ii. 

[Name] did not glance up from the shelf they were restocking when the footsteps of another customer coming up the stairs came into earshot, only saying a gruff, "Welcome," as they grew closer.

Their only response was a content hum, and they resisted the urge to sigh in relief that this particular patron wasn't a chatterbox. 

The minutes trickled by in comfortable silence, as the man—for he was a man, [Name] learned, as soon as they looked up and towards his direction—browsed through their selection. The only sounds to be heard were the blowing of the breeze and the idle chatter of people walking past.

"What a fine collection you have," he said, and turned to face the counter they were seated behind. At the sight of his face they were thrust back into two nights ago—an unpleasant evening in a dingy old house, an envelope in one hand and a cheap knife in the other. 

Not now, they thought to themself. Not now, when the blood can seep into the floorboards. The smell will hang for days.

"Thank you," they elected to say in reply. "...Will you be buying?"

He nodded, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Indeed. The entire stock, actually."

[Name] faltered. "The entire…?" They coughed into a fist, regaining their composure and leaning forward on the counter. "That's going to cost you, sir."

They could almost see the excited sparkles around him as he opened his mouth to speak again, and whatever thoughts they had on how elegant and refined he seemed were thrown out to sea.

"Yes, of course," he began, "there truly is no treasure greater than knowledge, after all—there is a subtle nuance to the art to capturing a moment in time so vividly using just words alone…" 

As he continued to ramble, [Name] rested their chin on their palm. The daggers concealed beneath their clothes were cool and heavy on their skin—a constant reminder, a subtle threat. 

When his voice trailed off they gave a small, polite smile, standing upright again. "If you have the Mora, there should be nothing stopping you, sir."

The faraway, almost dreamy look in his eyes grew lucid at the mention of Mora. "Ah, of course. Mora," he said, and started patting his pockets searching for his wallet.

When neither of them heard the telltale clinking of coins, they glanced at each other almost exasperatedly. 

"My deepest apologies—"

"...No, it's okay—"

The knife still burned against their skin, but they brushed it aside for a moment to grab an unwrapped copy of a book under the desk. They held it out to him, their face blank but the faintest, faintest hints of amusement dancing in their eyes.

He was…interesting. Dead men can rarely boast as much.

 "Take it," they said, simply. 

His eyes seemed to widen in pleasant surprise. "Are you certain?" he asked, and at [Name]'s casual shrug in the affirmative he gingerly took it from their hands. 

"Thank you kindly," he said, raising the package in the air and inspecting it. "I'll have to repay you, for this."

They looked at him again, and thought of the envelope from the other night, thought of how they could almost feel his pulse as their fingers brushed just seconds prior.

"I'll hold you to it, then, sir," they elected to say.

Not now, not now, not now.

iii.

On his lips played a gentle smile that [Name] couldn't help but to distrust. 

"There's a restaurant I believe you'd like," he had said. "Allow me to treat you for lunch, as thanks."

Their head had thus begun to swim with backup plans and what-ifs. Did he know? Was this some elaborate ruse to poison them? Surely not, right? They had been so careful up until now, too…

They blinked away their initial surprise and canted their head to the side. "Where?"

At that he went off onto another tangent, just as long as the ramble he had gone on a few days prior. [Name] found themself zoning out, glancing at where they knew his jugular was beneath his collar—or perhaps poison during their impromptu outing would fare better?

No, they scolded themself, there would be witnesses at a restaurant.

"...Don't worry, of course, I'll be sure to bring the Mora this time around," he said with a velvety laugh, and [Name] suddenly found themself back in the present.

They leaned forward on the bookstore counter, an eyebrow raised. "I don't even know your name, Mister Philanthropist." 

Another smile graced his features, then—apologetic this time, and he outstretched a hand for them to shake. "My apologies," he said. "I am Zhongli, consultant for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor."

Gingerly, they took his hand in turn. They could feel the rhythmic beat-beat-beat of his pulse under their fingers.

Soon, they thought. 

"Call me [Name]," they said, and forced themself to smile.

A few days later, it just so happened that both of their schedules were free. 

"Would you still be willing to indulge me?" Zhongli asked—he had been visiting more often lately, and it just so happened that many of his visits happened to be on the days [Name] was there, as well. Jifang seemed curious, and honestly they were as well—did he enjoy their company? Was there something about their short, curt responses that didn't turn him away?

Or maybe he was planning something, too?

Nevertheless, despite their raging paranoia, it wasn't like they were in much of a position to complain. Jifang seemed content at their new, distinguished guest, and [Name] took it as an opportunity to learn more about him for the time being. 

"...If you so wish," they said, plucking the book he was holding out of his hands to wrap it for him. 

"Only if you do, my friend." Damn him and his deflection. "But it is my firm belief that the generous receive what is due to them, in time."

They hummed idly as they thumbed through the book he had chosen—something or other about the natural beauty of Inazuma—and then glanced back up at him.

And that was how they found themself here, they supposed.

Their table was relatively silent compared to some others, but it was by no means uncomfortable or awkward. With the idle chatter of other people and the clear sky above as a backdrop, the two dined in comforting silence—only the clinking of ceramic against each other to be heard, and to [Name]'s surprise, no traces of poison to be found whatsoever.

As the sun began to dip down the horizon, and all their food had been finished and the bill paid, the two found themselves taking a stroll down by the docks. Zhongli's gaze was trained ahead, while [Name]'s flitted about cautiously.

"Forgive me if I'm prying, however…" he began, "...But you're not a native, are you, my friend?"

A jolt, then, a bolt of white-hot fear running through their limbs. Did he know? Did they give themself away? 

"I'm not," they said. "I was born abroad." 

A satisfied hum was their response, and when they turned to glance at him, they found the smallest of smiles on his face.

"It's getting late," Zhongli said. "Thank you for today. I'd like to do this again, with you."

[Name] took pause at that. They thought once again of the envelope hidden under their drawers, and the knives hidden under their clothes.

They thought about the way Zhongli rambled on about whatever tale it was the storyteller across the street had spun—how "that indeed is one interpretation of it, but in the original text, the author actually meant to imply that…" 

There was a pang of what almost felt like guilt in their chest, at that. 

"...And I, you," they said, finally, "...my friend."

iv.

Perhaps stumbling into your supposed assassination target's home half-bloody with an arrow sticking out of your side was not the brightest idea, but in [Name]'s defense were two things: first of all, they had no fucking clue it was Zhongli's in the first place, and secondly, they couldn't exactly keep running from their angry former client with an arrow sticking out of their side.

And thus whatever levels of discretion they normally would have had were thrown out the window as they climbed into Zhongli's in the dead of night, and probably knocked something over in the process (if the new bruises were anything to go by). 

(To be fair, they had been calling each other friends for a while now. Is this what friends did? [Name] couldn't be sure—their shady friends weren't exactly the best examples, after all.)

They had just sat up and groaned in pain when Zhongli came in, alarmed first at the noise and then at their sorry state. 

"...Sorry," they muttered through gritted teeth. "Thought the place was empty—ow, shit! I can—I can do it mysel—"

"Nonsense," he said, his voice and hands firmer than they had noticed before. "...I still haven't repaid you for your favour to me, after all."

They stopped for a moment, at that. "...I thought the lunch was repayment?"

Somehow, Zhongli found it in himself to laugh, albeit tensely. From where they were sitting, they could see his face a lot more clearly than they had before—the tenseness in his brow, the flecks of gold in his amber irises, the way his nose crinkled at the density of the smell of blood.

"No," he replied, "that was a thank you."

They hummed, before hissing in pain again. "Pull the other way; the arrowhead went in at an angle—"

"Ah, yes, my mistake…"

[Name] continued, "I suppose this is your repayment, then?"

They only barely hid their surprise when he shook his head again. 

"I'm doing this because I want to, [Name]."

(Somehow, they liked their name better when hearing it from him. Was it the timbre of his voice? Was it the appeal of hearing your name from a man who was supposed to be long-dead?)

"...I see."

As he sealed the last of the bandages and allowed them to adjust their clothes, he helped them over to what they assumed was a guest room, of sorts. He helped them to take a seat on shaky legs, and placed a firm, almost comforting hand on their shoulder.

"Promise me you'll be more careful, my friend."

They glanced away, their face oddly warm. Wasn't blood loss supposed to do the opposite? "I can't guarantee that, Zhongli."

He followed their gaze over to the floor, and then glanced back at them. "If not that, then I'd at least ask you to…rely on me more," he said, and something about the sincerity in his voice struck them as odd. 

They almost wanted to burn that envelope in their drawers when they went home.

[Name] glanced back up at him, forcing themself to face his questioning gaze.

"...I'll try." 

But only for you.

+1.

In [Name]'s life, there exists a line they do not dare themself to cross. On one side stands sweet Jifang from the bookshop, the tenacious Traveller and their friends, and the ghosts of their loved ones from Inazuma; and on the other stands themself and their other shadowy benefactors. 

The first to tread the line between the two was Zhongli—who, despite the bounty on his head, still managed to maneuvre his way into them somehow being able to call him their friend.

Honestly. The Seven damn him and his stupid charisma, and his stupid voice, and his stupid encyclopedic knowledge of silk flowers.

When [Name] woke up, they were not in their home. 

Through their shock they failed to register the bandages wound around their torso, and bit back a yelp of pain as the wound threatened to reopen. In the dark they could see their overwear folded neatly on the bed next to them, and Zhongli asleep, slumped over in a chair.

Suddenly, they were acutely aware of the old bone knife under their clothes—their only souvenir from home, unstained by blood for years, and years, and years.

Would Zhongli be its first, then?

Quietly they stood and dug through their folded clothes until they felt it—the uneven blade, the worn-down grooves near the hilt. They skulked their way over to where he slept, and tried to ignore how painfully peaceful his slow, even breaths were.

His eyes fluttered open just as they pressed the blade to his throat. He seemed too calm, though, not even a twitch of his hands or a hitch in his breath to give away any surprise at all. All he did was place a loose grip on their wrist—a stark contrast to their white-knuckled, shaking hand—and ask,

"What are you doing, [Name]?" 

They grit their teeth. "...I'm sorry," they said, "but I have a contract to complete."

Something in Zhongli's eyes softened at that. This was his domain, they realised—contracts, and contingencies, and wordplay. 

His grip on their wrist tightened, ever so slightly, and he traced his free hand over their clenched jaw. "But so do we," he replied. "I've still never paid you back, after all."

There was a pause, then—a long, pregnant silence. 

"May I kiss you?" Zhongli asked, his voice like a whip-crack in the space between them. [Name] said nothing, but the crease between their brows deepened further. 

The dagger embedding itself into the floor and the soft, firm press of their lips against his was enough of an answer.

[citizen-l]

01. Door

Chanyeol curses and wonders what he did to be locked out of his own apartment as the door slams on his face. In truth, it wasn't his fault. How was he to know that taking his roommate to a party would lead to him falling for Chanyeol's best friend. Which would lead to steamy make out sessions, and possibly more, in his apartment. Resulting in him being kicked out for the night. 

Chanyeol tried not to think about the mess Junmyeon and Sehun would probably make. God, they better clean up afterwards. 

He sighed and looked at the keys in his hand. Not his keys. Sehun had tossed those before shutting the door, telling Chanyeol to sleep at Sehun's place for the night. Jeez, a little warning would have been nice! Chanyeol didn't even get to unplug his phone from the charger. His laptop and notes are still open on his desk. This was ridiculous! 

At least it was Friday. And Sehun did say his roommate was out on a date. So Chanyeol will have the place to himself. Since Sehun and Baekhyun even got a TV in their apartment, Chanyeol can just binge shitty soap operas and pass the night. Great plan, sure. Not like Chanyeol had a life or anything. 

The walk to Sehun's place was short, and the night wasn't too warm or cold for Chanyeol to feel uncomfortable in his bed clothes. Jesus. He was wearing his sweats and an oversized sweater. He would've been embarrassed if people saw him like this in the daytime. Thankfully it was late enough in the night that not many were out and about. He felt like he was the one making the walk of shame back to his apartment. Ironic, since he was single, too busy to be in a relationship with anyone, and hadn't decided whether he just didn't like anyone all that much or if he was plainly aro. Not something he wanted to think about tonight. 

He walked up the stairs to the third floor and went down the hall to Sehun's door. Chanyeol had been here multiple times since Sehun had moved in, but he never stayed over at night. Mainly because of Baekhyun. To be completely honest, Chanyeol was a little afraid of Sehun's flatmate. He wasn't sure what it was, but that tiny boy with cotton candy hair always made Chanyeol nervous. 

Well, at least Baekhyun was out tonight. And judging by the way Sehun explained it, Baekhyun was unlikely to return until the next day. Chanyeol would be long gone by then. 

Sehun's apartment was posh, spacious and modern, unlike Chanyeol and Junmyeon's tiny cramped flat with just two room and a tiny kitchen. The lights were on. Maybe it was a rich people thing, leaving the light on. Who cared about bills? Or maybe Sehun was too whipped and crazy for a fuck that he didn't even bother turning off the switches. 

Jesus. Chanyeol sounded angry even to himself. He wasn't actually that angry, just a bit irritated to be collateral to other people's sexual activities. 

Barely two steps in and he stopped dead, caught in a stare with a green faced guy standing in front on the kitchen with a bowl of soup. Before Chanyeol could do anything, the guy screamed and stumbled back, hitting the stool with his leg and splashing hot soup all over himself as he lost his grip on the bowl. Chanyeol hurried towards him to help, but it only backfired. The guy, Baekhyun, judging by the hair, became more agitated and fell back right where the bowl had crashed and broken. 

"Motherfucker, ow!" Baekhyun cursed, forgetting for a moment his terror of seeing another person in his apartment. 

Chanyeol's fear came true as Baekhyun inspected the pain in his hand and found a large cut, blood oozing down his arm. Chanyeol was there just in time to catch the pink haired boy before Baekhyun cursed again and fainted at the sight of blood. 

Jesus, how did a lazy evening in Chanyeol's own apartment turn into spilled soup, bloody wounds and an unconscious twenty-two year old in his arms? 

It took him two hours to get it all cleaned up. He debated calling Sehun, but he was probably too busy in the throes of passion to pick up the phone anyway, so Chanyeol decided to tackle one pressing issue at a time. 

Baekhyun's cut wasn't deep, but it was long enough to cause alarm. Poor guy must've slid his hand right over the broken ceramic. Thankfully the soup wasn't scalding, not hot enough to bruise. Chanyeol decided the leather couch can weather some sticky chicken soup and carried Baekhyun over to lay him down. He found the first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet and went on to clean and dress the wound before Baekhyun woke up. Chanyeol never would have thought he'd be the kind of guy to lose his shit at the sight of blood. But, oh well, everyone had their kryptonite. 

Cleaning up the broken bowl and soup was a bit harder, Chanyeol had to look for missing pieces of ceramic that got knocked away out of sight. It could cause more problems later on. By the time he was done, it was past midnight, and he was hungry enough to indulge in cooking himself a quick snack. Baekhyun was still unconscious on the sofa with his injured hand propped up over his head, breathing normally. He probably didn't get to have dinner if the soup was it. Chanyeol decided to make use of the ingredients in their fridge and make something for both of them. 

"Ah fuck," Baekhyun cursed the moment he woke up. "This is so not my day."

"Hey," Chanyeol said quietly. "Don't freak out. I'm Chanyeol, Sehun's friend, remember?"

"Jesus, you could've knocked maybe?"

"Sorry," Chanyeol did realize he shouldn't have barged in like that. But in his defense, Sehun had told him nobody would be home. "I had Sehun's keys, he's spending the night at my place so, he said I could stay here, and that you'd be out. I didn't know you'd be at home."

"Right. Wait, why is he at your place?"

"Uh, my roommate, Junmyeon... "

"Good God, stop. No more. I've heard enough about Junmyeon this, Junmyeon that. No more. Let them fuck it out. I need a break."

Chanyeol agreed. It was slightly getting on his nerves as well. He went back to his meal, sitting on the floor and watching the muted sitcom.

"Oh, Uh, did you…?" Baekhyun sat up and fumbled with his bandaged hand. 

"Oh yeah," Chanyeol looked back at him. "Sorry about that, I really didn't mean to startle you. I cleaned it up, the kitchen too, so don't worry about it. And, the cut isn't deep as far as I can tell, but you probably should get it checked out tomorrow, might require stitches."

"Just my luck," Baekhyun sighed. "You said you cleaned the kitchen?"

"Yeah, didn't want any more accidents happening tonight. Also, there's some stir fried rice and chicken if you want. I was hungry so..." Chanyeol pointed at his own food. 

"You cleaned, and you cooked," Baekhyun repeated like he couldn't wrap his head around the facts. "Please switch places with Sehun and move in with me."

Chanyeol laughed, if only. His meager job wasn't even remotely enough to afford all this luxury. 

"Alright, I'm gonna...I'm gonna go clean up. Jesus, what a night to do some beauty care. I've probably aged five years, a lot of good this mask will do me. And ugh, I smell like chicken, probably taste like it too."

Chanyeol couldn't help but laugh as Baekhyun slowly went to his room down the hallway grumbling about his bad luck. That was when Chanyeol realized that this was probably the first time he was ever alone with Baekhyun, and not once did he feel nervous or unsettled. He laughed, Baekhyun was actually funny. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad spending a night here like this. Granted, he could've done without the mess and injury. 

Chanyeol finished his meal and cleaned up the leather sofa where Baekhyun had laid unconscious by the time the other boy came freshly showered and a little out of it. 

"Uh, not to sound demanding or anything, but," Baekhyun sounded a little nervous. "Do you mind cleaning the bandage? It got wet and there's a red patch and...yeah."

Chanyeol tried not to laugh because it wasn't actually funny, it was just too adorable. Never did he imagine Byun Baekhyun, the boisterous theatre major around campus to be lightheaded because of blood. He looked too cute with his wet hair and too big T-shirt and loose shorts, holding up his injured arm and desperately trying not to look at the wound. 

"Sit down, I'll get it cleaned up," Chanyeol said, taking out the aid kit again. 

"You cleaned the couch," Baekhyun observed as he sat down, momentarily forgetting all about his injury and sounding surprised. 

Chanyeol didn't bother replying, he focused on the task at hand. 

"Close your eyes," he said and Baekhyun shut his eyes instantly. Button-like nose scrunched up, face a little red from rubbing off the mask, hand trembling outstretched. 

Chanyeol sat on the floor and changed the dressing. Then he put things away neatly and brought Baekhyun the meal he had prepared. 

"You can use your left hand, right?" Chanyeol asked. 

Baekhyun gaped at the food, spoon clumsily held in his left grip. He nodded minutely and Chanyeol decided to focus on the TV screen. 

"You can turn on the sound now, I'm wide awake," Baekhyun said. "Sorry for the drama, but then again, I'm an actor, what did you expect?"

"You're majoring in Theatre, right?" Chanyeol asked in conversation as Baekhyun nodded. "What do you do when you have to act with props like blood?"

"Well," Baekhyun scrunched up his red nose and Chanyeol had to bite his cheek to not smile. "It's not a big deal since I know it's fake. But when it's real…"

"That's okay," Chanyeol felt the sudden urge to reassure the guy. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, give it a week and it'll heal properly."

"Thanks," Baekhyun avoided eye contact. "For patching me up, twice. And for the meal."

"No worries. I'm sorry again for walking in on you like this. Giving you such a scare. Sehun told me you went on a date and won't be home tonight."

Baekhyun made a face. "Yeah, that…"

Chanyeol guessed it didn't go well. But he didn't want to ask, it was private. 

"I didn't show," Baekhyun said. 

He stood his date up? That's… a bit cruel, Chanyeol thought. 

"No, that's a lie," Baekhyun sighed. "I showed up two hours early and sat watch from a distance and I was right, some guys just wanted to mess with me. So I came home and decided to pamper myself."

Chanyeol really wanted to know who those guys were. The anger he felt wasn't new, and he wasn't surprised how much he hated whoever those people were who wanted to mess with Baekhyun. Chanyeol hated guys like that who only preyed on other people thinking they were weak. Sure, Baekhyun was maybe small compared to a lot of the guys around campus, and his sassy attitude and cotton candy hair would hurt a lot fragile egos, but Chanyeol really struggled to understand why people would want to hurt a complete stranger. 

"Do you know those guys?" Chanyeol asked even as he tried to hold himself back. 

"Yeah, don't worry about it, I took care of them. They're probably sitting in a cell for the night. I reported them."

Chanyeol felt relieved. Though guys like that deserved more than a night in a cell, at least nobody got hurt today. Or, at least not by them. He felt a pang of guilt thinking he was the reason Baekhyun got hurt. Jeez, why couldn't Sehun just wait until daytime to have his way with Junmyeon?

"You always like this, a neat freak?" Baekhyun asked when Chanyeol grabbed his empty plate and went on to clean it at the sink. 

Heat in his cheeks probably was evidence enough that he was blushing. Chanyeol's inability to leave anything unclean or untidy was not necessarily a problem, he didn't think he was obsessive about it. But it did stand out sometimes. Especially while living with Junmyeon who was not the neatest or tidiest person in the world. 

"Sorry, habit," Chanyeol said. 

"Oh, don't be sorry at all. I haven't done a single thing since you came. Please teach some manners to Sehun."

"He's a little beyond help."

"Unfortunate."

Baekhyun bid him goodnight, giving him free reign of Sehun's bed as he went to his own. Chanyeol never made it to the bed, however. He was dozing while sitting on the ground with his head back on the couch when cold fingers shook him awake. 

It took him a while to wake and sit up properly, not knowing what was going on since it was still pitch dark with only the light of the TV. 

Then he registered Baekhyun's strained voice. He was alert immediately, remembering everything that happened last night. 

"Uh, I think… I got hurt… in my sleep… it's... "

The wound was bleeding, blood seeped through the hem of the bandage and down Baekhyun's arm. Maybe the wound was deeper than Chanyeol thought. 

Before he could say anything, Baekhyun fainted right on top of him like a sack of potatoes. He was lighter than Chanyeol thought, which he hadn't exactly noticed hours before when Baekhyun first fainted. 

Chanyeol laid the guy down on the sofa again and reached for his phone, only then remembering that his phone was back in his apartment. Christ. 

Chanyeol quickly walked to Baekhyun's room. His phone was password locked, but Chanyeol could still use it in case of emergency. He grabbed the first pair of shoes he thought would fit Baekhyun and slid them into unconscious feet. 

"Baekhyun? Baek... " waking the guy wasn't very successful. He was probably too tired, and the blood loss was probably not helping. Damn guy was too pale to have much blood in him anyway. 

Chanyeol knew he was being stupid. Baekhyun probably just needed a full night's rest and a visit to the doctor's in the morning. But the guilt was eating at Chanyeol. 

The pharmacy was maybe seven minutes away. Double, if Chanyeol had to carry an unconscious Baekhyun all the way there. But that was still better than sitting here and not doing anything. What if there was a piece of ceramic stuck in the wound that Chanyeol hadn't been able to clean? 

He roused Baekhyun enough to carry him on his back and make sure he wouldn't fall off, and then he locked the doors and headed out. 

"The wound nicked a vein, nothing big, just needed a few stitches," the pharmacist said while performing the sutures.

Chanyeol was a little relieved that Baekhyun was awake again. Sitting with his eyes closed, his uninjured hand gripping the packet of strawberry milk he had requested and humming some song to distract himself. At least he'll be fine.

Chanyeol, however, couldn't shake off the weird gaze of the pharmacist and his assistant at the counter. They looked at Chanyeol the same way people looked at murder suspects. He tried to not show his nervousness.

That worked until an officer walked in purposefully and stood right in front of, sizing Chanyeol up. 

"You okay, son?" the officer asked Baekhyun directly. 

"Oh, Joey! What are you doing here?" Baekhyun asked. Gone was the faintness of his voice and dullness of his eyes. He was again distracted from his own distress as he focused on anything but his injury. 

"Byun! I really didn't think you were the one they called me about, I got those bastards you told me about. I didn't think they hurt you!"

Someone called the officer. Probably the assistant pharmacist. Good God, they probably thought Chanyeol purposely hurt Baekhyun and brought him here at four in the morning. Jesus Christ, what the hell was happening?

"Oh no, this was at home," Baekhyun said casually. Almost cheerfully. 

