#instead. after all that i just kind of stared at the message hub thing and that took like another 15-20 minutes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bechloeislegit · 3 years ago

Text

My Spy - Chapter 2

A/N: I had a couple of things I wanted to mention but forgot to put on the first chapter: First, I've taken some liberties and had Beca and the freshman Bellas living in the Bellas House since they were officially Bellas. Second, I have loosely followed the timelines set out in each of the PP movies, with some literary license on some of the events. Third, I will be using flashbacks to tell some of Beca and Chloe's history from when they were together and from their individual lives; flashbacks will be in Italics.

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

The Bellas walked out of the diner to see Beca sitting on a bench, with her head down. Stacie and Aubrey broke away from the group and went over to her. The other girls stayed back to give them some space.

"What happened, Beca?" Stacie asked as she sat on the bench next to Beca.

"What did Chloe say?" Aubrey asked as she, too, took a seat on the bench.

"I didn't talk to her," Beca mumbled.

"What do you mean you didn't talk to her?" Aubrey asked.

"I called and got one of those messages stating the number was no longer in service," Beca said, wiping her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Beca," Stacie said, pulling Beca into a hug.

CR started walking over to the bench; the rest of the Bellas followed.

"Beca, can we do anything?" CR asked.

Beca just shook her head.

"I guess we'll just have to wait to see if Chloe reaches out to you," Aubrey said.

"I don't know if I even want to talk to her anymore," Beca blurted out.

"Don't you want some answers?" Jessica asked. "Answers that only Chloe can provide?"

~~ My Spy ~~

Later that night, instead of being on her way home to Portland as she had planned, Chloe was on a plane with other agents bound for Washington, DC. Her bosses decided that all the undercover agents involved in the drug bust needed to fly to Headquarters for a debriefing.

Chloe stared out the plane's window, wondering what Beca was doing now.

"She probably hates me," Chloe thought as an unwanted tear rolled down her cheek.

Chloe discreetly wiped the tear while glancing at her partner and seatmate to make sure he hadn't noticed. She was lucky; he was talking to another agent across the aisle from them.

Chloe looked up when one of the agents in the seat in front of her got on his knees and leaned his arms on the back of his seat. He looked at Chloe and smiled.

"Nice tackle on that guy, Beale," he said.

"Um, thanks, Davidson," Chloe responded.

"So, uh, some of us are planning to get a drink once we get situated at the hotel," Davidson said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was wondering if you would like to join us?"

"No, thanks," Chloe said. "I'm kind of tired. I think I'll just spend some quiet time in my room once we get there. Thanks for the invite, though."

"Sure, no problem," Davidson said before turning and sitting back down in his seat.

Chloe went back to staring out the window at the night sky. She was overthinking everything.

"I should call Beca and see if she's ready to talk to me. God, I hope she still wants to talk to me."

For the second time in ten minutes, Chloe tried to discreetly wipe a tear away, surprised to find both cheeks wet as more tears streamed down her face.

Chloe's partner, Jason, saw this and was momentarily shocked. The ever-stoic Agent Beale does not show her true emotions to anyone. Ever. He always admired that about her because it's a large part of what makes her a good agent.

Jason knew Chloe would be teased and bothered by the other agents. So he did what any good partner would do. He put his arm around her and sat sideways while wrapping his other arm around Chloe's shoulder and putting her face into his chest, essentially hiding Chloe's face from everyone's view.

"You look tired, Beale," Jason said loud enough for others to hear. "Feel free to lean on me and get some sleep."

Chloe nodded into Jason's chest and whispered a teary thank you.

~~ My Spy ~~

It had been four days since Beca last saw or spoke to Chloe. It had also been four days since her dad and the others had been arrested. Her father being arrested is still something she was having trouble wrapping her head around.

Beca's mother sent her money so she could replace her broken phone, with the promise that Beca would get a new number so Chloe couldn't contact her. Beca couldn't keep that promise, so she sat with her brand new phone with the same old number, staring at texts she and Chloe had shared over the past year.

Beca had gone back and forth about whether she wanted to call Chloe and would then remember that the number she had for Chloe had already been canceled. She was pacing around her room when her phone rang.

"Hello," Beca said, answering the call without looking at the caller ID.

"I was wondering why you hadn't called to give me your new number," Beca's mother, Sarah, said.

Beca swallowed. "I'm sorry. I'm still hoping that Chloe will call so that she can explain everything."

"Hmm," Sarah said. "I don't know if I would believe anything she had to say."

"I still need an explanation of some kind," Beca said as tears stung her eyes. "I love her, mom."

"How can you still say that?" Sarah asked. "She obviously was using you to get to your father."

"Is that what you think?" Beca scoffed. "Well, you're wrong. And stop blaming Chloe or anyone else, and put the blame where it belongs. Dad wouldn't have been arrested if he hadn't been involved in a drug ring in the first place."

Sarah sighed into the phone. "I didn't call to fight with you."

"Then why did you call?"

"I called because you've only got a couple of weeks until Spring Break, and I want you to come home. You don't have to worry about the cost, I'll pay for your ticket."

"Oh," Beca said. "I was, uh, kind of planning on coming home and bringing Chloe to meet you. I guess I can still come, but it will just be me."

It hurt Sarah's heart to hear Beca sounding so emotional and defeated.

"Baby, I know you're hurting," Sarah said. "Come home and you can forget about Chloe, your father, and everything else. At least for a little while."

Beca sniffled. "I already said I'd come."

"Good," Sarah said. "I'll buy your ticket and send the confirmation to your email. Keep an eye out for it; I know how you are about reading your emails."

"Text me when you send it," Beca said. "That way I can't miss it."

"I can do that," Sarah said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Beca said. "Talk to you later. And, mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

~~ My Spy ~~

After four days, the debriefings were done and everyone was told they could go home.

"I'm beat," Chloe thought as she entered her hotel room. "It's been four extremely long and tiring days. The debriefings we had to suffer through for four days, could have been accomplished in a few hours."

Chloe threw her laptop on the bed and sat down. Her thoughts took over again.

"It's also been four days of no responses to texts I sent to Beca with my new number. Four days of phone calls going unanswered. Four days of missing Beca more than I've ever missed anyone in my life, even my parents. Four days of suffering the uncertainty about where my relationship with Beca stands."

"Who am I kidding?" Chloe mumbled as she fell back onto the bed. "I'm sure there's no chance of there even being a relationship anymore."

"Go home," the Director had told them before dismissing them for the day.

"Home?" Chloe questioned as she laid there wondering where "home" even was. Barden had been her home for almost four years. She was still enrolled as a student, and she only had a couple of months before she graduated. It was probably for the best if she went back and finished out the year. And if she happened to get to see and speak to Beca, even better.

Chloe's thoughts moved on to her Aunt Peggy and Uncle Matt. Her uncle is the one who got her involved in the agency to begin with, and she definitely didn't want to go to Portland and hear how she screwed up by falling in love while on the job.

Even as she thought this, she knew that no matter what anyone told her, she would never regret falling in love with Beca. She had tried not to let it happen; God knows she had tried. But, she finally accepted that it was meant to be and let it happen. And it was amazing.

Chloe quietly laid there with a plethora of thoughts running through her head. Her last thought fell back to her Uncle Matt, the man she held responsible for everything, good and bad, that had happened since he recruited her. It wasn't long before Chloe had fallen asleep and her thoughts invaded her dreams.

Chloe was a month into her Junior Year at Barden when she was surprised to see her Uncle Matt's name on her caller ID; he rarely called. He usually communicated with her via text.

"Hello, Uncle Matt," Chloe said, answering the call. "Why are you calling?"

"Chloe," Matt said. "I have an opportunity that I think you'd be wonderful for."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"I want you to help us with a case I'm working on," Matt said. "It has to do with Barden University and since you're already a student, you're the perfect person to help.

"What's the case?"

"We've been investigating a drug ring that's operating out of Mexico," Matt said. "They are moving the drugs up the East Coast and we have evidence that Barden is a major hub. We believe there are professors and students involved in the buying and selling of those drugs. We need an agent on the inside to help us gather more evidence about the drug ring and how it operates."

"But, I'm not an agent," Chloe said.

"You will be," Matt said. "We'll train you during your Winter Break. Six weeks is plenty of time to get the minimum training needed to do this. And then, if needed, we can give you more extensive training during the Summer Break."

"Can I think about it?" Chloe asked.

"Sure," Matt said, smiling. "Just don't wait too long. In the meantime, keep your eyes open around campus. If you see anything suspicious, call me."

"I will, Uncle Matt," Chloe said. "I have to go. I have a class."

A week later Chloe had seen a drug deal going down so she called her Uncle Matt to tell him about it. Agents arrived within minutes and she watched as the guys were arrested. She got such a rush from it that she immediately called her uncle and agreed to work for him on the case from that moment on.

Chloe woke up with a start when someone knocked on her hotel room door. She sat up and looked around.

"Chloe? It's Uncle Matt," Matt's voice called out from the hallway.

Her Uncle Matt coming to see her was not a surprise considering he was kind of her boss and it was his case. Chloe jumped up and ran to the door, opening it.

"Come in, Uncle Matt," Chloe said to the man.

Matt entered the room and turned to Chloe.

"Have a seat," Chloe said, motioning to the chairs around a small table.

Chloe walked over and sat down, expecting her uncle to do the same. Instead, Matt remained standing and was pacing back and forth. After a few minutes of him not speaking, Chloe became fidgety.

"So, what's up?" Chloe finally asked.

"I've been hearing some rumors that there is something going on between you and Beca Mitchell."

"Was," Chloe said.

Matt stopped pacing and looked at Chloe.

"I'm sorry, what?" Matt said

"There was something going on between me and Beca Mitchell," Chloe said. "But, thanks to you having everyone arrested on campus instead of waiting to catch them receiving the drug shipment, it's no longer an issue. My cover was blown and now she hates me."

Matt ran a hand through his hair. "We had to do it, Chloe. We got word that the Mexicans knew about our planned raid and had the shipment delivered early. We weren't prepared for that, so arresting the sellers was the only way we could keep most of the drugs off the streets. You should be proud; the agency considers this a success."

"Good for you," Chloe said, standing and facing Matt. "Is that it?"

Matt sighed and said, "Your Aunt Peggy wants to know if you're coming home."

"Home?" Chloe snorted. "I don't even know where home is anymore. My plan is to go back to Barden to finish the year so I can graduate."

"You do know you will always have a home with us, right?" Matt said. "You're like our own daughter."

"Would you have recruited your own daughter to be an agent?"

Matt swallowed and looked down. "Probably not."

"That's what I thought," Chloe said, walking over to the door and pulling it open. "I think you should go now."

Matt looked at Chloe and walked to the door.

"Please think about seeing your Aunt Peggy at some point," Matt said. "She misses you."

Chloe looked down at the floor, not saying anything. Matt kissed the top of Chloe's head before stepping through the doorway and walking away.

Chloe let the door close and went over to her suitcase. She started throwing her clothes into it.

Once everything was packed, Chloe got on her computer to book a flight to Atlanta. After confirming a flight for the next day, she bought a used car through an online car dealership near campus. She also put a down payment on a furnished apartment, sight unseen, just off Barden's campus.

~~ My Spy ~~

The next day, Chloe flew to Atlanta. She took an Uber to the used car lot and drove her 'new' car to her apartment.

Once she had the apartment keys in hand, she checked out the apartment and unpacked her clothes. Looking around she decided to drive to a nearby store to purchase a few groceries.

After a light dinner, Chloe pulled out her laptop and opened the email she had sent to herself with the phone numbers of all the Bellas. She picked up her phone preparing to send a text.

Chloe chewed on her lip, trying to decide which of the Bellas would be the most receptive to her. She smiled as she looked through the list and made her decision. She put in the number and started typing, hitting send when she was satisfied with what she had written.

UnknownNumber: Lily, this is Chloe Beale. I know you and the Bellas are angry with me, but please hear me out. I've tried calling and texting Beca but haven't received a response. I know she's angry and hurt but would you give her my new number and ask her to call me? I really need to speak to her. My number is (555) 809-1985. I'm really sorry about everything. I hope one day you can all forgive me.

Lily was shocked when she saw the text from Chloe. She was torn as to what to do. She didn't tell anyone about the text, but she did respond.

Lily: Beca busted her phone the night of the arrests. I will give her your number, but I can't promise she'll use it. And, for what it's worth, I understand you were doing your job so I forgive you. Good luck to you.

Chloe was surprised to receive a response so quickly. She knew that Lily was different and the rest of the Bellas wouldn't be so quick to forgive her. She had to admit, it felt good to have at least one of them forgive her. It also made her hopeful for the first time since she and Beca last saw each other.

UnknownNumber: Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.

After sending the final text, Chloe put all the Bellas' numbers back in her phone, hoping she' be using them one day soon.

~~ My Spy ~~

Chloe knew that if she was going to resume attending classes she would need her textbooks. All of which were still in the room she had shared with Beca in the Bellas House. She thought about asking Lily to get them and bring them to her. She quickly dismissed that idea because it would mean telling Lily she was in Barden, and she wasn't ready to do that just yet.

An hour later, Chloe was dressed all in black, sitting in her car parked down the street from the Bellas House. She knew the Bellas had a rehearsal and would be leaving soon.

Chloe felt bad because the Bellas would have to change the choreography to accommodate her absence. Aubrey would also have to give her solo to someone else. Chloe had loved singing with the Bellas and especially with Beca.

Chloe checked the time and sat up in her seat to watch the front door of the Bellas House. It was less than a minute later the door opened and the girls were coming out. Chloe watched and started counting so she would know when they had all vacated the House.

Chloe's breath hitched when saw Beca walking out after Stacie. It took everything she had not to jump out of the car and run to Beca and pull her into a hug.

As soon as the group rounded the corner at the opposite end of the street, Chloe got out of her car. She looked around and all was quiet.

Chloe stuck her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and kept her head down as she made her way to the house. She was able to enter with no trouble.

Once inside, Chloe stood and listened to ensure the place was empty. When she was sure, she made her way to Beca's room, stopping outside the door for a moment as memories of the intimate moments she shared with Beca in the room, rushed into her head.

Chloe took in a deep breath and opened the door, scanning the room before quickly gathering her books and stuffing them into the backpack she was carrying. She saw Beca's favorite hoodie lying on the bed and picked it up. She put it to her nose and inhaled deeply; it smelled of Beca. She shoved the hoodie into the backpack and took it with her, quickly making her way out of Beca's room and the Bellas House.

Chloe didn't breathe again until she was safely back in her apartment.

#bechloe fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale

35 notes · View notes

ddaehyeon · 4 years ago

Text

kalopsia; s. wb + reader + k. ty

pairing: seo woobin + reader + kim taeyoung

genre: angst, fluff, hanahaki au

word count: 10.4k

warnings: blood, hospital visit, light cursing, mentions of sickness, death, anxiety, and alcohol/drinking

summary: in each passing day that you grew fonder of taeyoung, more petals would come out of your lips. your heart, a garden of the most beautiful flowers, only that it was also a reminder of your unrequited love. and with the withering petals, woobin can't bear to simply watch.

-- video teaser; story playlist; masterlist; taglist form 🥀

a/n: my longest fic so far! aaaa this is for a fic exchange with the amazing @arieswonjin. ilysm <3 i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope we can do more exchanges in the future! also, special thanks to @starrycrvty who helped me with the editing process and cheered me up while i was losing a braincell in the development of the scenes. you’re awesome and ily. <3

hope you will enjoy this ride. send me feedback through my ask/reblogs! i’ll appreciate it a lot :>

taglist: @bunnyseongmin

[ will edit this again in the future; ]

regardless of how the day was already ending, flowers seemed to not lose their vibrancy. whenever a gust of air blew by, it would dance along with the wind’s melody. you took a breath, the floral scent easing your body which was probably hugged with nothing but fatigue out of the ruthless writing sessions you gave yourself for hours.

a mélange of colors in the sky; the red hue engulfing the orange tint. it was funny how despite that war of colors, in the end, the sky will turn pitch-black with scattered twinkling stars.

sure, spring was one of the most beautiful seasons. but that small amount of fondness for the aforementioned season will never be enough to make you want to experience it for the whole year. life played favorites though— it was spring for you all year round.

you smiled to yourself, trying to shrug off the thought. good thing you weren’t in your room and the sidewalk wasn’t the quietest place to be at during this hour. it offered a space for distractions. most shops were closing, students were to go home from long hours of studying, workers with a weariness that yours couldn’t match walking to hubs for some sort of leisure activities. if you were in some kind of company work, you’d probably be in the same position. going for a drink or two with friends after working hours. but well, you weren’t.

instead of a bustling office requiring formal attire; you were usually in your pajamas, musing about life and writing about it through means of prose and poetry. a young published author who was known for having a great appreciation for flowers. in a few months, another book will be launched under your name. its spine holding all the papers inked by your love, not for flowers or anything else, but for a childhood friend who seemed to not have taken notice of the flower that began growing in your lungs— a rose.

reaching the convenience store, you contemplated which instant food would serve as your dinner tonight. ordered food seemed to have bored out your taste buds, a little change was needed. and to say, probably a more unhealthy choice. maybe a dosirak would do or a kimbap and peel sausage.

as you were to enter, a call of your name put your feet to a halt. you turned to look at the speaker. “oh hey, woobin?”

a weak smile graced his lips, opening the door for you. he spoke after the both of you had entered the store. “tired of ordered meals?”

“kind of,” you replied, a sigh punctuating your words. you walked up to the aisle of dosirak. the sight of it made you swiftly cross it out of your options. you wanted something else. “how about you?”

“craved for ice cream,” answered woobin who, unlike you, had made his mind in settling with a pint of almond ice cream.

grabbing some triangle kimbaps, you looked at him with a raised brow. “wouldn’t that harm your ever so majestic voice?”

if you made money through books, woobin earned his through singing. it ranged from covers to original song compositions. he was quite popular with all the ballad songs he covered that without a lie was a heart-melter. if home and serenity would be defined using a voice, woobin’s would be the perfect definition for it.

“not really.” a chuckle was heard from him as he watched you grab a cup of instant ramyun. “well, wouldn’t that harm your ever so wonderful brain?”

you shook your head but laughed at the remark. woobin had been your friend for quite a long time, probably one of the closest. light and playful banters seemed to have become a part of your usual talks.

walking towards the counter, you settled your items which the worker scanned quickly. the amount flashed by the small screen, and you pulled your wallet out to pay. woobin followed shortly.

“a healthy alternative after ice cream?” you asked, noticing a herbal medicine pouch being placed in his bag.

woobin hunched his shoulders up, and proceeded to go out of the store.

a soft breeze welcomed you as you stepped out. the sidewalk was no longer as busy as it was earlier and the sky was losing its colors bit by bit as if the flickering lights in the queued lampposts were sucking it all.

“so how is it coming out?” woobin asked as he walked beside you. your apartment and his were only a few blocks away. his apartment was inside a street, away from the main road filled with noises coming from horns and speeding cars, while yours was in a complex near the road. you liked watching people from up the balcony, it was like watching a film, only that everything that was happening was real and only the made-up dialogues of the strangers were sheer fiction.

“minor editings left,” you replied. “also, next week the possible art for the cover will be out. want to check it out with me?”

he didn’t reply right after as if he was mentally checking his schedule, weighing if he was free or not. though his answer indicated that the things he had to do had flexible deadlines. “sure, just tell me when.”

“i’ll call you once they message me about it.” a cough ended your sentence, you covered your mouth as you did so. something smooth touching your palm. it was happening… again.

“are you alright?” concern evident on woobin’s face, he went closer to you. his hand on your back, rubbing circles to ease your coughing.

but he was aware it would not be enough to stop it. a rub or any sort of medicine wouldn’t stop it. like how will those be enough to stop a flower from blooming in your lungs?

it was the reason why even though you admired the beauty of spring, you also disliked it.

flowers were in full bloom during spring. the way each petal was colored was pleasing to the eye. however, such beauty should have just stayed where they were supposed to be. on the ground, decorating the world with its vibrant color. it should only be there instead of clinging onto someone's lungs after failing to get their love returned.

hanahaki, a disease that causes someone to cough up flower petals when their love is one-sided.

there were different stages of it. at first, it was only a mere cough. something one would mistake for a regular cough. until petals come along with it on the next stage. followed by a mix of blood, acute chest pain, and shortness of breathing in the last.

two ways to resolve it. either undergo a surgery which will cost a fortune at the risk of wiping out not only your emotions but also the memory of all people you are close with or have your love reciprocated. inability to obtain any of the mentioned cures will result in the most unfortunate event. no more pain from the flower sprouting in your chest. no ache, coming from the bitter taste of being reminded every single night that your love wasn’t reciprocated— death.

“i’m alright.” it took quite a while before your coughing subsided. you were sure petals were already accumulated on your hand. bringing your hand down, you let go of the red petals. luckily, no blood. but you didn’t expect less. this disease had been giving you restless nights lately, worsening and worsening.

a sigh left woobin’s lips as he shook his head. “that’s not the look of someone alright for me.”

the rest of the walk was silent. woobin insisted on walking you home, to which you had no power to decline. even if you told him no, he still ended up doing so.

by the time you reached the front of your unit, night had already won the clash in the sky. the stars glimmering above at their triumph.

“don’t work up until late,” woobin reminded.

you smiled, wishing you could tell him that it wasn’t the writing that made you get less rest every evening. it was the rose that inhabited your lungs. “i will not.”

“here,” said woobin, handing you the bag of the things he bought earlier.

the ice cream was no longer of its same form as it was earlier. its mist soaked the insides of the plastic bag. “and why are you giving it to me?”

“just take it. you know in movies heartbroken people would eat ice cream as they mope around.”

the lighthearted remark made you laugh. woobin had his ways to make you feel better. “and what about the medicine?”

“you’re probably sad, but that won’t mean that you should not take care of yourself.” he was aware of your feelings for someone else. he was aware of the red roses in your chest. he was aware that your feelings weren’t reciprocated.

“makes sense.” you flashed him a smile, scrambling on your bag to take out one of the triangle kimbaps. the item tossed to his direction which he caught smoothly. “take that at least.”