Chanyeol nearly swallowed his own tongue as three pairs of eyes honed in on him and Baekhyun remained oblivious, or pretended to. That was it, Chanyeol was going to jail. 

"I slipped in the kitchen, got soup all over me. Dreadful thing. And then I managed to fall on my ass and scrape my hand on a broken bowl!" Baekhyun summarized it like telling a story. 

"I'd say this is more than a scrape," the pharmacist grumbled. "If you hadn't bandaged it properly, you would have lost a lot of blood by now."

"Well it's all thanks to Chanyeol. I can't even look at blood, makes me faint. He cleaned up the wound and everything. Even carried me all the way, can you believe it?"

No, they could not. But at least they didn't think Chanyeol knifed Baekhyun's hand himself. That was good enough for now. 

"I'd be lying in my own pool of blood, dead, if it weren't for Chanyeol!"

He probably wouldn't be hurt in the first place if it weren't for Chanyeol. But nobody needed to know that. He looked up at the others and they seemed convinced Chanyeol wasn't the bad guy here. 

This is why Chanyeol had always been nervous around Baekhyun. Or, to be more precise, nervous because of other people due to Baekhyun's presence. This guy could make friends with patrol officers and pharmacists and make them feel concerned for him in a heartbeat. That was some power to have over people. Not saying Baekhyun was manipulative, on the contrary, he was sweet and charming and that won hearts. 

"You sure you don't want me to drop you off?" Joey said as he got into his patrol car. 

"Nah, it's okay, I think I need to walk it off, have some fresh air to feel a bit better."

"Alright," Joey eyed Chanyeol one last time and then smiled at Baekhyun. "Call me if there's any trouble." And then he was off. 

Jesus, that was nerve wracking. Chanyeol desperately wanted to go back to his own cramped tiny apartment with the partitioned room he shared with Junmyeon and sleep in his own bed. 

"You really didn't have to carry me all the way here, did you?" Baekhyun asked as they walked back to the apartment. 

"Didn't wanna risk it, and it was a short distance."

"Short!" Baekhyun laughed. "I can't decide whether I should be glad you were there or me mad at you for causing the accident in the first place."

"Sor…" Chanyeol was going to apologize again but Baekhyun cut him off. 

"I'm not mad, don't worry about it. It was just an accident. I'd blame Sehun but it was my choice to come back home, my choice to go on a date with a douche bag in the first place, their fault for being douchebags and waiting to gang up on me… what's the point of blaming. We're all still alive and well, let's just enjoy the moment."

It wasn't such a bad philosophy, especially at nearly half past five with the sun coming up on the horizon and cold breeze sending mild chills through the body. Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun when he realized the boy was only wearing a thin, oversized T-shirt. He should've put a jacket on him before rushing him to the pharmacy. 

"Let's hurry back," Chanyeol said. 

"What's the rush, let me enjoy the cool weather."

"You'll catch a cold."

Chanyeol didn't realize Baekhyun had stopped walking until he was a few steps ahead without the pink head near his shoulder. He looked back to find Baekhyun gawking at him with his mouth open. 

"What, what's wrong?" Chayeol quickly turned back. "You okay? Feeling lightheaded?"

"Uh…" Baekhyun stuttered. "Yeah, I think so. Think you can carry me the rest of the way?"

"Yeah sure, get on my back, it'll be easier," Chanyeol crouched down and waited for him to lean forward. 

Even after seconds, Chanyeol didn't feel an extra body on him. He turned his head and looked up. Baekhyun was still staring at him open-mouthed. 

"Baekhyun?"

"Hm what?"

"Get on?"

"Oh yeah, never turning down a ride," Baekhyun said as he leaned his weight on Chanyeol and grabbed his shoulders while locking his legs around Chanyeol's waist. 

Chanyeol faintly wondered whether Baekhyun was joking or not, faking his lightheadedness. But he didn't think too much about it, the apartment was barely five minutes away. It was good exercise anyway. 

"Jesus, what do you do to become this giant ball of goodness with muscles?"

Chanyeol nearly avoided stumbling on the stairs as he went up to the apartment. Giant ball of goodness? What? 

"You can put me down now," Baekhyun whispered, breath fanning the shell of Chanyeol's ear and almost making him lose his grip on Baekhyun's thighs. 

Chanyeol dropped Baekhyun safely on his feet and handed him Sehun's keys. Baekhyun gladly opened the door and walked in.

"I think I'll head back now," Chanyeol said from the threshold. 

"Oh, isn't it too early?" Baekhyun looked back tilting his head. 

He looked less pale now, maybe the sugar of the strawberry milk helped, or maybe the walk. Baekhyun looked good, not sick. Better. Pale pink hair all ruffled, clothes swallowing his thin frame, shorts and boots looking adorably comical with his bed shirt. Chanyeol was staring. 

"No, Junmyeon usually gets up by now, I can catch him if I go now before he starts his morning run."

"Shame," Baekhyun said. "Well, if you must go."

Chanyeol didn't know what to do when Baekhyun kissed him full on the mouth. He tasted sweet like strawberry. Lips soft like candy. Chanyeol hardly brought up a hand, fingertips grazing Baekhyun's angular jaw when he suddenly pulled away, leaving Chanyeol gasping and gaping at the shorter guy. 

"Thanks for the rescue!" Baekhyun laughed. His cheeks soft and glowing in the rising sun. 

Chanyeol didn't have time to react until the apartment door was being shut. For the second time in less than 8 hours, Chanyeol was standing in front of a closed door and desperately questioning his life. What just happened?

[fk12b]

Thrill Of It All

Boxer & Rockstar AU in the 80′s AU

Boxer!Bucky Barnes x Rockstar!Reader

@asadmarveltrashbag’s 3K Writing Challenge

A BLAST FROM THE BAST!: Thrill Of It All

Main Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

Prompts:

“You knocked over my ceramic Hello Kitty piggy bank, bitch”

“Once again, I fell in love with you”

Warnings: So much kissing. Just pure fluff. Boxing??? Rock & Roll??? Old shoes and alcoholism???

Word Count: 6258 Words

A/N: First of all congratulations to my friend @asadmarveltrashbag you’re amazing, and she deserves all the love. Second, thanks for letting me participate in this amazing challenge. And of course, I hope you enjoy this little piece of my mind. Here you go <3000. I’m so sorry for posting this like, so very late.

Based on these songs -> Stacy - Fortune (1985, AOR/Hard Rock/Arena Rock from USA )  + Thrill Of It All - Fortune (I recommend you to listen to these two songs, which they are one of my favorites, while you read this, or simply take a moment to admire these gems. Headphones greatly recommended)

The roar of the crowd could be heard from miles away. They were ready for a good show.

One was King of the ring

The other was the Queen of the pentagram

But they couldn’t care less...

James “Bucky” Barnes needed a moment to relax his mind and clear his thoughts. He couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of this fight, or he would be bound to failure. Sitting on the bench of the changing room, he closed his eyes, letting his head rest in the lockers behind him, taking a deep breath to tranquilize his racing heart. After some seconds, Bucky placed his headphones over his head, pressing play on his walkman.

Always the same routine before a fight. Long deep breaths while he listened to her voice, that was one of the angels, becoming one with the guitar. How lucky he was for being blessed with her voice. Oh, no, she didn’t usually sing. Even though she moved graciously on stage, playing her bass as if it was another part of her body. She was not the lead singer of her group, no. She was the back voice with showgirl soul, brimful of elegance and grace. She was the soul of the rock group.

You stand alone

The look of a stranger in your eyes

Locking the door

Alone in the silence of the night

Pacing the floors, like a cat in the alley

You come and you go, oh such a tease

Barnes could spend hours just listening to her voice, as it made him feel warm, forgetting the rest of the world. The ending of the melody signaled it was the time for him to fight, and once the ballad of the goddess culminated, he stood up from his spot crestfallen, carefully, yet reluctantly putting away his Walkman inside of his bag. He stretched to warm the muscles of his legs, back, arms, cracking his neck, and finally, his knuckles. With newfound strength, he took his silk red robe, wrapping it around his form and putting on the hood, and headed out of the changing rooms, with thoughts of you clouding his mind.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

Meanwhile at the other side of the country...

The room you were assigned to in the huge venue’s backstage was almost quiet, with only the background noise the small TV was providing. Some sports channel your friend and lead guitarist of the band, Andy, had left on. You were currently sitting on a black couch, frowning with your elbows resting on your knees and hands laced resting under your nose, debating if you should wear black high heeled boots or just black boots.

The all so familiar opening of the boxing program made you deepen your frown, glaring at the two pairs of shoes on the coffee table in front of you. There was only half an hour left for you to get ready for the show, but all you could think of was your true love, and the argument you had yesterday.

It all started with a small thing. You had been stressed out thanks to the upcoming tour your band was starting today, sorting out last-minute details and making loads of phone calls and meetings with your bandmates, and agent, Tony Stark. Your boyfriend of five years, the world-champion boxer Bucky Barnes, was also tensed due to the nonstop fights he had.

During these past hectic five months, yesterday was the only day both of you had to be alone with each other. You couldn’t talk to each other much since every time Bucky tried to call you, it would go straight to voicemail, as you were twenty-four hours glued to it, talking to your manager or bandmates. And every time you tried to call Bucky to the hotel he was staying at, he would have already moved to the next location.

Bucky’s thoughts went to dangerous areas, thinking you were ignoring him, whereas all you could think of was the tour, as a result of your manager changing completely the detailed planned schedule you gave him, without consulting you, nor the band. You were furious, to say the least.

So, when Bucky finally arrived at your shared home, after five long months of not seeing each other, instead of being greeted with your usual smiley happy face and a tight hug, he was met with your angry self hurrying out of the house, grumbling you needed to go urgently to the studio, sparing him so much than small peck on the cheek.

Once you came back home from the meeting, you were tired and still angry as only half of the problem could be fixed. But Bucky was furious with everything, because his thoughts had clouded his mind, and it only took him to accidentally drop your favorite mug, scattering it into small chiliad pieces for you to snap at each other. The argument grew heated with every passing second until any of you couldn’t take it anymore, ending with Bucky rushing out of the house, knocking some things over after a harsh slam of the door.

When you woke up this morning, at an unholy hour to get ready for the tour, after not having slept a thing as a result of you spending the night crying, Bucky still wasn’t home and you felt hideous. Hence, between sobs, you got into the bus, leaving a letter for Bucky to read, if he ever returned home.

Now it’s up on your feet

Moving around from town to town

I know how it feels

Wearing a smile to hide a frown

When all of the while

I know what you’re thinking

You’re acting so shy

But it don’t mean a thing

The familiar tune, signaling the entrance of the first fighter interrupted your train of thoughts. It was your favorite song that your band had written. The one where the guitar solo, combined with the bass riff of the intro, sounded like a classical symphony, but still having the most heavy metal essence. Every time you played that song, the crowd always went wild with the first two notes and pumping their roar with each passing second. You always joked that it was the perfect song for boxing fight entrance.

And apparently, James Buchanan Barnes thought the same. You looked up to the TV and there he was, walking in all his glory to the ring, with confidence and a fire in his eyes, as if he was a fearful lion king. Your eyes followed his moves until the camera stopped at his face, clouded with determination. But all you could see were his beautiful blue eyes that shone with a newfound intensity. You almost forgot that he had a fight today, regretting not being there in the crowd to support him or watching the fight on the TV.

You were so lost in him and in your thoughts, you didn’t notice your friend JJ, the vocalist, dropping himself next to you on the couch to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. He was the only one that noticed something was wrong since you set foot in the trailer, while the others were still busy doing last-minute phone calls. But JJ saw right through your happy facade, concern for your wellbeing in his eyes, and you broke down explaining what happened that night.

“Stop worrying, everything is going to be all right” JJ reassured you squeezing your shoulder and bringing you to his side. However, you stayed silent, felling how tears cascaded down your face, unable to stop them. “You know that James really loves you right?” You still didn’t respond, eyes trained on the TV, while you watched how he got inside the ring and walked to his corner. To be honest, you didn’t know if JJ’s words were right. As if sensing your discomfort, he gently shook your shoulders.

“Are you seriously questioning his love for you?” Andy gasped, sitting on your other side, pointing outraged to the TV “That man is forever devoted to you. I have never seen someone look at his significant other, the way Bucky looks at you. You are soulmates. I can see it in his eyes” You chuckled at his words, looking down at your thumbs twining them together, while he patted your leg with a reassuring smile.

Andy has always been spiritual and philosophical of the quartet, you weren’t going to deny his words, but maybe, any other day, you would have believed them fully.

“Ten minutes” The stage coordinator, Jerry, shouted from the door while Chanin, your drummer, waited in the doorway. Quickly, wiping the trail of tears away, you threw on the simple black boots that reached your midthigh, before having a tight group hug the four of you and running together to the side stage, simply closing the door to the room.

No one bothered to turn off the TV, left on the sports channel. Barnes versus Wilson, the fight of the century was on, and as the first notes of the very song Bucky used for his entrance echoed through the venue, accompanied by the roaring clamor of the crowd, the first punch was thrown with the first chord of the first verse.

Wilson started his offensive moves, but Barnes’ defensive was impenetrable, and as Wilson stopped to adjust his stance, Bucky used that opportunity to land one of his famous punches, a powerful right hook thrown with his complete right side of his body, just before the referee signaled the end of the first round, in time with the first song. As if both crowds were one, they roared to support their favorites.

The first half of the fight started quite balanced but as Bucky’s stance remained like iron, tiredness was taking a toll on Wilson’s movements, and halfway throw one of the rounds, Bucky Barnes’ fieriness snaped and started throwing punch after punch, leaving Wilson with no time to respond.

Once Bucky threw one of his famous right hooks, that could shatter any jaw because like many opponents said they felt like iron, the fight was over. Bucky Barnes was victorious, having added another big title to his list. After the two opponents hugged, the world champion belt was given to the blue-eyed man, who hurried out of the ring as soon as he had it in his hands.

The press was left dumbfounded, wondering where the champion had to go in such a hurry, as if he had somewhere else important to be than answering their questions. Of course, he had somewhere else important to be. Better yet, someone important to go to. The journalists seemed to multiply themselves in front of Bucky. The flashes of their cameras blinding him everywhere he looked, in his frantic search for a way out from the sea of press and fans. One of the journalists even dared to jump in front of him.

“Bucky, Bucky, Please. New York Times, Do you have some words for us?”

“I’m retiring. Now, I’m sorry, I have a girl to see” The boxer interrupted the man before he started to bombard him with more questions, while the crowd around them gasped and went wild with questions, with a gentle shove to his arm.

“But-” The young journalist tried to pry more words out of him.

“Please, move. I have a girl to see” Bucky said more sternly this time.

“You heard the champion!” Sam Wilson shouted from his left making both of them turn to him, interrupting the interviewer bugging Bucky “Now, move!” he gestured with his head before locking eyes with the champion throwing a knowing smile his way “What are you waiting for” He sternly said, raising an eyebrow to Bucky, who gave him a curt nod in thanks, shaking his head with a small smirk of his own.

The young reporter gulped in fear, not wanting to upset the prize-winning more, he jumped out of his way, snapping pictures at Bucky’s retiring form, prompting the rest of the press to do the same.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

And if it’s only one night

Tomorrow’s yours but the moment’s mine

I’ll shoot my super twist

Just for the thrill of it all

It was past midnight when Bucky got back home. He was tired and battered, new bruises adorning his face. Throwing his bag carelessly next to the door, after kicking it with his foot, he peeled off of his body the leather jacket clinging to him like a second skin with a lot of struggle. His tired self and mind only had thoughts about snuggling with you, but the clatter of a shard, when he took a step made his head snap to the floor. It was then when the memories of yesterday came back overflowing his brain.

How he walked away from you, how the pent up stress took a better of him. Bucky felt horrible, as he crouched down to retrieve the pieces of the mess he made, wishing he could have acted better on his actions. The drained man frowned, not recognizing whatever broken object he was holding, but he was adamant about buying a new one to replace it.

When he left the pieced object on the entrance table, it was then when he noticed the house quieter than usual and all the lights being off. Maybe you were asleep? It was late so it could be understandable, but on the back of his mind, he feared the worst. What if you had left him for good? He couldn’t bear losing you, for a stupid mistake, a stupid fight. You made him a better man, you were his rock. He would be lost without you. 

To collect his thoughts and racing heart, Bucky went to the kitchen to pick a water bottle, running his hands down his face, and letting out a long breath through his nose. As he reached the fridge, the calendar where you wrote down important events, caught his eye hanging on the wall.

On the day of today, there were to events appointed, his fight and your first concert, signaling the start of the tour. It was then he realized he had been a complete stupid asshole. Instead of being caring and understanding about the stress the tours generated you, always making sure everything was settled to the detail, he was the stupid selfish idiotic boyfriend. And what made him tears sting in his eyes was that he wasn’t next to you to support you.

There was also written the name of the town there, only just six hours away. Letting his head hit the wall, he then glanced around the kitchen seeing a folded piece of paper with his name written on it. At that moment, his heart skipped a beat fearing the worst. In a panic, Bucky rushed to pick it up and without opening it he ran to your shared bedroom.

Once he reached the top of the stairs, his heart and mind were at a mile per millisecond and his worst fears became true when he opened the door to your shared bedroom and you weren’t there. 

His mind wasn’t registering anything he was doing or happening, too preoccupied with finding you, as he rushed back to the calendar, for any more details. It was in the side block of notes where the name of the hotel was written. Quickly picking back his leather jacket and bike keys, not caring that his dead tired muscles were screaming at him to stop, he carefully placed the note inside his pocket and roared his baby to life, speeding out of the porch to get to you as fast as possible.

Bucky Barnes drove like a mad man, with only one thought in mind, and he for sure risked his life. But he didn’t care if he had lost you for good. He had to see you and apologize. Now, as he stopped in front of the hotel you were staying at, were a lot of fans had crowded around the entrance to take a peek at their idols, they went feral as all of them recognized him, not letting him stand up from his bike.

The security guards fending the hotel entrance came to his rescue, as they recognized him as your boyfriend, presuming he came to surprise you, pushing people away from him and escorting him, as they marched towards the main entrance, where they told him your room number. With a rushed thank you, he instantly ran up the stairs since waiting for the elevator would take too much time.

Just as Bucky walked throw the corridor leading to your room, he thought clearly. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you were mad at him? Tired and more anxious than he was ever before, it took him a while to compose his thoughts. What he was going to say, Sorry? It seemed too plain, for his mistakes. He didn’t even have flowers with him.

Once he reached your door, he hesitated on knocking, hoovering his fist over it. He was sure you didn’t want to see him but well, it’s worth a shot. With a ragged breath, he knocked on your door. 

You thought you had dreamed it, but you swore you heard a knock on your door. Taking a quick look at the digital clock with red bright numbers, you realized it was 6 AM. You were still tired as you still didn’t sleep well. It was always hard for you not to sleep near Bucky because he was warm and being in his arms always made you feel safe. Although, it didn’t help much the constant thoughts of the fight you had flooding your mind either. 

Since you didn’t have a concert today, you thought that maybe one of the guards needed something, or one of your friends wanted something, like go sightseeing, before the meet and greet with the fans. You rose from the warm, yet cold bed, placing a robe around you, and trying to tame your mane a bit before you opened the door.

You were surprised to see Bucky on the other side of it, looking down to the floor with a deep frown in his face. “Bucky” you softly whispered, his head snapping up to meet your eyes.

At that very moment, Bucky’s world stopped, again, as if it was the first time he saw you. Even having recently woken up, you were the most beautiful woman of the entire galaxy, and he surely will be blessed if you forgave him. Bucky’s mind halted as he took in your shiny beautiful Y/E/C eyes and merry smile. God, It felt like eons since he had seen that beautiful smile. Had he been this blind all this time?

Without thinking it twice, you crashed yourself forcefully to him, making him stumble a bit at the force, but never losing his balance, hugging him tightly to you. Bucky instantly pulled your much smaller form to him, circling your middle with his strong and sculpted arms. You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you clung to him for dear life as if he was going to disappear at any second, being sure you were still dreaming. You were pressing yourselves into each other so hard, it was as if you were trying to make yourselves into a single entity.

“You came” you whispered closing your eyes, letting him cloud your senses as you felt Bucky move one hand, to cradle the back of your head into his big hand, without letting go of you while you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, doll” Bucky whispered back in your ear, kissing the side of your head, before cradling your face carefully between his big and battered hands, to rest his forehead in yours “I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but just know that I love you so much. You are my sun and stars. You make me a better person. I can’t lose you. I’d be so lost without you”

“Bucky” you spoke softly his name as you turned your head a bit, to caress his nose with yours, leaving your lips close to his “What are you talking about?” you wondered frowning, your breath ghosting his lips with each word. Had he not read your letter?

You felt his lips crash into yours in a searing, yet tender, kiss full of love. He poured out every emotion he felt towards you in that kiss. You instantly kissed back holding onto his jacket and pouring out every ounce of emotion into the kiss too. And if it wasn’t for Bucky’s thumb caressing your cheek, you would have thought you were dreaming of this kiss. Bucky’s lips brushed yours, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that he could steal your breath away, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the taste of something undescribable lingering far after. When the need for air felt unbearable, you parted to gasp for air while he rested his forehead on yours.

“Please, don’t leave me” he whispered softly, not wanting to break the magic that surrounded this intimate moment, nuzzling your nose with his, lips brushing together in a feathery touch.

“Bucky,” you said a bit louder this time “What are you talking about?” You pecked his lips, making him hiss a bit as you realized now that he had a split lip, and a bruise forming next to his left eye. Carefully, placing your palm next to it, Bucky leaned into it, after nuzzling it to kiss it “I’m not leaving you, how could I ever leave you? I love you so much.” Bucky couldn’t help but kiss you again, he wanted to get lost in that moment, and so he did until you pulled apart and took shaky, shallow breaths “You are my world, my soulmate” you whispered caressing his cheek looking into his glistening blue orbs, getting lost in them. “You didn’t read my letter did you?”

“I’m retiring” Bucky let out a tired sigh, that’s when you took in his tired form, the bags under his eyes and the still-forming bruises. “I love boxing, but I love you more, doll” He but let his weight slump on you, yet cradling you to his chest.

“James Buchanan Barnes! Did you drive here all night, right after the fight, six hours on your Bike?” you only but freaked out, holding his face to make him focus “Are you crazy! You-”

Bucky silenced you with another kiss, and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breaths mingled, while his other hand got lost in your locks. You ran your fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you both and you could feel the beating of his heart against your chest, running one hand up to his chest.

Definitely, your senses had been seduced and you could no longer think straight. “Y/N” Bucky whispered slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. You smile, your heart fluttering at his voice as you clasped your hands at the back of his neck. Never before has your name ever felt so wonderful “I don’t care, I had to see you” He kissed your forehead as if saying sorry, a weight being lifted over his shoulders.

“You could have come here in the morning, If you had read my letter” you reassured him, untangling your form from his frame reluctantly, dragging your hands down his right arm, the one you knew was scarred and covered in tattoos. Bucky entwined your fingers with his tightly, as you dragged him inside your room, closing the door after him.

Looking down at his clock, he realized it was 6AM. Widening his eyes, at his idiocy he ran his free hand down his face, letting out a long sigh. “Please don’t leave me, I’m sorry for being an idiotic asshole” was all he could whisper as he let you drag him to your bed, making him sit there.

“I’m not going to leave you” You kissed his forehead and scruffy cheeks before you helped him take off his leather jacket and boots “How could I ever leave you?” you carefully peeled the t-shirt that had clung to him like a second skin. You knew he was sore after the fight, as you could see a lot of purple sports covering his skin. After he was only in his boxers, you both got under the covers, holding each other close.

“Because, I’ve been an asshole, baby. I thought you hated me” Bucky spoke tiredness taking over his body, now that he was comfortable and you in his arms. He felt how you kissed his eyelids, that he didn’t know had closed them, as a smile graced his beautiful face, one of your own mirroring his.

“I mean I thought you hated me because I yelled at you” you frowned letting your head fall close to his, laying almost on top of him.

“Uhm, no” he tiredly whined rolling to face you, entwining your legs together “Never, but the note...” he mumbled fighting very hard to stay awake

“We’ll talk in the morning,” you said kissing his lips once more, holding him close to you “Now go to sleep”

“but-”

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up” you both let the sleep embrace you, not letting go of each other.