“well, thank you?” he gazed at the food you gave him before returning the smile. “have a good night, y/n. call me if you need anything.”

you hummed as a response, watching woobin make his way to the stairs, descending afterward. another gust of wind passed by and you rushed to go inside. staring at the now melted ice cream, you shook your head. a laugh escaping your lips as you closed the door.

how long has it been? you thought.

collapsing on the bed, you stared at the ceiling. the coughing had already stopped, yet the burning pain in your chest remained.

what was the flower again?

a rose?

maybe the stabbing ache was caused by its thorns that came to hug your lungs. you sighed as if that would altogether pull out the suffocating sensation— of course, it wouldn’t. it would never.

a curt beep on your phone pulled you out of your cloudy thoughts, reaching for it to read the notification. a message from one of your friends which read,

it’s your debut book’s first anniversary today! congrats, y/n.

for a moment, your lips curled into a faint smile, so weak that it didn’t even last for a minute. sending a quick reply to show gratitude over the thought, you allowed yourself to drown over the same thoughts.

that book with inked poetry all meant to deliver a single message— your feelings for taeyoung. the words laced in each rhyme was a cover of the affection you had for him, and the petals you cough each night was his answer.

a childhood friend who you used to be neighbors with. he still lived under the comforts of his parents’ home, while you moved to live alone in an apartment, desperately seeking independence.

or maybe seeking for a way to not see his face every single day and be reminded that his favorite flower, a rose, had been blooming in your lungs.

the brightness taeyoung had never seemed to fade, his smile still carried sunlight of its own. a contagious one that would make anyone have the same smile (but maybe not as bright). his bubbliness was a comfort. whenever around him, the butterflies causing chaos in your stomach would make you forget about the evening ache he was subconsciously bringing.

taeyoung, ever since you were young, loved books and flowers. you preferred other things though, but somehow you found yourself conforming to what he liked. being the person you spent most of your time with, his interest became yours. whenever he would tell you about something he became inclined to, you would check it as quick, forcing yourself to like it. it was a repeated action that was implanted as a habit. in the process of trying to be his ideal person, your own identity was thrown away. a trap filled with nothing but thorns of his favorite flower.

shifting to your side, your eyes landed on the wall just above your working table. photographs of roses were stuck on it, along with verses other people might find painfully beautiful. you knew your words better though. its beauty was a mere delusion. hiding behind the pretty words were ugly cries— your reality.

another cough, a petal escaping from your lips. it danced in the air as it was freed, only to meet the cold floor of your room. with flowers blooming in the chest, you closed your eyes drifting to sleep. the pain no longer mattered as it was the usual sensation.

a soft instrumental had taken over your apartment. the sun was already up, its light filtering through the blinds. your potted plants were probably thankful for its generosity. you took a sip of your coffee, staring at the few words written in the new document reserved for a new manuscript. writing, or at least conceptualizing the main theme, of your next book was your top priority today. however, the continuous notifications coming from your close peers dragged you out of your bubble every single time.

with you celebrating the first anniversary of your debut book (which basically marked the day of your debut as a published writer), receiving messages was plain inevitable. your editor even asked if you’d be up for a drink later this night. an offer you turned down. silence and alone time this evening were everything you craved for.

putting your laptop on rest, you grabbed your own copy of withered roses, your book. it was silly how you decided to have perfectly blooming and lively roses as its cover when it contained the very title, your own withered roses hiding through beautiful verses.

flipping through the pages, you stopped on a certain poetry. undeniably, one of your favorites. it was one of the first poems that you wrote for this collection. grabbing a paper and a pen, you scribbled the words down, the same words still describing your situation perfectly. and maybe that was the reason why your condition was worsening.

you stuck the paper on the wall, just beside a photograph of a blue rose. for a moment, you stared at it, smiling at the words as if those were some kind of lost friends who rekindled with you. you smiled as if those were something that you should be smiling at.

three doorbells and a few knocks. a heavy sigh came out of your lips, tearing your eyes away from the poem. slow steps towards the door, the person on the other seemed rather impatient for the doorbell continuously made a sound. it was enough for another breath to escape the confines of your mouth.

swinging the door open, your eyes widened. the sight penetrating quickly to your senses and the sensation you hated the most overpowering you, your heartbeat loud. really loud. “taeyoung?”

for him to be able to give you the most wonderful feeling of warm cheeks and butterflies and still be able to poison you using his favorite flower lethal to your body, you wondered when it would end.

“it’s withered roses’ first anniversary!” his smile was a band-aid, too fleeting of a cure for you. he lifted a pot of cycnoches orchids, something that was probably from his parent’s flower shop. “here’s a gift for you.”

“thank you.” as he handed you the pot, you gave him enough space to enter your unit. placing it just beside the other plants you had, all coming from their shop, you turned to look at taeyoung. a pout appearing in your countenance. “you should have brought food.”

taeyoung scratched his head at your sudden words, a sheepish smile curving on his lips. “well, we can order.”

at the sight of a slightly flustered taeyoung, a string of laughter became your immediate response. “i was kidding.”

you went back to the couch to sit with taeyoung following you shortly. the music playing in your room had long ago stopped, something you only noticed after taeyoung came. after your awareness came to hug you once again.

his eyes wandered as if it was his first time in your unit. it was definitely not his first visit, to count how many times he’d been there was also impossible. just like how you frequented their flower shop, he was usually in your unit as well. maybe it was due to him being used to your company. childhood friends, former neighbors— inseparable, but in a manner that went nothing beyond romantic feelings. at least to his side.

glancing at him, you followed where his gaze was fixated on. it was focused on the wall that held photographs of roses and the poem you scribbled earlier from your book.

“wasn’t that the eighth poem in your book?” intrigued, he looked at you with a brow raised.

you didn't have to meet his gaze. a smile slowly crept out of your visage. it didn't hold an emotion though, more like a simple forced curve. "it is."

"i love it." it was a genuine remark, but somehow, instead of giving you a warm feeling, it did the opposite. standing up, he reached for the paper, detaching it from the wall. the words slipping out of his tongue as he read it out loud.

heat-haze; sunrays visible at the nighttime daydream under the cloud of deep distance built a sensation of unrequited affection innumerable actions-- satisfied, captured by mere existence. nevertheless, the heart was jinxed in a presence, a love, i cannot withdraw from.

as the final four lines were uttered, he looked at you in the eyes, a hint of gloom clouding his misty orbitals. he had the poem memorized, but it was only the words he had carved in his mind. the feelings sealed with it, unnoticed.

taeyoung was the reason why you began writing. a simple comment of his saying that you would make a good author and your words were all prettily laid out made you want to write.

or perhaps it was not the writing you were chasing for, rather the speaker who told you that he wished to see more of your writing.

for others, writing could be a form of escape. to be under a little spell that would pull someone out of their reality. you wished you were the same. you wished your writing wasn't your reality.

anywhere you go, you were surrounded by your reality. the potted plants you should not be taking care of if it wasn't for his interest in plants and flowers. the book that was published a year ago and the soon to be published one. the colors that accented your unit which he said was such a relaxing palette. the words in your head. the flower in your chest. it was the reality made out of nothing but the person you loved.

“wait.” taeyoung’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. he was peering over petals of red roses that were on your table.

it seemed like you forgot to clean it up earlier. well, you didn’t expect anyone to actually go to your house. such a realization was thought late.

“were you playing with roses?” taeyoung asked, frowning as he looked at it.

you’d consider that a stupid question, but taeyoung didn’t know a thing about your condition so you let it pass. there was no way in hell you’d tell him about it now. not yet. “yes.”

“so how was it?” the excitement and giddiness leaking in his tone as he plopped down next to you on the couch didn’t help. what was he even referring about? your hanahaki disease? what? as if hearing your question, he clarified his query, “does he love you?”

ah, the popular he loves me, he loves me not.

there was no need for that though, the petals you vomit each night was a clear answer. you smiled, leaning back to get seated more comfortably. “he doesn’t.”

the way those two words left your lips surprised you. no hint of hurt, sadness, or anything— it was laced with a calm tone as if retreating, surrendering, accepting. will it really be your fate?

taeyoung sighed, the smile he once had melting away. “don’t worry, it’s just a silly game anyway. the person you love probably loves you too.”

you turned to look at him. a mistake. kind eyes met yours, reassuring you of something you had already known for so long was false. there was no need to hang into that ray of hope when you were aware that it was not the case.

eyes glossy with the tears that never dared to fall, you offered him a tight-lipped smile. “thank you.”

he grinned, which you assumed was out of relief before he looked at your wall once again. “why use roses though? there are other flowers out there.”

“well, isn’t it the first flower you’d think of when you hear the word love?” you replied. “it means a lot more depending on its color, but in simple terms, it just means love and romance.”

“you seem to know a lot about it,” he remarked, not tearing his gaze away from the photograph. “why blue out of all colors?” he asked referring to the photograph you had on your wall.

“it stands for an impossible miracle.” a clear depiction of your situation. no word followed that sentence, and good thing taeyoung didn’t ask any further about why. maybe it was due to his perception that poetry writers had other symbolism hidden behind their verses, even when there was nothing and the message was just in front of their readers.

“roses are wonderful, aren’t they?”

not when they are blooming in your chest. not when its thorn embraces your lungs. not when it suffocates you. your thoughts were loud in your head. but you knew you can’t blame it for inhabiting your body. you can’t even have taeyoung blamed for it either. it was the universe’s fault for laying such a disease in humanity. “they truly are.”

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

how could you not when its petals were the ones that kept on coming out of your lips every evening?

a ringing coming from a device shattered the silence in your apartment. but this time, it wasn’t from yours. it was from taeyoung who was now about to leave your unit, his parents had called him to go and do his tasks in the flower shop. seemed like he had forgotten about it, considering that he’d been with you for almost an hour.

“take care and have fun for the rest of the day!” taeyoung ruffled your hair and left. his touch lingering.

your room suddenly felt empty. as if taeyoung had taken all the vibrancy it had after stepping out of it. taeyoung was your paradox— a home that housed nothing but emotions you shouldn’t regard as home, but you did. he was your home.

you coughed, a petal threatening to escape. the windpipe blocked, your chest tightening. a sorrowful smile was your only answer to the ache that was resurfacing. your gaze didn't falter, still locked on the photograph of the blue rose. to no one in particular, few words were whispered, “they are beautiful.”

“remind me again why i’m here with you?” woobin looked at the almost empty store; sleepwears displayed from the first showcase up to the last rack. it was a week after the first anniversary of your book, things had seemed to tranquil much more.

shopping during the working hours on weekdays was certainly one of the best things. the absence of people led to different advantages like having no long queue to the cashier, no people to deal with as you browse the clothes, and overall just serene shopping.

you didn’t mind it when a salesperson would go and ask you about what type or design you were looking for, they were probably getting bored having to stand for a long time and entertain just a few passing potential customers. the mall’s theme song was playing from a distant speaker, almost inaudible and muffled by the sweet piano music playing in the shop itself. keeping it up to the theme of the shop, if there was a bed in there, you’d probably be brought to sleep right after. something you weren’t sure to consider as a good aspect or bad aspect of the clothing store.

“well, you just finished posting another wonderful cover which hit a hundred thousand views in an hour, we must celebrate, right?” you replied as you picked up a pair of pastel plaid pajamas, checking the fabric quality to which you quickly marked as spandex.

woobin reached for the design next to what you picked up, eyeing it with less interest than you had. “but why are we buying pajamas?”

“because i need it.” a chuckle was heard from you after he let go of a sigh at your words. you stepped closer to him, peering over his shoulder to check the design he was checking.

“by the way,” he began, not wanting to ask more as he was aware of your love for comfortable clothes (pajamas being the top of it along with sweaters and hoodies). “i’m applying for a job in this pharmaceutical company located in another town as a medicinal chemist.”

“oh? the one you mentioned before?” you watched him go through another set of sleepwear.

it was a sudden reminder that before being known as the seo woobin who sang various songs in innumerable gigs and had built a name in the music side of youtube, he was the seo woobin who excelled in his major, organic chemistry. for years of him not applying for an actual job as a chemist anywhere and pursuing his dream career, that fact was swept out of your mind.

you met woobin in one of your electives— a chemistry class that you would probably have to retake only if he didn’t help you out. the limited slots in language classes were the ones you put your blame on, but it wasn’t completely that bad. after all, you had ended up making a good friend in the class you despised the most.

“are you going to quit singing?” worry was painted all over your face which earned a soft amused laughter from woobin. you adore his singing a lot, the comfort his mellifluous voice could bring was distinct, something you’d grown ever so fond of.

“you know, i just want to put my degree into proper use.” woobin smiled reassuringly as he tossed you a set of pajamas with the design he guessed was what you were searching for, the one with doodled roses decorating it from bottom to the top. “kind of had the urge to get a secured job.”

the clothing dumped to you went unnoticed as you fired off another question. “what about the album deal? i thought you already had one. what’s going to happen with that?”

“i will still sing.” there was no need to doubt woobin’s calm tone as he said those words. “don’t worry about it. i love singing and i’ll not stop doing it.”

“make sure to.” you walked towards another rack, finally noticing the pajamas woobin had thrown in your way earlier. staring at it for a moment, the initial thoughts about the flower easily came into your head. “this one’s cute. i’ll take it.”

unconvinced, woobin raised a brow at you. “are you sure you found it cute or there’s another reason behind you liking it?”

the other reason he was pertaining to was clear, enough to become a slap rather than a mere reminder. do you really like it or do you simply want the person you like to notice you for having something close to their favorite thing?

feeling lost to your own set of likes seemed like a normal thing. mind plagued with taeyoung’s interests that it mattered more than yours. at this point, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for him to like you back and finally get the fuzzy feeling of being loved back or you were simply desperate to stop the flowers from budding in your chest.

“i like it,” you answered after a long while of spacing out. you even nodded your head as if trying to convince yourself from a statement you weren’t sure whether to label as a lie or a truth.

“if you say so.” an indistinct sigh came across woobin, subtly shaking his head in disbelief. he didn’t go deeper into the topic though, instead uttered some words that made a bright smile grace your lips. “go and choose whichever you want. it’s on me today.”

wearing the new pair of a loose shirt and pajama, you gazed at your reflection. a curve spotted on your lips, satisfied with the new purchase. demeanor dropping as a familiar sensation crawled up to your senses. the calm night was taken aback when your chest began tightening. a petal quickly rising, stuck on your throat afterward as you tried to hold it in. however, it was a failed attempt. the urge strong that you had to run towards the bathroom to release all the petals of the vivid red rose that nurtured in your body, watered with nothing but unreturned affection.

just like any other night, the sickness came to do its visit. its terrible reminder playing in your mind. the blood that mingled with the petals was hard to discern as they were colored in the same hue; it tasted different though.

a ringing in your head as your vision started to blur, not noticing how tears had formed in your eyes as the pain emerged to be stronger than it usually was. the intensifying ache wasn’t the only one that made your tears fall. all your unnoticed efforts, regardless of how big they were, were the ones that brought salty tears. your knees buckled, allowing you to meet the ground unceremoniously. it was getting harder to breathe and the cold bathroom tiles were your only company.

it was a twisted melody. in each cough, petals would escape. it didn’t even take a long time for you to be surrounded by a sea of red petals. what a sickening view, you thought. how do people regard roses as something so beautiful?

a memory.

“dear, taeyoung is outside, waiting for you.” a few knocks on the door accompanied your mother’s call.

it was a hot summer, the sun giving no mercy with its ray as if angry with how it was neglected during the cold seasons. with a few remaining days before the start of a new quarter, you probably had spent most of your time in your room. oftentimes will you go out only at the call of a childhood friend.

“y/n.” as if stepping out of your thoughts, taeyoung had your name wrapped by his cheerful voice. “mom made homemade ice cream. come on, get out of your room already.”

if your own mother wasn’t able to pull you out of your room, taeyoung was. your feet quick to move as you checked on your reflection by the mirror, practicing a smile and some silent dialogues. all to which you weren’t really able to show when you opened the door. a faint blush crept on your cheeks as soon as your gaze landed on the bright smile taeyoung had on his own. butterflies flew free in your stomach, heart pounding.

maybe it was the way taeyoung would talk to you with an unmatched enthusiasm even if your words make no sense. maybe it was because of the vibrancy he had all around him that simply could bring comfort to anyone he was with. maybe it was due to the fact that he had been with you since you were a kid.

or maybe it was just because he was him, kim taeyoung, that your crush began budding as a love. and as soon as it did, his favorite flower, a rose, was caught in your lungs during middle school.

occupied by the sensation, your mind didn’t attend to the continuous doorbells ringing in your apartment. in a few, the door was opened, rushed footsteps along with your name uttered in sheer concern echoed in your unit. with the air knocked out by the relentless flower, from red your vision turned pitch black.

when dusk fell, woobin was already in the hospital with a drink in his hand, which was meant to be given to you. he’d been going back and forth to the hospital and his apartment to bring you food and some other items you needed.

the scene he witnessed last night was still fresh in his mind, the panic lingering. on your cold bathroom floor, you laid unconscious with petals of roses surrounding your figure. he was swift to get help, which ended up with you having to stay for almost a day in the lonely ward. your room making you feel sicker.

“oh, you’re back?” serim, the head nurse and a close friend of woobin, said as he walked towards the other.

woobin nodded, tracing the track he’d been stepping into since this morning. it was as if he could easily go to your room even with eyes closed. serim followed from behind and before he could say a word, woobin had already found your room empty. finally, he offered the nurse attention. “where’s y/n? already discharged?”

“yes, they just went to talk with their doctor for a few more reminders.” serim shook his head disapprovingly. “they should stay longer, but they seem like a very busy person.”

“y/n should just follow their doctor.” a sigh punctuated woobin’s sentence.

“and you should too,” said serim.

woobin began walking his way back to the nurse station reception to wait for you. “my case is different.”

“you’re slowly losing your voice because of your own sickness.” serim’s sigh was way heavier than woobin’s, his orbitals painted with worry. being one of woobin’s closest friends, he knew all about it. “orchids are blooming in your lungs, how are you different?”

a glare was darted to serim’s direction which became woobin’s sole reply since they both saw you approaching them. serim hunched his shoulders up, shaking his head once again before walking away.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you told woobin who handed you the drink he bought outside.

“of course,” woobin said, leading the way out.

there weren't a lot of people in the lobby. only a few were there, either the nurses turning for their night shifts or the relatives of those people staying in the hospital for the night.

“it’s getting worse, isn’t it?” woobin’s words slowed down your pace, your head turned to him as he continued. “shouldn’t you start trying to move on and finding someone who can actually love you back?”

“what do you mean?”

woobin shrugged. “it seems like it’s the only way for you to be properly healed.”

yes, moving on and falling for someone else was a considered cure as well. a change of feelings could remove the flower naturally. but doing so was easier said than done.

a sad smile became evident on your brim. how could you do that? you thought. “i can’t just fall in love with someone like it’s nothing, woobin.”

“give me a chance then.”

woobin’s words were powerful enough to make your feet stop from moving, to catch your breath and make it halt. it can’t be. you looked at him confused, wishing that you misunderstood what he said. you wished that it would be his regular sentences as he tried to make you feel better. you wished what you were thinking was a mere thought, an idea, a false gut feeling. “woobin?”

it was a question that didn’t need any elaboration. the simple call of his name with such perplexed tone was enough as a query. the same gloomy smile on his lips matched what you had earlier, accompanied by his faint chuckles. “yes,” to your horror, he confirmed. he let go of a breath, something that gave him a boost to finally utter the words he’d been meaning to say. “i’m in love with you and all i want is for the flowers in your chest to stop blossoming.”

“that means…”

to experience the same thing you had been experiencing. to give someone the same taste of your suffering. to plant a flower in someone’s chest and water it every day as you were failing to return their provided affection. it was something you didn’t wish to do, an extremely unfavorable idea which reminded you of how the universe had been unfair from the very start.

“yes, and they aren’t beautiful.” a tight-lipped smile became apparent on his countenance as he stared at the glass doors of the hospital. a few more steps and both of you will be out of the place the two of you frequented on different days, but for the same means— a fleeting cure for the ache caused by hanahaki. “the pain we’re both carrying out of unrequited love. it isn’t beautiful, y/n.”

a lump in your throat stopped any possible reply from coming out of your lips. you wanted to apologize, but an apology from taeyoung wasn’t the thing you’d want to hear from him after you confess and you assumed such wouldn’t give comfort to woobin as well. an apology wouldn’t be enough when you were already striping away someone with their lives.

rather untimely, the door opened, revealing taeyoung. he was holding a basket of flowers, probably for some kind of delivery. with hinted concern, he walked towards you and woobin. “what are you doing here?”

“stomach ache.” regardless of your mangled thoughts, it was a surprise that you were able to respond as soon. it was as if such sickness was a practiced lie.

“is that so?” taeyoung looked at woobin to confirm and the older just nodded not wanting to speak more. he turned to you, his worry dropping a few levels, but was still obvious. “let me just bring this flower to a friend and i’ll walk you home. will that be alright?”

you looked at woobin, silently asking if he would be okay with that. it was such a silly act, of course, he would be against it. but what can he do? just like him, the person you had grown fond of hasn't reciprocated your feelings yet. both of you probably wishing the same thing— for the flowers to wither and be gone. for the restless nights to end. to be loved back. the only difference was woobin was so focused on you that he had forgotten about his condition which was worsening at the same rate as yours.

he patted your shoulder. “sure, i need to head somewhere else anyway. get home safely?”

“i will, you too, woobin.” you gave woobin a smile, guilt sitting in your stomach which was continuously twisting.

woobin weakly mirrored the feature before turning his back to you and taeyoung. as he was stepping out of the establishment, he looked at the twinkling stars, hoping this night would be kinder. but he was certain he’d be the one coughing out orchids tonight, probably worse than your roses.

the stars from above watched you and taeyoung walk on the now empty sidewalk. even without the illumination coming from the lampposts, it was all so bright. all in gratitude for the moon which served as a ball of shining light in the clear night sky.

"you've been sick since we were kids, but you never told me what with." taeyoung broke the silence, uncertain if he should go further. “was it really because of stomach ache earlier?”

a chill ran down your spine, making you inwardly shiver. that wasn’t the talk you were so ready to face. and after what happened last night, you can’t simply bring another lie. however, telling taeyoung everything wasn’t something you planned to do as well. afraid that rejection would become the final straw.

taeyoung stopped dead on his tracks, looking at you with nothing but sheer concern. “is there anything bothering you?”

you gave him a smile which was obviously forced. “don’t worry about it.” you urged him to continue to walk and he did, but just as you thought that you were already safe from his questions, he asked another.

“it’s not a stomach ache wasn’t it?” hands on his back, his gaze was fixated on the road. “what was it, y/n?”

maybe it was time to tell taeyoung about it? maybe— “hanahaki.” the words subconsciously slipped out of your tongue.

“what?” surprised by the mention of the disease, his eyes were wide when he whipped his head to your direction. “you mean… your love is unrequited?”

taeyoung was quick to catch the gist of the disease. it was pretty much a popular sickness that had probably made some of his other friends suffer. the only thing he wasn’t quick to get was… who your feelings were for.

“woobin doesn’t like you back?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts which was purely of practicing the possible explanations if he ended up recognizing your feelings for him. and apparently, he didn’t.

it was your turn to shoot him a look. “what?”

“don’t you like woobin?” he averted his gaze and it trailed back to the road. “i mean the two of you seem like really close friends and you’re together most of the time.”

you didn’t know whether you should be relieved or not. but since you were still unprepared to offer any explanation, you just went with the flow. a bitter smile coming to your lips. your head had his name on your sentence, regardless of how you uttered another man’s name. “yes, i like woobin. but it seems like he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“maybe you should… try moving on?”

the way taeyoung suggested the same thing made you laugh, confusing the person beside you. to move on, huh? was that what the universe wanted you to do? to move on? a smile lingered on your visage, as you stepped on the stairs with taeyoung following you behind. it was just funny how he thought you were in love with woobin, when in fact the flower he adored the most was living in your lungs. that he was the person you were in love with, not any other person.

stopping at the front step, the worry that sat on his orbitals didn’t waver. the look asking if you’d be alright tonight— you already knew the answer. “take care, okay? if you need anything, just call me. good night.”

as soon as you closed the door, it began. the coughing that seemingly just waited for you to step into your unit came rushing. a petal waving in the air before meeting the ground. “i need your love, taeyoung. i badly need it.”

the smell of freshly done pancakes wafted up to your bed, a few noises coming from the kitchen followed. it was a gentle alarm that pushed you to wake up and get out of your bed. too groggy, a foot still on the dream you were having, you didn’t think that whoever was in the kitchen could be a thief or anything. well, who in their proper mind would cook food for the owner of the house if they were only to snatch things after?

a few days ago, you had an extreme case of hanahaki, something that led you to stay in the hospital overnight. after that, it had seemed to subside or at least be more gentle during the evening, resulting in more hours of sleep.

“woobin?” you called his name as you watched him turn off the stove, placing the fluffy pancakes onto a plate. there was already a hot chocolate ready for you to drink. you didn’t even question how he got inside. probably jungmo, the landowner, gave him the code to your room. oh, talk about privacy.

his smile was as warm as the morning sunrays. “good morning.” his voice was a little hoarse, normally you wouldn’t really pay attention to that. when he recorded songs too much in a day, he’d end up with such. but now that you knew he was experiencing hanahaki, a question hung in your head. was it because of the coughing? your thoughts dropped at the sound of his voice, still mellow regardless. “i’ve cooked you breakfast.”

“don’t you have work to do?” you asked, remembering how during the past days he’d been telling you about his new work— the slot in that pharmaceutical company as a medicinal chemist. you dragged a chair before occupying it, looking at him as he placed all the things he used in the sink. a curve became visible on your lips as your eyes fell to what he prepared. it was just pancakes, but it was woobin’s pancakes. he was such an amazing cook, you could vouch for that. “thank you by the way.”

“work? ah yeah.” he took the seat adjacent to yours, a cup of coffee in his hands. he grinned at you and you swore, your heart was in ultimate chaos when you heard his next words. “i took on the job of taking care of you for free starting today.”

sunlight filtered through the glass door of the flower shop, highlighting the wide variety of spring flowers. ranunculus, tulips, and calla lilies were all displayed along with other non-seasonal plants. there weren't a lot of customers coming, given that there were flowers available to be picked up in some public gardens. regardless, there were still a few who would come and get flowers arranged for some special occasions. but then again, it was just morning. it was rather too early to judge the possible count of customers later.

“jungmo’s coughing out petals now,” allen, one of the workers in the flower shop. said.

taeyoung looked at him, pausing his actions of tying a yellow ribbon in the bouquet of tulips. with a brow raised, he asked, “hanahaki?”

putting the freshly done arrangement of peonies, allen tapped on the counter which called the attention of the delivery man. he pointed out the card which contained the address and watched the other go out to deliver the item. dragging a stool to sit on, he stretched his arms. “seems to be. he’s coughing out petals of his crush’s favorite flower, crocus. i don’t think it’s a mere crush now though.”

“oh, so the flower that blooms in a body experiencing hanahaki would be the favorite flower of the person they like?” taeyoung asked as he finished the bouquet he was working on. he retrieved stems of roses and cut them nicely, removing the thorns and excess leaves.

“yes,” allen replied. “you like roses right?”

taeyoung only nodded, a memory alighting in his head. it can’t be—

“that means the person who likes you, but ends up with a one-sided love would end up having roses in their chest,” allen continued, causing taeyoung’s hand to stop from moving. the younger’s eyes fixated on the collection of red roses in his hands.

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

the flower growing in your chest was his favorite flower, roses?

it was him all this time?

right at that moment, there was one thing taeyoung would want to address himself as. an idiot. realizations came crashing to him like a powerful wave that held no mercy. it was ice cold, his body freezing at each thought that his mind welcomed.

the petals he found on your desk weren't there because of a silly game of he loves me, he loves me not. it was the petals you coughed out and forgot to clean.

“are you okay?” allen asked, momentarily snapping taeyoung out of his daze.

the twisting on taeyoung stomach was unbearable. his heart racing not with flutters, but rather with anxious thoughts. he was the cause of your pain?

with an almost inaudible voice, taeyoung let out of his horror. “y/n likes me.”

continuous taps on the keyboard, words appearing on the screen only for the flow to stop with punctuation. in sync, the doorbell rang. you no longer wondered who it was. it had always been him.

you stood up and shuffled towards the door, opening it before welcoming the male with a warm curve in your face. “it’s lunch already?”

woobin nodded, handing you a bag of still hot dishes he cooked probably not more than an hour ago. he followed you as you made your way to the dining area. when the male said he’d be taking care of you starting that specific breakfast, he stuck to his words, visiting you almost every day. the only exception was when he had to meet a producer. his own album was in the process of being finalized.

you placed the bag down and woobin walked towards your cupboard. where to find the things was already memorized. it was as if he was living in the very unit.

“so how’s your morning?” he asked as he placed two plates on the table.

“woke up a bit late, but i was able to finish the last set of poetry i’ve been meaning to write!” the spark in your eyes was a lot brighter than the past days. it was easily contagious as woobin found himself having the same amount of glee. “i’ll print the last parts and let you read, wait.”

woobin shook his head, a smile crossing his brim as he watched you go to your workspace to do what you said. as he finished setting up your lunch, he took a seat and waited for you. just like you, woobin was experiencing fewer symptoms. his voice was no longer that raspy and he was able to post new song covers almost every week regardless of his current busy schedule with other recordings.

“here!” with unwavering enthusiasm, you extended your hand for him to reach the printed papers. you sat on the seat across him, gazing at the food which only made your mouth water. eyes already feeding off the sight of the meat dishes.

“this is quite interesting,” woobin remarked. “is this the last one?”

you nodded at his words when he showed you the last page. “i figured that it could be the best way to end it.”

“it sure does.” woobin served you by putting meat on the top of your rice. “eat up.”

just like the past days, you enjoyed lunch with woobin. a few talks here and there, though most of the time the two of you were silent. not the terrible kind of silence, but a good one. something comforting. and maybe that kind of silence was all you needed.

after the meal, the two of you sat on the couch. the television served as background noise as you run down the things you have to do this afternoon.

“you seem to be happier the past days, did you get yourself another contract?” woobin asked once you were done telling him where to drive you today, the flower shop and to your editor’s place.

“i do?” you caught sight of the lone photograph of roses on your wall. the poetry that accompanied it once was now resting on your table. “i haven’t been coughing recently.” your cheerfulness evident when your eyes wrinkled into crescents as you turned your head towards the direction where woobin was sitting. “maybe he’s starting to like me!”

a soft beam hugged woobin’s visage, contented with the result you were having. for your own flower to stop blooming, that was all he wished for. his mind got him best though, speaking without much thought as he eyed the last poem you wrote once again. “or maybe you’re starting to like him less.”

blinking in confusion, woobin handed you back the printed papers you gave him earlier. it was on the last page. the words were probably a clear indication of your feelings.

zest gone. pen dropped. book closed. lock kept. no word survived.

those words weren’t the most gleeful of words, but it carried freedom. something you’d been wishing you could get out of taeyoung’s labyrinth of roses. something you never knew would finally come to you.

“right?” woobin pulled you out of your own thoughts. “i’ve been coughing less as well and i can guarantee that you’re the only one i like.”

“that means…?”

“you’re slowly moving on, y/n.” woobin gave your head a light pat. his beam growing warmer as he looked at you. “you’re moving on.”

before going to the place where you were to meet your editor, you asked woobin to stop by the flower shop. knowing your editor, she’d probably love some dahlias and irises.

upon entering the shop, the same floral scent you had been accustomed to since you were younger embraced you. however, instead of taeyoung greeting you, the expression in his face— wide eyes after a gasp— was a little perplexing. you raised a brow at him, stepping closer to the counter with woobin following you from behind.

“dah—”

“can we have a moment?” taeyoung’s question interrupted your own set of words.

with a head tilted to the side, you didn’t make an effort to hide your confusion. the seemingly forced smile he had, which was quite too awkward for your liking was not a help at all. you turned to look at woobin, asking if it would be alright for him to wait. “will it be okay?”

“sure.” woobin shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as he could. something he was successful in doing so. “i’ll buy you a drink while i wait. just send me a message if you’re done.”

“thank you, woobin.” and with those words said, you watched woobin leave the establishment. as soon as he did, your stomach sunk. there was no one else in the flower shop, it seemed like the other staff had already left.

taeyoung gestured to you to sit on an empty stool next to the counter, but you declined. instead, you leaned to it, urging him to speak what he wanted to talk about. he wasn’t the kind to be hesitant with such, but now, it was as if his tongue was tied in hundreds of knots and words can’t just be delivered.

“you’re experiencing hanahaki, right?” a stiff start. not only you, but taeyoung could feel how unnatural it sounded. no cheeky grins, no bright tone. it was flat and dripping with nervousness you weren’t aware taeyoung could be under the state of. “how are you?”

“i’m alright.” you chuckled at his words, letting loose of the already tensed atmosphere. as much as you were nervous for what was to come, you didn’t want it to spread on your formerly cheerful mood. “come on, taeyoung. i’m not going to be mad or anything.”

it partially helped taeyoung who had a small smile on his visage. but his eyes were still unable to meet yours as he locked his gaze on something else, the flowers healthily blooming inside the shop. “you were coughing out… roses, right?”

you hummed as a reply. finally taking the offer to sit. “yes, your favorite.”

“that means that you like me?” taeyoung took the seat next to your stool.

surprisingly, instead of worrying about how your little secret got figured out, you had an opposite feeling. you were relieved. there was no anxiety about him giving you the possibly worst rejection, no concern about how he could possibly shatter a thorned heart.

whatever made him realize such a thing, you were thankful. at least you no longer have to go through excessive explanations.

but there was something you would want to clarify.

“i used to like you a lot,” you said, giving an emphasis to the phrase: used to. a relieved sigh left your lips, satisfied with how everything was happening. it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. “you don’t have to worry now though, i’m gradually moving on.”

“still. you had to suffer from that for years,” he trailed. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay taeyoung.” your tight-lipped smile turned into a genuine one. the moment you shifted your gaze to look at taeyoung, you met his eyes. regardless of the pain it brought you, there was in no way you saw yourself blaming taeyoung. you liked him. and that summed it up. “your brightness was a blessing and never did i regret liking you despite the thorns and petals brought by it.”

his slightly soaked eyes were an indication of his former worry, which was slowly being washed away by a good amount of reassurance. “i’m glad.”

“you no longer have to worry about the roses, taeyoung.” stripping down the photographs on your wall for the past days, you replaced them with other photographs. you were sure the delusion was coming to an end. yes, the roses were indeed beautiful. but its thorn wasn’t as astonishing. “it’s withering.”

a stray tear slipped out of your eye and taeyoung didn’t only catch the tear, his arms were wrapped around you in such a warm hug. you were sure no petals would come out of your lips again. the warmth that embraced your body conveyed a closing home.

it’s time to move out and find a home that has no garden.

you no longer despised the spring. the beautiful flowers surrounding the town were no longer catching distasteful looks from you. your lungs free from spring. hand wrapped around woobin’s, the warm rays of the remaining afternoon sunlight filtered through the thick leaves of the trees the two of you would pass by.

another book was published, all containing the last words for your former muse. the title didn’t hide anything, quite an obvious choice: kalopsia.

three times a week you would go out for a book signing while woobin, now your boyfriend, would fetch you every time. he was busy himself with the recording of his album which was to be released by the end of the month. but he never missed going to the venue where your book signing would take place. by now, he probably had about nine signed copies of your book.

“you experienced hanahaki as well, right?” you asked woobin as you passed by a shop that had orchids hanging on the wall. petals of lush yellow, pink and purple decorating it.

woobin chuckled, taken aback by your unexpected question. “i did.”

“how was it?”

“it was weird. i mean coughing out petals so suddenly.” he looked at you, only to see your furrowed brows. something that made him laugh once again. “what do you expect me to answer?”

“that made you realize that you like me?”

“don’t be silly. even before the first petal left my lips, i knew i already liked you.” a contented smile graced his brim. even before that, the way his heart would thump in his chest as if it had run a marathon, the way a dumb smile would hang on his lips once he saw you, the way he would be subconsciously adoring you while you were busy writing, the way he wanted to be beside you, the way he wished to hold you closer— it all happened before a petal of orchid escaped the confines of his mouth.

a faint blush became apparent on your cheeks, giving it such a cute color. “and up until now you still like me…”

“correction, it’s liked. past tense,” woobin said, laughing at how your expression shifted. he took a big step and stopped right in front of you, he turned to face you with his hand still holding yours. “now, i love you.”

the weather wasn’t as hot since the sun was preparing for the twilight, but your cheeks were. it was accompanied by the wild flutters in your stomach. letting go of woobin’s hand (a reflex to hide how flustered his words got you), your ears were enveloped by his sweet, sweet chuckle. you walked past through him in such rushed footsteps, a peal of laughter escaping your lips as you did so. “i can’t believe you had to say that in that way.”

however, you were not even that far from him when woobin caught you. your steps halted when he locked you in a back hug, giving your cheek a light peck which simply made it more flushed. “i love you more than you’d ever know,” he carefully whispered to your ear.

you chuckled at the gestures, his words tickling you. regardless of how playful it seemed to be, you knew woobin was dead serious with it. he detached himself from you, only to hold your hand once more and walk beside you.

glancing at your interlaced fingers, you leaned your head to his shoulder. “i love you too, woobin.”

“i love you so much, y/n,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand.

to be able to look at the flowers without thinking about how they budded in your body, to rest every evening without worrying about the petals disrupting your serene night, to be right next to the person you love and loves you, there was nothing else you could wish for.

the flowers in your chest had long ago stopped blooming. it went the same way with woobin. but little did you know... orchids started blooming on someone else’s body, slowly growing on the chest of the person who once caused you to have roses hugging your lungs.

and just like how you first found those roses beautiful, taeyoung thought those orchids were too.

#cravity imagines #cravitywriters #cravity oneshots #cravity x reader #kpop imagines #seo woobin #kim taeyoung #woobin x reader #taeyoung x reader #cravity

70 notes · View notes

skrltwtch · 4 years ago

Text

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

8 notes · View notes

zankivich · 5 years ago

Text

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 3

a/n: hi. I don’t know where this chapter came from. I just really don’t. But she’s kind of cute and I like her. I’m busy so I don’t have time to bore you all at the moment, but just know it only goes up from here lol.

WARNINGS: BDSM tones (ropes), sex without a condom, aftercare, squirting.

*y/n’s point of view*

There’s a website that most of the companies in the industry use for all messaging. It’s a way to easily house all your members and employees on one central hub. Everyone can search each other by name, do direct messages, group chats, you name it. It’s an easy way to keep all information going and easily viewable without digging through millions of emails. The fact that most companies used the same one wasn’t usually a problem because they each had their own centralized locations. In the normal world, a person at Atlantic couldn’t just easily message a person at Sony, because they weren’t on the same hub. Silly of you to think that that would matter.

You’re in the middle of a meeting to discuss the roll out plan for Khalid’s new album. You’re busy. There’s a lot going on. Tiana has your phone at her desk, because no one should be trying to reach you at this moment. The only thing that you do have is your laptop, and this messaging app. So, when your VP of Sales and Marketing is trying to lay out the strategic vision for the album, and your laptop starts dinging you actually catch said messages.

Shawn: why is it harder to get in touch with you than the fucking president?

You peered at the screen of your computer and rolled your eyes. This man was nothing but a nuisance. A hot...large....thick nuisance.

y/n: Because the president has an ego bigger than his racism and I’m a busy ass woman? Why didn’t you just text me.

Shawn: I did! Tiana told me you keep your phone out of your office during meetings? Who the hell does that?

Y/n: Competent managers who want to engage and take care of their clients. How the hell did you find me on here?

Shawn: I had one of the interns hack the website. It’s not that hard apparently.

Sometimes you liked to pause and take a moment to think about how wild it was that this was your life now. Sneaking around with a man six years younger than you with an ego just about the size of his massive body, but with a tongue that could move mountains. It was truly a difficult reality but thus here you were.

y/n: What is it Shawn?

Shawn: I bought something new, and it came in today. Want to try it with you.

Damn.

“Y/n do you want to see the projected numbers?”

“Huh?”

You peered up from your laptop where your team was all staring at you practically drooling. Pull it together woman.

“Oh. Yes!” you cleared your throat. “Yea. Let’s go over projected numbers, and then we can talk through promo. I want to make sure Khalid feels good with the workload.”

y/n: I am at work.

You did everything in your power to pay attention to whatever your associates were talking about. Everything except for closing the damn laptop.

Shawn: I’m aware. Me too. I wanna try ropes though. I even bought those candles you wanted.

You’d gone over to Shawn’s place and discovered that he thought scentless candles would set some type of mood and get your panties wet. Instead you had asked him what the point of a candle with no smell. He said light. You said that’s what the fucking lamps were for and that this wasn’t the little house on the prairie. And then he bent you over his couch and fucked you until you came two times in a row. It had seemed like a really worthy conversation at the time, with a lovely end as well. But, this was much better in your estimation.

Y/n: the eucalyptus ones?!?!?!

Shawn: I’m glad you’re more excited for candles than my dick, but yes.

Y/n: Of course I am. I barely know your ass. Candles are forever.

Shawn: I’ve actually licked my cum out of your vagina before. Strangers is simply not what we are.

Y/n: Yo when the Russians hack us all to end civilization as we know it? I hope they deliver that quote personally to tmz.

Shawn: if civilization is ending let the record show I was secure enough in my manhood. No regrets!

You found yourself laughing behind your computer screen on account of your hookup being an actual idiot. It was kind of nice to not hate the person you were having casual sex with. It was even nicer to keep him on his toes and constantly take the piss out of him when everything about his world seemed rooted in telling him he could do no wrong. One look at the people in your office, and your client who was looking at you like you were crazy, told you that they did not share your sentiment. Time to close the laptop.

***

His apartment oozes peppermint and eucalyptus. It’s endlessly warm and inviting, makes your bones feel a little softer already. Turns out you were right, as you tended to be at least ninety-three percent of the time. And the playful roll of his eyes when he opens the door and sees you grinning is all the confirmation that you need.

“Come to the bedroom.” He sighed tugging on your hand.

You pass by the couch and feel a familiar stirring in your belly again as he leads you towards his room.

“No couch this time?”

“No. Want you to be more comfortable when I tie you up.”

There’s a complex array of emotions that overcomes you when he says stuff like that. The relationship that you had was different than anything you’d ever done before. Shawn was dominant of course, and he led you through just about every step of the process. And every time you went over to his place, or he came over to yours, somewhere throughout the night a softness would descend upon you. It wasn’t just that you didn’t need to take the lead. It was that he was telling you what to do, but he was also taking care of you. There’s a nurturing component to it that you weren’t used to even now. So you just let it flutter in your stomach and you don’t call it for it is.

In his bedroom there are more candles and mood lighting. The ropes have their own set up on the bed amongst a towel, lube, and a few toys. But he doesn’t lead you immediately to the bed. Instead he stops you with his hands on your hips. His palms squeezed tenderly there before sliding around to grab firmly at your ass. A sigh pasts your lips and he smiles.

“You can kiss me.” He instructed.

His lips are warm and firm. You liked the way that he tasted, like the languidness of his tongue between your lips. It never failed to get you going, and he knew that. So his fingers reach for the zipper at the top of your dress and the second it comes undone the garment falls to the floor. It leaves you in your bra and panties, a rich, warm brown color that did lovely things against your skin. Thank you Rihana.

He hummed. “You’re beautiful.”

His fingers map your body out like he knows it, like he’s tasted every inch of you. And maybe he has. Goosebumps spring up along your arms and legs as he touches you in exploration.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“You’re welcome. You’re gonna be tied up for the rest of the night. If you need to be let out, or you don’t want it anymore just use your safeword okay?”

You nodded gently. “Yes, sir.”

He kissed the side of your mouth and let his hands come down over your arms and down your hips.

“Get naked and get on the bed. On your knees facing away from the door..”

His sheets are soft and cool against your skin the way they always are. The bedroom is now a place of familiarity. There’s no fear here anymore. Only trust and need and want. You placed your cheek against the bedspread eyes peering over at his dresser as you waited for further instruction. He makes his way over to the dresser and reaches for a remote that’s all too familiar to you now. Shawn was a fan of playlists. Different ones for different moods. In all the time that you’d spent together thus far you didn’t think you’d ever heard the same one twice. Needless to say you were a little surprised when his taste in music was more similar to yours than you expected. But, it added another layer of comfort for you and for him.

You hear the sounds of his sweatpants dropping to the floor and your heart rate increases. You never knew what you would get. Sometimes he made you wait so long you would drip onto the bed. Those were the times where he spanked you for not being good, but always soothed you endlessly before the night was over. Sometimes, like tonight, his body finds yours quickly, fingers tracing your skin in concentration. You love this just as much.

He climbed on top of you, knees bracketing your ass and you can already feel his semi against your skin.