It was a more reasonable hour when you woke up to a feather-like touch, caressing your cheek. You couldn’t help but beam, while you tried to hide, pressing your form closer to Bucky’s chest, that shook as he let out a happy chuckle.

“Good morning, beautiful” he let out in his morning raspy voice as he moved to kiss your cheek, playfully letting his body weight rest on you, making sure he didn’t crush you.

“Morning, handsome” you let out a jawn as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, and took him by surprise when you tackled him down to the bed, straddling his lap, as you both laughed non stop.

Bucky thought he was blessed by the angels themselves, admiring your ethereal form glowing in the morning sun, as he caressed your arms. After all this time, each time he looked at you, it was as if it was the first time he saw you. He would find new different glow of lights when the sun touched your skin, new different shades of your Y/H/L Y/H/C locks and the red of your lips. A new different twinkle in your bewitching Y/E/C headlights, when he looked into them and got lost. At that exact moment, that was all he ever wanted and needed.

“What are you thinking?” You wondered with a bright smile, caressing the purples in his chest, knowing that he didn’t hear a word you said.

“Nothing” the blue-eyed man focused on your caring and loving eyes “Once again I fell in love” he moved to a sitting position, holding you gently to him, cupping your face with one hand. Bucky leaned down and softly kissed the tender area at the base of your neck, before leaving a trail of warm pecks along the length of it and throat, to brush your lips together in a searing kiss, warmth radiating from the spot where his lips just touched, slowly spreading through the rest of you. “I’m retiring from Boxing” Bucky announced stopping your next words with a soft and warm peck “Before you say anything, I’ve been thinking about this, and us”

“But boxing is your life” you frowned hugging his neck as he denied adamantly.

“You couldn’t be more wrong” Bucky smiled softly at you “You are my life” he stated kissing your forehead and lingering his lips there “I spend a lot of miles away from you, for just a mere seconds of glory, when all the glory and all I need is right here in my arms”

Your eyes were glistening with happy tears at his words, holding him tight and close to you. You didn’t understand why he needed to give up his dream, just for you. “Bucky, I can’t as you to do such a thing, just to be with me. Boxing is your dream”

“You don’t understand” he spoke softly holding your hands close to his heart “You are my dream, and I don’t ask you. I’m doing this because I want to” He paused for a moment to look directly in your eyes “I want to be with you, forever. I don’t want you to be worried if I will ever come back to you because I took a blow badly. I don’t need all the glory, nor the money. All I need is you”

By now, small tears were running down your cheeks, were Bucky made them disappear with his thumbs. He held your chin delicately between his fingers tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “If that’s what you want, I’m very happy” you nodded kissing him “I just don’t want you to regret a thing”

You watched how Bucky held a finger with a mischievous smile, moving to retrieve something from his pants on the chair next to the bed. He was hiding something between his palms, a big smile not leaving his lips.

“I was planning on something else but this, right here, is the right moment” He moved one hand to reveal a small velvet box, and carefully opening it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. You looked at him not believing your eyes, placing a hand over your agape mouth. “A promise to love you forever, I’ll be your friend and my love for you will never end. I will stand beside you, all the way and through the years, as life goes on and on.” He took a deep breath “Y/F/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my lovely wife?”

You could only nod, as by the time he popped the question happy tears were cascading down your face. Taking a deep breath, you croacked a yes as you crashed your lips into his. He had tears of his own as he chuckled when you pulled apart to put the ring on your tembrling hands. You both couldn’t belive it, but now you were engaged, you both feeling as happy as ever. You squealed when Bucky tackled you down to the bed hovering over you, and kissing you in a passionate kiss.

“Uhm, Bucky, Y/N/N?” You heard Chanin hesitan voice as he knocked on your door “I’m sorry for being a party pooper, but we really need to get ready for the meet and greet”

“Oh boy” you gasped having forgotten everything about today, being on cloud nine, that definitely your fiancé have nothing to do with, trying to push him off of you to get ready, to no avail.

“How did you know I was here?” Bucky asked not having any plans to move, until you playfully patted his cheek, and reluctanlty moving off of you.

“We saw your bike when I went to order the breakfast!” Andy happily squealed.

“We heard everything, by the way” JJ squealed too “Congratulations to the newlyengaged” They all cheered together.

“Are you presentable enough, so we can open the door to hug you both?” Chanin wondered.

Between chuckles, you quickly got ready so your friends and bandmates could hug you and congratulate you.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

And if it’s only one night

Tomorrow’s yours but the moment’s mine

I’ll shoot my super twist

Just for the thrill of it all

You were halfway through the tour, with Bucky by your side. It was unspoken rule that now that he was here, he had to join for the rest of the tour, and since you were engaged and you wanted to spend the most time together, no one hesitated on making room for one more troubled soul.

One of your bodyguards had injured himself while he chased a fan, that wanted to intrude in the backstage, so everyone thought that Bucky was fit for the job, now that he was retired from boxing. Your other bodyguard, Steve Rogers, didn’t complain either, as he loved having his friend Bucky around. For once, everything was perfect.

Halfway through the concert, after the song ended, usually where you talked with the crowd, you joined JJ this time, picking the microphone in front of you.

“How’s everyone?” JJ cheered making the whole stage go wild in a second “Wow! Are you hyped too, like we are? Holy shit!” You chuckled while everyone cheered again “I see you have decided to joing the small JJ-Talk, Y/N/N” he smirked at you placing his arm around your shoulders.

“Yes, it was about damn time, you know!” you happily spoke making the crowded stadium go wilder, if possible “And besides I have a present for you all!”

“Wohow!” JJ did a happy crazy dance, as the people chanted your name “Are you going to do what we ALL think you are going to do!” He looked at you spectantly, along with the quiet audience.

You took a deep breath, creating misterious aura, a smile permanently on your face, suddenly becoming nervous, as you didn’t rehearse what you were about to do “Yes” at that word the croud went savage with glee. “I have a song for all the people that are in love, or need a love song, or just simply, y’know, want to enjoy some music, and I don’t even know what I’m even saying” The crowd and bandmates laughed with you.

After thanking, Scott, the stage coordinator, who placed a tabouret and a microphone in the middle of the stage for your little performance, handed you your red Fender Stratocaster with a happy fanboy smile. Taking a look at the side stage for support, were Bucky was standing enjoying the show, next to Steve, you beamed when Bucky couldn’t help but throw a wink at you, along with a kiss.

“Man, you are so whiped” Steve leaned close to whisper to his friend “Wilson was very right”

“Oh, shut up, punk” Bucky slapped his head focusing back on you.

“So, this song is for someone very special” You cleared your throat as the crow awed “You know, is the cheesy moment-”

“Really? We didn’t notice!” Andy joked making everyone in the venue laugh.

“Don’t listening to him! He’s jealous because the song is not about him” you joked back, Chanin fuelling the joke with a Ba-dum-tss “So, I was saying, this a very special moment-”

“And cheesy” JJ repeated joining the teasing.

“SO, of course my song needs a beautiful” you raised your index finger to stop Andy “and cheesy title” by now the spectators were full on joining your antics clapping and whoping when needed “This song is called you still broke my hello kitty piggy bank, bitch”

Everyone laughed and cheered as the illumination dimed until there was only a spot light, pointed at you.

When Bucky heard the tittle, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, as he had finally discovered what was the figurine he broke. And for the first time, Bucky was going to hear you magical voice live.

As you strung the strings on your electric guitar, the rest of the world disappeared. He let you magical chant envelop him, there was no crapy cassette on a battered Walkman, around his ears to disturb your magnetism. But no cassette was crapy when it held your voice. It was never possible.

You were singing directly to him. This song was about you both, and even though, you were sharing it with the rest of the world it was entirely yours. You were pouring out your heart, voice becoming one with the guitar, that completed you to perfection. And he understood what that letter he found and held it close to his heart, meant. It was a love letter. It was the love letter turned melody. It was your ballad, your love song.

Just for the thrill of it all

And as the roar of the crowd could be heard from miles away, the King of the ring, run to kiss his Queen of the pentagram, as everyone cheered like there was no tomorrow...

Just for the thrill of it all

...But they couldn’t care less, as they held each other close as their hearts roared and cheered at each other, like there was no tomorrow.

Let me know what you thought about it, feedback is very welcomed. And I’m very sorry for posting this so very late.

[logical--dreamer]

The Dark Kingdom Communications

So i don't normally do this type of thing, but i came up with a Modern Cassarian AU idea and decided to make a fic out of it. I'm not the best writer, but i hope you enjoy it!

The Dark Kingdom Communications: Chapter one

‘No, no, no.’ Cassandra cursed as she frantically clicked her mouse on the Wifi icon, praying that it would finally come up.This was not good, she had to submit the application in by five o’clock or she couldn’t for another few months. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “It will be okay, everything will be okay.” She whispered as she let the breath out. She still had time before the deadline, hours in fact, she didn’t have to feel so anxious.The Wi-fi could come back on at any minute, so she didn’t have to worry. She had the day off so all she had to do was wait. 

Wait. 

She wasn’t a big fan of that word

Normally, she was a really patient person. She was willing to wait in the wings while others took center stage, but the longer she stood in the shadows the more it was expected of her. It felt like her time in the sun had come and passed and she missed it. It felt like someone stole her destiny, but no more. She was done waiting. 

She had to wait to apply to the Police Academy until she had a full college education, but now her father dIdn’t have any excuse for her not to join. Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised that this is what she wanted to do. He was the Captain of the Corona Police Department and from a young age he taught her self-defence, and when she was legal, how to handle firearms. She was confident in her abilities, so why wasn’t he? 

She took another deep breath and got out of her swivel chair. This was just her anxiety acting up. “Everything will be fine.” she repeated to herself as she went to her kitchen counter for some coffee. This was going to be a long day. 

She grabbed her favorite mug and filled it with the hot beverage before leaning on the counter just staring at the computer. She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off of the internet. She tapped her finger against the mug in her hands and smiled softly. 

It was a blue ceramic mug from one of those “Paint your own” places. When it first opened, Raps was quite insistent that they go in and make something for each other. Honestly, she felt bad for what she gave her best friend. Unlike Rapunzel, painting wasn’t her strong suit. She traced the detailed owl her friend had painted with a small smile. It’s a wonder why Raps went for a law degree and didn’t pursue art, she was very talented.

Rapunzel! Maybe the ball of sunshine could distract her? She grabbed her phone and went to her contacts to call her. She licked her lips and shifted her feet as she listened to the ringing only to hear the dreaded voicemail. She hung up and sighed. She forgot, Raps was shadowing her father at his law firm today and wouldn’t be available until later that night.

Cass let out a groan and scrolled through her contacts. She felt a pang of loneliness when she realized how small the list was. She stopped at Fitzherbert’s name before letting out a laugh. She wasn’t that desperate. 

She lifted her coffee to her lips and took a small sip as she gazed at the computer again. Maybe it was working again? She walked over, sat her mug and phone next to the laptop, and tried the Wifi button one more time. 

Please, please, please...

Nothing.

Fine. If she was going to waste her day anyways might as well get this thing working. She grabbed her phone and dialed the Dark Kingdom Communications helpline. 

-----

"Ahuh...ahuh...yeah...okay." Varian nodded as he listened to another "Karen" on the other end of the phone complaining about her computer not turning on. This was the fifth time she called that day and it seemed like every solution he suggested didn't work and she was growing aggravated. 

He wasn't the biggest fan of working in customer service. True, he was good at his job and knew what he was talking about, but some of these customers… He worked better in solitude when it was just him, Ruddiger, and his science equipment. 

He genuinely wanted to help people, but he had hoped with one of his inventions, not tech support. 

He took a big sip from his cheap black coffee and rubbed his tired eyes as he listened to the woman on the other side insult him and the company he worked for. 

"Ma'am...ma'am…" he tried but she kept on complaining, "MA'AM!" He called over the phone and that seemed to finally silence her. "Have you checked the plug?" That seemed to offend her as she started in on him again, only to go dead silent. He heard a quiet "oh" on the other side and then a "click" to let him know she hung up. He leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. 

Finally 

He closed his eyes, exhausted. It was his own fault for staying up so late, but he had a breakthrough in his invention and he had to test it out! ...which resulted in a total power surge in his building. Thankfully, everyone was asleep and didn't notice him sneak down to the basement of the building to fix the fuse box. 

He sat forward and rolled his chair closer to his computer. Fortunately, it was a Friday, and every Friday night he liked to take the night off to order a pizza and watch a movie. It was a way to rest before going to his projects again. He would always invite his neighbor to join him, but she was usually too busy to come.

Oh, Cassandra. She was a beautiful, smart, independent woman who's grayish green gaze made him melt into the floor like a melted ice cream cone. He’s tried to impress her and make her notice him, but he doubted she even knew his name. 

He stretched his head around his cubicle to glance at Eugene who was chatting with Lance near the coffee maker. Eugene was the son of the owner of the Dark Kingdom Communications and was the head of marketing. He was the smoothest and most charming man he's ever met and he really admired him. Sometimes he wanted to ask for his help with speaking to Cassandra, but he would always chicken out. Maybe someday he would grow out of being such a coward.

He let out a small groan when he heard a new ringing in his head piece telling him he had another customer waiting for his assistance. He sat back in his chair and pressed the answer button. "Hello…"

--

"...Dark Kingdom Communications, this is V speaking, how can I help you?" Cass heard over the phone and sighed in relief to finally get rid of that obnoxious hold music. 

“Hello, I can’t find the internet” Cass lifted her head from where she set it as she waited for someone to answer.

“Sorry?” V questioned, confusion laced in his voice, causing her to be more irritated than before. 

“The Wi-Fi is down and I can’t for the life of me get it back up.” Cass continued, moving her mouse to keep the screen up. 

“Oh!” the man on the other line exclaimed in understanding, “Sorry, that was just an odd greeting.” he chuckled, trying to keep a friendly atmosphere on the phone.

“Well, one tends to be a bit frazzled when they had to sit through hold music for twenty minutes when they are on a deadline.” she snapped at the man.

V was quiet for a moment, probably trying to find a way to get things back on topic of her call. She was surprised when she heard a soft chuckle on the other end and him voicing his agreement. “It is pretty bad isn’t it?” 

She raised her eyebrow in confusion and nodded slowly even though he couldn’t see her, “Um, yeah….anyways, my internet isn’t working.”

“Right, of course!” V cleared his throat and she heard typing on the other side of the line, “I just need a little information before we begin.”

Cass shifted in her seat, frowning, she didn’t like giving people she didn’t know personal information “What kind of information?” she asked, almost defensively, ready to call whoever was his supervisor for his unprofessionalism. 

“Well….I need your name in order to pull up your file and to access your computer to work on fixing the problem.” V said slowly, almost reassuring. She slowly relaxed at his words. She had nothing to be tense about, it was just the tech guy. Why was she feeling so anxious?

“Right.” she licked her lips as she played with the glove on her left hand, “My name is Cassandra, Cassandra Moon.” 

--

Varian froze in his chair at the name. Cassandra, his neighbor, was on the other line. Beautiful, smart and independent Cassie…

“Hello?” Cassandra questioned him on the other line and that seemed to snap him out of his trance and had him get right to work. 

“Yes, hi, sorry. I found your file right here.” This was his fault, her internet was down because of his machine. Now she is going to hate him and she will never come over for pizza and movie night...not that she has before, but he kept hoping that she would someday. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice going up an octave without his consent. He cleared his throat again, pushing the reading glasses, that he always kept on top of his head, down to the tip of his nose.

“Well, like I said before, the WI-FI won't connect to my computer.” Cassandra repeated, the irritation back in her voice. He felt his heart pick up with nerves, he didn’t mean to make her annoyed with him. 

“How do you connect to the internet? Do you use a Modem, or your smartphone, or a broadband?” He questioned as he started the program to grant him access to her computer to look for any viruses or malware that might be causing problems for her. 

“I use a modem.” She mumbled on the other line. 

“Okay, and is the light for the internet doing anything? Is it on? Off? Flickering?” Varian asked, finally getting into the swing of his job. He could freak out about his crush calling later, right now he had a job to do. No matter what, he was going to fix her wifi. 

-- 

After about an hour of going back and forth of them trying multiple tricks and resetting different things, they finally got her internet connected and running, 

Cass looked at the clock and let out a sigh, she was going to make it. “Thank you so much.” she told V, her heart swelled with gratitude. “You have no idea how thankful I am that you were able to fix this.” 

V’s breath seemed to hitch at her words before they tumbled out quickly, “n-no problem at all! It’s just part of the job!” his voice seemed to raise again and he cleared his throat. “If you enjoyed the experience, please make sure to take the survey to let us know what you thought.” he suggested for maybe the hundredth time that day. 

She smiled as she pulled up her web browser and went to the bookmarked application. “I will….hey, I’m sorry about the way I acted before.”

“It...it’s alright, Cassandra.” He said softly, but she could tell he was smiling. She was happy she was able to make him happy after she was sure he had a rough day full of unreasonable customers. She felt her heart sink, she knew what that was like and she knew she didn’t help with the way she acted earlier. 

She was about to say goodbye, when she heard him ask, “What would you rather have?” 

“Sorry?” she paused in filling out her application, knitting her eyebrows together. 

“For the hold music? What would you rather have?” V asked quickly, taking them back to the beginning of the call once more. 

She tapped her finger on her chin as she thought about it. “Something upbeat, but not that annoying techno whatyoucallit that seems to be popular nowadays.” Cass hummed as she considered the question. 

“Oh, yeah, I agree. Honestly, in school I was a bit of a theater kid, I feel like something like that would be good hold music.” he said, surprising her with her exact same thought process. 

“Yes!” Cass agreed, surprising herself with how enthusiastic her response was. That was a bit uncharacteristic for her especially with someone she just met. Rapunzel was really rubbing off on her. She rubbed her eyes and looked back to her screen. She let her eyes wander over the page to make sure all the information was correct. She smiled in satisfaction, it was ready.

V was silent on his line for a long moment and she thought he hung up before he spoke again, “What about “Oh, What a beautiful Mornin’” from Oklahoma?” He suggested, she once again could hear typing on the other end. 

Cass raised an eyebrow, “It’s good...but a bit older. Those who are waiting might not like it.” she grabbed her mug again and took a sip. 

She heard V scoff in defense, “It’s a classic! I’ll have you know that I blew the audience away with my version.” 

“I’m sure mommy and daddy were so proud.” she mocked in a playful tone, suppressing a smile in her mug. 

“Uh...well, my dad was.” V mumbled, the vibe suddenly felt very heavy, “or I hope he was...” he added under his breath. 

“Sorry.” Cassandra frowned, things were starting to get too personal for a customer and a tech support guy. She better end it soon. 

“It’s alright.” he said, his tone light and happy, surprising her, “What do you think it should be then, since you seem to know so much about music?” 

She glanced at her application one more time before hitting the submit and letting out a breath. The weight lifted from her shoulders as she slowly relaxed. 

“The Greatest Showman.” she said simply, “The movie was a hit and I doubt anyone would find it irritating to listen to.” 

“Yes, but it would also cause a problem.” V said seriously. 

“And what problem is that?” She asked with a raised eyebrow

“I'll be forced to sing along each time it comes on.” He said, causing her to let out a laugh. 

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Recording Booth Angel

Pairing: Joe Mazzello!John Deacon x Reader

Summary: Y/N worked in the recording studio that Queen used to record their first album - she and John pined for each other and their feelings come out when recording at Ridge Farm

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing, pining (a shit ton of fluff??)

A/N: Hey guys! So this is my first time writing a full-scale fic for John! I’ve loved writing this so much!!! I’m so in love with John guys and I kinda love how this turned out so please let me know what you think - like, reblog, comment, send asks (plz send asks I love talking to all of you!!!) I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!!

Y/N looked up as the door to the recording studio swing open, crashing into the wall. Four men spilled into the room, accompanied by two women. Y/N’s eyebrows shot up at their sudden appearance.

“Who are you?” One of the men finally asked. He was tall, with kind, smiling eyes and seemingly untameable brown curly hair atop his head.

“I’m Y/N,” she frowned a little. “I work here,” the men’s faces flooded with recognition.

“Right, sorry - we’re recording now,” the same man explained, gesturing towards himself and the other men. Y/N lent forwards just enough to pick up the clipboard.

“You guys Queen?” She questioned, looking over the clipboard to take in the party of six.

“The very same, Darling!” The man who stood behind the tall man announced, pushing himself to the front of the group, a wide smile set on his face. “I’m Freddie - Freddie Mercury,” he held out his hand and Y/N took it, though her amusement was clear on her face.

“Nice to meet you - please, make yourselves at home,” she said, standing and gesturing to the sofas in the room. “I’ll just go get everything set up for you,” she murmured, moving through the crowd.

Y/N returned ten minutes later after setting everything up for the start-up band.

“Sorry about that - I lost track of time,” she smiled at the group, falling back into her swivel chair and turning around in it to face the group.

“Don’t worry about it at all, Darling,” Freddie assured her with a warm smile.

“This your first time recording?” Y/N asked, pulling her headphones over her head again to rest on the back of her neck.

“Yes,” the curly haired man from before confirmed. “I’ Brian, by the way. I play guitar,” Brian moved forwards and shook Y/N’s hand.

“Roger, the drummer,” the blond man said when Y/N turned her gaze onto him. He sat on the sofa with his arm around one of the girls’ shoulders and pulling her to rest against his chest. Y/N’s eyes turned to the final man in the room, his cheeks turned a light pink at her gaze.

“I’m John - John Deacon,” the shyness with which he spoke was endearing and brought a smile to her face as she nodded at him.

“And this wonderful woman is my girlfriend - Mary,” Freddie introduced the other woman in the room with a bright, beaming adoring grin on his face and Mary’s embarrassment was clear though she smiled back lovingly at her boyfriend.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Y/N said with a grin and looked to the woman under Roger’s arm, presumably his girlfriend.

“This is...” Roger trailed off, clearly concentrating hard on remembering her name.

“Crystal?” The girl offered, clearly unimpressed. Roger nodded, grinning and squeezing Crystal’s shoulder, either not picking up on or not caring about Crystal’s annoyance.

“This is Crustal.”

“Well lets get you guys recording then.”

“You’ll come with us, right?”  John asked, warming his hands around the mug of coffee set on the table in front of him.

“Of course she will - she’s our good luck charm,” Freddie winked at Y/N. The woman rolled her eyes at her now-close friends.

“I do have a life outside of you guys,” she said mildly, tapping her fingers lightly along the ceramic mug.

“But we are the most important aspect of your life,” Roger teased, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and leaning back in his chair to regard her with a grin.

“Will I get a raise for putting up with you arseholes every hour of every day?” She asked, finding it difficult to stop the grin forming on her face. Brian laughed at her, shaking his curly head as he took her in.

“No chance, I’m afraid, in fact we were even thinking of not paying you at all - I mean, it is an honour to be in our presence,” Brian joked.

“We are royalty after all,” Freddie insisted and Y/N threw her head back in laughter.

“I thought you were under strict instructions to ‘remove all distractions’” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows as she surveyed the boys. John went bright red as she made eye contact with him as he always did, smiling down at the table. Y/N bit her lip, unable to contain her smile - she found him absolutely adorable.

“You’re our muse,” John’s response was whispered, the redness on his cheeks intensifying. Y/N’s head tilted to the side, heat creeping up her neck at his shy words and she shook her head at him.

“You’re so fucking cute, Deaky,” Y/N said. John’s eyes flicked up to hers, a pleased expression on his face as he returned her smile.

“You’ll come?” He asked. Y/N hesitated, thinking of all the university classes she’d miss and all the work she’d have to take with her. “Please?” It was the final plead that did it for her as she looked into his eyes and nodded, knowing that she would most likely never be able to resist the dorky, accidental charm of John Deacon.

“Okay, I’ll come.”

“Wow, this room is...” Y/N trailed off, raising her brows as she looked around John’s room at the farm. John gave her his signature crooked smile from his seat on his bed.

“Small?” He offered. Y/N laughed a little.

“I was going to go with cozy, but small works too,” John giggled a little and Y/N tilted her head back up the stairs.

“Dinner’s ready,” she told him. John nodded and moved his bass off of his lap as he stood up, placing it to lean up against the wall.

The two of them ascended the stairs together in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Things between them were rarely awkward.