“I’m gonna tie your arms behind your back.” He explained. “I’ll be gentle and slow while we get you into it. And I’m gonna ask you a lot if you’re okay. I need you to be honest with me. If at any point you don’t like it you gotta stop me okay?”

“Okay.” you nodded.

“Green?”

“Green.”

He lifts your body up until you’re leaning on your knees, his own directly behind you. He reaches for a few feet of nylon rope. It’s a pretty bright purple color, and you have a feeling he picked it out with the contrast against your skin in mind. You know you would’ve.

It starts with two hoops that slide over your arms and onto your back. The rope is soft and it doesn’t hurt or agitate your skin. His fingers slip beneath the rope to make sure it isn't too tight before he ever starts on the next knot.

“Is this too tight?” He asked.

“No.”

After your back it’s your shoulders. And slowly down your arms. Between every new touch of rope around your body, his lips are at your ear asking you to make sure it’s okay, that you feel good. When it gets to your wrists, he ties a final knot that allows him to control the tightness of the entire structure from the end of the rope with his hands. He tugs it gently and it sends you sprawling until you’re bent in front of him. That’s when it clicks for you. Your wrists and arms bound, and your body completely at his mercy. It’s the most vulnerable you could ever be. And it turns you on beyond fucking belief.

“Color?” He asked.

“Green.” You whimpered.

“Do you like it?”

Your thighs twitch a little bit and you feel your back arch at the hunger in his voice.

“Y--Yea. I do. I really do.” You panted.

“Fuck. Wish you could see how good you look like this. I’m gonna flip you over, so I can see you.”

It’s much gentler than you expected. He eases you on to your back and the stretch in your arms is noticeable but not painful. He settles your body onto the towel and pulls your thighs apart so he can touch you with warm hands.

“I wanna try something else new tonight.” He smiled fingers sliding along your slit.

“Yea?”

“Have you ever squirted before?”

You shook your head softly. “I don’t think I can.”

He slid his finger inside already working on getting you stretched open. Your hips loosen and you spread your legs a little further for him to slide another finger inside.

“We’ll see about that. Roll back over for me.”

You kneeled on your knees arms still secured behind your neck. He set a pillow for your head to rest on and reached for the bottle of lube.

“Do you want a toy or my cock?” He hummed fingers squeezing at your backside.

“You. Want you.”

“Yea? Ask me nicely.”

He guided himself to your entrance, head nestling playfully between your lips. You moaned into your pillow.

“Please, sir? Please will you fuck me? I wanna be good for you.”

“Mmm...you gonna squirt for me?”

“I--I’ll try.”

“You will.”

When he presses against you the lube is still cool against your skin and you intertwine your fingers behind your back as the stretch of him filling you descends. It’s in some ways your favorite part. Just him pushing in for the first time. Your body never holds on to the exact feeling of his length stretching your walls, so it feels new every time. It feels new but it also feels right and it feels like your body is evolving. Like you’re nothing without his touch.

Before you’ve even gotten the chance to familiarize yourself with him, he’s already pulling out until just the head rests inside of you. And his palm rests right in the small of your back above your ass and he makes a sound that might as well be praise, might as well tell you you’re perfect. It’s light and airy and somehow fills you even more than his dick ever could. You preen under it.

“You feel so good.” He sighed. “Always so fucking good for me.”

You tilt your head over your shoulder to make eye contact with him. His cheeks are rosy but his eyes are hard and dark, this constant balancing act between something that reeked of sweetness and something that reeked of the opposite.

“I wanna be good for you. Put it in me please? Let me make you feel good.”

His eyes meet yours and his lips part at your words sucking an inhale of breath that tells you you’ve done good. The words that you share with each other are half of the whole thing.

“Such a good girl.” He murmured angling himself back inside of you. “How should I take you tonight? Hard and fast? Or slow and deep?”

Your fingers twitched from your restraints.

“W--Whatever makes you feel the best.”

“God you’re perfect.” He sighed starting a slow rhythm with his hips. “You always cum for me regardless. Just wanna make you cum.”

His hands reach for yours, fingers intertwining even through the rope. He digs his knees into the bed and starts to move in that way that drives your body mad. You feel so full, so endlessly and completely full. It’s too much. And he knows it because you’re definitely not hiding it. You cry out into your pillow and gasp desperately every time his hips touch yours. When you’re not loud enough for him he tugs you by your shoulder so that your moans enter the stagnant air of his apartment. There’s no faking this. He’s taking you for all that you are and he’s not letting up, wouldn’t dream of it.

His fingers grab at the very edges of your ass, slightly digging into the meat of your thighs as he moves to a slower deeper rhythm. He was right. It didn’t really seem to matter how he moved, it was always gonna feel so good you couldn’t stand it.

There’s a wet squelching as he focuses on getting deeper and deeper within you. Your back arches as he touches something that lights your nerves on fire, makes your back arch, and your moans skyrocket.

“S--Shawn! Oh my god. Oh my god right there.”

“Right there?” He grunted hips tilting to the most amazing place he could occupy.

“Yes! Yes! Holy shit!”

“You’re fucking voice, Jesus.”

His wrist came down hard, hand slapping against your skin and making you cry out further. He tightened the ropes slightly his hips pistoning in and out until an overload of sensations was hitting you. The pain of the slap. The stretch of your muscles being pulled behind you. And the searing hot pleasure every time he rubbed against whatever it was that was driving you up the wall. You’d never made sounds like the ones he was having you make. It was beyond anything you’d ever felt before. And the sobs pouring out from your throat only added to the feeling. Every gasp of breath that you took was a heightening of pleasure, of utter ecstasy.

“I can feel your pussy tightening for me. You’re so close for me, aren’t you?”

His hands are burning into your skin. You can’t breathe. It’s too much. It all feels like too much.

“I--I can’t. I don’t even--Fuck!” You cried. “I think I’m gonna--”

It starts as a tremble in your thighs. And your stomach tightens. And your fingers clench. And then it moves down your legs and into your toes. The sounds that you make get higher, breathier. Perhaps because you’ve got nothing left to give. He’s taking it all from you. It’s different. Different than anything ever.

You feel it when he pulls out of you. Feel the gush between your thighs and the throbbing in your clit. It’s intense. And the fact that you can’t touch anything. Can’t even struggle for a grip on what’s happening makes it all the more overwhelming. You feel the tears sting your eyes and for last of a better word you scream.

“Holy shit. You look so fucking good.” He hummed fingers rubbing against you as you shake and pulse. “Let it all out for me.”

He slides his fingers inside you and rubs at your clit sending you collapsing against the sheets in a sticky heap.

“Please. Please. I can’t.” You whimpered.

“Such a good girl for me.” He sighed climbing back on top of your thighs, his dick twitching anxiously at your entrance.

You’d never heard his voice sound like that before. It was so raw and blissful. Like you’d given him everything and then some. It makes you feel so good. Better even than the orgasm. You just want him to feel good.

“I’m gonna cum,” He huffed. “Good god I’m gonna fucking cum.”

His thrusts are sloppy, all sense of rhythm and precision gone. But it doesn’t matter. You’re still riding the wave. And when he presses his body against yours, his teeth biting down on your neck, it’s everything. In that moment, he’s everything. When he cums it’s like completion for you both. You find the will to tighten your muscles against him, milking him for all he’s worth even in your state of exhausting.

“Fuckin aye, y/n.” He whined. “You’re perfect.”

He pulls out of you and collapses beside you, each of you gasping for breath. Holy shit.

“That was good. Shit, that was our best yet.”

You nodded shakily still unable to form words. He peered over at you, eyes taking in every part of you. After everything it still makes you flutter inside.

“Okay,” He breathed cupping your jaw. “Time to take care of you.”

He rolled over again, straddling your thighs and you can feel your thighs twitch even then.

“I--I don’t think I can go again.” You whispered.

He chuckled behind you. “Not gonna make you go again. I’m just gonna undo these knots and get you into some aftercare.”

“Aftercare?”

He worked quickly to undo the knots, his fingers gentle but perfect.

“Let me explain afterwards okay? It’s important that we do this now.”

“O--Okay.”

Your arms collapse against the bed when the rope is removed. His fingers are immediately there, rubbing deep and firm into your skin.

“Sit up for me.” He murmured.

He’s there with a glass of water held directly to your lips. “Drink.”

You don’t realize how parched you are until the liquid runs over your throat. You reached for the glass out of his hand and finished the entire thing in one go. He smiled at you fingers till massaging your arms.

“Look I...I want to get you into the shower. It’ll help with the soreness and any fluids. I don’t have to be in there with you if you don’t want, but I think that I should. If that’s okay with you?”

You flexed your fingers against his hold, still trying to find your way back down from the clouds.

“Yea. Uh, you can come. Please?”

The water is warm, a little more on the hot side and it really does feel good on your muscles. But the feeling of the body wash on your back is even better. It’s not inherently sexual, but it feels intimate. The way his hands mapped over your hips and down your thighs. His fingers danced over your neck and between your shoulder blades. He didn’t kiss you or talk dirty or anything, but your legs--which already felt like jelly--were intertwined with his own where you stood. It was another thing that you weren’t exactly sharing with anyone else in your life. And so it wasn’t insignificant. What it meant, you weren’t sure, but it meant something.

“Do you feel okay?” He asked wrapping you in a towel post shower.

It was so different than the norm for the two of you. Shawn was an attentive lover for sure, but that still usually ended the second he wiped the cum and lube between your legs. This was a different experience entirely, although the sex had been different too. You leaned into him a little more, biting your lip when his arms wrapped around you.

“I feel a little foggy.” You admitted. “But good. I feel really good.”

A giggle passed through your lips at how good you actually felt. You had to still your fingers on his arms to stop you from stumbling. He pulled you against his chest and laughed at your state of jelliness.

“I’ve got some lotion for your arms and back. Just in case. Do you need me to carry you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Your dick ain’t that special. I can still walk.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. Just try to keep yourself upright.” He smirked.

Rude.

There’s another intimate moment where you’re sat on the edge of his bed, towel and lube long forgotten as he rubs the lotion into your back. You let your head tilt forward bonelessly and you’re at a loss for how good he’s managed to make you feel tonight. It’s a lot to absorb.

“You never explained.” You whispered, fingers digging into the softness of the sheets.

“Explained what?”

“The aftercare. W--What is it?”

“Oh. It’s just what I’m doing to you right now. I knew I wanted to do the ropes, but I’ve never actually done it before, so I had to read up a little bit.”

“Wait,” You stopped him peering over your shoulder. “You’ve never done this before?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s just something I wanted to try with you cause I...like trust you, or whatever. But, then I started looking into it and read about this thing called subdrop? It’s like...like your body gets so many endorphins and adrenaline during what we were doing, that sometimes people get a little overwhelmed or sad afterwards. Aftercare is the way of making sure you’re safe and taken care of after the fact. Do your arms hurt at all?”

You hummed at his fingers moved to massaging your hands with the lotion.

“No I--I feel amazing actually. Just tired is all.”

“Good. You can uh sleep here. Or at least rest for a few hours before you go home.”

“Yea?” You asked.

The way his cheeks went a little red did not go unnoticed to you by any means.

“Yea. You know, if you want.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

You end up in one of his t-shirts, your panties back on your hips and his hand on your ass. It’s a wonderful combination. The fact that each of you falls asleep almost immediately? Another great combination.

Permanent taglist

@simpledomain @liliane106 @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean @bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @sinplisticshawn @kamahriii @thecurlsofgod @lifeoftheparty74

Arrangement Taglist:

@moonlightmendes22 @cottoncandyshawn @iloveshawnieboi @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsblue @cottoncandyshawn

@claredolphinbear24 @peterbrokenparker @shawnase @blackharry @shawnwyr @speakingofmari

#shawn mendes #Shawn mendes fic #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes smut #Shawn mendes x you #Shawn mendes x y/n #Shawn mendes x reader #Shawn mendes x black reader #Shawn mendes x black woman #Arrangement fic #shawn peter raul mendes #Shawn mendes one shot #Shawn mendes series #Shawn mendes blurb #dom!shawn #sub reader #Shawn mendes x black oc

375 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

Life Lessons

Summary: you knew with the changes in your environment at home, you son Daehwi was bound to show signs at school. What you weren’t ready for was the support from his teacher, Mr Hwang.

notsosubtlekpop said:

Requests?!?! Well, you know what I would request, if you feel so inclined 😂

Pairing: Hwang Minhyun x reader ft. Daehwi

Genre: teacher au / parent au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2925

This has since become a two part series. Link to part 2 can be found at the end of this story.

You weren’t ready for this to begin. You had believed you had several years left up your sleeve until you got called into school to meet with your son’s teacher. After all, Daehwi was only six years old. What kind of havoc could he cause in the first week of school?

But you knew your son and his rambunctious ways, and as you hurried along the corridor to his classroom, you resigned yourself to the fact you were in for all sorts of things this year.

Coming to a halt outside the room you had dropped your son off at earlier in the morning before work; you took a steadying breath and rapped your knuckles on the door. You expected the teacher to call out for you to enter, but the door opened instead and you were greeted by Daehwi’s teacher.

Wait, wasn’t he a she earlier this morning? You flushed with colour at your mistake. “Oh, I think I have the wrong room.”

“Mrs L/N?” the teacher asked, smiling welcomingly at you. You blinked several times, trying to open your mouth to say something in return. Like correcting the title he had just given you.

But words seemed to be a lost cause, much like your thought process in the handsome teacher’s company.

You followed the tall man across the room, barely taking in the various art projects that had clearly filled the afternoon of class today. The teacher gestured to a chair and you glanced at it, noticing how small it was. He chuckled at your obvious stare. “Ah, the joys of teaching six-year-olds. Sorry, I don’t have any adult sized ones to offer you unless we go into my office. I thought it would be more welcoming to have our chat in here. They’re stronger than they look.”

You smiled meekly and took a seat, laughing at how ridiculous you felt as you adjusted yourself on the little chair. You glanced over at the man who now sat with his knees up far too high for it to look all that comfortable. He grinned and the tension you felt coming in to see Daehwi’s teacher subsided.

Until you realised you were still confused as to who he was. “I uh, thought Daehwi’s teacher was female this morning.”

“Oh, that would be Ms Kim. She helps out in the classroom in the mornings. She’s a teacher’s aide.”

“I see.”

He grinned and then his mouth fell ajar briefly, before he threw his hand out at you, a tinge of colour flushing his cheeks as he chuckled. “Sorry! I know who you are, but you don’t know me. I’m Daehwi’s teacher, Mr Hwang. But you can call me Minhyun.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it. You ignored your reaction to the way he held your hand and pulled it back, looking around the room before settling your eyes on Mr Hwang.

Minhyun.

“So uh, the message I received stated that Daehwi caused an issue today?”

Minhyun nodded, his expression turning solemn. “He is a really lovely kid, and whilst I can see no harm was intended, well, Daehwi was a little bit opinionated today and it made a couple of children in class upset.”

“I see.” You cringed, knowing that the teacher was downplaying it. You knew just how opinionated Daehwi could be.

And how adamant he was even if he had come to the wrong conclusion about something. You could still remember when you had taught him all about the colours and yet he was certain the sky was green, even if he could point out what blue was immediately from anything else.

But what colour the sky was wouldn’t be something that could get him in trouble right away. Kids say the funniest things and you were certain Mr Hwang had heard his fair share of amusing anecdotes over his years of teaching.

Minhyun cleared his throat before continuing. “I uh, just wanted to warn you perhaps about what he hears between you and your partner or husband. Whilst it’s not really my place to discuss what may or may not be said within the home, Daehwi was adamant in telling all the children at his table that fathers are useless jerks.”

You gasped, your face flooding with colour whilst Minhyun smiled weakly. You could tell he was uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as you were in this moment. For the umpteenth time this year, you felt like a failed parent.

“I’m so sorry, I never expected… you see Daehwi’s father left us earlier in the year and, oh my god I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

The teacher’s smile turned encouragingly and he nodded his head. “It’s good for me to know that there is a transitional period happening with him at home.”

“It’s my fault, I should have triple checked that he was asleep,” you continued, blinking back your tears. Minhyun was up and soon returned with a box of tissues, placing them on the table. He didn’t offer you one outright and you appreciated that, knowing had he, you would have turned into a blubbering mess. That was something you weren’t quite prepared to become in front of your son’s teacher. You had already cried far too much in front of everyone, especially Daehwi. You internally mourned for the trauma you and your ex had placed upon your child.

“We all have hard times as parents and sometimes we don’t always notice that our kids are picking up on more than what’s said. I’m sure Daehwi just wants to protect you and has chosen to vent his anger towards his paternal figure.”

You nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry again.”

“I just wanted you to know. He’s not in any trouble; I managed to distract them all from the heated conversation and will ensure to make sure that we incorporate healthy ideas in the classroom about different ways families exist. It’s actually a good thing in some ways, as we can all learn from this experience through an upcoming module.”

Just then, your son ran into the classroom, tackling his teacher who laughed heartily. “Mr Hwang, you have taken up far too much of Mummy’s time!”

“Daehwi!”

The teacher nodded happily. “You’re right, I have! Shall I let you go home now?”

“Yes please!” Daehwi then turned to you. “Can we get ice-cream on the way home?”

“We’ll see about that,” you informed and Daehwi pouted before yanking on your hand to help you up. You stood up and nodded gratefully at Mr Hwang. He smiled and waved you off.

Despite talking with Daehwi on the way home that day, it wasn’t your last time being called into school. You were seeing far too much of Minhyun after class and now you were both on a first-name basis. You no longer were meek and wounded in front of the teacher; rather, you spent a lot of time trying to come up with strategies to assist Daehwi with his misplaced anger. You could tell Minhyun was a hub of resources and the ideas he gave you were definitely working within the home. You were thankful that the meetings soon became positive ones and your son was settling into his new routine of school with little disruption.

You realised it was also helping you heal from the separation and pain you felt from being cheated on. Although you had no desire to date any time soon, you humoured your best friend when she showed you a notice on the community board in the grocery store.

“Look, it’s a group for single parents to meet up.”

“I don’t need that, Nara.”

“Y/N, you could meet some people who could connect with you more than someone like I can. I don’t even have a kid and as much as I love my adopted nephew as if he were my own, I don’t always understand what you go through with Daehwi. These people will.”

You paused in pushing your cart out to the car, pondering the idea. And then you scrunched your nose up. “I don’t think so. It’s probably just a place where people get together and whine about how hard it is to raise kids alone.”

“So? Don’t you do just that to me at times about Daehwi?”

“I do,” you agreed, smiling weakly. “I mean, I want to meet with people who feel empowered and have positive things to say too. I’ve been learning a lot of great tips for positivity in the house from Daehwi’s teacher and-”

“Ooh, Mr Hwang!” Nara cut in dreamily and you reached out to swat her away. Nara laughed and nudged you. “That teacher has been a blessing for you and Daehwi, I’ll admit. But I think you might be harbouring a crush on him.”

“Nara, don’t be silly. I couldn’t date my son’s teacher.” It sounded so odd just saying that out loud and your face flushed with colour.

“You like him!”

“He’s probably married.”

“Does he have a wedding ring on his finger?” Nara continued and you sighed exasperatedly at her.

“If I promise to go to one of these meetings will you stop going on about Minhyun?”

Nara grinned knowingly at your use of his first name but nodded firmly. You took the flyer from her hand and placed it into your bag, unloading your groceries into your car and hoping one meeting was all you would need to commit to.

The solo parents’ meeting wasn’t what you had expected. Sure there were people were littered around the room chatting about what their kids had or hadn’t done before the session was called to order. But there was a lot of structure and you were surprised when a guest speaker started talking about what impacts parenting alone can have on a child and the parent itself. You walked away not only pleased with what you learned during the session, but with the contacts for a couple of really friendly parents who made you feel welcomed. You signed your name up for the following meeting and counted down the days until Thursday arrived again. You were earlier this time, having dropped your son off at his grandparents for the night and decided to go out for dinner after the meeting as a treat to yourself. You greeted the few faces already around the room and went over to the table to collect your name badge the coordinators had out ready for the parents. You found someone staring at your name and gasped when you recognised who it was.

“Minhyun?” you asked and the tall man turned to face you, somewhat startled to see you there. He recovered and reached for your badge, handing it over. “Do teachers come along to these nights to learn from the guest speakers?”

He nodded softly. “Well, I’m sure there are a lot of various professions mingling around this room. Parents have jobs outside of the home too. I mean, that’s why you’re here right?”

“Yeah, I came last week and learned a lot.”

“You will, these sessions have helped me immensely. Some of the stuff I shared with you didn’t all come from experience but from what I picked up here,” he explained though you looked up at him in confusion. A tinge of colour crossed his face from your continued stare and he visibly jumped when another person greeted him.

“Minhyun, it was so sad you missed last week. Is Sohyunnie feeling better now?” The coordinator looked at you beside him and grinned. “Oh, you have already met our newcomer. Y/N, Minhyun is one of the parents who helped in the beginning set this all up. It’s been just over two years now, hasn’t it?”

“Something like that,” he mumbled and you nodded softly, watching Minhyun still. Not once had you considered his help came from a place of understanding what it was like to parent alone. You believed he had some amazingly normal life, and you almost laughed out loud at your quick assumption.

And the fact that you now realised there were so many ways of being normal. Your previous thinking had been so narrow-minded.

Minhyun glanced at you and then gestured to the chairs to take a seat upon. Once there, he angled himself towards you. “I have a daughter. I’ve been raising her alone for the past three years so I know what it’s like to think you’ve failed as you did when I first met you. I can’t guarantee it gets any easier; there have been times where I thought I was doing everything wrong by Sohyun. Having a group like this to turn to for advice and strength when it all feels so wrong has really helped me. I guess that’s why I poured time into helping you with Daehwi because I understood how lost you feel when it’s all suddenly different.”

“I feel so foolish; I was so self-absorbed and just thought you were a teacher who went the extra mile with your students.”

Minhyun grinned. “Well, that, regardless of being a parent, is a trait of mine.”

“Is it bad that I feel some sense of relief from finding out about you also being a solo parent?” you asked and he shook his head, still smiling. “It’s nice to know someone already in my world who understands what I’m kind of going through.”

“I admit, it’s been comforting helping you with Daehwi too.”

You shared a smile with him before the session was called into order and once again, you felt like you were in a magical place full of wisdom. Except, this time, you got to see how the words of those around you affected Minhyun, and share knowing glances with him in between scenarios that you both related to. You hadn’t felt this fulfilled in forever.

Stepping out after the meeting, you lingered in the foyer, waiting for Minhyun to catch up. When he reappeared, you smiled brightly at him. “Do you have to go home to Sohyun now?”

“No, she’s with my sister for the night. Daehwi?”

“With my parents.”

“Have you eaten yet?” “Would you like to go for coffee?”

You both laughed at your predicament and then you nodded. “I haven’t had dinner yet. If you want, you could join me?”

“That would be great, I barely had a chance to stuff half a sandwich in before coming tonight,” Minhyun mentioned and then pointed to a local restaurant down the road. You nodded in agreement and you both started walking in that direction.

For some reason, you began to feel flutters in your stomach about going somewhere alone with Minhyun. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t spent a lot of time alone with him so far, but the difference was you weren’t surrounded by charts showing the alphabet or colourful pictures on the wall. And despite just being with a bunch of parents just now, this was a rare occasion for you to be with an adult and do adult stuff.

You swallowed at the feeble romantic voice inside your head trying to title this as a date.

Minhyun cleared his throat and you glanced up at him, blinking away your juvenile thoughts. “Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think whilst we eat dinner we could do something different from what we normally do?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he started and despite the plume of darkness that surrounded you now that the sun was long gone from the sky, the streetlamps allowed for you to see yet another tinge of colour surface on his cheeks. Did Minhyun always blush like this or was it because you were with him outside of his usual teaching habitat?

“All we’ve done is talk about Daehwi, and now Sohyun, since we’ve known each other. Which makes sense given our initial connection.” He took a deep breath. “Do you think tonight we could just talk about us instead?”

“Us?” you repeated, feeling your stomach rejoicing far too prematurely. Minhyun coughed awkwardly and you surmised his slip-up hadn’t been in the way you immediately thought. “Oh, you mean about ourselves. Sure, I don’t get a lot of time in my day to have adult conversations with people.”

“I was hoping you would see it more as getting to know more about each other to see if there could be an us,” he admitted shyly and you snapped your focus back to his face. “If you feel comfortable with it being like that, that is.”

“As in, how you would on a date?” you questioned and Minhyun nodded.

You felt your cheeks burn from how happy you suddenly felt. And then you faltered. “Is it appropriate for a teacher to date their student’s mother?”

“Well, it’s not normal conduct, I guess.” Minhyun smiled down at you, offering out his hand. “But as one parent to another, shouldn’t we explore feelings if we experience them?”

You didn’t hesitate to slip your hand into his, his comforting grip making your heart thump faster.

You weren’t looking for someone to come into your world and shake it up even further than it had been earlier in the year. And you were sure that you would stumble and fail along the way with dating Minhyun too, if this actually progressed that far. But if there was one thing you had discovered over the past year, it was that life was all about learning.

And you couldn’t wait to learn more about Hwang Minhyun.

_________________

Next: Defining Roles

[NUEST Masterlist] | [WANNA ONE Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

150 notes · View notes

whycraft · 5 years ago

Text

a lump in the throat: chapter 3

AO3 | Wattpad | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Joe continued to send messages after that, but he didn’t visit - except for the one time when he did. It was nearly a week after his last visit, and was prefaced by a message actually asking if could come over.

Ex had shot back a quick [sure, why not] and waited by the entrance of his fortress. He heard Joe’s rockets before he saw them. Ex didn’t use his own elytra much, so he was coming to associate the sound of rockets with Joe.

Joe’s smile was even wider than normal. “I hope you’re feeling adventurous today, because I’ve got something to take your breath away.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Follow me, I’ll lead the way!”

Ex equipped his elytra and did his best to keep up with Joe, who, for all his excitement, did not fly like a man on a mission. He flew in weird lazy circles, gliding more than flying. It was because of this strange flight path that it took Ex so long to realize they were flying towards the Nether hub.

He alighted on an outcropping of netherrack and shouted, “Joe, hang on.”

Joe landed on the outcrop. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I can’t go to the Nether hub, Xisuma’ll freak out.”

“Xisuma’s AFK at the moment, he’ll never know.” He jumped off the outcrop.

“Wait!”

But it was clear that Joe did not intend on waiting. Grumbling, Ex followed him.

Being in the Nether hub was weird. No, the being there wasn’t weird - he went to the Nether hub from time to time to look for spare shulker boxes and things. It was the being there with someone else that was weird. That was definitely new.

Joe pointed at the nearest portal. “This portal here will take us to my base.”

Ex stared at him. “Uh, I can’t leave. Remember?”

“I do remember, but I think you should try.”

“I have tried. It didn’t work and it hurt.”

“It’ll be different this time.” Ex’s adamancy must have shown on his face, because Joe’s voice went soft. “Trust me on this.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” muttered Ex. “Fine, whatever. You go first, though.”

Joe’s face brightened. “Great!” He walked backwards into the portal and waved at Ex as he teleported away.

Ex closed his eyes and walked into the portal, muscles tensing and preparing for the pain that came from trying to go to the Overworld. Instead of pain, though, came the familiar sensation of being launched into another dimension like a bullet from its chamber. He stumbled out of the portal and sunlight shone on his face.

His eyes went wide. The entire world was hazy and red from his helmet, but it was unmistakably the Overworld.

He fell to his knees on the soft green grass. With trembling hands, he removed his helmet. His skin was damp and from the heat of the Nether. A breeze ruffled his hair, which was matted against his head, sweaty and unkempt.

“What -” he croaked. “How -”

Joe’s smiling face came into view in front of him. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

“No, seriously, how? This - this shouldn’t be possible.”

“Well, the server’s been experiencing some glitches, so Xisuma’s been leaving his command screens up…”

“You hacked Xisuma’s command screens?”

Joe shrugged. “There is no proof to suggest that didn’t I use his command screens for the purposes of unbanning you, but there’s also no proof to suggest that I did.”

“Except for the fact that I’m here.” Ex clutched his helmet. “If Xisuma finds out -”

“Fear not, my apprehensive friend. Check the tab list and put your anxiety to an end.”

Ex pressed the tab button on his communicator and the list of hermits popped up. Xisuma’s name was greyed out.

“As long as Xisuma is AFK, you don’t have to worry.”

“But what about everyone else? If they see me, they’ll tell him.”

Joe waved away his concern. “No one ever comes to my base except for Cleo, and she would listen to what we have to say before making any snap judgements.”

Ex got to his feet and looked around warily. “I hope you know that my life is in your hands right now.”

“I’ll guard it like it’s my own,” said Joe. “More carefully, even. I tend to die in silly ways a lot. Anyway, wanna come inside?”

It turned out that Joe’s house was not actually a house, and was, in fact, a hermitage. Ex didn’t know what that was, but Joe was happy to explain. He gave him a quick tour of the place. He seemed to take great pride in a few paintings hanging around. Although they didn’t look like anything particularly special, Ex nodded politely and said they looked nice.

“Do you want a comb or something for your hair, by the way?” Joe asked when he noticed Ex trying to fix it into some kind of style.

“Yes, please,” said Ex, a little desperately.

Joe returned with a hair brush and a bucket of water a few minutes later. “Sit down, it’ll be easier for me to brush it for you.”

Ex sat cross-legged in front of Joe, shoulders back and stiff as a board.

Joe dipped the brush in water and began working on a section of hair. “Supposedly, getting the hair wet is supposed to make it easier to brush. I don’t actually know, though, because I don’t have to brush my hair often.”

“I wouldn’t know. I couldn’t brush my hair if I wanted to.”

“Why not?”

Ex resisted the urge to throw an incredulous look over his shoulder. “Have you ever tried to stay in the Nether for an extended period of time? The air is so toxic that you’d die without a helmet. Have you ever tried to brush your hair inside a helmet?”

Joe stopped brushing. “You couldn’t breathe?”

“No, I could breathe. I had my helmet.”

Joe opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it and kept brushing.

Ex had the distinct feeling that something had just happened, but he wasn’t sure what. He changed the subject. “How do you come up with poetry just off the top of your head?”

Joe shrugged. “I just let the words run through me. I am like an outlet for words to be set free, like a symphony of thoughts ready to be spilled.”

“I wish I could do that.”

“Everybody’s different. How do you write your poetry?”

“In iambic pentameter.”

“Now, see, that would be difficult for me, because I’m not used to countin’ out syllables and stuff like that. But that’s part of what makes you who you are. Poetry is a deeply personal thing, and good poetry should reflect who you are.”

Before Ex knew it, Joe was finished untangling his hair and the sun had nearly set. Ex tied his hair back into a ponytail and dallied outside the portal for as long as he could.

“I…” Ex cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Thank you. So much.”

Joe’s smile was soft. “You’re welcome.”

“I mean it,” Ex said fiercely, “more than I can say. I -” He stopped abruptly. How did one express gratitude? Through hugs? That seemed excessive. Handshakes? Far too formal.

Fortunately, Joe seemed to sense his dilemma. He reached out and clasped Ex’s right hand in his own for a moment; not quite a handshake, but more of a reassuring gesture to show understanding. Ex squeezed back, then let go.

Ex closed his eyes and put his helmet on. After hours of being in the Overworld, the red haze seemed so wrong, so unnatural.

He put one foot in the portal and looked back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” said Joe, smile as wide as ever.

Ex smiled and walked into the portal.

#evil xisuma #joehills #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #minecraft fic #ex #joe #whycraft writes #my post

32 notes · View notes

magiesheartlove · 6 years ago

Text

The Greatest Show (a love letter to MLP:FiM

Okay, so I was planing on writing this down sometime after the season ended but, I’m just feeling a lot of...feels, at the moment that, I just needed to get this written down.

I’m going to be frank, I am sad MLP is ending but, at the same time, I’m glad it won’t become one of those series that just keeps going and going to the point at which it overstayed it’s welcome. I have long since accepted that season 9 would be the end of MLP. When a show ends, I always accept it. If it ends on a high note, even better.

Out of all the shows I have watched in the early 2010s, MLP was one I never, in a millions years, would have imagined would gain not only such a huge and devoted following that stretched far from its intended demographic, but also was a series that, in my eyes, reflected everything I loved about storytelling and why I wanted to tell stories to begin with.

I will never forget the first time I was introduced to the series. I was watching television on an ordinary Saturday, and one day on the Hub Channel in the channel guide I read My Little Pony was on. I simply shrugged and decided to just watch a little snippet of my childhood, so “what the heck”.

I had since grown out of the MLP phase, and while I still love magically colorful equines, the cutesy, baby talking cartoon horses didn’t appeal to a high school senior like myself. Instead of seeing either some old nineties rerun of an old episode, or something meant for a pre-school audience, I saw... cute, funny, not-cheesy, modernized ponies in a stylized flash animation...and they were taking on a flipping DRAGON!

It was the episode “Dragonshy”, and when I saw Fluttershy stand up to that dragon, no joke, my jaw dropped. I’ve seen the typical “shy person gets over their fear” plot done before, but the way it was handled, and the way they portrayed the ponies (including Rainbow Dash, who I remembered being a fashionable pony who said “darling” every other word), as a rough and tumble tomboy was awesome! It had a fashionista unicorn with sass, a Pinkie Pie who was actually funny, a country pony with muscle, and a unicorn who took charge.

This... this wasn’t the MLP I grew up with. This was... modern and, updated and stylized and, thought out more.... and... I... was.... HOOKED! I couldn’t stop gushing about it to my Mom, and she was staring at me like “it’s My Little Pony”, and I was all “I know!”

Of course, when I watched “Winter Wrap up” and I saw that they were about to sing, I thought, “Oh, a cutesy song. Okay.” And then the song played.... it wasn’t annoying, the lyrics weren’t babyish, and the ponies sounded.... good. Like, star quality, Broadway good. The music, the animation, the way the song fit into the episode it.... it was..... I loved it. My jaw was to the floor at how it completely blew away my expectations. This was definitely NOT the my little pony I remember, and I just fell harder and harder for it.

I fell for the characters in a heartbeat, the world building was colorful and beautiful, and the morals. Let me tell ya, the morals sold it for me. While I had seen other educational shows that practically shove the message in your face, this one did it in a way that was tailored into each episode without feeling like it was bashing you over the head with it. Sure, there were a few times near the end, but they were minor nitpicks in my opinion.

This, this was the kind of show, the kind of story, the kind of world, the kind of characters I always dreamed of making myself. Stories about love, and friendship, and family, characters with bonds that you could feel radiating off of the screen, a world so vast and endless you wished you could enter it and live every day exploring the horizons and uncovering new mysteries within it, and all alongside the ones who would wrestle a hydra or jump from a crystal palace for you.

As I grew older, finding good quality shows I could enjoy was difficult. Shows now a days either try to be “edgy” or “mature” that they just came across as trying too hard. As much as I adore overarching stories, it was refreshing to go back to that slice of life, villain of the week format that is feels like it’s being rejected now a days in animation. Again, I don’t have a problem with overarching plots, but slice of life stories can be just as fun, and open up a lot of doors for character interactions and enough wiggle room for the morals to shine through more.

MLP continued to surprise me over the years. As I grew, so did the show. I mean, Twilight went from an awkward student who didn’t care about friends, into the flipping PRINCESS of Friendship! Rarity expanded her business, Rainbow Dash learned humility and became a Wonder Bolt. Fluttershy became more and more confident, Applejack learned to ask for help, and Pinkie Pie had her ups and down, but at the end of the day, all she really cared about was making her friends happy. Even the Cutie Mark Crusaders finally found their calling, and it completely blew me away. Like a lot of people, I cried.

Speaking of tears, I know the whole villains reforming thing has caused some controversy over the years, and while I do empathize with a lot of the criticism, I can’t not love seeing these villains change for the better. Call me a compete and total sap, but if a man who persecuted and murdered people for believing in a Savior, only to have the most earth shattering revelation and transform into a messenger of the Gospel, even at the risk of his own life, and if a man from my Church can go from a man with the heart of a murder, into a devoted and kindhearted man who sung songs to The Lord every Sunday, then yes. If someone is willing, if they WANT it enough, I believe a heart of stone can become a heart of flesh. I know, a lot of people don’t believe it, and I understand why. But like Jesus, I want those lost lambs to find their way back.

As a President Lincoln once said: If I make my enemy my friend, have I not defeated my enemy?

I love when a villain changes for the better. Even if, story wise, it can be rushed, the meaning is still there. For me, that’s enough. I know not everybody changes, but that doesn’t mean nobody will. We live in a fallen world, but there is a Light that chases away the dark, gives us His hand, and shows us there is a better way. Just like Twilight did for Sunset Shimmer, and Sunset Shimmer did for Human Twilight.

Aside from introducing me to an amazing fandom, meeting so many wonderful people, and even being the show that coaxed me into the fanfiction world which led me to discover my love fo writing, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic has and will forever be my all time favorite show, surpassing all others from my childhood. It came during my transition from a child to an adult. It sparked my imagination, made me smile, made me laugh and made me cry.

This series, this world, and its characters carried something that made it stand out amongst so many other shows in my eyes, and in my heart I always knew why. To quote the minister of Shady Oak ministries on YouTube; “They took the love of God, and put it on ponies.” Yes, when I watched MLP, when I heard the messages and witnessed the strong relationships, I saw Jesus manifested in each of them. I wasn’t even trying to find it, I just... felt it in my heart.

The Magic Of Friendship brought out the best in the Mane Six, brought out the best in those around them, and came through for them even when it seemed as if all was lost. And, it didn’t just go by the motions. The characters grew and learned, but that spark, that special little something that made them who they were, it didn’t fade, it only became stronger. They became the best versions of themselves, and though they still tumble and fall, they keep getting back up, because one way or another, there will ways be somepony there to reach out their hoof and help them back up.

I am so grateful for this show, and for all the wonderful things that came with it. The good, the bad, the weird, the funny, all of it.

Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, Spike, Celestia, Luna, Sunset Shimmer, Discord, everypony, Thank you all for these wonderful nine years, and for teaching us that Friendship truly is the most powerful magic of all. But most importantly, Thank You Jesus, for having revealed this series to me, and for speaking to me through these ponies, reminding me of Your love, Your mercy, and most of all, Your friendship.

Nothing stays the same for long, but when it changes doesn't mean it's gone. Things may come and things may go. Some go fast and some go slow. Few things last, that's all I know. But Friendship, carries on through the ages.

#my little pony friendship is magic #my little pony season 9 #mlp finale #mlp ending #the end lf my little pony #my little pony the final season #twilight sparkle #rainbow dash #rarity #applejack #pinkie pie #fluttershy #discord #princess celestia #princess luna #sunset shimmer #starlight glimmer

95 notes · View notes

darthkvznblogs · 6 years ago

Text

I wrote a Voltron: Legendary Defender X Steven Universe oneshot!

It was supposed to be, like, a 1k word cute little blurb, but it ended up at over 5k because I have absolutely no self-control. Also posted over at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733932

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13203652/1/Close-Encounters-of-the-Gem-Kind

Also, this is technically part of a larger gamut of crossovers, but this isn’t really connected to those, so feel free to enjoy this on its own!

It’s kind of funny, how much of a backwater the Milky Way is considered to be. Pidge likes to think so, at least - how many humans throughout history have proclaimed Earth to be the center of the universe? It couldn’t be further from the truth, of course, but that certainly didn’t stop them.

The reality is that galactic civilization is practically nonexistent around these parts. There’s nothing like the ancient Alteans, and certainly not like the universe-spanning Galra Empire here, and it shows; the Milky Way lacks any kind of hub worlds, or even designated hyperlanes. It’s the Wild West out here - or, more accurately, the galactic equivalent of an empty Denny’s parking lot at two a.m.

Still, it’s nice to almost be home again. She didn’t expect to be headed back so soon - heck, part of her didn’t expect to return to Earth at all - but it seems Allura found herself a heart, and is allowing the Paladins of Voltron a brief, week-long window before they really take the fight to the Galra for them to let their families know they’re, y’know, still alive.

For how much longer, Pidge has no idea. They’re Public Enemy No. 1, but like, on an intergalactic level. That certainly doesn’t bode well for their continued well-being.

In any case, they’re a few thousand light years out - they’re doing short jumps, so as to avoid leading the Galra back to Earth - when they catch an urgent sounding alien communication, one that makes Allura frown, and summon the other Paladins to the bridge.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” -Shiro asks once he gets there, all armored up - first as always, if not for the fact that Pidge was already there, analyzing star maps with Princess Allura - confused at her expression.

“The Castle’s short range sensors have picked up what appears to be a repeating distress signal. The language is...familiar, but I can’t quite place it.” -she admits.

Shiro crosses his arms. “Familiar how?”

“Yeah, we’re super far away from ancient Altean space.” -Pidge points out.

“Altean civilization became space-faring almost a hundred-thousand years ago. We explored most of the universe.” -she says, as if it should be obvious. “We may not have colonized much, but we did visit.”

Pidge deals with this mind-boggling fact the same way she deals with most things regarding Altea or the Galra. “...oh.”

Allura looks smug, but only for a second, because Coran pipes up after only absently following their conversation. “Oh! That’s Gem code, Princess.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “‘Gem’ code?” -she asks, on the verge of recognition.

“Yes! I guess it makes sense that they’d still be around.” -he says, eager. “Gems are inorganic life forms - they don’t eat, sleep, or drink, so they are effectively immortal. They were one of the last intelligent species we discovered before the war.”

The Princess snaps her fingers - a gesture picked up from Pidge herself. “That’s right! I remember my father leaving to meet with their diplomats.”

Shiro interrupts the nostalgia train. “Then let’s take a detour and see if we can help them out. Earth can wait just a little longer.”

Allura doesn’t seem like she appreciates the commanding tone, but she clearly agrees, immediately bringing up the Castle’s controls. “Generating wormhole now.”

Lance, Keith, and Hunk come together into the bridge as the starship accelerates into the rift. Seconds later, they re-enter realspace, only to find themselves staring at an ongoing space battle some two thousand kilometers in the distance.

“Well, that can’t be good.” -Lance says, helmet under his arm. He doesn’t sound particularly worried.

“What the hell are the Galra doing so close to Earth again?” -Keith asks, crossing his arms. He, in turn, does. Angry-worried, at any rate.

Lance cringes. Pidge is fairly certain he didn’t put two and two together. “Oh, yeah, that too.”

Allura immediately takes command. “Coran, jam their comms. Paladins, to your Lions.”

The five of them grimly fall into place, taking the chute to their respective giant mechanical familiars. The Paladins burst out into the void, supernatural roars audible even in the oppressive silence of vacuum.

“What are we looking at, here?” -Shiro asks everyone.

“Hands, mostly.” -Hunk says drily. “It’s not just me, right? Everybody else can see the multi-colored giant hands shooting at the Galra fleet?”

Hunk has a knack for summing up the crazy situations Team Voltron usually encounters, and this is no exception. Indeed, a fleet of massive, human-accurate, hand-shaped warships is trading blasts with a Galra dreadnought and about a dozen cruisers. They’re about half the size of the Castle of Lions each, which means they’re all dwarfed by the Galra capital ships. Pidge can make out green and yellow ones, mostly, but there’s a couple blue ones in there, too. She also notices that, while they’ve obviously suffered some damage, the hand ships are all still more or less intact, while a couple Galra cruisers have already become superheated chunks, slowly falling towards the planet, caught in its gravity well.

Judging by the fleets’ positions - the Galra are sandwiched between the planet and the Gem warships - the Galra got here first, and the hands are reinforcements for the Gems below.

“It doesn’t matter what they’re shaped like. They’re outnumbered and we’re here to even those odds.” -Shiro finally says. “Allura, can you contact the Gems? We don’t need them shooting us, too.”

“I will try. I’m not sure the Castle’s translator software includes Gem language.”

“It included human, didn’t it?” -Lance asks rhetorically. “Er, I mean English.”

“No, it did not. English was just relatively easy to decipher. Gem language, on the other hand, seems to be a combination of computer code and spoken word. We’ll whip up a message, but there’s no telling if they can even recognize it for what it is.”

“It’ll have to do.” -Shiro says as they enter firing range for the Lions’ main cannons. “Lance, Keith, focus on the fighters - try to draw them away from the Gem fleet. The rest of us will take out the Ion Cannons. Stay on your toes, everyone.”

The Paladins split into their respective groups - Pidge feels a bit awkward going with the heavy hitters, but her and Green are probably second worst at dog-fighting, so she gets it - and get to work. The Galra immediately begin attacking them instead, completely ignoring the Gem warships, likely overcome by their desire to please ol’ Zarkon with a nice, Voltron-themed gift basket.