“So... had any inspiration, yet?” Y/N asked as they emerged into the living room of the building the band were sleeping in - Y/N’s room was above the actual recording studio, in case the band woke up in inspiration late at night and decided they had to record. It had been known to happen.

John stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he walked next to Y/N and shrugged. “Nothing much so far,” he was lying, not that Y/N knew that. 

He was walking next to his inspiration.

Y/N touched his arm with a sympathetic, sweet smile she reserved solely for him. “It’ll come, Deaky, don’t worry - you’re an amazing musician.” John let out a little laugh that caused Y/N’s heart to skip a beat.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Y/N bit her lip and shrugged.

“That’s what I’m here for, right,” she winked at him, “and to be your muse,” John laughed affectionately and nodded at her.

“Yeah - you’re definitely that,” he murmured.

Y/N’s eyes were fixed on John, as she often found them to be. He was deep in concentration as he often was, focusing solely on the bass in his hands, rarely looking up from his instrument to cast a glance at the people on the other side of the glass in the recording studio.

To say Y/N felt blessed to be able to see him play was an understatement - she adored watching John as he recorded, the focus on his face was an incredible sight to behold and she adored to watch his fingers moving on the strings.

Y/N loved watching him.

She loved him in general, if she was being honest.

“Can you make it more obvious?” Brian murmured into her ear, ducking down so their faces were level and moving the headphone off of her ear so she could hear his words.

“Make what more obvious?” Y/N muttered, ducking her head and staring at the ground to avoid making eye contact with Brian. The guitarist let out a long laugh, shaking his head.

“Trust me, Y/N/N, the only person you’re fooling here is Deaky - and that’s only because he’s oblivious to everything,”  Y/N turned to look at Brian with a glare.

“Would you kindly fuck off? I’m trying to work here,” Y/N huffed. Brian held his hands up defensively.

“He likes you too,” Brian muttered. “But whatever - I’m going to get some coffee,” Roger perked up at that.

“Coffee? I could go for coffee,” Roger agreed, standing up from the sofa and stretching. John paused his music in the box, raising his eyebrows at them questioningly. Freddie pressed the button.

“Hello, Deaky Darling, we’re going to get coffee,” Freddie announced. John nodded.

“I think I’m going to stay here, thanks,” John declined the silent invitation, the same shy smile on his face as always.

“Y/N?” Roger asked, looking to the woman. Y/N rubbed her forehead and shook her head.

“I should get some uni work done,” she groaned, reaching down below the recording bench to where her uni books were stored.

“We’ll bring some up for you,” Brian promised and Y/N gave a thankful nod and a tired laugh.

“You okay?” Y/N jumped at the sudden voice, turning to look at John, wide-eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” John bit his lip and Y/N shook her head, smiling at him - she could never get mad at him for anything.

“Yeah I’m fine, John - just a little tired is all,”

“Want me to help?” Y/N raised her eyebrows at him.

“How much do you know about 18th Century literature?” John shrugged bashfully.

“I can learn,” he offered. Y/N smiled at him.

“You’re sweet,”

“I do try,” John chuckled. Y/N groaned and rested her head on his shoulder. John instinctively moved his arm to wrap around her shoulder and pull her to him.

“You don’t need to,” she murmured.

“You know something?”

“I don’t know anything,” John laughed quietly, shaking his head and kissing her temple. “Go on then, what do I need to know?”

“I like you, a lot,” Y/N shot up from his arms, staring at him wide eyed.

“Do you mean that... as in...” John nodded hesitantly, his cheeks tinged bright pink. Y/N watched him let out a visible breath of relief as she started to grin. “I like you a lot too,” she murmured. John’s hand raised and settled on her cheek, his thumb brushing nervously across her lips.

“Can I...” He trailed off, clearly embarrassed with his question but Y/N nodded immediately.

“Please,” she whispered. 

Sparks flew as their lips finally connected, a mere brush at first before they both giggled like naughty school children and kissed one another again, more firmly.

[eluthanai]

The Story of Hiereus: A Flashback within a Flashback.

The below story was the original backstory for my character Hiereus.- 

Hiereus sat on a stone near the fire he had built outside the kobold slave camp. The fire itself was small as not to draw the attention of the house whose field he was in, but big enough that the kobolds knew he was there.

“The light of the Flame is liberation, and the path to freedom is trust and benevolence,” he spoke the mantra in his limited draconic vocabulary avoiding the common used by their human masters.  As he spoke the words the Flame's light became a bright scarlet; its warmth touching not only his skin but reflected deep in his soul.

It was his third night outside the camp, four full months since he left his home in Eluthane in his search for Moira. That search itself had turned up little, but finding himself in Vinita Hiereus had seethed to find the persistence of slavery in the Republic, for all the talk of liberty in the fledgling nation he had been disappointed. 

As it was no kobold had yet approached the fence near his fire. Still he remained; their sidelong glances reassured him of their curiosity.   

He stared deep into the flames as his mind drifted to a time too far away when he and his sister prepared for their first guarding rites.

***

Hiereus was fifteen as he prepared for his first time ministering rites as a member of the Eluthanai Temple. His mother was still officiating of course, but this was a right of passage into the priesthood for him and his sister. 

“Are you still getting ready?” Moira's voice came from the door, “Mother's waiting for us,” she said. 

“One moment,” Hiereus called, “I need to apply some ointment to my stump,” he said, reaching for a bottle he kept on his writing desk.

“It's still bothering you?” his sister asked concerned, “It's been weeks since we made our lamps.” She ran her hand over the place from where her own horn had been cut.

Hiereus offered his sister a pacifying smile, “It's only irritating once and a while now, I just don't want it to act up during the ceremony.”

Moira rolled her eyes and nodded, “Of course,” she said, “But hurry, you're making us late.” 

The ointment was applied quickly, and soon his hood was raised. Taking up his lamp he followed his sister into the frigid air of Eluthane. 

The guarding rite at the kiln probably drew the largest gathering of the town each year. It wasn't the most religiously significant holiday in the cycle, but the one that affected the livelihood of most of the townsfolk in Eluthane.

Ceramics were his peoples primary export. They weren't the biggest producer of stoneware, but over the generations their work had gained enough of a reputation that Eluthanai pieces were highly valued, sufficient that the communally run kiln could sustain his people in their cold home. 

“So there you are,” their mother, Phose, called as they ran across the frozen earth to meet her. “Your father just came past to tell me they are almost done loading the kiln, I was afraid you'd miss the lighting.” Moira frowned, “You're the leader of the temple mom, you'd think you'd be able to delay the ceremony a bit for your own children.”

Their mother sighed, “A position I have only through the trust of our people, you wouldn't want me to take advantage of that would you?” Hiereus winced at his mother's words. Since gaining their freedom, trust was the foundation of their town's order, leadership was elected, and that was perhaps the biggest token of trust one could win, to violate it, well it was a taboo that was seldom broken.

Moira's tail drooped from the chastisement, “even still 'our people',” she made scare quotes in the air,  “are our friends and neighbors, I'm sure they would forgive you a little tardiness, besides, Hiereus' stump is still bothering him.”

“Moira!” Hiereus cried in a mortified tone.

“What? Still?” his mother said, moving to inspect her son's head.

Hiereus pulled the edges of his hood down over his face in protest, “No, Mom, it's fine.” he said agitated, “Lets just go to the kiln.” he huffed.

“If you say so,” she said, looking down at her son still worried.

“Yes.” he responded, not letting go of his hood until their mother led them away.

---

Most of Eluthane had gathered near the hillside where the great step kiln had been constructed generations ago. Hiereus' could see his older brother, Rai'Tu'Sai, working at  its front loading the wood whose ash would become the color to decorate the work of the potters.

“Ah, mother!” Rai'Tu'Sai said, greeting them as they approached, “We're almost ready, Pa just sealed up the back. Once we've set the kindling you can start.” 

Their mother nodded, and Rai'Tu'Sai turned to his younger siblings, “So, you two ready to stay up all night trending the Flame?” he said with a grin, “To be honest, I'm glad not to be doing your job tonight. I'll tell you what, I'm going to sleep well while you two are out here.” he said as he ran his knuckles over Hiereus head.

“Stop that!” Hiereus wailed, and his brother chuckled.

“I suppose that's why you didn't join the priesthood!” Moira chided.

“Well one of us had to follow in Pa's footsteps, it may as well be me right!” Rai'Tu'Sai said back.

“Cut it out you three,” Their mother reproved them in a harsh whisper while rubbing her eyes, “The whole town's here! And Moira it's good to keep a potter in the family, their work is in many ways harder than ours, and we contribute as a family.” Phose finished.

Moira sighed, “Yeah I know,” she said, “just make him leave Hiereus alone,” Hiereus' tail sank low to the ground as he grumbled. His sister was too quick to defend him, and he wished she would just let him handle himself. 

“Your brother's fine,” Phose said, and Hiereus wasn't sure which she was referring to.

Rai'Tu'Sai shrugged and went back to work. 

---

In short order it was time for the rite of guarding to begin. The Moira and Hiereus followed their mother and the other priests to the pavilion sheltering the front of the kiln, and Hiereus withdrew a prayer book he had tucked into his robes.

“What are you doing?” Moira asked in disbelief, “don't you have your part memorized?” she said through clenched teeth. 

“I do.” Hiereus whispered back defensively, “I just want to be sure.”

“Whatever,” Moira breathed, “Just remember they all know you're my brother.” “What's that supposed to mean?” Hiereus asked but apparently not softly enough as he caught the fiery gave of his mother that cut him short.

The tone of a bell silenced the crowd as Phose stepped forward, her horn lamp held aloft, it's flame deep red. 

“We who once toiled enslaved by darkness are now liberated by light.” she intoned. 

The next priest stepped forward and lit their lamp from the one Phose held, “By the light of the Flame our work is now ours” they said as the Flame's light was shared with them.

Moira then joined the others, and their mother lowered her lamp to share the flame with her. “Trust and benevolence is the path to freedom, may we share our work and labor together.” she said as the flame on her lamp took its crimson hue.

Heiress had followed along in his book, and his turn had now come. He stepped forward and met his mother's smile. “May the light of the Flame … Protect our labors...” he was reading aloud phrase by phrase and frowned as he stumbled, “my they carry its light... so that the darkness... cannot over take them.” He looked at the ground as he finished.

His mother nodded and raised his chin as she lit his lamp, “You did good,” she whispered to him, and he was relieved when it turned red like the others; its power reflected in his heart.

Then he with the other priests turned to the kindling at the base of the kiln, “May the light of the Flame provide you with strength, wherever you go.” they chanted together as they each lowered their lamps to light the kindling together.

The potters who worked the kiln pumped bellows to stoke the Flame which soon spread to the wood inside.  Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, and Hiereus grinned to hear them break out into the traditional song.

Whirlwinds of danger are racing around us

O'erwhelming forces of darkness prevail

Still in the fight see advancing before us

Red Flame of liberty that yet shall prevail!

Then all of you workers

Rightly will reign 

All over the world

and the land and the sea

On with the fight for the cause of our liberty 

March march your toilers, and the world shall be free!

Then all of you workers

Rightly will reign 

All over the world

and the land and the sea

On with the fight for the cause of our liberty 

March march your toilers, and the world shall be free!      

      ***

The memory of years past was bittersweet since his sister disappeared. It had been that night she had brought it to him, the book of drow lore, a variation of the Ballad of Creation. 

A community of the dark elves lived in a cave network in the hills south of Eluthane, which had led Hiereus to study Undercommon.  Moira had given it to him as a gift to encourage his studies. But in some ways the myths he translated from it were the beginnings of their troubles. 

They had known the story of Creation, or at least the most common story, but the drow who lived in the caves, they didn't believe they sheared a creation by Zephranus like the other elves, instead they believed their genesis to be from the caves themselves. Further the text called the tieflings demons, the spawn of the same who had once enslaved them, rather than the creation of Liliq.

Hiereus grimaced, that book ate at his sister's soul until she left to find their true creator whomever it was.    

His only hint that she was still alive was a sending he received a year before his journey began, “I found it.”That was all the contact that he had, and his own attempts to respond had failed. 

He poked the coals of his fire, and sighed. Looking up he saw that he was being watched closely by a kobold through the fence.

“Who are you?” the kobold said in it's own draconic dialect.

“One whose people were once enslaved like yourself, one who brings the light of the Flame, and to show you the way to liberation.”

Fin.

The theme found here is a variation of The Warsawian. Later songs and poems I compose myself.  

[missbrightsky]

I didn’t know where else to go

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 7: Feyre

The prick told me I should have nothing to worry about so why am I hesitating? It was 11 am on Sunday, exactly when Mor told me to be at her place. I’m not a person who likes to be late, but here I am, hesitating like a coward.

Quit being ridiculous and knock, I scolded myself, forcing my fist to raise. Before my second knock was done echoing, Mor flung the door open, a bright smile already lighting her face.

“Feyre! Come in!” her voice matched her face, no trace of hostility or suspicion.  As soon as I was over the threshold, she was putting a mimosa in my hand and sweeping back to her kitchen. Mor’s apartment was the complete opposite of Rhys’s, light streaming in from tall windows and open spaces giving the whole room a breathable feeling. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the wall of weapons, nearly as extensive as her cousin’s.

I found myself sipping from the glass before I could stop myself. The drink was cool and sweet, better than Lucien’s mimosas but I could never tell him that (it would break his heart). Mor had returned to whatever task she was doing in the kitchen before I knocked.

“Your home is beautiful,” I commented, idly wandering around, taking in the Velaris skyline and abstract art placed along the walls.

“Thank you! Much better than Rhys’s I think.” I chuckled with her.

“Anything I can do to help?” tearing my eyes away from the art and steering my body back to the kitchen. Fresh fruit was already diced and mixed, bacon was almost done frying on the stove, next to a pile of pancakes. My stomach let out a growl at the spread of food.

“Nope!” Mor chirped, her lips popping at the end of the word, “I’m just about done here. You can carry the champagne and OJ to the balcony and I’ll join you in a sec.” She turned back to the stove, leaving me to follow her instructions.

Carefully weaving through the furniture, I headed towards the already open doors. The slow sounds of a city Sunday drifted up the building walls, sunshine peeked through the clouds, making it warm enough outside to enjoy the cool breeze. Mor’s balcony large enough to accommodate a white, iron table and four chairs, along with two chaise lounges and several potted plants. Everything was casual but thoughtfully chosen, meant for comfort and relaxation.

I set the drinks down on the table before walking to the railing. Below, Velaris spread out for blocks, a perfect vantage point of downtown a few blocks away to the right and a park sprawling to the left. Peaceful, comfortable, something you don’t expect from the Third of this city’s most notorious crime syndicate.

The clinking of plates behind me drew me from my musing, reminding me that said Third was making me brunch. I sat down at the table with her, trying to subtly watch her dish up a heaping plate of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fruit before topping off my mimosa.

“Cheers!” she intoned, clinking my raised glass to hers before drinking deeply and then attacking her food. Stop being ridiculous, she’s shown no sign of wanting to harm you so just eat the food and stop thinking it’s poisoned. I speared a strawberry on my fork and combined it with a bit of pancake, syrup dripping off of it. I had to physically stop myself from moaning. Like the dinner on Friday, the food was simple but exquisite.

“So Feyre,” she drawled, pulling me out of my reverie, “What lead you to become a cop?”

A simple question, one that she couldn’t do much harm in knowing. “My mother was murdered when I was young, so I wanted to become someone who could prevent or catch the villains that do that.” The simple statement left me feeling raw, perhaps it was the understanding that pooled in Mor’s eyes. Someone who had lost everything too. Mor only nodded, not offering the usual “I’m sorry”, knowing that the words would ring hollow in my ears.

There were a few minutes of silence after that question, Mor allowing me to silently gather myself again. At that point, most of the food was gone along with the champagne. The buttery sunlight combined with the pleasant buzz of alcohol left me feeling full and a bit sleepy. Mor was easy to be around, no sign of that unyielding queen from Friday night.

“Why is she coming to Velaris?” I asked quietly. It was the one question that was bothering me. We weren’t the capital of Prythian, too far north to be a strategic place to launch an invasion, even if the country itself wasn’t so large and powerful.

Mor knew who I was asking about, grimacing as she thought of the adversary. “We don’t know,” she admitted with a scowl, upset at their lack of knowledge. “At first, we thought it was because she had found us and were hunting us down because we escaped. Amren knocked that thought out of our heads, even though Rhys’s parents had money, they were only connected to politics through friends. Then we thought it was because she wanted to invade Prythian,” ah-ha, “but the continent is huge and would be nearly impossible to successfully take over.”

Mor tensely shrugged her shoulders, as if trying to shake off her annoyance, “Best we can figure now is that she got bored of terrorizing one country and wants a new challenge.”

“Shit,” I muttered, it was one thing to be dealing with everyday thugs and murderers, but it was a whole new ballgame to be fighting a crazy woman with a history of coups.

“Shit indeed,” Mor agreed, clinking her empty glass against mine. “I’m opening another bottle, you gonna help me drink it?”

I loosed a tight chuckle from my chest, “Sure, I’ve got nothing to do today,” lie, but my research isn’t going anywhere. I helped gather up the empty dishes and took them back to the kitchen where Mor was digging through a small wine cooler built into the counter.

“Just set them in the sink and I’ll take care of them later,” she called over her shoulder. The ceramic clattered against each other, nearly masking the knock that came from the door. Mor’s head popped out from behind the fridge door, glaring at whoever was disturbing her time with a new friend.

“I can get it,” I said, striding towards the entryway, peeping through the eyehole. I groaned at who was standing on the other side. “Mor! It’s your idiot cousin!” I shouted back towards her. “I heard that,” came the muffled voice. I ignored it, waiting for Mor’s response.

Mor echoed me groan before waving a hand, “Let him in.”

I twisted the handle, swinging it open enough to glare at him, twin to the look he first gave me when I showed up on his doorstep that handful of nights ago.

He was dressed casually enough in dark wash jeans and a graphic t-shirt, but still looked so unfairly good, nonetheless.

He smirked at my face, “I believe she said I could come in.”

I ground my teeth at his voice, his tone, and swung the door open fully and walked away, leaving him to shut it. Mor had already refilled my glass and I welcomed the sweet drink.

“To what do I owe the honor, cousin?” Mor drawled, taking a sip from her own glass, drawing attention to how she didn’t pour him one. Rhys was unfazed by this, beelining to the cabinet and snagging a glass for himself. Swiping the champagne from the counter before Mor could hide it, he poured himself a glass and took a sip before answering. “Do I need a reason to come and see my favorite cousin?” smirking at her.

“No,” Mor sniffed, “but did you have to do it while I was having girl time with our new favorite cop friend?”

“That’s precisely why I came,” he said with a wink towards me. I shoved down the blush that was surely from the alcohol, prick. “I needed to make sure you didn’t start telling embarrassing childhood stories of me.”

“Well now that you mention it…,” Mor started on a story of how Rhys ended up in a pool stark naked on a dare. How she managed to tell the story with Rhys chasing her around the apartment was a miracle to me. By the end, we were all in stitches from laughter.

His eyes glow blue when he’s laughing, the thought snuck into my mind. No, Feyre, don’t you dare.

Rhys responded to Mor’s story with one of his own. Now he was the one being chased by a winded and slightly tipsy Mor while telling me about how she tried asking a girl out for the first time and ended up in the school fountain. I would have felt bad for her with him telling that story, but Mor and the girl ended up dating for a year after that.

Late morning bled into early evening, more food been made that afternoon and Cas and Azriel arrived at some point when they found out that Rhys and Mor were trying to out-embarrass the other in front of me. Cassian had a million and one stories of them being young and stupid, but it was always Azriel that got the biggest laughs. The combination of his quiet demeanor and dry humor coaxed us all into a lull before delivering the punchline unexpectedly.

“So glad that you all are enjoying yourselves,” the cold voice came from behind.

“Shit!”

“What the fuck!”

“Aiiiiiieeeee!” (that high-pitch scream came from Cassian)

We all jumped to our feet, Cassian, Mor, and Rhys reaching for their weapons while Az and I took up defensive stances. There, standing five foot flat, was Amren, glaring at us all with her arms crossed.

“Amren,” Rhys recovering first, “How did you get in?”

She only raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said sweetly, surveying the general disarray of the living room.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes to sober up, a shipment from Amarantha will be here tonight and we need to be there to intercept it,” she informed us, spinning on her heel to march out of the front door.

Cas and Az got on their phones, calling whomever they needed to get into position. Mor disappeared into her bedroom, presumably to change.

I stood and watched the family jump into action. Rhys appeared beside me, prompting me to look up at him with a questioning look.

“You don’t have to come, I can fill you in later.” “No, I need to see what we’re up against,” I said firmly. Rhys scanned my face and nodded.

“Mor will have a change of clothes you can borrow,” he nodded in the direction of her room. I returned his nod and started towards it, squaring my shoulders against the shit storm that was about to hit.

Next Chapter

[aflower-exe]

[ 9:25am ] “Get your feet off my goddamn coffee table!” You scream, hitting Chanyeol’s head with your rolled up magazine. “Are you always this feisty at 5 o'clock in the morning?” He mumbles, rubbing his head. You feel your face twist into a scowl as you stare at Chanyeol. “No, I’m that feisty when people scuff up my furniture” Chanyeol mutters something about your “bitchyness” then rises shakily, still rubbing his head. “I fixed you breakfast.” Chanyeol says, he motions for you to sit as he makes his way to the kitchen.

You raise your eyebrows at the nice gesture. Chanyeol wasn’t necessarily a total asshole, but he never really went out of his way to do things for you. He came back in the living room holding a small ceramic bowl filled to the brim with captain crunch cereal. “I know it’s just a bowl of cereal, but it’s the only thing I couldn’t burn… Think of it as an apology for keeping you up so late last night” Chanyeol smirked, handing you the bowl. You feel color rush to your cheeks at the thought of the previous night. You could still hear the moans and sound of the creaking headboard that had filled your apartment. “Cereal? That’s the best you could do?” You snicker under your breath. “What was that? Are you picking a fight with me small fry?” Chanyeol said, looking down at you “Small fry?” You scoff “I mean, If you got any shorter you’d probably fade out of existence” “Oh that’s it” You growl, you slam your bowl on your coffee table and jump onto Chanyeol, grabbing fistfuls of his dark brown hair. He yelps and swats at your arm, begging you to let go. “What the hell is going on in here” Mina yells. You were too busy with Chanyeol to notice that your best friend, and Chanyeol’s girlfriend, had walked through the door. “She started it” “He started it” You and Chanyeol whine. Chanyeol pouts, “It’s not my fault your best friend is a psychotic monster with murderous tendencies” he whines. You roll your eyes and sit down on the couch, your jaw clenched in frustration. “I leave for two hours and come back to you two trying to kill each other. I swear you’re both five years old.” Mina turns her attention to you, eyeing you curiously. “Why are you so grumpy? Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” “No,” You start, glaring back “Someone woke up at 2 am because her roommate and her boyfriend don’t know how to keep it in their pants” You seethe. Mina opens her mouth to reply but shuts it quickly, her face tinged with pink, then glares at her boyfriend. Chanyeol raises his hands in defense, “Hey it’s not my fault you think I’m so irresistible” “No i do not!” Mina argues “That’s not what you said last night” Chanyeol smirks “Ew! Get a fucking room” You shout, throwing a nearby pillow at the two of them. “Anyways ____, me and Yeol are going to a party later and you should totally tag along” You groan at the mention of another party. Mina had been making you and Chanyeol go party hopping with her all week, despite knowing your affinity for being alone and watching netflix. Every morning you woke up hungover and every night you went to bed drunk again. “I don’t know Mina, I’m kind of tired of parties” “Well this one isn’t really a party. It’s more of a small get together ... C’mon ____,Think of all the free beer” Mina sang. Even though your body was still filtering out the endless alcohol you took in the night before, it was impossible for you to refuse free beer. “Fine. I’m in” You sigh in defeat. “I knew you couldn’t say no to free booze”

[ 8:47pm ] So much for a small get together , you thought wearily. You’d been standing at the door for several minutes. The sound of music and chatter filled your ears, the room so loud you could barely hear yourself think. After 6 awkward introductions and 5 cups of cheap beer you needed air, so you went to the balcony. The view was beautiful, the city around you all lit up under the night sky. The cool autumn breeze sent shivers down your spine.