Pidge is pleasantly surprised; they’ve only been at this for about a month - just last week, they saved the Balmera and its rocky inhabitants - but they already fight like a coherent unit. Part of it is the Garrison’s training, sure, but this newfound success is largely owed to the mystical link they all share as Paladins. She’s aware that Keith just melted down a squad chasing Lance, that Shiro just took a Jaw Blade to the dreadnought’s main battery, and that Hunk just spotted a cruiser’s Ion Cannon targeting her. Pidge simply dodges out of the way at the last second, letting the overwhelmingly powerful blast tear through the cruiser behind her and Green.

With the final Ion Cannon disabled, the Castle of Lions moves in. Particle blasts pepper the Galra fleet, which wastes no time in retaliating, but these bolts come from point-defense cannons - they’re meant to take down fighters and other such small ships, like the Lions technically are. The Castle’s barrier holds steady against this attack.

“I am detecting a significant Galra field presence on the planet.” -Allura says. “Several hundred Sentries, at the very least, possibly some Galra officers. They seem to be attacking a major Gem installation.”

“Then we better finish this up quick.” -Shiro says. “Everyone, regroup! Let’s form Voltron!”

The Lions roar in unison, flying towards a relatively safe point in space, and begin the morphing process. Pidge has studied it before from the Castle’s recordings, frame by frame, but in the heat of the moment, she can’t quite tell what’s going on - only that she’s now not quite just Pidge Gunderson, or Katie Holt, but a vital component of the immensely powerful whole that is Voltron. There are no longer five Lions and their respective pilots, there is the titanic warrior and their collectively melded minds.

Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be like, she instinctively knows. Eventually. But they’re all still rather new at it, so they still speak up like they’re separate individuals.

“Form Shoulder Cannon!” -Shiro commands, and Hunk immediately complies. The Cannon materializes, targets the remaining cruisers, and fires, swirling ribbons of deadly light tracing wild paths for a second or two before reaching their marks, burning through thick hulls and the decks within. Cataclysmic explosions tear some of the vessels apart, while those that survive are left like wounded beasts, venting atmosphere and spitting out plasma.

The dreadnought is mostly undamaged still, and its repair crews have managed to get the Ion Cannon somewhat operational again - they probably should’ve ripped it off instead of just slicing at it - and so it fires at them.

Before Shiro can call it out, Pidge is already forming the shield. It’s just in time, too, snapping into place as the beam reaches Voltron. Purple energy flares out around them, dissipating into harmless, free-floating ions a couple dozen miles out.

Voltron’s wings return to their original position, and Shiro bellows: “Form Sword!”

“Wait!” -Allura calls out. “Incoming energy signature!”

They turn, and sure enough, a massive shape warps into the battlefield. It’s a complete yellow right arm, a little longer than the Galra dreadnought, and its fist is clenched. It zips past Voltron at ramming speed, completely heedless of the fact that the dreadnought is charging another shot.

“Why aren’t they dodging?” -Lance asks the question on everyone’s mind.

The answer is apparent as soon as the beam washes over the yellow hull, and does absolutely no damage.

“Jesus.” -Hunk says. “What the heck is that arm made of?”

The arm then smashes into the bow of the dreadnought, sending it backwards in spite of its powerful engines trying to compensate. Voltron boosts towards the two warships, but stops in its tracks just as they’re about to reach them, as what looks like a large, yellow bubble - about the size of Black’s protective particle barrier - sprouts from the arm’s surface.

“Is that a woman?” -Lance asks, dumbstruck, as the bubble disappears, leaving behind its single occupant.

Pidge is not as impressed by the person’s apparent gender, as she is by their sheer size - they’re about as tall as the Black Lion while sat on its haunches. Their skin and helmet-shaped hair is the same yellow shade as the arm ship, and they’re wearing what looks like a short tailcoat, olive pants, and brown boots. A square, equally yellow gemstone about as tall as Shiro protrudes from their chest - and, strangely enough, it’s the only part of their body showing up on Green’s sensors.

“I...I guess that’s a Gem.” -Shiro says, his usual stoic composure broken up a bit by the sheer awe this being provokes. Judging by the off-the-charts telemetry Green can make out on them, Pidge is more inclined to label them as some kind of pseudo-divine being.

The giant person spares a brief look for the stunned Voltron, before becoming enveloped in a crackling electric aura, raising their left hand, and blasting the Ion Cannon.

The superweapon briefly becomes incandescent, then explodes, and so does the superstructure beneath it. The Gem then leaps, seemingly unaffected by the lack of gravity, and smashes into the burning wreckage of the Cannon, plunging into the dreadnought’s innards.

“Should we help?” -Keith asks, uncertain.

Lance scoffs. “Help!? Let’s throw her at Zarkon!”

Shiro shakes his head as small, fiery holes begin to violently blow through the warship’s hull. “Let’s leave them to it. I know for a fact the Galra don’t have anything inside that can actually put up a fight. Split up and head to the surface, instead.”

Voltron breaks apart into its constituent Lions, which begin the descent into the Gem world. Pidge notes, somewhat uncomfortably, that the hand ships have moved in, literally grabbing onto the wrecked Galra warships. It reminds her of Facehuggers, which, now that she’s an intergalactic traveller on the regular, she can only hope exist solely in movies.

The planet below isn’t really one to write home about; it’s a lifeless rocky world, not unlike a large Mercury, its thin atmosphere is primarily nitrogen-based - but the mixture is unbreathable for most life forms, humans included - and its soil is rich with aluminum oxides. Why the Gems would choose to settle here, Pidge has no clue. Maybe they like inhospitable worlds? They’re inorganic, so...maybe they’re not all that bothered by them?

The atmospheric burn doesn’t last long, even with the added challenge of dodging the falling debris caused by the battle above, and soon they’re diving through the thin cloud layer. Several artificial structures dot the landscape on the way to the battlefield - enormous columns beaming with light, intricate spires reaching towards space, and colosseum-like buildings floating between the clouds. The ground battle is taking place near a massive canyon network, inlaid with Gem machinery. This is where most of the Gems on the planet are concentrated, if sensor data is to be believed. Then again, their sensors can only pick up the individual gemstones on their bodies, so it’s really anyone’s guess.

“So, what’s the plan? A bombing run, maybe?” -Lance suggests.

“Negative. Some of the Gems seem to be fighting hand-to-hand with the Galra.” -Shiro says. “We’d be risking hitting them, too.”

“So, let’s join them. Let’s fight on foot.” -Keith says. Of course he does.

Hunk groans. Pidge winces to herself, too. Neither of them are too into the pedestrian portion of Paladinhood. “Let’s land nearby and try to find their commanding officer. They’ll probably know where we’ll be the most useful.” -Shiro says, finally.

The Lions come in hot, dust blowing as the massive mechs trot to a stop. Pidge readies herself, manifesting her bayard and hoping against hope that she won’t have to use it.

She runs out of Green’s mouth, meeting up with the others. All their weapons are out already. Shiro leads the way, approaching a small outpost from which a dozen Gems seem to be observing the nearby battle. None of them have anything she can identify as a gun; she spots some spears, a warhammer, several swords, and a bow and arrow. The weapon selection seems highly paradoxical, given their apparent technological prowess, but, then again, Keith’s bayard turns into a sword, too, and that’s über-advanced Altean techno-sorcery.

The next thing she notices is that the Gems are...eerily similar. Even the Balmorans were easier to tell apart; there are three types, all completely different from the last. The smallest are a head shorter than her, all colored in similar shades of red, with thick but stubby arms and legs, and a sort of blocky afro for hair. Their gemstones are all over the place - back of the hand, knee, chest, forehead, nose. Same goes for the other two kinds; one is about as tall as a full grown Galra, their stone an upright rectangle in the middle of their chest, with a poofy head of cheddar-colored hair, orange skin, a red jumpsuit, white gloves and boots, and a glittery yellow-red cape, and a green colored Gem with a triangular gemstone for an eye, a perfectly square head of light yellow hair, and odd, free-floating fingers manipulating some kind of hard-light screen.

“Greetings. We are the Paladins of Voltron.” -Shiro announces, following protocol because he’s, well, Shiro. “We picked up your distress signal, and have come to help.”

Pidge half expects to hear gibberish back from the Gems, but when the tall, orange one replies, it’s in perfect english. “Oh? Is that so?”

Their tone takes all of them aback. It’s the condescending ‘it’s cute that you think you know better than me’ kind of voice Pidge knows very well from years of...overachieving in academic endeavors. It’s also far from the way you’d expect a Commander in trouble to sound like. “Uh...yes? We’re at your service. Where do you need us?”

They languidly turn to the green Gem. “Peridot, where do we need the Paladins of Voltron?”

Pidge vaguely remembers something about the mineral peridotite coming from the Earth’s mantle. Peridot’s voice is kinda nasal, and she sounds...bored. “Ruby squadron theta is requesting assistance, my Hessonite.”

Judging by the way the small, red Gems worriedly fidget at the mention, they’re Rubies, too. Now the colony makes sense; aluminum oxide forms corundum, a mineral real life rubies - and sapphires, which Pidge is guessing is another type of Gem - are found in.

Hessonite hums. “Well, there you go. Go, go! I’d love to watch.”

The Paladins look at each other in confusion, but silently decide not to think about it too much. They rush towards the nearest fight, which is definitely going in the Gems’ favor.

The Rubies may lack any sort of projectile weaponry, but they don’t seem to be fazed much by the Galra Sentries’ laser blasts. They wince and yelp when hit, but otherwise continue charging. They’re also surprisingly strong, taking down the drones in a single punch more often than not. Still, the Paladins join in, blasting and slicing away at the robots. Again, their teamwork has experienced a marked improvement. They’re hardly commandos, but they cover for each other’s weaknesses fairly well. Most of the Rubies ignore them, but a couple of them cheerfully greet and thank them - with the absolute cutest voice ever - before moving on to the next skirmish.

That’s when the first Galra tank pops up over a nearby ridge, points at the departing Rubies, and shoots.

The plasma burst explodes at their feet, and when the smoke clears, one lays groaning face-down, while only a circular, soot-covered gemstone remains of the other. “Lance, Hunk, cover fire!” -Shiro barks out. He dives to cover the Ruby with his body, while the Paladins distract the tank. Pidge and Keith follow suit, bringing up their particle shields, since a squad of Sentries has taken aim at them.

“I’m...sorry about your friend.” -Shiro says, gravely. A large, striped, yellow-orange Gem with a mane of white hair roars past them, and absolutely demolishes the Sentries shooting at them. It’d be funny, if someone hadn’t just died before her eyes.

The Ruby - her gemstone is on her right knee - seems very confused. “What? She’s fine, she’s right there! Not even chipped or anything.” -she says, all earnest and adorable, pointing at the gemstone on the ground. “Haven’t you guys ever seen a Gem poof before? It happens to us Rubies all the time…”

Ah. Pidge thinks she gets it, now. That’s why Green’s sensors and her armor’s onboard systems can’t make out anything but the actual gemstone: the humanoid body is some kind of light construct. The gem is the Gem.

The Gem blanks out for a second, then looks at them with guilt. “Um, listen, I have to go.” -she say. “We’ve been ordered to defend the western entrance to the Kindergarten.”

Keith balks. “You have children here!?”

The Ruby doesn’t seem to understand that word. “No? We have a vein of potential Sapphires, though, so we can’t let the organics anywhere near there.” -she explains, then grabs the other Ruby’s gemstone from the ground and hands it to a very surprised Shiro. “We’re supposed to leave poofed soldiers behind, but...she’s my friend. Just...take care of her until she reforms, please?” -she pleads.

Knee Ruby doesn’t wait for an answer, just bolting - well, more like hup-hup-hup-ing - towards the western side of the canyon network. Hunk and Lance return, fresh from taking out the Galra tank. “Oh cool!” -Lance says, catching the glint of the scarlet gemstone. “That’s gotta be worth like, a cool million.”

“This is, apparently, a person.” -Pidge says, rolling her eyes.

“Wait, what? I thought they were just really into body mods.”

Keith shakes his head. “Were you not paying attention to your Lion’s sensors?”

Lance scowls. “Don’t sass me, Kogane. I’ve got Earth on my brain right now and not much else.”

Shiro puts his flesh and blood hand on Lance’s right pauldron. “We all do, but we need to focus for now.” -he says, understanding, rising as he cautiously pockets the gemstone. “Let’s try to find the Galra commander.”

Pidge pipes up. “Oh, let me.” -she says, then closed her eyes. She finds that thread in the back of her mind and pulls on it, grabbing Green’s attention. Their connection is nowhere near as good as it could be, one day, but this is more than enough for now.

Green is more in tune with life than any of the other Lions - as in, she can sense living organisms better than any of the others - so Pidge asks her to scan the horizon for living Galra combatants. Green roars, and a quick scan later, the actual Galra on this world are marked, and their location relayed to the Paladins. Disturbingly, Green detects none in orbit.

Shiro takes a moment to strategize. “Okay. There’s three groups of Galra soldiers. One seems to be established at their FOB, and lightly guarded - Pidge and Lance, you take those out, and see if you can figure out why the Galra are so close to Earth in the first place. Another squad is establishing static defenses nearby - Keith and Hunk, that’s you. I’ll join the Gems in taking down the ones fighting alongside the remaining Sentries.”

Pidge grimaces. She’s no stranger to taking lives by now - Galra warships may be mostly crewed and defended by robots, but there’s still an organic element in command, and she’s taken down several - but killing up close is an entirely different matter. Something tells her that her mantra of ‘one less Galra is one less obstacle between me and my family’ probably won’t cut it this time around.

Goddamn it, she’s fifteen.

Lance winks at her. Pidge doesn’t think much of it, considering he flirts with pretty much every being that could be argued to be sapient. “Think you can keep up, Pidge?”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.” -she replies, deadpan. Pidge turns to Shiro. “I might not be able to interface with their tech without your arm, just so you know.”

“Try it anyway. If you can’t, just destroy their outpost.” -he says.

They split up, and head towards their targets. It’s a short hike, made only a bit sluggish by the debris from the battle. Pidge spots several dormant gemstones among the broken Sentries.

“So, why do you think they all look like girls?” -Lance asks.

“Let’s not assume their gender.” -she says. “We don’t even know if they have one.”

“No, I get that. I’m just saying, they do present themselves as feminine, more or less.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve met them all. Maybe those Sapphires the Ruby talked about look different.”

Lance hums. “And the big one? What kind of Gem do you think she is?”

Pidge jet-boosts past a Galra hovertank that looks like it’s been physically crushed. “A Topaz, maybe? I don’t know that many yellow gemstones. Could be a Yellow Diamond too, I guess.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty regal.” -he says. “She’s gotta be like, their queen or something, right?”

“If they’re the leader of Gemkind, fighting on the front lines would be a very poor judgement call. There’s a reason Zarkon’s lived to rule ten thousand years. He just spits out orders from his throne room.”

“Well, that plus magic, right?”

She sighs. As much as she’d love to say that ‘magic is just really fancy tech they don’t understand yet’, she’s seen enough weird Altean and Galra bull to recognize that the phrase is worthless in reality.

“...yeah, that too.”

Her HUD flashes red in warning, just as they’re about to crest the hill overlooking their target. She looks up, and sees a fragment of burning Galra hull falling towards their general vicinity.

“Uh...Pidge? Is that headed for…?”

“Us, yeah!” -she screams, grabbing his arm and punching her thruster pack to the max. They zoom away just in time, as the artificial meteor slams into the hill, the shockwave sending both of them careening across the landscape. The come to a tumbling stop a couple hundred feet away, groaning. The Paladin armor takes the worst of it, for sure, but Pidge is already dreading the bruises she’ll find when she hits the showers later today.

“Are you okay?” -Lance asks.

She shakes her head, more to check for concussions than to say no. “I’m alive.”

He steps into her field of view, offering a hand. She takes it and rises. “Are we still keeping score after this? I’m pretty sure the save is worth a lot.”

Lance smirks. “No, no, I’m pretty sure this just makes us even.”

“What? For what?”

“Sendak, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s true.” -she says. If not for his clutch save, the cyborg might’ve taken them out, instead of the other way around. “I’m pretty sure the game is over anyway, they’re probably all dead by now.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“The fragment that almost hit us, it exploded in midair. The other piece should’ve landed right on top of the Galra base.”

As if to confirm her hypothesis, an explosion shakes the ground on the other side of the hill. Lance winces. “Alright, let’s go check it out.”

They nearly crest the ridge, before they’re stopped in their tracks. A Galra soldier pops over the hill, running towards them. Pidge brings her bayard to bear, but it’s ultimately unnecessary. It’s the briefest of moments, and the most terrifying sequence of events she’s witnessed in this little space opera she’s on: a blinding light appears behind the Galra, catches up to him, and consumes him. As in, when the glow subsides, the alien has completely vanished. Disintegrated, presumably.

“Oh my God.” -Lance says. Funny, Pidge didn’t peg him for a God-fearing man. Teenager. Yikes, she’s already rambling.

The Galra’s killer soon becomes apparent, as the massive yellow Gem they’d seen in space nonchalantly walks toward them, each step shaking the ground beneath their feet. Pidge can’t quite nail why it’s so different from staring up at the Lions; the height is similar after all, but the approaching Gem is so much more intimidating. Maybe it’s the humanoid shape. Maybe it’s their irritated frown.

It’s probably the fact that their electric aura still crackles as they approach.

“I had not realized that humanity had achieved spaceflight.” -they say. Their voice is definitely feminine, their tone that of someone who knows themselves to be superior. There’s an undercurrent of weariness, too, but Pidge is all but certain it’s not of the physical kind - they move like they’re on a leisurely stroll, as if they hadn’t just dropped from orbit and atomized someone. “With the amount of technology Homeworld left behind, it’s a wonder it took so long.”

The being squints at them. Pidge notices that their irises - yellow, of course - have diamond-shaped pupils.

Ah. Yellow Diamond, then.

“Then again, that armor is hardly of Gem make. Too...flimsy. Much like the rest of you organics.”

Well, that certainly sounds like an insult.

“Not just any organics.” -Lance says. He’s afraid, and covering it up with bravado. Classic Lance. “We’re the Paladins of Voltron, ma’am.”

Yellow Diamond seems...unimpressed. “Is that what you call the waste of quintessence I saw in orbit, Blue Paladin?”

“What do you mean waste? Voltron is like, the most powerful weapon in the universe!” -Pidge says. So she’s feeling defensive of Green and her little found family. So fear makes her lash out a bit. Sue her.

“I mean that the amount of quintessence powering your so-called Voltron would create enough Gems to conquer every planet in every galaxy. And yet, its makers chose to concentrate all that power into five vulnerable little puzzle pieces, and then put them in the hands of humans.”

“Jesus, lady. Calm it down, will you? We wouldn’t even be here if not for your distress signal. We came here to save you from the Galra.” -Lance says. Pidge isn’t sure if it’s intentional, but he’s protectively stepped in front of her. Not that it’ll do much good once Yellow Diamond tires of this conversation and vaporizes them, but it's, y’know, a nice gesture.

“I assure you, your assistance was neither needed nor wanted. These Galra may be a threat to your kind, but as you can plainly see, they are mere annoyances for Gemkind.”

Pidge grabs Lance’s arm. “It’s okay, Lance. Maybe we should just go back to Shiro and the others.” -she suggests, rather urgently. “We’re obviously not welcome here.”

“Good. I thought perhaps I was being too subtle.” -Yellow Diamond says, disdainful. “Take your mechanical pets and leave my world, Paladins of Voltron. Return to that doomed mudball you call the Earth.”

The Gem’s aura subsides, and they turn to leave. Pidge breathes a sigh of relief because yeah, Yellow Diamond was definitely considering offing them. Green and Blue fly towards them as the massive arm ship pokes through the clouds above. The Gem matriarch leaps onto its palm, and disappears into its depths. The ship then points towards the sky, elongates impossibly, and disappears in a vortex of warped space-time.

“Yikes.” -Lance says.

“Yup.”

“That could’ve gone better.”

“Could’ve gone worse, too.” -she points out. “We’re not exactly great at diplomacy.”

“True.” -he says, as their two Lions land beside them. “Hey, what do you think she meant by calling Earth doomed?”

Pidge shrugs. Her nerves are a bit too frayed to really think about it. “Global warming? I dunno, Lance. I just hope we never get to ask her. At least, not in person.”

“Yeah, no argument here.”

They board the Lions, and head towards their fellow Paladins. They’re already taking off, and it’s not hard to figure out why.

“Gems are nuts, you guys.” -Hunk says when they join them. “Like, not even the fact that even their tiny Ruby guys could toss me around like I weigh about half a Pidge…”

“Hey!”

“...they turned on us the moment the Galra were done! We didn’t even have a chance to give them their buddy back!”

Pidge’s eyebrows shoot up. “You kept the Ruby!?”

“I did.” -Shiro says, gravely. “Which means this won’t be the last time we deal with the Gems. We’ll have to figure out a way to approach them safely, now that we know that they aren’t exactly friendly.”

“Earth first though, right?” -Lance asks, hopeful, then amends himself. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I desperately need some strictly human comforts. Pizza, videogames, beautiful human women…”

Pidge laughs to herself. Trust Lance to ruin a somber moment, even if it’s his own. The internal laugh is, admittedly, a little hysterical - they did just meet a space goddess, after all.

Shiro smiles. “Earth first, Lance.”

#voltron #VLD #steven universe #ruby #hessonite #peridot #jasper #(but not our jasper)#squaridot #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #pidge gunderson #katie holt #allura #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #fanfic #crossover #yellow diamond

6 notes · View notes

joonie-beanie · 7 years ago

Text

Oh, Baby (Namjoon x Reader) Pt. 20 (Final)

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Pt 8] [Pt 9] [Pt 10] [Pt 11] [Pt 12] [Pt 13] [Pt 14] [Pt 15] [Pt 16] [Pt 17] [Pt 18] [Pt 19]

Pairing: Namjoon/RM x Reader Rating: M Genre: Smut/Mafia-ish AU

Words: 6,324

Summary: You were only supposed to have seen him twice. Only twice, no more, but now you’re getting dragged into situations you never wished for and Namjoon just keep showing up.

A/N: I’ll keep my somewhat sentimental Author’s Note for the end. For now, read on, and I hope you all enjoy~

“Good evening, and welcome to the 5 o’clock news. Tonight, we’ll be running a special news report on the two murders that occurred 5 days ago, at Jeon Enterprise’s Seoul location.”

You and Jungkook pause, looking up at the television hanging on the wall of the student lounge. Around you, others pause in their studying, attention turning to the male newscaster on the screen.

“I’m sure as many of you have heard, the CEO and founder of Jeon Enterprises himself was one of the victims—the other being a previously prevalent figure in the mafia, a man known by the name Jaehyuk. The murders took place on the night of the Jeon’s annual charity ball, and according to the official police report which was finally released just last night, it seems that Jeon and Jaehyuk ended up being killed by each other’s parties.”

Jungkook meets your hesitant gaze—a look of should we get out of here?—but Jungkook simply shakes his head and turns his attention back down to the pile of Psychology homework on the table in front of you. After having missed nearly two weeks of class, the two of you have a lot to catch up on.

Simply wanting to get all this work done as soon as you can—you turn your attention away from the report and continue reading through the questions of the assignment you and Jungkook are currently working on.

“From what we know, Jeon was shot first, in his private suite up above the main ballroom area by one of Jaehyuk’s subordinates, who had snuck into the ball along with him. When a staff member of the event heard the fired shot, this staff member pulled the fire alarm in hopes that everyone would evacuate the building and no one would be further injured.

“Following this, one of Jeon’s security staff found Jaehyuk attempting to escape through the rear exit—away from the main crowd—and Jaehyuk was forced to retreat back into the ballroom until, subsequently, the guard ended up firing two rounds when the man presented a gun and refused to be taken into custody.”

“What about Jaehyuk’s party? Someone shot Jeon, correct? Where did his men go?” another news reporter butts in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. The male summarizing the police report shuffles some papers around in his grasp.

“According to the guard who was later tracked down to give his statement, Jaehyuk’s men were not around when he found Jaehyuk attempting to leave the scene. His best guess was that Jaehyuk’s men bolted as soon as things started to take a turn for the worst.”

“Sounds like something the mafia would do,” a third personality speaks up, clearly more easy going than the other two. “Get the job done and abandon their boss to fend for himself.”

“Is the security guard the only account the police are going off of?”

“No, the police say their report is mostly based off what was observed by the staff member who pulled the fire alarm, and two other individuals who had been attending the party, and had been the last to leave the ballroom.”

“And who are these witnesses?”

Despite your effort to focus on the task at hand, you end up quickly reaching to grab your cellphone, which is splayed across the table beside your notes, as the screen flashes to life. A new notification—a text, to be precise.

You pause as you note the contact from which you’ve just received a message. Your heart goes through a small cycle of hope and dread—and then you finally open it.

“Due to the mafia involvement in this crime, as well as a request from Jeon Enterprises Board of Directors to keep their identities private, at the time we have no names or faces to put to the accounts this report is based off of.”

Your eyes scan the message—a simple two words, but tears well in your wide, surprised eyes, and you turn the device to face Jungkook. When he doesn’t notice, you reach over and pat his arm repeatedly, the boy looking at you, confused, until he notices that you’re holding up the message for him to read.

Min Yoongi:

He’s awake.

Jungkook’s eyes flit to you, and you both look shocked, but can’t help it when smiles break out across your faces.

Grabbing your papers, you both hurriedly begin packing your bags, and luckily the news report is interesting enough to keep all eyes from turning to the two kids who suddenly look like they’ve forgotten about their shift at work and are trying to haul ass.

“Speaking of witness accounts” the more easygoing personality speaks up. “I heard the camera footage from the hotel that night was destroyed, which is why the police are trusting these three witnesses so much.”

You and Jungkook stand up, grabbing your bags and you, your crutch, and bustle out of the study room—but the sound of the report follows you. It’s as if all of Seoul has tuned in to listen.

“Indeed, when returning to the hotel to retrieve the footage from the night of the crime, not only was the tape destroyed but a majority of the security hub, in whole, had been damaged to a nearly unrepairable state. Many believe this is likely where Jaehyuk’s men may have disappeared to—another possibility—but without the tapes we can’t say anything for sure. Right now, all we can do is trust in the words of the people who actually saw these events occur first-hand.”

“Seems suspicious to me,” the second, least convinced reporter grumbles, but the main reporter simply straightens out his papers again.

“Whatever you may think or feel, this is the official report the police have released to the public, and with two bodies identified, the witness accounts, and a request from a mourning family to simply let things be, this case has been closed.”

Jungkook hits the button for the elevator, taking your bag off of your shoulder and slinging it over his own. You nudge him with your hip, all smiles, and Jungkook can’t help but grin.

After a few seconds, the elevator arrives and the two of you step inside, descending down to the 1st floor of the building. When the double doors slide open, the report is still ongoing.

“However, speaking of the future of Jeon Enterprises, tonight Jeon Junghyun, the eldest son of the family, will be holding a public conference to explain the next stages of their business. Of course, all of us here at the station are praying for the mourning family, and wishing them well during any changes that may come their way.”

“Hey there, slow down,” Jungkook comments as you hobble ahead, a little reckless with how much weight you’re putting on your injured leg. “Jin hyung is gonna be pissed if we get there and you’re bleeding through the bandages. You know he’s not gonna let you leave later without checking on your wound.”

“Jungkook, I know I’m smiling right now, but I’m also this close--,” you lift your fingers and show him how they’re extremely close to touching, “—to crying too, so unless you want me to start sobbing in public, right here, and make you look like an abusive boyfriend or something of the sort, just let me be.”

Jungkook laughs, holding the door open for you as you both make your way outside.

“Don’t let Namjoon hyung hear you say that, he’ll beat my ass.”

At that, you laugh as well.

A minute later, having made it to the nearest parking lot, Jungkook pulls out his keys and unlocks his car—the tail lights flashing. After Jungkook’s brother had come up from Busan, he’d immediately greeted Jungkook with a hug and proceeded to grant him more freedom than his father had in years—which included the use of a car, so he would no longer need to be carted to and from school, like some kind of trapped child of royalty.

Jamming his keys into the ignition, Jungkook revs the car to life, carefully glancing around as he backs out of the spot. You, too, keep watch out the passenger window as he drives. It’s not that you don’t trust him, but simply that Jungkook hasn’t had much experience driving due to his father’s old-school ways.

Leaving campus grounds, the two of you venture into the main part of the city. Avoiding the skyscrapers and the hub of businesses at the city’s center, you instead stick near the edge of town, traversing the slightly congested streets until a familiar building comes into sight.

Jin’s apartment.

Pulling into a parking space, Jungkook turns the engine off and then glances over at you as his hand moves to undo his seatbelt. He can spot how anxious you are—and it’s not all negative—but it’s obvious that your emotions are being pulled in so many directions. However, he chooses to say nothing—at this point you just need to see him—so instead he simply steps out of the car and moves around to make sure you safely make it over the curb.

Side by side, the two of you make your way into the building, taking another elevator ride up to Jin’s floor. Jungkook’s the one who knocks on the door, and you take a deep breath which fails to help calm you.

After a few seconds, the handle twists and the door is pulled open. Jin, a medical mask draped around his neck, smiles at you both.

“That was quick. Yoongi said that he’d text you as he was leaving, but that was seriously fast. Are you sure you didn’t see him on your way out?”

“Haha, hyung, always so full of jokes,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and Jin laughs at himself, motioning you both inside. You shed your shoes in the doorway, and then pause, eyes turning up to the doctor. Feeling your stare, Jin blinks and turns his attention to you.

“Do I need to step into some kind of disinfectant chamber first? If I bring outside diseases in will he die within minutes?”

Jin hides his smile behind his hand.

“Like I’ve told you already—he’s stable. He came out of his coma about 20 hours ago, but I had to make sure his wound and vitals were alright before letting anyone know.”

“Wait, so you’re saying he’s already been awake for almost a day?!” you say in surprise, and Jin holds up his hands.

“Things can change sometimes, I didn’t want to make a false announcement and have you all on my doorstep only for there to be more bad news.”

“I guess that’s understandable,” Jungkook mumbles considerately, and Jin huffs. He poses his hands on his hips, looking down at you both.

“Let me remind you, he’ll still need to rest for a while. He’s not 100%. He’ll need therapy for his right arm, and may never have the same mobility in it again. Chronic back problems, blood clots, finger numbness…these are all possibilities with this kind of injury,” Jin explains, and then pauses when he sees your and Jungkook’s faces falling.

“But…the important part is that he’s alive, and he’ll be fine otherwise. There’s no longer any immediate threat to his life.”

At that, the two of you sigh with relief and Jin smiles fondly, lifting a hand to card it through his hair.

“He should still be awake, if you want to go in and see him.”

“Can I?” you ask, hopeful and nervous at the same time. Leaning onto your crutch, you glance over at Jungkook. He shrugs, throwing his hands behind his head.

“You need some time alone with him, and I’ve got an hour or two left before I need to leave. Don’t worry about me, I can talk to him when you’re done making-out, or whatever.”

You blush, reaching over to smack him. He laughs, and Jin does too, until he suddenly pauses, eyes turning serious.

“Ok, but really,” he says, leaning forward and sternly putting a hand on your shoulder. “I know how he is—but he can’t have sex or do any strenuous activities for a while longer yet, so--!”

“Oh my god! I hate you guys!” you blush, ducking down and moving past them. “He just woke up from a 4 day coma, all I want to do is make sure I’m not dreaming!”

“Just go,” Jin says, waving you away, and you huff but continue into his home. Familiar with Jin’s apartment by now, you weave through the living room and then turn down the hall, continuing forward until you’re stood in front of the closed door that Namjoon is currently behind.

Following the night of the ball, you’d awoken to Jungkook’s sullen face, and he had explained to you exactly as Jin had explained to him. Namjoon had survived surgery to remove the bullet, but due to the delay of immediate treatment, the trauma had exceeded the amount his body could handle, and he had fallen into a coma.

Jin had explained that the chances of him never waking up were very small, and more than likely he would naturally wake up from it in a few days, once his body had begun to heal from the wound. This news, to say the least, had been bitter sweet. Namjoon was ok, but…not exactly.

Luckily, to all of your relief, as the days passed Jin had reported seeing improvements in his condition, and finally after 4 days he’d woke up. Still injured, still needing more treatment, but alive, and that’s what mattered.

Biting your lip, your eyes wander down to the handle of the door, and you hesitate to turn it. Sure, you want nothing more right now than to rush inside and confirm with your own eyes that Namjoon is alright. The last time you’d seen him he’d been surrounded by beeping medical equipment helping to keep him alive, and now…

Now…

“Y/N?” you hear him call, and you freeze, startled. “You’re there, right? I can basically sense your anxiousness,” he chuckles softly. “But…I’m okay. You can come in.”

Taking a deep breath, you reach forward and grip the handle, pushing the door openly slowly. In the white sheeted bed, Namjoon is sat up, blonde hair black at the roots, the right side of his bare chest wrapped with fresh dressings.

You meet his eyes, and relief floods you. Tears tickle your lashes as they threaten to overflow, and Namjoon smiles at you fondly, however—

His eyes move down as he spots your crutch, and then the leg that you’re keeping the weight off of. Smile dropping, he looks up at you again, hand raising to point at the injury.

“What’s that?”

You blink. “What’s…what?” you look down at your leg, which had been injured the night of the ball. “Did you…not…know?”

Namjoon scowls, sitting up straighter as he attempts to yell over your shoulder.

“WAS THIS SOMETHING JIN SHOULD’VE TOLD ME ABOUT BUT CHOSE NOT TO?!”

Jin’s response is immediate and full of sarcasm.

“SORRY I WAS TRYING TO LOOK OUT FOR MY PATIENTS HEALTH AND NOT TELL HIM ABOUT A MINOR INJURY HIS GIRLFRIEND GOT BECAUSE IF I DID I KNOW THAT HIS BLOOD PRESSURE WOULD SKYROCKET.”

Rolling your eyes, before Namjoon can think of anything to shout back, you reach behind you and shut the door. When you turn around, Namjoon is pouting. You breathe a laugh.

“What’s with that face?”

Sighing, Namjoon raises his good arm, as if waiting for you to walk up and hug him. His soft side makes your cheeks flush happily, and you limp forward, gently sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around him. The hug is almost feather light, but you don’t want to risk messing up any of his healing wounds.

“Are you okay?” he asks you when you lift your palm to cup his cheek. Smiling, you shake your head.

“Compared to what you went through my injury is nothing, Namjoon.”

“Still,” he frowns, placing his hand on your thigh and looking down at your leg. “What happened?”

You sigh. “After you were shot by Jeon, we all went back to the ballroom, and when our guard was down Jaehyuk woke up. He tried to shoot you when he saw you were already injured, so I yelled out, and I guess he redirected his anger towards me. I just got grazed!” you quickly add in when you see his face darken. Huffing, you smack his thigh, and he jumps in surprise.

“Jaehyuk is already dead, you idiot. Don’t go getting all angry planning your revenge or whatever.”

“The guy fucking held you captive for a week and then shot you, I’m allowed to be mad at him, even if he’s dead, okay?” Namjoon huffs, and you roll your eyes again, but nonetheless stroke his cheek and lean up to kiss him.

Your eyes shut, and Namjoon raises his good arm, his palm cradling your jaw as he deepens the kiss. There’s no sense of demand, no want to drag the gesture further or deeper. It simply is a kiss shared between two people who at the moment feel nothing but love, and relief.

“Are you actually okay?” he whispers against your lips, thumb stroking your skin as he pulls back, and you frown.

“I…I’m fine. I just…want to get away from everything that happened last week, that’s all.”

“I understand,” Namjoon nods, and then sighs. He angles his head back, eyes locking on the ceiling.

“I also kind of…understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. I thought that…you know, after the last ‘date’ we had that I could make it work—that we could make it work—but…of course, as soon as I’d thought that you’d been kidnapped. This is all my fault. I know it, and I’m pretty sure you know it too. I want to protect you with all of my power, from now on, but I…I don’t know what will happen. I can’t promise that—”

“Hey,” you interrupt, placing your hand atop his own. He glances down, watching as your fingers intertwine with his, and then looks up to see your kind smile.

“I haven’t given up on you yet, Kim Namjoon…,” you squeeze his hand, eyes turning slightly sad. “Since the beginning of all of this…it’s been…a rocky ride, hasn’t it? But…I can’t say I regret any of it. Of course I never wanted to be shot, and kidnapped and dragged into all of this, but along the way I made friends, and I met you, and fell for you and…you risked your life trying to get me back. You…didn’t have to do that, Namjoon…”

“I really did,” he responds, lips pressing to the crown of your hair as you hunch over, shoulder shaking as you attempt to fight off the tears that continue to flow whenever you think about your fresh wounds.

“There was absolutely no way…no way in hell that I would’ve just let you go like that. I was prepared to die that night if I had to, but I’m honestly glad I got off with just a bullet wound and a short comatose…imagine dying and never getting to see your cute face again, oh man.”

“You’re outrageous,” you sniffle, free hand lifting to wipe at your eyes and nose, and Namjoon smiles.

“So…are we still giving us a chance then? And don’t say yes because you feel obligated since I came to rescue you, or something like that. I’m a changed man—no longer about that petty love. I want the real thing, ya know?”

“I fucking hate you, just shut up already,” you laugh, and Namjoon decides that kissing you again is the only way to properly get himself to stay quiet.

3 hours later, in a conference hall within the same building the crime had occurred, Jeon Junghyun steps up to a podium, hundreds of reporters lining the room.

Off to his side is his little brother, Jeon Jungkook, and a few other executives from their company. All have their arms politely crossed in front of them, faces void of emotion, and as Junghyun adjusts the microphone, the entire room hushes.

Glancing up, a small smile breaks out on his handsome face.

“This is a little strange, isn’t it? You’ll have to forgive me if I say something unusual, typically it’s my father that handles these kinds of things.”

A few people laugh before realizing why it is his father isn’t around anymore, and the laughter quickly dies.

“No, it’s okay,” Junghyun says, “it’s important to find humor in things and to be able smile at during times like this. While our family and company may be mourning the loss of a CEO, partner, and father, we plan to continue moving on and bettering ourselves in the best way we can.

“That being said,” he shuffles some papers around, “today I have chosen to hold this press conference, with the main intent being to inform the public of what our company will be doing next, following this terrible occurrence.

“Succeeding the dead of my father, and the realization that he may have been tied to the mafia in some way, which resulted in his untimely death, our company plans to continue digging and making sure to rid any illegal connections and ties that had been crafted due to my father, without any of the rest of us having been aware. This will likely be a timely process, but in order to regain the trust of the public and our stakeholders, as the new CEO of the company I promise to absolutely do my best to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. Our company seems to have strayed from our beliefs without my knowledge, but with my father’s passing comes the opening for a multitude of changes, and as a company we plan to make the best of this opportunity.

“For now, seeing as we are still grieving the recent loss, I don’t have any major progress to report. Our company and its employees will be taking a short time more to mourn before returning to our regular business. Once that occurs, a team will be put together to locate and crack down on any illegal activities that may be tied to our business. With all of this being said, I have no other news to report.”

Immediately hands fly into the air, reporters shouting questions at the new, young CEO of the company. A member of Junghyun’s team steps up, asking calmly for reporters to quiet down, and stating that Junghyun will answer only a handful of questions before leaving.

Off to the side, Jungkook watches with silent admiration as his brother handles the press and their questions better than he ever could. While Junghyun was originally the heir to the company as the eldest son, due to some ethical differences between him and his father, Junghyun had been moved to handle the Busan branch, with the title of heir being passed to Jungkook—the son still at home, and still at Jeon’s mercy to shape into the ideal child.

To both Jungkook and Junghyun’s relief—having had a fairly good relationship their entire life—Jungkook ended up having a spirit and a defiant personality perhaps ever stronger than Junghyun, which left their father unable to brainwash either one of his sons into being the perfect heir.

As soon as Jungkook had learned of his father’s betrayal of Namjoon, and had begun scheming with Namjoon’s crew to rescue you, he’d brought up the idea of contacting his older brother. Also opposing of his father’s reign, Junghyun had agreed to take care of the aftermath so long as their father ended up being killed on that night.

While things hadn’t gone exactly as planned, it was nothing Junghyun couldn’t handle, and he’d kept his promise—taking care of the security tapes, paying off guards to act a part in the lie you’d told the police, and keeping your, Hoseok, and Jungkook’s names away from the press. He never mentioned the possibility of Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung, or Jimin being at the ball. He had tied up any loose ends, and somehow managed to keep suspicion low at the same time.

If not for his brother, Jungkook’s not sure where he’d be right now. Or any of you, for that matter.

“Guess I’ll have to get used to that more,” Junghyun sighs as he steps into the elevator alongside Jungkook. It’s just the two of them, the press conference having ended a short time ago.

Jungkook watches his brother as the elder loosens his tie.

“You never did like public speaking, did you?”

“Mostly because I never got to say what I wanted when dad was around,” Junghyun mumbles, and then pauses, staring a Jungkook with squinted eyes.

“I figured you don’t care, but…you’re not like…secretly super upset by dad dying and me talking shit about him, are you?”

Jungkook actually snorts. “I was the one who watched him get shot. And if you don’t recall, the last thing he did before dying was beat me and disown me, so.”

“Ahh, that’s right. Truly an asshole until his last dying breath.”

When the elevator arrives on the top floor, the two step out together and head into the penthouse. However, as they kick their shoes off on the landing, Junghyun hums thoughtfully.

“How’s Namjoon doing?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention it, with the conference going on and everything, but he woke up from his coma yesterday,” Jungkook informs him. “I guess he’ll need some physical therapy to get his shoulder and arm back in working order, but other than that Jin hyung says he’s doing well.”

“That’s good. You should give me his number soon, so I can contact him. Once he’s back in commission I’m thinking about asking him for a partnership.”

Jungkook almost falls on his face. “Didn’t you just say downstairs that you plan to revamp the company and cut all ties with the mafia?!”

Junghyun blinks innocently, posing a hand on his hip and turning to face his younger brother.

“I do plan to do that, but I also know without the underhanded method dad has been using for years, our business would be in a bit of a pinch. So, we weed out all the illegal partnerships, cut ties, and then once the public has commended us for our efforts, we give all our business to Namjoon instead. After all, he saved you, and your friend, right? The girl I met when I arrived in Seoul? Dad betrayed him, and I’m sure Namjoon will lose business if anyone finds out he’s been injured, so I figure forming a partnership with him will be in both of our best interests.”

“Oh my god…you…,” Jungkook says, stunned. His brother, in the end, is just as conniving as his father. At least this time Jeon Enterprises and RM Investment Corporation will finally be on the same side.

3 months later

Namjoon has you up on the kitchen counter of his apartment, panties on the floor and his face between your thighs when your phone begins ringing. You groan in disappointment, the fingers you have tangled in his now-brown hair tugging at his roots, asking him to let up so you can answer the call.

However, Namjoon only reaches around you and takes a handful of your ass in both his palms, dragging you farther forward so he can keep your clit trapped against his mouth. You moan, gripping his hair tighter as your orgasm inches closer and closer. You don’t want him to stop either, but you may need to take this call.

“Babe, it could be Yoongi,” you breathe shakily, pleading with him, and with a sigh Namjoon loosens his grip on you and pulls back. He licks his wet lips, dark eyes staring up at you and hair handsomely disheveled. Your pussy throbs at the sight of him, and you really don’t want to get up to take this call, but—

With the number of rings allotted before the call goes to voicemail quickly approaching, you hop off the counter and bustle towards where your phone is resting on the kitchen table.

“Hello?” you answer, a little breathless, and you smooth the apron you’re wearing down against the front of your thighs.

There’s the sound a car door slamming followed by a small curse. You blink, worry filling your chest.

“Yoongi oppa?”

“Oh, you picked up. Thank god.”

The car starts up, and the tires squeal a little as Yoongi races away from where he had been parked.

“I need you to remind me where it is I’m supposed to drop this package for Junghyun. I’m not familiar with their Busan locations yet, and I accidentally left my papers at Minnie’s apartment.”

“Cute,” you comment, and you almost hear Yoongi roll his eyes.

“If you could hurry up that’d be nice too,” he speaks as you move to kitchen island counter, where multiple business papers are scattered over the surface. “The dumbass security guards Junghyun sent with me bitched out before they got the entire shipment, so I had to sneak back into warehouse and grab the last box. Unfortunately, another company was moving in their own shit as I was there, and, long story short, they saw me. I don’t know if they’re coming after me or not yet, but I’d just like to get the fuck out of here.”