You turn your head at the sound of footsteps coming up behind you. Chanyeol flashed you a lopsided smile then stood idly next to you, leaning against the golden railing of the balcony. “What do you want” You ask, turning your attention back to the view in front of you. “Why do you always assume i want something? Parties just aren’t my thing” You frown at his reply “You’re literally dating the biggest party girl on campus” “Yeah. I realize.” You notice the annoyance in Chanyeol’s voice but decide not to comment.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, hearing nothing but wind and the sound of traffic below. After a while you start to take a few glances at Chanyeol, who appeared to have something to say to you seeing as his eyes were glued to yours and his brows were raised and furrowed. “What?” You ask. “What, what?” You roll your eyes at Chanyeol’s trivial response “Why are you staring?” Chanyeol looks at you, debating if he should answer the question “You know you have a serious case of rbf” He says, expression completely serious “rbf?” “Yeah rbf. Resting Bitch Face” “Gee thanks” “You just give of the impression that you want to murder everyone you look at” “Are you ever not a total asshole ?” “Hey I’m only trying to make conversation” He mumbles. You sigh and hold your arms close to your chest. The cold air went straight through you, chilling you to your bones. The only warmth you felt was from Chanyeol’s intense stare that still bore into the side of your head. “You’re still staring” You tease, but Chanyeol doesn’t respond. “Chanyeol?” You turn around to face him but before you can open your mouth he leans in and kisses you. His lips danced against yours, melting into a slow rhythm. His hands grip the sides of your face, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

When the kiss breaks the taste of his whiskey still lingered on your tongue, it’s harsh, bitter flavor suddenly seeming sweet. The moment is interrupted by a loud gasp. The two of you turn your head to the door where Mina had been standing with two cups of beer in her hands and one half drunk cup of punch tucked in her arm. “Mina…” Chanyeol starts. She doesn’t respond. She turns swiftly on her heel and shuffles back into the building. You and Chanyeol share a look of worry and regret before he runs in after her, leaving you standing on the balcony, alone and confused.

[ a/n: this is kind of rushed and lq but whatever it’s cute. What member should I write for next?? ]

[feel199x]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚apple of my eye ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X

gang member!han jisung, florist!reader, sort of band member!han jisung

masterlist

a/n: hey there! i did my best to incorporate the proper meanings of the flowers, but i apologize if i got anything wrong. this was a bit longer than i intended! i hope you enjoy, and like dance the night away and to protect our district, this will also be a series. if you’re curious, the meaning of the flowers are at the end! ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ also i made minho super sassy but i lov him i promise!!

warnings: angst? 

You loved your flower shop, it meant everything to you. Granted, it was on the smaller side, but she was your pride and joy. It had been a year since you moved countries, and Korea still surprised you. Even though you were on the quieter side of the city, it could get overwhelming. But not in your flower shop, the world was quiet here. You were admiring the hibiscus’* that you were arranging into a bundle an elderly lady had requested. She was ordered to pick them up about an hour from now, and you’d hope she’d be pleased with the arrangement. Much to your distaste, flower shops weren’t all that popular anymore. The making of flower bundles with meanings was a dying art. But nonetheless, you adored it. The smell and delicate nature of flowers gave you comfort, especially when you had first moved here. Quite enamored in your own thoughts, you almost didn’t notice the bell chiming of a new customer. 

“Can I be of any help?” you called out into the store, putting the vase with the finished hibiscus bundle on the counter. Much to your surprised, a boy only a bit older than you walked up to the counter. He held his hands together nervously, his tanned face looking down. “Hey,” you spoke again, “Are these for your grandmother?” He looked up immediately, and nodded. “Yes!” he responded, “How did you know?” You dragged your fingers across the counter to the cashier. “Just a hunch,” you said shyly. He handed you the money and wrapped his hands tightly around the vase. “Thank you.”

“Come again!”

You didn’t think too much of the encounter, mostly because you didn’t want to get your hopes up and expect to see him again. But as you got your shop ready for another new day, opening the blinds and letting the sun come in and shine on your various flowers. As you propped open the door, you noticed someone waiting outside.

The boy from yesterday.

“Ah,” you paused, “Do you need something?” He smiled and his cheeks curved out cutely, as he held out a plate of sweets, covered in saran wrap. “My grandmother wanted me to bring these to you,” he explained, “To thank you for the flowers. She said they were one of the best arrangements she’d ever ordered.” You rubbed your hands nervously. “Thank you,” you grabbed the platter, “Do you want to come in? I could get you something to drink?” He followed you inside, back to the counter as you pulled up a stool for him to sit on.

You returned with some tea when you noticed he was up and touching the arrangements that sat behind your counter. “They’re pretty,” he commented, “But aren’t you a bit young to own a flower shop?” You put the teapot and the cups down, walking over to stand by his side. “I still study,” you explained, “But I moved here as soon as I was of age, and opened up my shop.”  You rubbed one of the petals softly. Noticing you were getting carried away, you turned your attention away from the flowers and to the boy standing next to you. You caught his eye from a moment and you both turned to the platter of sweets. “You never told me your name,” he said, “My name is Han Jisung.” You smiled. “It’s ___,” you told him, “It’s also in the name of the shop.” He looked over as he finished putting food in his mouth, furrowing his eyebrows. You laughed at how his cheeks bulged out like a squirrel.

 “What?” he asked. You put your hands up to surrender, waving a white flag. “You just looked cute,” you said, “Like a squirrel.” He whined, “Please don’t. I’ve heard that more than a squirrel has.” The store’s bell chimed and another boy came in, shouting Jisung’s name. He shot you an apologetic look as the boy came up to the register. “We’re late Jisung,” he scolded, “Your grandmother said you would be here. Since when did you like flowers?”

“I was just dropping off the sweets she asked me to.”

You stood there awkwardly, listening to the conversation between the two close friends. “Would you like some?” You asked, offering him a the platter of pastries and tea that sat idly on the counter. “I’m sorry that Jisung’s such a pain,” he winked and grabbed a scone, “I’m Minho.” You nodded. “____,” you told him. He grabbed Jisung’s hand and pulled him to the opposite side. “Thank you for the pastries,” Minho said, “but we have places to be.” Jisung waved politely as he was ushered out the door. You smiled to yourself, taking the rest of the saran wrap off of the platter and leaving it open to the customers that would’ve wandered in that day. You returned back to your usual business, today, you were arranging a make-up bundle. You knew this because it was a request for three dozen roses and baby’s breath, to be put in an elegant ceramic vase, and wrapped in red and white- for unity. The truth was, the guy who came in didn’t ask for all of that- what he had asked for was a huge apologetic gesture, something with roses- like in the movies.

It was almost the end of the work day, when Jisung walked in through the door. You were out in the back of the shop this time, maintaining some Astilbies* that you hadn’t gotten the chance to use in any arrangement yet. You had some music playing from a speaker, sitting on a stool nearby, so you hadn’t heard him come in. And when you had, it was only after you had hosed him with water thinking it was a robber. But in your defense, he had spooked you.

“I’m so sorry,” you rambled, “I thought you were going to rob my store-” He just laughed loudly. “It’s not a big deal,” he comforted, “Do you have a towel.” You nodded, motioning him to follow you. You clambered your way up the stairs into your apartment to grab a towel for the poor boy when you noticed he was looking over the large bundle of roses. “He must’ve messed up big time, huh?” Jisung asked, taking the offered towel, sitting on your stool. “What do you think he did?”

“Cheated on a wife probably,” you answered, thinking about how disheveled the man had been when he walked in, “He had a ring on his hand.” He nodded as put the roses on the shelf with the rest of the ready arrangements. “Are you here for the platter?” you asked, handing him the silver platter you had cleaned and brought down with the towels. He made an ‘O’ with his face. “Thank you for remembering,” he said, “I almost forgot.” He patted sadly at his still wet-shirt and looked up. “I don’t think it’s going to dry anytime soon.” You bit your lip. “I could,” you stammered, “I could wash them? But that might take longer than you going home, but I understand if you think it’s weird or-”

“Please,” he begged, “I don’t want to get on the bus to my grandmother’s all wet.” You nodded. “You can just head upstairs,” you explained, “I need to close the shop.” Your heart was beating, you were just trying to be trying to be polite- but weren’t totally sure of the implications you had made. You slowly made your way up the stairs, begging the stars that this wouldn’t take a weird turn, and thankfully it hadn’t. Jisung was standing in the middle of your apartment, which seemed to be filled with more greenery than the actual flower shop. “You really love your plants, huh?” he murmured, “Did you always want to be a florist?” You pulled a large shirt and sweatpants out of your and handed them to him. “Surprisingly, yes,” you answered, “But what about you? What do you do?” You led him to the bathroom and he shouted his answer from inside. “I do lots,” he said, “I’m in a band.” He handed you the folded wet clothes and you put them in your dryer. “Is it popular?” 

He grinned, “We’re doing pretty good.” You both stood in the middle of the hallway in silence for a moment. “You must be pretty amazing  with your words then,” you mentioned and he nodded, “Is Minho in your band?” He leaned against the wall. “Yeah!” He answered with a shine in his eyes as he talked about his music. You admired his passion as he talked on and on about what he and his band did.

The dryer beeped to signal it’s finish, interrupting the cute boy’s monologue. And you lead him back down to the flower shop’s entrance, but not before he stopped to look at the large amount of roses in the ceramic vase.

“Does every part of this arrangement have a meaning?”

You nodded in response. Red roses mean true love, the baby’s breath means long lasting love and the innocence in that unity,” you continued, “The red and white silk represent unity.”

“And do all flowers and stuff have meaning?”

“All of them.”

You hadn’t seen Jisung for a while now, ever since an incident during movie night. You had become close these past few months, and Jisung spent nearly all his free time with you. You were worried, but of course, there wasn’t much you could do.

However, one day you began to receive pressed flowers in short admiration letters. It took you by surprise the first time, so much so that you nearly dropped the letter. Your cheeks heated up as you looked around, looking for anyone who was standing idly nearby. But there wasn’t anyone. The first letter, or rather, note had several pressed gloxinia- the flower that represented love at first sight, and said: your flowers are almost as pretty as you.

As cheesy and tooth-achingly sweet as it was, it made you smile. This continued for a few more weeks, before Jisung happened to stop by. He sat on the counter and swung his legs. He filled you on everything that had been going on in the past four months, and shared every possible detail. “What about you?” He asked, “Anything new?” You shrugged, putting some red Hyacinths* in another arrangement for his grandmother. “Not really,” you answered, “I’ve been getting letters in the mail.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” he pushed, “What kind of letters.” You tilted your head as you thought. “Well, I wouldn’t call them love letters,” you said, “I think they’re more like, crush letters.” He nodded, avoiding your gaze. “Yesterday,” you added, “I got a white Camellia. It’s like saying someone’s adorable.”

“Who do you think it is?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, adding red carnations* to the bundle.

“I have no idea.”

You finished his grandmother’s bundle and handed him the bouquet. “You should stop by more,” you said quietly, “I’ve been missing you.” He made an ‘O’ face and turned so you couldn’t see his face heat up in embarrassment. “Sure,” he said, “No, yeah, definitely.”

The truth was, ever since you moved to Korea, you had been to scared to make new friends your age. Although you were quite popular with your customers, and the older folks that lived and had shops near your own- something about going out to public spaces made you nervous. But one day, Jisung came by your store. And in the midst of your usual banter, well, more like him yelling about his bandmates and music he asked you. “You should come out with me tonight,” he said, “We’re all meeting up to celebrate our album. You aren’t busy right?” You bit your lip, running your hand along the stem of an iris*. “I don’t know sungie,” he said, “Events like those make me nervous.” He grabbed your hand delicately. “I’ll be there with you,” he comforted, “Go get ready. I’ll close up shop.”

About half an hour later, Jisung was sprawled out on your couch, eating snacks from your cupboard and scribbling quickly in his songwriting notebook. “What are you writing?” you asked, plopping yourself next to him. “It’s a love song,” he said quickly, “Are you ready? We need to catch the bus.”

You would never outwardly say it, but you admired Jisung- you might’ve even had a slight crush on him. The sunset’s rays complimented his skin well as he dragged you to the bus stop. He was dressed as his usual self, but something was different when he held your hand tonight. He looked less like just a friend, and more like someone you could see yourself with.Your heart was beating, and your face felt like it was burning- like if you had a fever.  As you sat on the bus, he lend you one of the earpieces of headphones so you could both listen to the song his band was working on.

You stared at his side profile as he explained the meaning behind this particular song, your heart about to burst through your chest as you sat in admiration of his passion. The bus driver called out your stop name, and Jisung had to bring you back down from cloud nine.  “___!” he yelled, “We’re gonna miss our stop.” You apologized to the bus driver as you got off, Jisung pulling your arm to wherever they were going to meet. As you approached what seemed to be a karaoke bar, you noticed Minho and a group of boys standing outside the bar. “Hey, you’re ___,” Minho said, “The florist?” You nodded, saying a general hello to the group of boys. “Jisung,” a bandmate named Woojin scolded, “Aren’t you going to introduce her?” “But I already-” Woojin gave him a look and Jisung sighed. “Guys this is ___,” he explained, “___, this is Woojin, Chan, and surprisingly Felix, who isn’t late for once.” Felix opened his mouth to say something but closed it, opting to give a sad dab instead. “We’re sorry for the delay,” Chan added, “the rest of the boys are usually better about time.”

You held up your hands. “It’s alright.” A moment of silence passed before Chan engaged in some conversation. “So you’re a florist, right?” You nodded.

“Can you tell me what flowers I need to get that say “I want to un-adopt seven children’?”

You laughed. A smile stretching across your bright face as you started to relax a bit. “Well,” you explained,” a striped carnation symbolizes refusal and rejection, and hydrangeas are just the flower version of ‘screw you.’ if you come by, I can even make you a passive aggressive not to put in the bouquet.” This elicited a couple of hey!s from Felix and Jisung. Minho shrugged away the playful rejection. “Hey ___,” you turned to Minho and Jisung began to glare at him, while Minho just smirked, “What flower stands for ‘I’m completely and hopelessly devoted to you but I can’t tell you because I only have one brain cell?’” You furrowed your eyebrows and thought for a moment. “I don’t think there’s one single flower for that,” you added, “But a germanium symbolizes stupidity and a red camellia means you’re a fire in one’s loins.” You looked back at him. “Why?” you thought out loud, “Do you have a crush?” He clutched his shirt and reached for Jisung. “Of course not,” he exclaimed, “Jisung is the only one for me.” You laughed again, and nudged your friend. “When’s the wedding?” you teased, “I can make your arrangements.”

Jisung stuck his tongue out at the both of you and pulled you inside the karaoke bar, not caring that the boys had yet to arrive. But once the group had settled in, the rest of the boys arrived into the room. You learned that their names were Seungmin, Jeongin, and Changbin came in, apologizing for their late arrival. They all greeted you kindly, and everyone made sure that you were comfortable.

But, as the night grew older, you grew more and more anxious- a bad feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. But you ignored it, opting to listen to Woojin serenade the group for the ninth time that night, and after that, all the boys agreed that it was indeed time to go home. Most of them using you and Jeongin’s age as an excuse, but the both of you knew better. You bid your farewell to the boys and Jisung insisted on taking you home. You didn’t fight him, because you knew this wasn’t an argument you could win. The bus ride home was quiet, as you fell asleep on Jisung’s shoulder. You woke up suddenly, and you swore you caught Jisung’s eye looking fondly at you. But as you rubbed your eyes, you found that you had approached your stop. He took your hand again, and together you walked back to the shop.

For some reason, your heart was accelerating- and at first you though it was because once again, Jisung was holding onto your hand tightly. But as you found yourself in front of your flower shop, or rather, it’s remains. The glass windows were shattered, large pieces of glass littering the street and the inside of your store. Your flowers were trampled, and thrown all over the place- an incredibly catastrophic mess. As you made your way through the broken glass door that lay wide open, you found your vases and the arrangements all over the floor and the money, the money you had worked so hard to make. Everything you had done all by yourself, gone. Jisung was in front of you, holding your hand as the both of you hesitantly made your way up the stairs into your apartment. Your apartment was also trashed, and all the valuables you had brought from your native country- gone. That’s when you broke, flopping down to your knees and letting out harsh ugly sobs to mourn the wasted work you’ve done. Jisung cradled you as you heaved and let out stuttered breaths. “We should go,” Jisung whispered soothingly, “You can stay at my grandma’s.”

 But before you left, you noticed a monkshood* flower upon your vanity.

                           *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

a/n: here are the meanings of the flowers used in scenes! 

hibiscus: personal glory, fame, beauty

astilbies: ‘i’ll wait for you’, patience in love

red hyacinth: playfulness

red carnation: my heart aches for you, admiration

iris:  your friendship means so much to me

monkshood: beware, a deadly foe is near

[kitty-colors]

My Husband who writes the https://will5nevercome.com/ web comic recently made a portrait of my D&D character Hiereus. For anyone intrested in his back story I have included it below.  Below is one of the nutritive pieces I wrote for Hiereus back story. To set the stage first you need to know that his ancestors were enslaved by an unknown demon, but though their belief in the devise power of the Flame they had been able to resist their master and free themselves.

The story below starts with Hiereus after leaving his home land of Eluthane but includes a flash back.    

The Story of Hiereus: A Flash back with in a Flash back.

Hiereus sat on a stone near the fire he had built outside the kobold slave camp. The fire itself was small as to not draw the attention of the house whose field he was in, but big enough that the kobolds knew he was there.

“The light of the Flame is liberation, and the path to freedom is trust and benevolence,” he spoke the mantra in his limited draconic vocabulary avoiding the common used by their human masters.  As he spoke the words the Flame's light became a bright scarlet; its warmth touching not only his skin but reflected deep in his soul.

It was his third night outside the camp, four full months since he left his home in Eluthane in his search for Moira. That search itself had turned up little, but finding himself in Vinita Hiereus had seethed to find the persistence of slavery in the Republic, for all the talk of liberty in the fledgling nation he had been disappointed.

As it was no kobold had yet approached the fence near his fire. Still he remained; their sidelong glances reassured him of their curiosity.  

He starred deep into the flames as his mind drifted to a time too far away when he and his sister prepared for their first guarding rites.

*** Hiereus was fifteen as he prepared for his first time ministering rites as a member of the Eluthanai temple. His mother was still officiating of course, but this was a right of passage into the priesthood for him and his sister.

“Are you still getting ready?” Moira's voice came from the door, “Mother's waiting for us,” she said.

“One moment,” Hiereus called, “I need to apply some ointment to my stump,” he said reaching for a bottle he keep on his writing desk.

“It's still bothering you?” his sister asked concerned, “It's been weeks since we made our lamps.” She ran her hand over the place from where her own horn had been cut.

Hiereus offered his sister as pacifying smile, “It's only irritating once and a while now, I just don't want it to act up during the ceremony.”

Moira rolled her eyes and nodded, “Of course,” she said, “But hurry, you're making us late.”

The ointment was applied quickly, and soon his hood was raised. Taking up his lamp he fallowed his sister into the frigid air of Eluthane.

The guarding rite at the kiln probably drew the largest gathering of the town each year. It wasn't the most religiously significant holiday of they year, but the one that affected the lively hood of most of the townsfolk in Eluthane.

Ceramics where his peoples primary export. They weren't the biggest producer of stoneware, but over the generations their work had gained enough of a reputation that Eluthanai pieces were highly valued, sufficient that the communally run kiln could sustain his people in their cold home.

“So their you are,” their mother, Phose, called as they ran across the frozen earth to meet her. “Your father just came past to tell me they are almost done loading the kiln, I was afraid you'd miss the lighting.”

Moira frowned, “You're the leader of the temple mom, you'd think you'd be able to delay the ceremony a bit for your own children.”

Their mother sighed, “A position I have only through the trust of our people, you wouldn't want me to take advantage of that would you?” Hiereus winced at his mother's words. Since gaining their freedom, trust was the foundation of their town's order, leadership was elected, and that was perhaps the biggest token of trust one could win, to violate it, well it was a taboo that was seldom broken.

Moira's tail drooped from the chastisement, “even still 'our people',” she made scare quotes in the air,  “are our friends and neighbors, I'm sure they would forgive you a little tardiness, besides, Hiereus' stump is still bothering him.”

“Moira!” Hiereus cried in a mortified tone.

“What? Still?” his mother said moving to inspect her son's head.

Hiereus pulled the edges of his hood down over his face in protest, “No, Mom, it's fine.” he said agitated, “Lets just go to the kiln.” he huffed.

“If you say so,” she said looking down at her son still worried.

“Yes.” he responded not letting go of his hood until their mother lead them away.

---

Most of Eluthane had gathered near the hillside where the great step kiln had been constructed generations ago. Hiereus' could see his older brother, Rai'Tu'Sai, working at  its front loading the wood whose ash would become the color to decorate the work of the potters.

“Ah, mother!” Rai'Tu'Sai said greeting them as they approached, “We're almost ready, Pa just sealed up the back. Once we've set the kindling you can start.”

Their mother nodded, and Rai'Tu'Sai turned to his younger siblings, “So, you two ready to stay up all night trending the Flame?” he said with a grin, “To be honest, I'm glad not to be doing your job tonight. I'll tell you what, I'm going to sleep well while you two are out here.” he said as he ran his knuckles over Hiereus head.

“Stop that!” Hiereus wailed, and his brother chuckled.

“I suppose that's why you didn't join the priesthood!” Moira chided.

“Well one of us had to follow in Pa's footsteps, it may as well be me right!” Rai'Tu'Sai said back.

“Cut it out you three,” Their mother reproved them in a harsh wispier while rubbing her eyes, “The whole town's here! And Moira it's good keep a potter in the family, their work is in many ways harder than ours, and we contribute as a family.” Phose finished.

Moira sighed, “Yeah I know,” she said, “just make him leave Hiereus alone,”

Hiereus tail sank low to the ground as he grumbled. His sister was too quick to defend him, and he wished she would just let him handle himself.

“Your brother's fine,” Phose said, and Hiereus wasn't sure which she was referring to.

Rai'Tu'Sai shrugged and went back to work.

---

In short order it was time for the rite of guarding to begin. The Moira and Hiereus fallowed their mother and the other priests to the pavilion sheltering the front of the kiln, and Hiereus withdrew a prayer book he had tucked into his robes.

“What are you doing?” Moira asked in disbelief, “don't you have your part memorized?” she said though clinched teeth.

“I do.” Hiereus whispered back defensively, “I just want to be sure.”

“Whatever,” Moira breathed, “Just remember they all know you're my brother.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Hiereus asked but apparently not softly enough as he caught the fiery gave of his mother that cut him short.

The tone of a bell silenced the crowd as Phose stepped forward, her horn lamp held aloft, it's flame deep red.

“We who once toiled enslaved by darkness are now liberated by light.” she intoned.

The next priest stepped forward and lit their lamp from the one Phose held, “By the light of the Flame our work is now ours” they said as the Flame's light was shared with them.

Moira then joined the others, and their mother lowered her lamp to share the flame with her. “Trust and benevolence is the path to freedom, may we share our work and labor together.” she said as the flame on her lamp took its crimson hue.

Heiress had followed along in his book, and his turn had now come. He stepped forward and met his mothers smile. “May the light of the Flame … Protect our labors...” he was reading aloud phrase by phrase and frowned as he stumbled, “my they carry its light... so that the darkness... cannot over take them.” He looked at the ground as he finished.

His mother nodded and raised his chin as she lit his lamp, “You did good,” she whispered to him, and he was relieved when as it turned red like the others; its power reflected in his heart.

Then he with the other priests turned to the kindling at the base of the kiln, “May the light of the Flame provide you with strength, wherever you go.” they chanted together as they each lowered their lamps to light the kindling together.

The potters who worked the kiln pumped bellows to stoke the Flame which soon spread to the wood inside.  Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, and Hiereus grinned to hear them break out into the traditional song.

Whirlwinds of danger are racing around us O'erwhelming forces of darkness prevail Still in the fight see advancing before us Red Flame of liberty that yet shall prevail!

Then all of you workers Rightly will reign All over the world and the land and the sea

On with the fight for the cause of our liberty March march your toilers, and the world shall be free!

Then all of you workers Rightly will reign All over the world and the land and the sea

On with the fight for the cause of our liberty March march your toilers, and the world shall be free!      

***

The memory of years past was bittersweet since his sister disappeared. It had been that night she had brought it to him, the book of drow lore, a variation of the Ballad of Creation.

A community of the dark elves lived in a cave network in the hills south of Eluthane, which had led Hiereus to study Undercommon.  Moira had given it to him as a gift to encourage his studies. But in some ways the myths he translated from it were to beginnings of their troubles.

They had known the story of Creation, or at least the most common story, but the drow who lived in the caves, they didn't believe they sheared a creation by Zephranus like the other elves, instead they believed there genesis to be from the caves themselves.

Further the text called the tieflings demons, the spawn of same who had once enslaved them, rather than the creation of Liliq.

Hiereus grimaced, that book ate at his sister's soul until she left to find their true creator whomever it was.    

His only hint that she was still alive was a sending he received a year before his journey began, “I found it.”That was all the contact that he had, and his own attempts to respond had failed.

He poked the coals of his fire, and sighed. Looking up he saw that he was being watched closely by a kobold through the fence.

“Who are you?” the kobold said in it's own draconic dialect.

“One whose people were once enslaved like yourself, one who brings the light of the Flame, and to show you the way to liberation.”

Fin.

The theme song I picked for Hiereus is a variation of The Warsawian. The lyrics in the story above set with the melody below. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNslzoiLo3k        

[argylemikewheeler]

Heyheyheyhey steve watching the stars, or going for long walks late into the night, not really caring what could be out there. Steve unable to swim in his pool after knowing what happened there, who died. Steve's parents asking him why he always seems tired. Steve taking up track to drive his mind away from monsters and deaths and blood, oh so much blood. Steve being closed off, everyone at school wondering where King Steve is, the fuckboy that everyone loved. Steve wonders too.

okay so i could write about one hundred pages on this, but here’s a little 2.2k word vomit. i loved this omg thank u anon

Steve wasn’t a bad son. He and his parents worked around each other, participating in a symbiotic performance of the Perfect Family. Steve got what he needed to succeed as much as he could in school and for his mom and dad to experience the joys of parenthood. They were caring and loving, but not active. Steve slipped through their fingers the winter of 1984 and they didn’t so much as watch.

Sleeping was like waiting for a rising tide. Lying in bed, Steve could feel the licks of unknown darkness across his ankles, soon swelling and washing over his legs. It’d cross his hips and he’d roll over, hoping the bright light of his back porch would pour through his sheer curtains and ground him. But staring at his pool lights only amplified the hushed screams folded into every lap of water. The water and Barb’s screams would climb farther, crashing over Steve’s chest. The water chased after his rapid breath, filling his lungs. He’d be paralyzed, the water still flowing faster faster and filling Steve up until it could only escape down his cheeks.

He woke up most nights screaming. His sheets tangled around his ankles, haunting vines unable to leave him alone, and his fear retreating back to the contained water of the pool. His parents were another floor away, knocked out on two glasses of wine and antihistamines. They were done soothing nightmares when Steve got out of diapers. He had to raise himself.

Steve’s first attempt was track. It was consistent and required no brain power. It drained him and made any sleep stem from exhaustion and not choice. The Party could come to practice or meets and he could keep an eye on them– while also turning a blind eye to his own condition. He was still having nightmares, even in the daytime, and running helped. It wasn’t enough– not even the thought that Steve wasn’t running from anything this time– but it was a normalcy. It helped.

–

“Steve, baby, why are you up so early?” His mom stepped into the dim kitchen light still tying her robe. Steve was standing at the counter trying to figure out how to make oatmeal taste as good as Nancy’s. He was in his fifth morning of experimentation and it was the first anyone noticed.

“I’ve been up since seven.” Four, actually.

“Oh, baby, you should be getting more sleep. You look worn out.” She reached for the coffee maker first, then Steve’s face. Her thumb ran over his cheekbone, now easily spotted and traced.

“It’s just the running, Mom.” Steve shrugged. “I’m just losing weight in my face.”

“Are you sure?” She was asking only because it was law that parents weren’t supposed to accept their children’s lies, even if they didn’t care. “You can talk to me.” Steve couldn’t.

“Yeah. It’s just this new training. Haven’t gotten my diet quite right.” Steve waved out to the bowls of oatmeal and loose oats spilled onto the counter by unsteady hands. The oatmeal was Steve’s last hope; an ingestion of comfort. Nancy had made it for him one last time before school before everything fell back into shambles. He was still moving an oat out from between his teeth when he crumbled up his college essay. “I’ll get it, Mom. I’m fine.”

“Okay, Stevie, baby.” She accepted the lie with the confidence it had been the truth. “Have a good day at school. And tell those boys I said hello.”

“They aren’t all boys, Mom.” Steve felt the futile need to argue El and Max’s presence. She wasn’t parenting them, she didn’t need to ignore them. “And I have babysitting after track at Will’s house.”

“Okay.” She was reaching for a mug and clanged the ceramic to hush out Steve’s words.

Steve took his oatmeal and left. He ate his breakfast in the car and drove to Dustin’s neighborhood. He was early but had no issue waiting. Time escaped Steve normally, his vision coming in and out as the world grew black, his skin feeling a chill that escaped everyone else. In those moments, when Steve was drowning again, time ticked outside his grasp. He’d blink back, sweating and weeping, to a time he didn’t remember leaving.

Luckily, Dustin came knocking on Steve’s window just as his dashboard became invaded by thick, black vines. Dustin was always pleasant on the ride to school. He had every reason to be disgruntled; he was fourteen and was on his way to middle school at eight in the morning. He had better perspective than Steve. Claudia always made sure of that.

“You good, Steve?” Dustin asked after a while. Steve hadn’t really noticed the silence until he stopped listening to his own thoughts. “You look like shit.”

“I’m trying a new hair product.” Lying was easier on four hours of sleep. “First day makes your hair look… deflated. Then it gets the volume.”

“Alright…” Dustin was skeptical. “I’ll be tracking the progress. The hair is a trade secret.” He laughed and Steve coughed along. His laughter had become waterlogged from his late nights lying awake. There was nothing left in Steve Harrington to offer. It had been cried, vomited, and screamed out. There was no laughter.

Dustin was a good enough child and friend to leave Steve’s car without another question. He wished Steve a good day and hopped out of the car, rushing to the front door with promise at his heels. Steve drove the three miles to the high school and parked at the far end of the parking lot. The oatmeal bowl on the top of his dash had hardened by then. It all had.

He’d have to soak the bowl when he got home. His mother would be mad. He’d apologize but it would slip out insincere and distant. He’d go to his room. He’d lay down. He’d wish he had been swallowed up by split, petaled lips of a monster pacing Steve’s thoughts.

“Steve?” Nancy was at his window with Jonathan beside her and both looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Come on, the first bell rang.”

“You can’t skip history again.” Jonathan added. “I can’t keep catching you up on notes, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.” Steve muttered. The door was still closed and Nancy and Jonathan were speaking loudly through the glass, but their message got through clearly. “I’m going. I’m going.”

“Hey!” She grabbed his arm. “Is everything okay, Steve? You look…” Nancy paused to choose her words delicately. “Unlike yourself.” It was nice of her to insinuate that, on a normal day, Steve looked well-rested and adjusted. Steve hadn’t felt that way long enough to forget how to fake it.

“New hair product.”

“That must be it.” Jonathan stood on the other side of Steve. They bracketed Steve’s vision with pointed looks at one another. Nancy tried to talk with only her eyes while Jonathan was trying to do the same with his hands.

“I know, it’s looking really bad recently.” Steve continued. “I promise, it’s fine.”

“We weren’t asking about your hair.” Nancy said, her tone toed a scold. “We were asking about you, Steve.”

“Same thing, isn’t it.” He muttered, reaching for the front doors.

“Steve…”

“Sorry, can’t be late again.” Steve said, walking off. “You’re off the hook for review, Byers. See you later.”

—

Steve didn’t remember gym class, which was entirely the point. Running around the track and playing point-less pickup games of basketball kept Steve separate from his own thoughts and just barely connected to his body. In gym, he was mostly motions. No one spoke to Steve in a way that required a response. He drifted from sideline to court. The gym remained a gym the entire hour; not a single vine tripped him playing. That was mostly himself or Billy on opposing defense.

After class, Steve was trying to wake himself up in the showers. The water was hot and felt thick against Steve’s numb skin. There were a few other students, some still discussing the game, others recounting the weekend. Steve scrubbed his face with his open hands.

“Shitty game, Harrington.” Billy said beside him. He had been across the showers, but had moved closer to Steve, if only to heckle.

“Thanks.” Steve said, trying to let the water prod harsh enough to force a smile. “I don’t really care.”

“I just thought King Steve would have more invested in his own reputation.” Billy laughed. “Guess you’re letting the kingdom run you out, huh?”

“Whatever, man.” Steve muttered. There was more on Steve’s mind than the popularity of his actions. They might have been running him out of his place of status, but Steve had spent more time genuinely running for his life. “Fuck off.”

Billy scoffed but the water beside Steve continued to run. Steve hadn’t opened his eyes and wanted to cherish the moment he had in the familiar and unchanging dark. It was simple nothingness, the water beating against Steve’s face and streaming down his chin and chest. The warmth stirred feelings of humanity, of intimacy and closeness. Of the rapid thump thump thump of Dustin’s heartbeat against Steve’s hand as he hoisted him off the squelching, trembling ground. The fear of being torn apart just below the surface of Hawkins and being smeared along a pumpkin patch as their own lasting impression–

Steve’s eyes shot open as the darkness began to root itself in his nightmares. To his horror, the pooling water had turned to blood. Thick, warm, human blood. The water on Steve’s hands, around his feet, running down his chest was a dark maroon. He clenched his eyes closed again, his breaths whistling between his teeth as he began panting. The water was too warm now, it was overheating him. The kill was recent, maybe able to save–

“No no. No. Come on. Don’t.” Steve muttered, opening his eyes and trying to force himself to see the regular yellow tile. The blood was now smearing the shower faucet and soap bar. “Oh god. No no.”

“Yeah, if I saw what you did when I looked down, I’d be upset too.” Billy chuckled, noticing Steve’s slow tremors but connecting minimal dots to even begin intervening. His face was covered blood too. Steve’s haunting memory started with a slow drip from Billy’s nose, where Steve had once landed a punch, and slowly spreading over his entire face. He grinned through it, Billy unable to see through Steve’s nightmarish lens.

“No no. It’s not real. Come on, Steve.” He muttered to himself. He said his own name, reminding his body that there was a person inside; the world his brain was living needed to match the one his body was stuck in. He wasn’t in the tunnels anymore. “There’s no blood.”

“Excuse me.” Billy said, still listening. “Harrington, what are you talking about?”

“Please, just please shut up.” Steve begged, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. The water stung and felt thick in his eyes. Steve tried to wipe his eyes but felt the water smear across his face like steaming, burning war paint. “Leave me the fuck alone. Now.”

“Fine.” The water beside him stopped and feet slapped against the wet floor hurriedly. “At least, like, have a fucking towel, man.” Billy yanked Steve by the shoulder and counteracted the gesture. In actuality though, a teenager nearly vomiting, completely naked in the school showers must have been completely embarrassing for everyone involved. Billy wasn’t only helping Steve, if that was the correct word.

Steve took the towel being shoved on him. He stepped out of the shower’s static-feeling rush of water and feebly wrapped the towel around his waist. Steve still had his eyes closed. Opening them meant either reentering his nightmare or being brought to the brink of embarrassment in the boys’ locker room.

Finally, he allowed his eyes to open– and he was still standing in the showers. Warm water streamed at Steve’s face and he was dripping head to toe in clear, lukewarm water. There were wide eyes, quiet muttering, and quiet snickering.

Steve had a fight and flight response to the gut feeling of danger. They thought it was amusing, but Steve was the one with the first-hand experience chasing monsters with a prayer for his life and a pair of fucking swimming goggles. Steve was the one who slept with a nailed baseball bat under his bed every night, but they assumed it was all crushed beer cans and used socks.

“That ashamed over a game?” Someone chuckled, spinning their towel up. “All you got when you don’t got college, right?” They released an end and snapped the towel. Steve had to act like the sound didn’t make him jump.

He was mortified and exhausted and wondering how many nights did he have to wait until he’d truly never wake up.

The locker room erupted into laughter, Steve included. It was just another motion. Truthfully, he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He genuinely knew it had the ability to do so and devour him, and every last choking breath.

Sometimes, Steve figured it’d be easy to die; just like life had been before.

ao3

[deanwinchesterwhimsies]

Star-Crossed (Part 2)

Read Part 1 

The day Dean Winchester crashed into your life, something changed. A shift. An alignment. Call it what you may. He was everything. Strong, handsome, and a skilled hunter. You were helpless about the man 12 years your senior. He left as quickly as you met him, but it wouldn’t be the last time you crossed paths. Far from it. Dean Winchester trusted you, and he would bring you pain, life, heartache, and euphoria in return.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, angst, language, sad stuff?, Age gap, sexual innuendos

Words: 2,306

July 2007 – 16 years old

3.4 Sin City

“It’s a dick.” Your co-worker and fellow classmate, Harvey, peeked over your shoulder, staring into the ceramic cup.

“Not intentional. My latte art keeps turning into genitalia. Brings a literal meaning to a stiff drink, don’t you think?” You frowned, passing it to Harvey, who appraised it carefully.

“If you gave it eyes, you could pass it off as an elephant face.” He plucked a knife out of a basin and made your latte a bit more appropriate. He showed it off to you.

“It still looks like a dick,” you sighed, leaning on the counter. The pair of you were bored. It was a slow night, without a football game, the little coffee shop was dead late that Friday night. Granted, you never worked during a game, due to cheerleading obligations.

“A dick with eyes,” Harvey countered, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ew, not an image I wanted in my head. Thanks for that.” You had to physically shake your head to dispel the image.

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh my god, something exciting please happen. A girl can only practice making so many dick lattes.” You collapsed onto the drink counter dramatically.

“Maybe start practicing vagina lattes?” Harvey teased. You threw the dish rag by the espresso machine at him and by some miracle the bells on the door jingled as two tall, tired men stepped in to the shop.

You whipped up straight, your heart racing with excitement and a tingle of a feeling unknown ran up your spine. Was there a case nearby?

It had been over a year since you’d met them, and your parents had forbidden you from every going over to Bobby’s when they were in town. But the Winchesters had come to you this time. Albeit, by accident. They were probably in desperate need of caffeine and Wi-Fi.

“Dean! Sam!” You couldn’t contain the joy in your voice, and kicked yourself for sounding a little too enthusiastic about seeing them. Keep it cool, Y/N.

“Y/N?” Same and Dean responded in surprise. You grinned and pointed to your name tag, confirming.

“You work here now?” Sam wondered, they had stopped by at this coffee show half a year ago and hadn’t run into you.

“Yeah, the parental units said I had too much time on my hands this summer and I got my new car, so I had to start getting gas money.” You shrugged. “What can I get for you guys?”

“Just some black coffee.” Sam gave a soft smile.

“Yeah, and a piece of that pie there.” Dean pointed at your caramel apple crumble pie.

“You’ve got it.”

Harvey grabbed the pie and you handed them their coffees. “How much?” Sam pulled out his wallet.

“It’s on me.” You slid your credit card through.

“You didn’t have to—” Dean started.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll repay me someday. How long are you here for?”

“We’re just swinging by Bobby’s after this to pick up some gear and assistance before we head back out.”

“Going out to Ohio, had to do a bit of research and snag some caffeine for the road.” Sam put $10 in the tip jar.

“Not necessary, but thanks.”

They nodded and sat at a table in the corner of the café. Out of Harvey’s hearing.

Ohio? That was how many hours away?

“You know those guys?” Harvey raised his eyebrows, clearly flabbergasted.

“They’re friends of my Uncle Bobby’s, we’ve met once and talked on occasion.” You eyed the pair chatting in hushed tones in the corner.

“What are they researching?”

“Wildlife.” The lie rolled right off your tongue.

“What about it?”

“Their habits and patterns, I don’t know. Why does it matter?” You played clueless.

“Something just seems off about them.” Harvey gave you a weird look, before returning to watch the Winchester brothers.

“Are you jealous Harvey?” You tried not to laugh, but it was clear as day. The way his jaw set as Dean looked back at you and waved you over to their table.

“I’m not, I’m just looking out for you.” He placed his hand on your shoulder, stopping you from going to them.

“I don’t need anybody looking out for me, besides they’re my friends.” You rolled your eyes.

“And that’s weird because they are probably a decade older than us.” Harvey pointed out.

“Twelve years.” The words came out as a reflex. You don’t even know why you said it.

“Huh?”

“Dean, Dean’s twelve years older than me. Sam is, what? Nine years older than me? Eight maybe?”

“You knew that… right off the top of your head? That, that guy is twelve years older than you?” Harvey’s voice was low, biting.

“And that Sam is eight.” You sounded defensive, even to your own ears. Shit.

“But you knew that Dean guy’s right off the bat, like it’s something you think about. A lot.”

“You’re reading a whole lot of something out of nothing. Dean’s a friend, I haven’t even thought of him outside of when my Uncle Bobby talks about them.”

It was a lie. You begged Bobby to keep you updated on the Winchesters and to let you help in their research. It was your one link into the full hunter world, and you wanted to go out there with them so bad. Or for your parents to at least take you with them. But no, you had to stay home and work while they dealt with cases.

You saw your parents maybe once a month with all the activity that been happening since the gate to hell had opened. Teens would kill for the chance to have their parents out of the house for that long, but you belonged on the road with them.

Not home alone, baking sadness pies. Then feel lonelier when you had no one to share them with. That’s why your boss had let you start selling your baked goods here. She knew your parents left on their “business trips” and you had nothing else to do, but work before cheerleading practice started in August.

Harvey released you, but not before staring directly into your eyes. Looking for who knows what? Did he want something more than friendship?  

As you approached, they pulled a chair out for you.

“Glad to see you safe and doing something normal,” Dean remarked.

“As normal as a girl who fights ghosts can be. I’m allowed to do simple salt and burns by myself now in the area.” It felt stupid when you said it aloud. Compared to what they had seen and done, your ghosts were child’s play.

“Nothing else though?” Sam wondered.

You shook your head. “My leash is tight. So, Ohio?”

Dean and Sam filled you in, your heart aching with each detail. You were a hunter by blood and nature. You should be out there with them and the plan began to come together in your head.

“Hey, do you think you could drop me off at Bobby’s? My car is there, Bobby was fixing it up for me today.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Bobby was going to pick you up with your at your house tomorrow to do some research and Harvey was going to be your ride home tonight.

“Sure, no problem.” The plan was set in motion.

“I still don’t understand why you are going with them.” Harvey whispered as he locked the door.

“They’re going to my Uncle Bobby’s and I want my car back.”

“What about the party?”

“I’ll swing by, I really wasn’t planning on drinking anyway.” That was a lie, you would not be swinging by.

Harvey stared over your shoulder at the brothers, and then down to you. “Stay safe.”

“Safety is my middle name.” You gave him a friendly hug and skipped over to the Impala. Your heart pounding against your rib cage as climbed into the back seat for the first time. The smell of worn leather, men’s cologne, and a hint of gun powder filled your senses.

This was it, you were going to run away with the Winchesters.

April 2015 – 23 years old

Shortly after 10.20 Angel Heart

Thank you for visiting Kansas!

It hit you like a ton of bricks. You were leaving the boys.

Tears welled up and you couldn’t fight it anymore. What were you doing? You’re a terrible person. Dean didn’t deserve this.

Sobs wracked your body and you had to pull over on the side of the road. “Shit, shit, shit!” You punched the steering wheel trying to will the waterfalls coming out of your eyes. But you were pregnant and alone, and the thought only made you cry harder.

You collapsed over the wheel, taking deep breaths. What was next? You had to go to the doctor to make sure everything was okay. God knows even how far along you were.

This baby needed a home. Not dingy motels.

Jodi. Jodi could help and she wouldn’t tell Dean. At least you hoped. You pulled back on the road and changed directions.

You’d be okay. Well, not okay, but safe.

“Dean!” The scream rang through his head. His heart lurching.

“Y/N!” Dean spun around in the forest, darkness blanketing the landscape in front of him.

“Dean!” Your scream more blood curdling than the last. “Help!”

“I’m coming, Y/N!” Dean took off in the direction of your voice.

“Please.” It was a whimper at Dean’s feet. You laid crumpled on the forest floor, deep cuts all over your body.

Dean dove to his knees and cradled you in his arms and pushed away the Y/H/C tendrils matted in blood clinging to your cheeks.

“Dean, wake up!” Sam’s voice broke through. Dean shot out of his bed, narrowly avoiding smashing foreheads with Sam. “Dude, it was just a dream.” Sam held his hand up.

Dean pushed past him, running down the hall to your room.

“Y/N,” he called out your name softly before opening your door.

The air left Dean chest. The once cluttered desk covered in countless books and notebooks was now spotless. The pictures that used to cover the cork board, cleared. The frame with a picture of you and your parents, gone from the nightstand.

Dean hurried to the wardrobe, as he feared, your clothes were missing. He dove to the floor and looked under your bed. Your canvas hunting bag was no longer there.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam stood in the doorway.

“She’s gone,” Dean grunted, sitting up and rubbing his face. Torn.

Sam surveyed the room, concern setting in his face. “Maybe she cleaned and now she’s making breakfast. She has been feeling pretty rough lately. She probably couldn’t sleep.” Sam pulled his brother off the floor and dragged him upstairs. Trying to have a small inkling of hope. You would have never left without telling them.

On any given morning, the boys would have been greeted with the smell of pancakes. You couldn’t resist making a carb-loaded breakfast after being on the road all the time.

The boys were met by a cold, empty kitchen. Dean turned on his heel and stormed up past the library and into the garage. The fluorescent light blinked on, revealing the space where your car had once sat.

“Get me my phone, Sam.”

When the phone was in his hand, he touched your contact name. A picture of you staring cross eyed at an extravagant donut, behind your name.

It rang on his end, then it was ringing in the bunker. They boys looked over to the table in the library. Your phone sat buzzing on a pile of books. A picture of Dean mid-bite into a pie, looking quizzically at the photographer. You.

Dean hung up, his arms going slack at his sides. He picked up your phone, unlocking it, hoping to find something. Anything as to why you left.

“Dean,” Sam whispered, holding out a folded piece of paper that had been set under your phone.

Dean,

Please forgive me. 

Sam,

Take care of Dean. You know the drill.

 Love, Y/N

Dean broke. His eyes watered as he sat himself down in the chair, holding your note to his chest. “She got herself in trouble. That’s the only reason she would leave.”

“Maybe she was getting tired of the hunting life. She was pretty reluctant on the last few hunts.”

“She was sick, Sam. Hunting is Y/N’s life. She can’t stay out of it if she even tried. We all tried to stop her, remember?”

“So, she’s sicker than we thought and she ran away so she didn’t have to face us. But I feel like she would have told us. Y/N tells us everything.”

“Apparently not.” Dean cradled his head in his hands. Your note fluttering to the floor.

Jodi Mills was having a pretty normal day. Claire was still adjusting, and her and Alex seemed to butt heads. But Jodi was sure they would be like sisters someday. If they didn’t kill each other first.

“Girls, dinner.” Jodi had become a mother of two teen girls suddenly, and she was content. Unless her hair began to grey from all the stress.

“Meatloaf?” Claire scrunched up her nose as she plopped into her seat. Alex said nothing, but she gave Claire a quick glare.

“Do you not like meatloaf?” Jodi was sure meatloaf was a meal most people liked.

“Does anybody like mashed meat pile—” Claire was cut off by the doorbell being run in a frantic manner.

“Stay here.” Jodi cautiously made her way to the door and peeked through curtain. She flung the door open.

There you stood, soaking wet, crying in the rain.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are the boys okay?” Jodi ushered you inside.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” You choked. “I-I just got myself in a situation and I need help. And you’re the only person I can trust.”

[jimins-crooked-tooth]

Apartment 504 — Chapter 2

Summary:

Mark eyed the glass in Jackson’s hand and hesitated.  He didn’t know this man. The only time he’d ever talked to him was once when Jackson was intoxicated past the point of coherence, and once after both had returned home at the same time. This man was so loud, so sporadic, so unpredictable, and so unlike anyone Mark would ever want to be around.

But still, after a timid look into Jackson’s hopeful brown eyes, Mark met Jackson’s glass midway, the clink of glass and a shared smile between the two kicking off the start of the night.

More Chapters

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]

Also read on Archive Of Our Own:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11292225/chapters/25263081

hello! so, i actually changed the name of this story to Apartment 504 because Room 504 reminded me too much of a hotel room so sorry for any confusion! pls don’t beat me up i’m a pacifist and will definitely not win ok ok enjoy 

“Mark, get the fuck up.  It’s past noon.” Mark grunted tiredly, pulling the comforter over his head and curling his knees up to his chest.  He felt a dip form on his bed as Jinyoung sat down, tugging gently at Mark’s blanket in an attempt to pry it off.  “You said we would go shopping today. I need to get some books and a couple other things before the school year starts.  You too.” Mark grunted again, but narrowly complied, running a hand through his hair and stretching out his sore limbs.

“Give me twenty minutes,” he grumbled, and proceed to kick Jinyoung off his bed (literally). Jinyoung scowled and rubbed at his side (the site of impact) but ultimately left Mark to his own devices to get ready for the day.

Mark’s morning routine was a little thrown off due to the setup of the new apartment—he had to remember where he placed everything from the day before when he was unpacking his boxes.  He walked out of his bedroom, blue toothbrush wedged between his pink lips as his eyes skimmed over the nearly empty pantry for something to eat on their way out. His shoulders slumped when he found nothing convenient and he huffed through his nose, turning to walk back into his bedroom.  He stopped when he heard a soft knock at the front door.  Mark turned to face Jinyoung who was sitting on the sofa in front of the television, reading a book he’d bought only a couple days ago. Jinyoung shrugged, his expression saying, Don’t ask me, I’m not expecting anyone.  Mark gestured to the door and then to his shirtless body, his eyes saying, I can’t get it right now. You get it. Jinyoung settled back into the couch with his book, blatantly ignoring Mark’s pleas to open the door so he wouldn’t have to.

Mark groaned in annoyance as he hurried to the sink to spit out his toothpaste before opening the door.  He wasn’t sure who or what he was expecting, considering neither him nor his roommate were expecting any visitors, but what he definitely wasn’t expecting was to see no one at all.  He glimpsed down either side of the hallway and still saw no one.  As he was about to close the door, he noticed something at his feet. A six pack of beer sat alone in front of the doorway, a small letter taped to the top of one of the bottles.  Mark knelt down to eye the package, picking up the piece of paper in the process and proceeding to open it.

 Mark,

I wanted to apologize for last night. I’m not sure what all I said or did, but hopefully it wasn’t as bad as I’m imagining it to be. Accept this gift as a token of my appreciation for your help and also as an apology.

Your neighbor,

Jackson x

 Mark blinked a couple times, rereading the letter in his hand at least twice before glancing first at the beer and then to his neighbors’ closed door.  He considered knocking on their door and explaining to Jackson that it really was no problem and that this really was not necessary, but then Mark remembered that he hated confrontation, so he opted for a quick shrug, grabbing the bottles, and shutting the door with his foot.

“Who was it?” Jinyoung asked curiously, eyeing the six-pack of alcohol in Mark’s hand.

“One of the neighbors,” Mark replied, opening the fridge, and squeezing the case on the top shelf. “I guess he felt bad about last night, so he left some beer at our door.”

Jinyoung sat up on the couch, putting his book face down on the table.  “Oh yeah. What was that all about?  One second you were getting ready for bed and the next you were sitting next to some stranger puking his guts out in our bathroom.”

Mark sighed and rubbed his temples.  “He knocked on our door last night, thinking it was his, and when I told him it wasn’t, he went off to look for his own, and then he puked in the hallway outside, and basically he was just a downright mess and would probably have wound up hurt or dead if I didn’t help him.”

“Wow, Mark. Look at you being an outstanding citizen,” Jinyoung teased.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he mumbled and headed back to his room before Jinyoung could say any more.

…

“We need food,” Mark announced, adjusting the bags in his right hand, so he could scroll through his phone with the other.  “I made a list in the car of what all we need.”

“Okay, we can stop by the store on our way home,” Jinyoung promised, turning to Mark.  “Did you eat anything yet today?” Mark shook his head and read the time at the top of his phone screen before sliding the phone back into his pocket. 3:24. Jinyoung paused mid-step, catching Mark’s arm with his free hand and spinning him so the two were face to face. “Mark! What the hell? It’s late afternoon and you haven’t eaten anything?” Mark raised his hands defensively, eyes wide. Jinyoung sighed, letting go of his arm and taking a step forward.  “Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he replied gruffly, his motherly nature kicking in at his friend’s confession.

Mark’s limbs still ached from moving such heavy boxes and furniture the day before, but walking around and shopping with Jinyoung helped distract him from the soreness while also preventing his extremities from becoming too stiff.

He and Jinyoung had spent the day picking up textbooks and excess school supplies for their classes that started in under a month.  They knew if they didn’t buy what they needed now stores would run out of supplies by time they looked for it then. Luckily, each boy had managed to find most of the things they had gone out for, each doting their fair share of bags on their arms as they walked around the outdoor shopping plaza. The pair approached a Smoothie King that had just opened a couple weeks ago and Mark stopped.

“I’m actually not too hungry right now. I was earlier, but the feeling has passed. Why don’t we just grab smoothies for a snack instead?  I can eat when we get home from the grocery store.” Jinyoung hesitated initially, his eyes meeting Mark’s, but Mark assured him that he was fine, and that he would eat when they got home, and that Jinyoung didn’t have to worry about him because he was taking good care of himself now, and also, Jinyoungie, you looooove smoothies, I know you do.  I’ll even treat you.

And so, with a long sigh and a dismissive wave of his hand, Jinyoung nodded. “Fine,” he breathed, and Mark smiled, tugging on Jinyoung’s arm and pulling the two of them into the smoothie chain.  The line was long and Mark feared that Jinyoung would be bothered by the long wait, but he actually didn’t seem to mind. The two roommates chatted in line about their upcoming schoolyear—their classes, professors, which buildings their classes would be in, etcetera. Jinyoung eagerly told Mark about all of the books he and his classmates would be reading this year, according to the class syllabi online.

Jinyoung was a literature major who was also minoring in creative writing.  Although Jinyoung exceled in both areas, Mark had never been much of a recreational reader or writer, and therefore posed a little judgmental towards his roommate and his chosen major.

Mark was a philosophy major, minoring in psychology.  Both subjects suited him well.  All his life, Mark had been a thinker, an absorber of the world around him. He frequently asked himself questions about life, nature, and the world’s existence. It was never guaranteed that he would ever find answers to his questions, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try his damn hardest.

A part of Mark also loved the human brain; he enjoyed learning about its many different functions, how things worked inside the head, how those things made people act in different ways, and why those people did certain things. Mark just liked… understanding things. He liked finding answers to questions.

Mark snapped out of the trance he didn’t realize he was in when the cashier called out, “Next!” Jinyoung stepped aside and gestured for Mark to go first. Mark scooted forward, placing his fingertips on the ceramic countertop as he looked up momentarily to meet the eyes of the man behind the counter—brown eyes… dark brown eyes… familiar dark brown eyes. Mark swallowed hard as he took in the sight of the man before him—blonde hair, rosy lips, absolutely breathtaking brown eyes; it was Jackson.

“What can I get for you?” he asked, eyes wide in attention.

Oh god. It’s him. This is so awkward. Does he recognize me from last night? If he recognizes me, why isn’t he saying anything? Mark’s thoughts ran circles around his head and he felt his throat dry as he stood there, eyes trained on the blonde’s face. Jinyoung kicked the back of his thigh, startling him, and Mark’s head swiveled, eyes narrowing at his friend.

“You’re the one who wanted smoothies, so order,” Jinyoung nudged.

Mark turned back around, hand on the back of his neck out of nervousness, and avoiding Jackson’s gaze by looking at the menu on the wall behind him. Mark cleared his throat. “Okay, um… c-could I get a… medium pineapple surf?”

Jackson nodded and plugged his order into the computer, eyes falling to Jinyoung next. Jinyoung recited his order, and then the two moved off to the side to wait for their smoothies to be made.

“Are you okay?” Jinyoung asked quietly, leaning into Mark’s side. “You looked nervous up there.”

“That’s Jackson,” Mark said, eyes unmoving from the blonde man in the process of making their smoothies.  He looked different in this setting compared to last night’s.  His hair and clothes were more put together now as opposed to his drunk, disheveled appearance at the apartment.  Despite his drunken state the previous night, Jackson looked surprisingly well rested today, like his hangover was either non-existent or he was damn good at hiding it.

Jinyoung’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell is Jackson?”

“Jackson, our neighbor,” Mark explained.  He watched as Jackson mixed one of their smoothies in the blender, his high-pitched laugh resonating around the room as he and a coworker joked around.  “He was the one who came to our apartment drunk last night.”

Jinyoung nodded in understanding. “Wow. I didn’t recognize him, not without his face shoved in a toilet,” he mused and Mark rolled his eyes. “But what’s wrong with seeing him here? It doesn’t look like he even remembers you.”

Mark’s gaze remained trained on Jackson, his strong hands topping off the two cups with lids. His mind drifted back to the brief conversation between the two of them last night.

“You’re cute,” Jackson said.

“Oh, um, what?”

“I said I think you’re cute.” Jackson repeated.

“One pineapple surf and one angel food cake,” Jackson called out, holding a smoothie in each hand. Mark reluctantly stepped up to the register, eyes cast down as he handed over his card, Jackson quickly swiping it through the computer and handing it back to him with a soft smile.

“Have a great day,” he said, and Mark nodded.  He spun around on his heels and grabbed his roommate by the arm, pulling the two of them out the double doors.  Jinyoung scowled and sent Mark dirty looks, but didn’t press the issue as they walked back to their car.

In case Mark hadn’t said it enough already, he really hated confrontation.

…

Jackson turned off his car and pulled the keys out of the ignition, grabbing his jacket and Smoothie King hat before hopping out of his car.  His eyes drooped in exhaustion and he stretched his stiff muscles from a long day of work. In retrospect, he wished he hadn’t drank so much the night before (not just because he stumbled up to his new neighbors’ apartment in a drunken haze, but also because his hangover was a right bitch today).  The welcome home party that his friends threw for him was a total rager—loud music, lots of people, and tons of alcohol. Usually, Jackson knew his limit, knew when enough was enough, and when too much was too much, but after having not seen his friends and roommates for practically the whole summer, he really just wanted to have fun, even if that meant getting completely fucked up.

He woke up this morning to a pillow being tossed at his face.

“Get up,” Jaebum ordered.  “You have work in two hours. Go clean yourself up.” Jackson grudgingly threw his arm over his face, squinting one eye to look at his roommate who was sitting grouchily on the table beside his bed.

“If I have to work in two hours…” Jackson paused, coughing to clear the scratchiness out of his throat.  He blinked a few times, feeling the pressure of what would soon be an intense headache forming in his temples, and started again.  “If I have to work in two hours, why are you waking me up now?” he asked.

“Because you need time to clean yourself up before going in. You smell like you bathed in alcohol last night.” Jackson chuckled under his breath and Jaebum shoved his shoulder. “It’s not funny, you were an absolute royal pain in the ass last night. Do you even remember what happened?”

Jackson hummed sleepily and grinned.  “I remember having a hell of a good time.”

Jaebum scoffed and stood up to walk towards the bedroom door. “Yeah, you did.  But you also stumbled up to the new neighbors’ apartment and passed out drunk on their bathroom floor.”

Jackson sat up to look at Jaebum, but immediately regretted his decision when he felt all the blood in his body rush to his head.  He leaned back slightly and massaged his forehead to relieve the building pressure.  “Wait. Back up.  What?”

Jaebum sighed and inhaled a deep breath before starting. “You passed out in our neighbors’ apartment when you were trying to come home after the party last night.  One of them took care of you until I got there to pick you up. You owe him… big time.”

Jackson rubbed his eyes and fell back into his pillows. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said. “Seriously.  I didn’t know it was that bad.  Thank you for coming to get me.”

“I should have left you there,” Jaebum grumbled and opened the door to leave.

“Aw, Jaebummie, you don’t mean that,” Jackson smiled, sending his friend his most irresistible puppy dog face.  “You still love me, right?”

“Whatever,” Jaebum muttered and exited the room, closing the door behind him.  Jackson was just beginning to get up when Jaebum entered the room again.  “By the way, his name is Mark,” he added.

“What?” Jackson replied.

“The guy who helped you last night. His name is Mark.”

Jackson yawned as he locked his car, waiting for the beep to sound before making his way inside the apartment building. He entered the lobby and headed in the direction of the elevators.  As he rounded the corner, he noticed one of the elevator doors closing.

“Hey, hold that please!” he shouted, sprinting towards the door.  An arm protruded from inside the elevator to prevent the door from closing and Jackson slipped inside as it slid open again. He took a moment to catch his breath as the doors began closing again. “Thank you,” he said, reaching over to press the button for the fifth floor, but realizing it was already lit up.

He turned and smiled to the person on his right and tilted his head when he recognized the face. “Hey! I’ve seen you. You came into Smoothie King today. Pineapple surf, yeah?” The brunette avoided eye contact, and he wondered if maybe he was wrong and he wasn’t the person he had seen today.

“Uh, yeah. That was me,” he said, a forced smile making its way onto his lips as he adjusted the Shake Shack carryout bag in his hands.

“Cool!” Jackson said in an attempt to break the ice.  “What apartment do you live in?  It looks like we both live on the same floor.”

But before he could answer, the elevator dinged and came to a stop. Both men looked up to the screen above the double doors that currently displayed the number five. Jackson stepped out of the elevator behind the man and the two turned left down the long hallway. He felt a bit like a stalker as he followed the man down the hallway to get to their respective apartments. Jackson watched as the man stopped at the door next to his own.

“Oh, you’re one of the new neighbors!” Jackson smiled, leaning his shoulder into the apartment door. The man fiddled with his keys and nodded his head. “What’s your name?” he continued in the hopes that he could start getting to know his new neighbor.  “I’m Jackson.  I live here with my two roommates.”

“I know,” the man said quietly, nervously scratching the back of his neck and turning to face Jackson. “We had a brief encounter last night.  I’m Mark.”

Oh?

Oh.

Jackson gulped. How had he forgotten about that already? I mean sure, it was late at night and he felt like he had been awake for a solid 72 hours straight, but still.

Jackson’s eyes fell to the floor. “Yeah, um, about that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark assured him.  “It’s not a big deal.  You just looked like you could use some help last night so…”

“Did you get my peace offering today?” Jackson inquired. Mark nodded and a twinge of relief washed over him.  “I still feel horrible about it all.  My roommate filled me in on everything this morning.  Is there anything else I can do to make it up to you?” Mark shook his head and Jackson fought off a smile.  “You don’t talk much do you?”

Mark blushed and lightly shrugged his shoulders.  “No, not really. I’m not much of a people-person,” he said and switched his weight from one foot to the other, a nervous tick, Jackson thought.

“Hm, well maybe things will change with me as your neighbor,” Jackson beamed and Mark chuckled a bit under his breath.

“Maybe,” he replied and reached for his door.

“Wait.” Jackson extended a hand in Mark’s direction to stop him.  “Did I do anything last night?” Mark squinted his eyes in confusion and Jackson searched for more words. “Like, did I say anything to you or do anything to you last that made you, I don’t know, like, uncomfortable?  You seem… uncomfortable around me.”

“Um, no, not that I can remember,” he said, his teeth pulling lightly at his lip.

“Something tells me you’re lying,” Jackson pushed.  His eyes widened as a thought came to mind.  “I didn’t kiss your or anything, did I?”

“No!” Mark assured him waving his hands in front of him for emphasis.  “No, definitely not.  You just… never mind.”

“No, tell me!” Jackson pleaded, his stomach turning at the thought of him doing/saying something unforgivable to someone he had never met.  “What did I do?  Whatever it is, I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“I-it’s nothing bad,” Mark said, cheeks flushing a light pink.  “You just… you told me I was cute,” he said quickly. “It’s all I think about when I see you now, that’s all.” Jackson closed his eyes and breathed sigh of relief. This…this he could work with.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lip.  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But if it means anything, I know I meant it, even in my drunken state.”  Jackson thought it impossible for Mark’s face to grow any redder, so he decided to cut things short for the sake of his dignity.  “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Mark.  I hope to see you around.” He offered a gentle smile to his new neighbor and swiftly entered his apartment, thinking to himself, how did I get this lucky to have such an adorable next-door neighbor?

i’m actually the biggest fucking dweeb in the history of ever so please don’t be afraid to follow me or message me or ask me things. i love meeting and getting to know new people! comment your thoughts and i’ll blow u a kiss <3

[thedefinitionofbts]

Blueprint of a Lover

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Kim Taehyung

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Words: 7K

Description: Because the light that Jungkook saw in Taehyung never faded, even when his world did.

Jeon Jungkook was lonely.

And lonely people are weird.

And by the principle of hypothetical syllogism Jeon Jungkook was weird.

Jungkook was weird to the point that he would sit under the stars and wonder if anyone could make sense of the galaxies swirling inside of him or the profundity of his scattered thoughts, and for the first eighteen years of his life, the answer to that was a resounding “no”. As young as he was, he had already accepted that he’d probably be alone for the rest of his life, and it really didn’t bother him because having never loved before, he didn’t have a better situation to compare his current life to anyways. What even is being lonely?

But sometimes, sitting alone in his room late at night with only the subtle glow of moonlight peaking through the open window, he would feel as if his life had been thrown into the darkness of the sky, and manifested as stars that only other people had the luxury of viewing with their lovers.

Yeah, it was gay, and that’s why Jungkook had always kept his loner thoughts a secret (not that he had anyone to tell anyways). But Jungkook was also a mild schizophrenic, so having weird thoughts, as contradictory as it may sound, was actually quite normal for him.

But the exact moment Jeon Jungkook fell in love with Kim Taehyung was the greatest second he ever had on this earth. Cheesy but true.

It was like Kim Taehyung had been created for Jeon Jungkook because the very design of that goofy guy with a boxy smile was a perfect match to what Jungkook looked for in a lover. And in the crevices of Kim Taehyung’s smile lines he saw tiny universes, much like the ones in his own heart.

…

It all started that summer when Jungkook moved from southern beach town of Busan to the modern metropolis that is Seoul to work as a software developer intern for a gaming company that had grown from a small tech start-up to one of the largest gaming enterprises in Asia. Jungkook had been psyched to get the job, since the company mostly hired people around Seoul, but something about his programming skills being out of this world, at least that’s what his classmate Jimin had told him, made it only natural for the company to select him over the other couple thousand applicants.

Jungkook had been given his own workspace, which was just a small cubicle in one of the company’s large office buildings in downtown Seoul. The train ride from Busan to Seoul was terrible, and Jungkook had to continue taking deep breaths to subside the dizziness that was urging him to puke, even though he had gotten off the train hours ago. The subway ride to the company building wasn’t all that comfortable either, so maybe that’s why he was still suffering from lingering motion sickness.

He was organizing his pens in a cup, placing them in the configuration that he felt was pleasing to the eye and putting all his notebooks and files neatly in the drawer of his desk. The office had giant glass windows that overlooked the city, and just as he was taking a break and enjoying the view, he hears a voice with a low baritone that contains a kind of warmth and friendliness that Jungkook normally doesn’t feel from first time encounters. He whips his head around, thinking he’ll be faced with a heavy-set, bearded middle-aged man, but instead, gets his breath taken away by a tall, sun-kissed model-like male with golden brown hair and a pair of smiley puppy eyes.

“New intern?” sun-kissed model asks. Jungkook now notices that the guy is dressed very casually for work, plain white t-shirt and black wide-leg pants. Doesn’t the company have a very specific dress code? Jungkook thinks as he looks down at his own button up shirt and tie that feels too tight around his neck now.

Jungkook nods, swallowing the saliva that had built up in his mouth, the thing that had prevented him from giving a proper answer. He can hear the loud gulp in his ears, and he’s praying he doesn’t look like a deer in the headlights right now, but he does.

“Welcome to the company!” The golden-haired male now has a boxy smile plastered on his face, revealing his perfectly aligned teeth that are so white, it’s almost blinding. And Jungkook swears he can see the halo on the guy’s head, which is getting ridiculous at this point, even for a nerdy introvert like himself.

“The name’s Kim Taehyung.”

“J-jeon Jungkook” Jungkook manages to squeak out, before slowly extending his shaky hand to meet the long slender fingers of the handsome guy in front of him. Clammy palms, clammy palms. Jungkook hopes his sweaty palms don’t disgust the hot guy.

“You’re probably new to Seoul, I can show you around after work” Taehyung offers, he licks his lower lip, waiting for Jungkook to answer.

“Y-yeah… s-sure” Jungkook stutters, biting his own lower lip. He would normally decline these types of offers, because meeting new people and actually doing things with them was not his thing, it never was. Especially when it was outside of work or school because that meant it wasn’t required, and there was no obligation to interact with another human being. But something about Taehyung’s fluffy hair, smiley eyes, and genuine voice captivated Jungkook, and “no thanks” just didn’t show up on his radar this time around.

So after a day of coding and testing software, Jungkook took the elevator down to the main lobby only to find Taehyung already waiting for him by the rotating glass doors. And surprisingly, he didn’t feel as uncomfortably nervous as he had expected or normally would.

“Ready to have a blast?”

“H-huh? Oh…uh, y-yeah”

Taehyung puts his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, making him flinch upon contact. He was acting like they hadn’t just met hours ago and were like best buddies for years or something. Jungkook clenches his fists, trying to ignore the knots forming in his stomach. He’s almost forced to close his eyes and take more deep breaths to calm the rising panic in his gut, but Taehyung’s voice cuts through the ringing anxiety in his ears.

“I haven’t had a friend for a long time. I hope you don’t mind.” Taehyung looks at Jungkook tenderly, rubbing Jungkook’s shoulder gently. There’s an unspoken hint of affection and solace seeping through the gesture and it makes the tension surrounding Jungkook’s neck loosen.

Jungkook shakes his head, giving in to Kim Taehyung’s soothing aura.

He had no idea where Taehyung was planning on taking him, but he was too nervous to ask, afraid the words would come out sounding wrong. He walked next to Taehyung, allowing the slightly taller male to maintain physical contact, something that Jungkook wasn’t used to but quickly grew to like because Taehyung smelled of a faint scent of vanilla that was soothing and his presence made Jungkook feel safe; safe from the judgmental eyes of the strangers on the bustling streets and the monster inside of him threatening to force him to run home and escape the world.

They walk until Taehyung stops in front of a quaint little coffee shop located down a less busy street. It was the definition of a hole in the wall place, but it was nice and quite. The bell chimes as Taehyung opens the door, allowing Jungkook to walk in first. He is immediately enveloped in the smell of freshly brewed coffee and delicious buttery pastries. The walls of the shop were covered in picture frames and there were various potted plants lining the windowsill. The atmosphere was very calming, even for a panicky mess like Jungkook.

“I used to come here with my mom when I was little” Taehyung says as the two of them are enjoying their hot drinks and munching on cranberry white chocolate scones.

“It’s nice” Jungkook says, looking around at the interesting decorations. There was a glass fish bowl filled with sand and seashells, colorful wind chimes and dream catchers hanging on the window, and a display of ceramic mugs, all flaunting a different design.

“He always told me this is the perfect place to bring a special friend”

Jungkook turns to look at Taehyung, noticing the expression on the latter’s face is hard to read (not that Jungkook was ever good at reading people’s expressions), but this time he just wanted to figure out how to respond. Was Taehyung just implying that they’re friends now? But they just met today…. He didn’t want to seem rude, but he also didn’t want to react in the wrong way, and normally this wouldn’t bother him because he had long accepted that anything he said would come out awkward anyways, but gazing into the deep brown of Taehyung’s large pupils that held a world of nostalgia and tenderness, Jungkook didn’t want to mess up such a heartwarming moment.

“We should go down to the river” Taehyung says, face lighting up and almost startling Jungkook who was still trying to come up with a response for his previous comment, but he seems to not mind the latter’s lack of response and already had his mind on other things.

“Y-yeah, o-ok”

Another boxy smile spreads over Taehyung’s youthful face, and it’s so contagious that Jungkook can’t help but smile too, face scrunching up and revealing his bunny-like teeth. He’s never been this relaxed around anyone after only knowing them for such a short amount of time, but something about Taehyung makes Jungkook lower his self-defensive walls, and the two of them just continue to laugh and indulge in sweets for the rest of the afternoon.

“A lot of people like to go biking along the river, and there’s this bridge that lights up at night and sprays water like a fountain.” Taehyung explains as they walk to the Han River, one of the natural signature emblems of Seoul. Jungkook had heard about this rainbow fountain bridge and has seen it in those Seoul travel commercials, but he’s never actually been to the place. Taehyung seemed really exited to go, almost more so than Jungkook. It was like he hadn’t been there in ages, which was strange since the guy lived in Seoul and claims to know all these fun places.

It was late in the afternoon, and sunset was going to hit in about an hour. There were quite a few people gathered around the banks of the river, chatting, playing games, biking, jogging, and eating snacks. Although the surrounding area is crowded and noisy, quite normal for a capital city with a population of ten million, the river looks magnificent with its surface glistening under the glow of the golden sun, ripples of blue and dark gray forming intricate patterns as the wind blows by.

“It’s so wide” Jungkook says in awe, eyes scanning the large body of water that seems to continue on forever, or as far as his visual field allows for. It’s almost as if he can see the curvature of the earth and imagine the river flowing past the edge, transforming into a waterfall that splashes to the bottom of the universe. Of course, that’s not really how gravity works, but Jungkook didn’t care.

“It sure is” Taehyung says, proud that Jungkook is impressed by the place he brought him to while gazing at the same scene. He’s imagining the same thing, and although words aren’t exchanged between the two of them, there seems to be mutual understanding on a level that’s impossible to explain.

The two of them just observe the scenery in silence, throwing in a comment here and there, but not really in any need of entering full conversation mode. It was time to just relax and enjoy each other’s company, while waiting for the sun to lower itself below the horizon. The sky was changing color, from the baby blue earlier in the day to warm hues of reds, oranges, and pinks, and the glow of fading light on Taehyung’s face made him look even more ethereal (if that was even possible).

The clouds look like giant fluffy piles of cotton candy, painted with different colors created by the varying wavelengths of sunlight that pass through the earth’s atmospheric layers. As the natural brightness in the sky begins to fade, lights in the city were slowly beginning to turn on, the numerous windows of the tall skyscrapers flickering brightly like little specks in the night sky. And Jungkook wondered what those people in those tall apartment buildings were doing, perhaps having dinner with family or watching the latest episode of the drama that was currently on air. It wasn’t long before the bridge also activated and the dazzling water show began.

“Jungkook, look!” Taehyung says ecstatically as he points in the direction of the bridge. The water curved as it was sprayed up and fell into the river, forming rows and rows of semicircular patterns.

“Wow” Jungkook whispers, feeling the cool breeze steal his breath away.

“I used to imagine a tiny version of myself, sliding down those streams of water, like the way a leprechauns slid down rainbows.”

“That would be really cool.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

Taehyung laughs, his smooth, musical chuckle making Jungkook naturally join in too. And this time Jungkook doesn’t think he’s crazy to deem Taehyung’s laugh the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

After observing the water show, the two of them buy some of what Taehyung claims to be his favorite Seoul street food, which was spicy ddeokbokki and fish cakes on a stick. Simple and cheap, but delicious in the mouth and comforting in the stomach, or so Taehyung liked to describe it.

“So… there are more places I want to show you,” Taehyung says, thinking about all the things they obviously couldn’t fit in one day. “You think we could do more exploring tomorrow, since it’s a Saturday?”

“Yeah, ok!” Jungkook says excitedly, his own eagerness surprising himself, since he can’t remember the last time words left his mouth so easily. He rarely responds so quickly and so confidently, normally hesitating to accept someone else’s offer, but at that moment he was so glad that Taehyung actually wanted to hang out with him more, he couldn’t resist.

Even though it’s dark and the lights are dim, Jungkook can still make out the wide smile spreading on Taehyung’s face after hearing his answer. A smile that would later remind him of the way the sun shines over the Han River.

…

Lying in his bed alone at night after a long adventurous day, the events that had happened float around in Jungkook’s head like miniature butterflies air dancing in a dense forest. It was the day he had met the lovable goofball that is Kim Taehyung, and Jungkook knows this is the first time he’s ever been this happy being with another person. It was the first time that being with someone didn’t feel draining and was even more comfortable than being alone. And Jungkook thinks that Taehyung may just be the manifestation of beauty and perfection itself.

A smile spreads across his face as he closes his eyes and drifts off to deep sleep, knowing that he would see Taehyung again tomorrow, and the next day, and maybe even every day of the summer.

…

“Ahhh!!!H-how did you get in?” Jungkook’s eyes widen when he sees the sun-kissed male standing awkwardly in the middle of his living room bright and early in the morning, dressed in virtually the same clothes as Jungkook had seen him wear the day before.

“Oh, sorry, the door was unlocked so I took that as a welcome” Taehyung scratches the back of his head, boxy smile spreading over his face again.

“Man, you scared the shit out of me. I almost had a heart attack,” Jungkook says while still clutching his chest. But he’d be lying if he said seeing Taehyung first thing in the morning didn’t make him excited for the day ahead. Because he would normally dread the thought of having to wake up and deal with the stressful social situations that came with being alive, but the image of Taehyung sparked a little thought in the back of his mind that told him he could maybe get used to seeing the sun every morning.

“So what I’ve got on the list today includes, the Imperial Palace and Myeongdong,” Taehyung says as he watches Jungkook eat a bowl of cereal. “Touristy, but it’s a side of Seoul you’ve got to see” He smiles, throwing his arms behind his head and stretching out a little. Then a random thought crosses his mind.

“Hold on” Taehyung’s expression changes as he sits up straight and looks at Jungkook like he’s some exotic animal at the zoo.

Jungkook looks up from his bowl of cereal, mid bite. Milk drips from his mouth as he waits for Taehyung to continue.

“You pour in milk before you add the cereal?”

“Y-yeah” Jungkook says, mouth full of cereal that has yet to be chewed. Jungkook didn’t know where Taehyung was going with this, was it wrong to pour the milk first? Why hadn’t he brought it up when he was actually performing the action, instead of now when he’s already halfway through the bowl?

Taehyung grins. “I knew I’d find another one.”

“Another one?”

Taehyung chuckles. “People used to judge me for pouring milk before adding cereal, since you know, most people add milk after.”

“They do?” Jungkook thinks about it, and vaguely recalls his older brother telling him it’s better to put cereal in first, back when he was eight. Something about not having too much milk leftover and not splashing milk everywhere when the cereal in poured in. “Yeah, I guess you’re right” He proceeds to eat another bite, mind still lingering on the thought.

Taehyung nods, still smiling at Jungkook. “We were meant to be.”

They head out after Jungkook finishes breakfast and Taehyung wasn’t kidding when he warned Jungkook the places they were going today would be extremely crowded. Tourists from all over Asia gathered to the historical site that is the Gyeongbokgung Palace, partially to learn about and get in touch with Korea’s past, but mostly to take pictures and post them on social media. Jungkook normally hated crowded places and avoided them like the plague, but something about being with Taehyung made navigating threw swarms of people less daunting.

“I see you’re not a selfie person,” Taehyung says, as he notices Jungkook has pulled his phone out of his pockets since they arrived.

“Yeah, I’m not…” Jungkook plays with his fingers, wondering if Taehyung is going to suggests they take pictures and dreading the very thought. He’s always disliked the way he turns out in photos, his inner awkwardness almost being amplified by the lens. Just the thought of 3-D information being compacted into a two dimensional space didn’t sit well in his stomach. And the fact that taking pictures meant having to pose, and Jungkook light-years away from being skilled at modeling.

“Me neither”

Jungkook looks up at Taehyung, who has his eyes closed and is just letting the air fill his lungs. He’s never met a person his age that didn’t like to take pictures, normally they would try and convince him to just “do it once, it’ll look great”, but Taehyung was different, and it makes Jungkook feel like he’s found the home he’s been searching for all this time.

Myeongdong was just streets upon streets lined with shops selling Korean cosmetics from high to low end, fashionable clothing, and all kinds of accessories. It was definitely a shopping mecca, overflowing with customers hauling bags and bags of goodies. Most of the stuff was too expensive for Jungkook to afford, and looking up at the celebrities endorsing various products made him feel so small and insignificant.

“I think you just need a little boost of confidence. Because if you didn’t know already, you’re like really attractive.” Taehyung’s baritone voice snaps Jungkook out of his thoughts. They were window-shopping on the crowded streets of Myeongdong, and Taehyung was eyeing an outfit that he would love to see Jungkook do some justice to.

“Me?” Jungkook asks, as if there was someone else around that Taehyung could be referring to.

“Dude, do you even own a mirror?”

Taehyung laughs, and the sound is so beautiful Jungkook can’t help but smile. He turns Jungkook’s body so the both of them can see their reflections on the glass windows of the shop.

“It’s probably too late for me to worry if I sound creepy, but that chiseled jaw, sculpted nose, and not to mention your gorgeous doe eyes and toned body. You’re fucking hot, man.”

Jungkook feels his face heating up, and it’s not because it’s 90 degrees outside.

…

Jungkook had soon (or more like from the get-go) gotten used to being in Taehyung’s company. Spending relaxed evenings eating Korean fried chicken and watching late night movies, and lazy weekends lounging around his apartment listening to music or playing video games.

“Are you kidding, I love Iron Man! He’s like my favorite avenger.” Taehyung had said, after Jungkook had regretted suggesting they watch Marvel movies the first time they had “movie night” simply because he wasn’t sure what kind of movies Taehyung liked. But of course, Taehyung loved everything Jungkook suggested, knowing that it was rare for the younger boy to ever voice an opinion so openly.

It wasn’t long after the first movie night to turn into several movie nights, and soon they became official movie buddies, zooming through all kinds of movies, from American action to Japanese anime, and even watching re-runs of their favorites.

Evenings not filled with movies were spent listening to their favorite songs, which Jungkook also found out were the same ones. It always surprised him how similar they were, enjoying the same food, having the same weird thoughts that most other people wouldn’t understand, and now, he’s even discovered they virtually have the same taste in music too. Taehyung attempts to rap, but it always sounds like he’s just making up words as he gets tongue-tied, but he’s still having a blast. Then the song shuffles and a more upbeat dance song comes on.

“Damn boy! You’ve got some smooth moves.” Taehyung shouts as he watches Jungkook dance. He didn’t think that timid boy had such a sexy side to him, but he nods proudly, almost hungrily, as he watches Jungkook finally come out of his shell.

Taehyung then proceeds to take of his slippers, wear them on his hands, and perform his own interpretation of a dance. The facial expressions that the normally handsome male makes are so derpy that Jungkook can’t help but burst out laughing. Jungkook laughs so hard that his stomach begins to cramp up, and even then, he still can’t stop. He hasn’t laughed so hard in a long time, or maybe ever in his life really. At least not since his started elementary school in Busan and had to deal with kids making fun of him all the time.

“You’re the only person who hasn’t judged me for having a 4-D personality, and I think that’s pretty cool.” Taehyung had voiced, as they’re calming down from the wild state they were in earlier. They’re both splayed on the couch, exhausted from dancing and attempt rapping.

Jungkook blushes, wondering how anyone could think Taehyung was strange, thinking the fun loving male was still much more normal than he is. And it’s then that the fear, that Taehyung would abandon him if he found out how weird Jungkook really was, washes over him. Like thorny vines that force their way under his skin and tangle with his veins.

“I bet it was hard for you to accept me throwing myself at you from the very beginning, but thanks for giving me the chance to be a part of your life.” Taehyung lips curve up a bit, and he reaches over to hold Jungkook’s hand, being extra careful to treat it delicately, as if it would shatter under too much force.

The vines loosen and the thorns slowly disintegrate.

Jungkook was never good at expressing his emotions with words, but he wants to tell Taehyung that meeting him was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him in the eighteen years he’s been alive. It was better than when he was seven and received the toy car he had been wishing for on Christmas and eating his favorite meal cooked by his mom on his birthday. It was more beautiful than watching the sunrise at dawn and the colorful streams of a shooting star soaring across the night sky. Jungkook wants to tell Taehyung that he’s never had someone he cared about so much because no one had ever made him feel so comfortable in his own skin, despite the occasional doubt that still manages to break through the veil, but Jungkook thinks that maybe time with Taehyung will eventually heal all that was broken.

Unfortunately, his voice doesn’t make it past his lips and all he can do is look at Taehyung and hope that his feelings make it across the seemingly infinite space between them. And by some sort of miracle (or at least that’s what Jungkook assumes) Taehyung understands.

…

Listening to the musical chirping of the birds in the morning and the rhythmic notes of the crickets at night was the only constant in his days filled with the energy and excitement because as routine as his life always was, every day was an adventure with Kim Taehyung.

And Jungkook found new things to love about Taehyung every single day.

It wasn’t just the times when Taehyung would take him to places he’s never been or offered him food that he’s never tried or stayed up late to do whatever Jungkook was feeling like doing. Taehyung was always there, whenever Jungkook needed him.

Like the time Jungkook was asked to give a presentation at a company meeting to promote the new features to the software he had been working on. He was sweating like pig, legs shaking as he walked up to the podium. Jungkook hated giving presentations, it was something he just wasn’t capable of doing like a normal person. Public speaking had been his arch nemesis all his life. It was even exponentially harder than the interacting with people, which he had already felt was a challenge on a daily basis. His clammy hands could probably soak through the piece of paper that had his speech notes written on it, and he feels like he’s about to faint. But it’s the reassuring look from Taehyung and the way he shoots him a perky thumbs up as he twirls around in his chair that keeps Jungkook grounded, and stops the room from spinning like the Gravitron ride at Adventure Land. And for once, Jungkook doesn’t sink into a panic attack brought on by social anxiety, and he subsequently realizes he might just be damn good at impressing people with his presentations because twenty minutes later, all the executives at the meeting were standing on their feet and giving him a round of applause.

Or like the time Jungkook suggested Taehyung go with him to visit Busan despite the rocky train ride that felt like it would never end, but Taehyung had said something along the lines of “standing on a shaky train is much easier if we support each other”, and it’s then Jungkook thinks he can close his eyes and believe in Taehyung’s smiling face for all of eternity even if the world ends.

It’s the middle of the summer and the beaches in Busan are crowded, sweaty saunas but that doesn’t stop Taehyung from suggesting they go, and taking advantage of his trip with Jungkook to Busan for the weekend.

Timid and shy weren’t even accurate enough to describe what Jungkook was like as a kid. He was withdrawn to the point that he would go through full school days not saying a single word or making direct eye contact with anyone. And in middle school, when a literature class counted participation points for a final letter grade, he would pretend that he was mute when the teacher asked him why he never voiced his opinion during discussions.

It was a weekend filled with fun, as they spend entire afternoons building sand castles like 5 years olds, but to Jungkook, it was like experiencing a childhood he never had. With Taehyung, it was like he could fit a whole lifetime into one summer. Being with a person that resonated with him at the same frequency, crests and troughs perfectly aligned, amplifying the entire sound wave.

…

Then came the fateful day that Jungkook will never forget even if he loses his memory due to brain injury or develops Alzheimer’s in his mid 60s. It was the day Taehyung took him to a colorful meadow filled with blooming wild flowers and gave him the world that he never knew he deserved. Life had never catered to Jungkook, despite his courage to always put in maximum effort. It’s really unfair when it all boils down because as far as he can remember, every day has always been an anxious struggle for him not matter how hard he tried. But Kim Taehyung was like the rainbow after a raging storm, the reward at the finish line, a gift from the gods that made the hardships of life bearable.

They had walked away from the city in search of some natural wonders, because Taehyung had mentioned he loved mountains, lakes, and waterfalls. Although they weren’t exactly able to find any of those around Seoul’s vicinity, they were able to find a clearing on a flat hill, overgrown with all kind of flowers, namely yellow dandelions and white baby’s breath.

They decided to take a break from all the walking they were doing, and that entailed sitting back to back in a field of flowers, leaning on each other and basking in the sunlight. For a while, no words were exchanged and only the sound of the wind ruffling the tall grasses could be heard.

“Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“I know it’s only been two months, but is it too early to confess my love to you?”

Jungkook’s chest swells and he’s beginning to wonder if he’s hearing things or there was some underlying message that he wasn’t quite registering.

“Y-you, l-love me?” Just when he thought he was over the whole stuttering thing, here he goes again.

It’s almost sounds rhetorical as Jungkook hears his own voice echo in his ears, because he knows Taehyung loves him, even if Jungkook thinks he’s being too naïve to think that way. Even though his experience with love is virtually zero and the guy could be playing him now for all he knew, Jungkook believed like he knew the earth was round. There was something about the sincerity in Taehyung’s voice, the endearing little glittery hearts in his eyes, and the gentle caress of his hand that made Jungkook believe Kim Taehyung was an angel sent to him from the heavens, and if heaven didn’t give birth to angels like Kim Taehyung, Jungkook didn’t want to go heaven.

Jungkook turns around to stare at Taehyung’s youthful face radiantly glowing under the sunlight that belongs to him and his long graceful eyelashes that fluttered like the wings of a breathtaking butterfly. Mouth still agape and eyes still attempting to capture all the details of the golden-haired male’s the boundless beauty, Jungkook is not startled when Taehyung elegantly leans in and kisses him on the lips. It starts out light, almost airy, like feathers dancing on his skin, but gradually increases intensity as Taehyung begins moving his lips gracefully, each movement conveying desire and affection. Taehyung’s lips are soft and plump, like the flesh of ripe mangos and he tasted of fruit candy, sweet and summery.

When Taehyung pulls away after a couple of minutes, Jungkook looks into his eyes that have turned into sparkling chocolate orbs sending bursts of endearment and warmth. And it’s then that Jungkook thinks Taehyung might just be the beauty that erases every doubt he ever had about love.

…

Kim Taehyung’s love was intense.

It was like the sudden gust of wind rushing over from the ocean converting into the steady growth of hot flames in the fireplace.

And after Jungkook had accepted his confession, it gave the two of them license to be as cringeworthily fluffy as they wanted. Which included going on couple dates around the dating capital of the world that is Seoul, sharing desserts and feeding each other at restaurants, holding hands while taking walks in the park on Saturdays, and going up to Namsan Tower to lock their love for eternity.

Of course being lovers also came with hot lovemaking and passionate make out sessions whenever the urge hit. Their days were filled with happiness and companionship; almost enough to make up for the eighteen years Jungkook was alone.

And for the first time in Jungkook’s life, he enjoyed sitting through a loud thunderstorm in the dark of his room because Kim Taehyung was the warmth to his soul, radiating love as deep at the ocean.

Because Taehyung had said things like “I love the parts of you that the world doesn’t get to see” and “I know that there’s much more going on inside of your head than what’s visible on the outside. I can see the vast universes urging to burst out of your eyes, and that all your life, your heart just ached to be understood.”

And even as the summer was coming to an end, Jungkook was still basking in the fading sunset, enveloped in the warmth of dying embers.

Because the light that Jungkook saw in Taehyung never faded, even when his world did.

…

“I’d like to offer you a full-time position at the company.” Kim CEO says as Jungkook sits in the chair in front of his desk, after he had been called to the CEO’s office. He was surprised that word about his successful presentation had made it to the top of the company, especially since he was nothing more than a summer intern. “I saw your proposal for the new features we can add to the game, and I’m impressed. Of course, since you’re going to college in the fall, we can discuss working around your class schedule as needed.” The words are coming out of the CEO’s mouth, clearly and loudly, but Jungkook can’t really hear anything. His normally overactive mind was focused on something else then.

Jungkook wanted to pay attention to what the CEO was saying because he knows that this is a big deal; to be offered a job by the CEO himself was not something that everyone got to experience, but his gaze has settled on a picture of a boy, placed in a simplistic brown frame, sitting on the CEO’s desk. The features of his face, the tone of his skin, and the look in his eyes, all eerily familiar, sending his brain into overdrive.

The boy was smiling and it’s the rectangular shape that his mouth forms that makes Jungkook certain he knows who the boy is, but there’s an unsettling feeling in his stomach as he attempts to organize his swirling thoughts.

Taehyung’s the CEO’s son?

Why didn’t he ever mention it?

The rest of what happens all comes as a blur, and Jungkook has trouble making sense of singular events because everything just blended together.

“Kim CEO’s son? The one that died in a freak car accident three years ago? Is this some sort of joke?” His coworker Minho says when Jungkook had asked him if he's seen Kim Taehyung around recently.

“The dude talks to himself every day, let’s not get too involved with his mental condition.” The scrawny guy next to Minho says. He wasn’t even trying to hide his hurtful words from Jungkook. Heck, everyone in the office new about Jungkook’s schizophrenia, maybe that’s why they never bothered to befriend him and only gave him weird looks when they saw him talking to the wall or the vending machine.

Jungkook feels his throat go dry, and it’s not because he can’t handle social situations, but it’s like his world has been thrown in an infinite loop as the ground begins to tilt and the room starts to go against the earth’s orbit. He knows this feeling all too well, something that he hasn’t felt in a while, and before the onset of his panic attack, Jungkook does the only thing he can do at that point, which is run. And boy was Jungkook good at running.

He runs until his legs aren’t able to carry him any further. Going to all the places that Taehyung had took him to each day of the summer that was rapidly vanishing in the distance, calling his name, desperately and longingly yelling “Kim Taehyung” until his voice disappeared and nothing but a strained croak came out. But all he received from his efforts were weird looks from the strangers on the streets, thinking he was some sort of maniac that should be locked up in a mental institution. Hours go by and then days, and Jungkook’s tears stop only when his heart has shriveled up and there’s no liquid left to expel.

Then confusion hits and he wonders if Taehyung was even real or if it was just his disease-ridden mind conjuring up things to hurt him. He decides he isn’t about to continue pitting himself over the fact that perhaps he was lonely all this time because his destined soulmate had died three years ago. It wasn’t like he had just lost someone near and dear to him, because he had technically never actually met the guy…right?

Was it really all in his imagination?

Will it feel less painful if it was?

But a week later, once he’s summoned up the courage, he decides he wants to visit this guy’s grave, thinking perhaps it would give him some kind of closure of sorts.

Jungkook is standing at the bottom of the hill cemetery, looking at the rows and rows of loved ones that had left this world. To him, it was just a meadow filled with nameless flower petals and tombstones of people who he didn’t know. Except maybe one, a person that he doesn’t even know if knows at this point.

He stares at the white marble with the name Kim Taehyung etched on the top, standing there motionless for he doesn’t even know how long. Five minutes? And hour?

“I’m sorry” He hears the whisper of Taehyung’s voice carried by the gentle breeze.

It sounds heartwarming, despite being an apology, and Jungkook thinks it’s his mind playing tricks again, but there’s a delicate pressure from the force of someone placing a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to see the boy with a shiny ring on top of his head. So it was a halo all along…

Even though in Jungkook’s mind, Taehyung was always shiny like a beacon in the depths of darkness, this time he’s actually glowing (quite literally too), and his skin almost looks transparent under the blaze of the sun, like Jungkook could see through his body to a landscape filling with light.

“T-taehyung?” Jungkook’s voice comes out as a croak, and the tears finally stream out of his eyes. “It hurts, Taehyung…it hurts so much” Jungkook whispers, hugging himself and rocking back and forth as he stays crouching in the grass.

“I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I thought you would always be with me.” Jungkook’s voice is barely audible now, as he tries to steady his breathing. His hands are clammy and his eyes are swollen, but his heartbeat is beginning to calm because Taehyung’s aura just has that effect.

“All you have to do is think of me and I’ll be by your side.”

“I don’t want to be lonely” Jungkook sniffles, trying to subside the remaining hiccup in his throat. He feels vulnerable, finally openly admitting that he longs for a companion just like everyone else.

“I’ll always be there when you feel lonely.”

Jungkook looks up at his guardian angel, finding the familiar comfort that accompanies his boxy smile and eyes full of affection.

The pain is slowly fading as Taehyung wraps his arms around the curled up boy, protecting him from all that is hurtful in the world. He places a tender kiss on the boy’s forehead, and uses his light to soak up the remaining tears running down his face.

“If you feel lonely all the time, it just means I’m always by your side.”

...