“I got you…,” you mumble, trapping your phone between your shoulder and ear as you quickly sort between the documents. As you do so, Namjoon quietly sneaks up behind you, and when his hands grip your ass tightly, you accidentally gasp into the receiver.

There’s a beat of silence on the line as your cheeks flush, and Yoongi realizes what’s going on.

“Were you and Namjoon having sex when I called?” He almost groans, scowling disdainfully at his phone. “Seriously, Jin only told him 2 weeks ago that his wounds were finally healed enough for him to start having sex again. Have you gone to class at all since then?”

“Of course I have!” you respond, embarrassed, and try to press your thighs together as Namjoon’s hand moves to cup your pussy, his lips pressing soft kisses against your neck and shoulders. Your bite your lip to keep from moaning as two of his fingers slide into your soaking walls.

“Here I f-found—stop it, oh my god—I found the address, can you pull it up on GPS?”

Yoongi pulls away from his phone, squinting at his screen, and clicks on the speaker button before moving to open up his GPS app.

“Can you put me on speaker?”

“Y-Yep,” you stutter, leaning your elbows forward to rest against the counter top. Behind you, Namjoon grins, continuing to fuck his fingers into you.

Yoongi sighs, peeved.

“Namjoon…I know…the last 3 months have been hard for you…but while I’m trying to get directions from your girlfriend on an assignment I’m doing on your behalf, can you maybe like…chill, for two fucking minutes.”

The only response Namjoon gives him a noncommittal hum, and Yoongi gives up.

“Y/N, the address please.”

You tell him hurriedly, listening as Yoongi punches the numbers and letters into his phone and confirms that it’s a legitimate address.

“Thanks, I’ll let you two get back to it.”

“This is all because of Namjoon, not me--,” you begin to say when all of the sudden Namjoon reaches his free hand past you and presses the ‘End Call’ button with a simple, “bye hyung!”

With that taken care of, Namjoon immediately gets back to what he’d been doing before. His hand slips beneath your apron, moving to fondle one of your breasts. He tugs and pinches at your taut nipple for a short while, soaking in the sounds you make for him, until suddenly both of his hands leave you. Instead, he begins pressing kisses to the curve of your spine, and you hear him rustling with the belt on his jeans.

“Why can’t you just control yourself for 3 minutes,” you laugh, resting your cheek against the cool tile of the tall island. Namjoon grabs your hips, canting them backwards, and you feel the head of his cock rub between your folds. “It’s not like you didn’t orgasm for 3 months, I gave you handjobs and blowjobs…”

“It’s so not the same,” he says indignantly, groaning as he pushes his cock between your walls. “Besides it’s not like Yoongi cares—just consider this payback for we walked in to find him and Jimin—”

“You’re so petty,” you interrupt him, but reach one of your hands back, grabbing onto his forearm. “Anyway, stop talking and just fuck me already.”

“Your wish is my command, babe,” he grins, and the reaches forward, shoving your hips back against him. He starts off at a moderate pace, listening as you moan at every thrust. You brace yourself up on your forearms, pressing your ass back to meet him half way, and Namjoon curses.

“Fuck you have no idea how hard I got just from eating you out,” he growls, and you gasp when he suddenly loops an arm around your torso, just beneath your breasts. His other hand lifts to your neck, fingers curling around it and pressing into the spots he knows will make your head light and pussy throb.

“N-Namjoon,” you moan as you’re forced to arch your spine, at his complete mercy as the new position simply allows him to plow up into you. And he takes full advantage, rattling your body with each jolt of his hips. Your mind begins to go white with bliss, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting in a moan that isn’t quite vocalized.

Namjoon feels your pulse racing against his fingertips, and your pussy tightens around him. The sensation causes him to groan, his orgasm, so, so close, and he leans forward until his lips caress the shell of your ear.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?”

“C-Can I?” you stutter, head swimming as your pleasure spikes, and Namjoon grunts in affirmation, his mouth sinking down to the crook of your neck.

“Yes, cum now. I’m right there,” he admits, teeth nipping your flesh, and with a broken moan your orgasm hits you. Your walls pulse around his throbbing cock, and Namjoon hisses, his seed spilling into you as his fingers fall from around your neck.

Sated, warm breaths fill the room, and Namjoon brings both his arms up to hug you from behind. His lips press small kisses behind your ear, and you giggle.

Wiggling in his hold, you turn to face him, and move your arms to drape around his neck. You smile at him fondly, cheeks flushed.

“I love you,” you say, and Namjoon’s heart flutters. Three words he never gets tired of hearing from you.

Leaning down, he kisses you properly.

“I love you too, babe.”

At that moment, again, your cellphone buzzes. This time it’s a text message, however, and from Jungkook nonetheless. Without opening it, you already know what it’s about.

“Ah! I’m late!” you hiss and bolt for the bedroom, Namjoon shamelessly watching your ass as you run out of the kitchen. “This is all your fault!”

“Mine?” he quotes, moving to lightly clean himself up before he pulls his pants back over his legs.

“Yes, yours! I’m supposed to be downstairs right now so I can meet Jungkook and goo to the study group on campus with him!”

“Oh, that’s tonight?” he wonders aloud, and reaches over to check the date on the home screen of your phone. “Huh. I guess it is.”

“Asshole,” you grumble, stumbling out of the bedroom now dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, your backpack flung over one shoulder. You stop in the kitchen to snatch up your phone, kissing Namjoon on the cheek.

“Your punishment is cleaning the dishes by yourself. I should be home by 10.”

“Wow, harsh,” he pouts, turning to watch you as you slide to the entryway and force your shoes onto your feet. You laugh.

“You’ll survive~ You big baby.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and then remembers something.

“Jimin may be over when you get back. He said something about dropping off a report and planning a move, or something like that.”

“No Hobi or Taehyung?”

“Tonight is the night Hoseok typically goes out drinking with Jin. And Taehyung isn’t back from Mokpo yet.”

“Ah, that’s right. Well, if I don’t see him tell Jimin I said hi,” you respond, and with one last smile in Namjoon’s direction you turn and open the front door. It slowly creeks closed behind you, and Namjoon leans back against the counter, eyes wandering to the patch of white ceiling above his head.

Never in his life did Namjoon imagine he would reach a point of feeling so happy, and fulfilled like he does now. What had started out as a misunderstanding and a coincidental second meeting had turned into series of events that had inflicted upon Namjoon an array of emotions he had never expected to feel. Confusion, anger, sadness, relief…you had gone through so much no thanks to meeting him, yet here you were, months down the line, in the beginning stages of sharing your life together.

His enemies had become his friends. His business was busier than ever, and despite the lifelong pain that would continue to accompany his healing wound, it was all worth.

“Oh, baby,” he sighs, contentment soaking into the fiber of his very being as he imagines your cute face within is mind, and he smiles.

Definitely, definitely worth it.

~おしまい~

Date Started: January 22, 2016

Date Ended: January 18, 2018

Total Word Count: 84,943

A/N: Hey, thank you guys all so much for taking the time to read this series. A lot changed since I started writing it. Oh, Baby started as a one-shot that turned into a series solely based on the fact that so many people asked for there to be more. I had my ups and down with the series--there were periods where I didn’t update it for a long time--but I made it to 20 chapters, like I originally intended, and hopefully you guys enjoyed them all :’)

Officially, this is the last chapter of Oh, Baby. If there are questions you have, or loose ends that you want answers to, feel free to send me an ask! I’d be happy to answer any questions about the series that come my way. So don’t hesitate to ask! :) (I also made a Q&A post with some ideas of questions to ask, in case you’re not sure what to say, but want to know more ^^)

Again, thank you all so much. I hope you enjoyed it.

#oh baby #namjoon x reader #bts mafia au #bts reader insert #bts smut #jungkook fic #jimin fic #taehyung fic #hoseok fic #yoongi fic #jin fic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut

1K notes · View notes

outsiderisin · 6 years ago

Text

Seth: Prologue

The Past Came Back to Haunt Me

Okay, Head up this fucken thing is long. It was six pages on my Docs, so be prepared to read. I’ll get a pic. of Seth up soon so you have some idea of what he looks like.

Also I am still reading into Sarkism and CotBG hubs so mind if I got some things wrong. Also the location and society will be expanded on later. This is also a different universe from Garren’s. Now onwards if you want. Enjoy!

Three thin, fragile boys ran as fast as their legs could carry them as they slipped and slid across the half wet floor as other workers got in the guards way. Most dying to give the boys a chance to run out of the heavy steel door, one getting caught and crushed in the steel door as it shut. One boy hesitated as the other grabbed him, throwing them forward towards the stairs as the hideous guard dogs could be heard nearby.

They stumbled down the steps onto the soft grass below, neither noticing as they rushed towards an iron gate that was already shut. The dogs got louder as more guards began to fill the air. This didn’t slow the boys, but cause them to run faster as one of the dogs came into view. Overgrown and infused with parts that did not belong.

It charged forward as the boys who shrieked in pure terror, stumbling in their fear of falling or being caught. They held each others hand pulling to keep the other upright, till the dog snagged one to the ground. It’s teeth sinking into the young child’s arm as he screamed in a blood curdling cry of pain and fear. The other boy just left him there, crying now, as he continued towards the gate. The dog noticed and let go of the other boy, dashing towards it’s new target when the now bleeding child managed to grasp a small stone. He, without a second thought, flung it at the dog hitting an eye. The dog yelp and turned swiftly, catching the young boy’s neck in it’s mouth whilst biting down. This gave the other boy time to reach the gate. He grasped the steel posts, prepared to slid through, when a heavy electrical current ripped through his system. His glass-like body danced as it collapsed under the heavy jerking, while foam formed at his mouth. The current then stopped, dropping the boy onto the ground in a heap. It twitched which re-engaged the dog’s attention who attacked.

The boy on the grounds, who had fallen silent over watching the event, rolled over lazily as blood ran freely from his neck and arm. The dog slammed into the gate with the dead which began to fried it. The child then crawled towards the gate, in blind hope to get through an opening without touching the steel. The child ignored the cry of the guards and more dogs as he neared the gate. His eyes glanced over both fried bodies now as he shakenly crawled through the narrow gape, fearing of touching metal. He managed to barely slip through as a second dog smashed into the gate. It frying slightly as it managed to break away. He then stood as the guards shot, sending him back into fear.

He began running again, towards the lights in the distance, not listening to the orders shrieked behind him by the horrors. He found it harder to keep awake as the lights grew closer, so he pushed with all his might as his feet slapped the ground. He then began falling, unable to remember if he tripped or not. He then closed his eyes as the light grew bright, thankful to died outside that places walls. Wherever he might be.

The boy awake on a seat of some sort with white cloth hugging his arm and his neck. He swiftly got up in fear. Was he caught? Where was he? Why was his wounds covered in cloth? So many questions ran through his mind he didn’t acknowledge the figure walking over to him till he touched the boy’s shoulder.

The boy shrieked as if fire had scourned him as he quickly bowed and tried to say apologize for not working already, but it only came out as cluttered words with no definition to them. The figure who touched the boy looked on in horror and pity as the child continued to try to apologize. He then spoke to the the boy, trying to calm him “Child, raise your head and heed your blunder please. There is no need for apologize for anything, especially not working.” The figure spoke, voices slightly overlapping in soft tones.

The boy hesitated to look up, but did; seeing the figure was man with slight wrinkles and skin that morphed into a crown on his head. It reminded the boy of the fusion of two boys he once worked aside. A machine ate one, leaving the other alone till the red stopped pouring and he slumped to the side. The boy stepped back, bumping into another person who moved away politely instead of smashing him to the floor.

“Easy child, no one here means any harm” Spoke the crowned man, “My name is Ion, the Great Karcist, leader of this church. May I inquire your name?” The boy looked confused, the words meant nothing more than noise to him, but he knew the man had asked him something. He tried to figure out what had been said, growing increasing scared as he couldn’t figure it out. He began to silently cry as he prepared to be beaten as he looked back to crowned man, that blurred in his tears and uttered out “Ive bont bove.” He repeated the words, unable to make it more clear what he was trying to say. Ion looked on in more pity and the boy collapsed, still crying as he kept repeating the phrase over and over. The boy eventually fell silent as he coughed and whimpered.

Ion then saw the puddle that began to pool under the boy which was tinted red in color, but not from his wounds. Ion’s fist tightened slightly, the boy was already a walking skeleton who had clasped on his church’s steps. Now he seemed on death’s doorstep, scared and battered.

Ion felt sorrow as the boy passed out before him. He then called over a loyal follower to help the boy back onto his bed. The boy would need to bathe later, for now he needed rest. Ion turned away when Nadox moved to him. His eyes pleading Ion to use his power.

“I cannot. Something stops me from doing so. I believe he is from the sleepless monstrosity called the Factory. The power that stop me matches.” Ion spoke softly, “Another heretic is seems” He then moved away as Nadox stared at the sleeping boy knowing Ion spoke truth. He relaxed in the knowledge that the Heretics of the Broken God couldn’t help either.

Seth then awoke to a heavy knock on the door. It sounded like someone was trying to take his door off its hinges. He swiftly got to his feet, grabbing up his gun and hugging the corners and walls as he moved towards the door. Seth was silent as possible as he got to the door, he then spoke, unable to see out into the dark hallway.

“State relation and business please, considering it 4 in the fucken morning” Seth snarled as a mechanical voice responded.

“Old acquaintance, we need to speak child.” Seth froze, he had heard the voice once before giving a speech of unity to a crowd outside a church. Lovataar regarded them as heretics as the other church did back. Seth would often visit the other church when an event was happening in the Sarkicism church. Many disapproved but Ion understood why from what Seth had told him in private.

“Fuck, sorry man. Come in, just mind the mess.” Seth said flicking on a nearby light which assaulted his eyes as he fiddled with the locks before the door swung out slightly. Robert stood silently, his lips pressed in an unreadable manner as the steel glittered in the room’s light . Seth stood to the side, beckoning him in with his gun.

“They never taught you how to clean a house did They?” Robert asked looking around Seth house, which wasn’t much of a mess, but rather everything Seth owned was previously owned two or three times before hand. What was left to be called Seth’s mess was a pulled apart gun on the kitchen table with half-eaten cereal still in it and a glass of murky liquid. Seth snickered at Robert’s comment. “Not like you’ll taught me either.” Seth retorted, adding “Sit if you want, but I don’t what stain is what.” He then crossed the room, cleaning up the table of the bowl and glass. He dumped the bowl as it was soggy, but down the liquid grimacing a bit. He then dropped the dishes in the sink. He returned to the table and like clockwork, reassibled the gun before writing out a message on a post note. He stuck it on and relocated the gun to a kitchen draw.

“So why are you here? Your business isn’t very clear other than what; a catch up chat?” Seth asked as Robert moved over to the table taking the less used seat that had little dust on it.

“You remember the day They showed you the church’s true form?”

“Yeah, scared me half to death, still kind of does…. Reminds me of those god-forsaken things the Factory used. Sarkism or not, ‘They’ knows I hate anything that reminds me of those things. The ‘guards’, ‘dogs’, and..other things.” Seth said looking disturbed, before inquiring. “Why do you ask?”

“I apologize for returning bad memories, but Their local church has sworn They have nothing to do with a certain incident going on within our church’s boundary limits.” Robert stated confusing Seth, before continuing, “There are creatures that resemble the heretics’ gods that look like some of the creatures you once described; the dogs more specifically, but different. I do strangely believe They has nothing to do with this. I believe it deals with you.” Seth thought for a moment, taking in the words from the half mechanical man. He hated the old dogs, made his very skittish of regular dogs even. He focused on the line of “like, but different.” Did the Factory change how the dogs were made or was this a set just for a different task, other than making sure no one escaped? Seth looked back over to Robert who now sat in his normal seat at the table.

“I need details if you got them. Anyone else’s sightings, any attacks, appearance-wise changes, before you are going to get me going after them. These “Dogs” are one of the few things I don’t walk blind into, just due to what I have seen in the past.” stated Seth as he set his primary gun down, and began make some hot water for tea and coffee.

“I got multiple sightings from, not only my church, but heard some from the Serpent's Hand, “Sarkicism” and locals to name as few. No attacks so far, but they are hostile when you get too close to an invisible barrier on the land.” Robert stated, as his god showed him details of the dog. He didn’t like what he saw but continued as Seth moved around in the kitchen, clearing hating the conversation.

“One ‘Dog’ is roughly the size of a bear, with more flesh exposed than fur. Enlarged claws that are brittle, but dull. Mouth is like an alligators, but teeth like sharks. Head looks like a smashed skull with five eyes. Back has 4 archanoid legs preturing from it, as well as two tails with hooks at the end. The mass in uneven; more mass towards the front, inclining me to believe it’s made to charge into things.” Robert stopped, as the image disappeared from his mind, “Sorry, that is all I have. I don’t have anything else other than this one is escorted by two other dogs that stay just far enough away details can’t be made” Seth was quiet as Robert said a silent prayer to his god, thanking it for their help. He then moved once Robert was done, setting a cup of tea before him with some choices of sugar and cream. Seth then sat down, barely making any noise. He then sighed, as he brushed his hair out of his way as looked at Robert. “Well for one thank you Buremo, and your god for this information, so pardon my language but; You gotta be fucking kidding me right now.” Seth snarled before taking his coffee mug and throwing it at the wall, his cursing at nothing continuing on as he left the room. Robert noted how distressed Seth looked at the news. Something had been disturbing him, warning him, before Robert’s arrive. Seth then returned looking calmer as his face was soaking wet.

Robert said nothing, as Seth sat down before calmly looking back to him. Robert also noted the kid looked like he had little sleep behind him. He didn’t press though; Seth was stubborn when pressed for things. Especially now that he was stressed.

“Hey, why are you here Robert?” Seth suddenly asked “It’s not like you to visit here in person. The island, much less me.”

“I had to make sure They weren’t lying. Their heretics and mark upon humanity. Flesh rots and dies. Steel remains.” Robert replied, knowing Seth would miss the point of what he meant.

“Steel rusts though and can break over time. Flesh can mend and branish new flesh too. Steel can’t. Flesh has to make steel.” Seth argued back,hoping Robert would take the bait to change subjects. Robert noted Seth’s bait, but took it, knowing the boy was just trying to change subjects.

“You think of normal steel, but the broken god is not made of any moral’s steel. It makes its own steel. The steel it makes does not rust, it does not break. It will last forever.” Robert replied as Seth thoughts recalled what Ion once said about the flesh creatures he called gods where like. Seth then snickered before laughing. Robert looked confused, searching for what could of made Seth laugh.

“Ion told me something similar of the flesh he calls gods, just like the steel you call gods. Mind I am not dismissing either couldn’t be gods. I’m just thinking they have a lot in common and it’s kind of funny you two overlook that.” Seth finally explained, noting Robert’s natural eye narrowing before relaxing.

“I don’t overlook it, but I know those things They believes in are more harmful than good. Those beasts must be destroyed for all lives safety.” Robert replied, knowing Seth understood this. The boy already had seen what similar things could do.

“Robert, it’s not like your god has done any better turning those poor fucks into machines.” Seth replied, not meaning to come off rude, but rather truthful over the past incident. “Neither of you is better than the other to me. I get why you both believe you are right, but I think more useful and good things could happen with your gods abilities.”

Robert shook his head, Seth got the point he just never really paid much thought to it. Even Lovataar had once muttered, that’s not how it works. Though Robert had to agree, Seth was noble in thinking of helping others lives being improved, but his god had other plans that later would take care of these problems if it were ever truly to be completed.

“I understand, but you miss the point yet again. Maybe one day you’ll get what I mean.” Robert replied as he finished his tea, gettin up, “I must go, but do investigate for the town people’s sake, if not for the churches.”

Seth nodded, knowing well that he missed something. After all neither leader or follower were straight answers people. Always playing games. Only group worse with doing such, was the Serpent's hand. It was more of their books though, than when speaking to them. He decide to check with the Chaos Insurgents just incase this was their mess after he got more sleep. He escorted Robert out of his apartment, before returning to bed looking out of his shoulder before turning out the lights. He crawled back under the covers and slept in peace this time.

#scp #sarkicism #cotbg #scp oc #really fucken long #thanks for reading #scp goi #goi

2 notes · View notes

fanfictionconnectionwordpress · 7 years ago

Text

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | VanderwoodxOC Cerise - Tagged | Ch. 15 Return

***All of my NSFW scenes have had their passwords removed. =0 So, now you can get dat gud gud when you want it. Enjoy your weekly dose of Cherrywood!***

*Remember, this is a sequel to Vanderwood Backstory, and Cerise has a bio. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. Tagged Chapter Directory*

It felt strange to Cerise, being in his weird place with nobody around. He'd been gone less than an hour, and she was already beginning to feel antsy. They had retrieved the rest of her pillows from the trunk of the car, and she spent a lot of her time buried in them and texting her boyfriend. He was so formal when it came to texting, but it was also kind of cute, too. The texts stopped coming at some point, meaning they must have arrived at their destination, and that's when she started to feel alone and just weird without him. Just like he said, he was checking in with her in twelve-hour intervals. It wasn't a lot, but it was at least something.

In the time between, she busied herself with exploring the house and watching TV while updating her blogs. She'd even managed to not burn the kitchen down. Coffee was a no-go, since she couldn't figure out the coffee maker. Obviously, there was only one thing to do there. Cerise took a sad picture with it and posted it, taking an hour or so to watch another show before she felt there was no doubt there many people explaining the mysterious workings of the coffee maker to her. After some reading, she was able to figure it out. Sometimes being cute and popular online had its perks. Cerise posted a new picture with her freshly made cup of coffee and thanked her followers.

While digging through the cabinet, she found a bag of chips she'd never seen before. They looked like they would be a good snack, so she opened a bag and took a bite. Nope. Nuh uh. Cerise found herself promptly spitting it out and taking a gulp of her still hot coffee to eliminate the taste from her mouth. Who could stand to even eat those? So gross. Her mind slipped to Marion. He certainly wouldn’t have eaten those chips. Was he eating right out there on his mission? Cerise did her best not to worry and keep herself occupied, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him like that.

The second day was coming to a close, and there was no sign of either of them. Marion was supposed to have come back…just two days, that had been what he’d said, so anxiety kept building higher by the second. Cerise checked her phone to see if maybe she had missed a text...something. She didn't like it...worrying wasn't going to get her anywhere, so she buried herself in the blankets and pillows of his bed and fell asleep.

Cerise wasn't sure how long she was asleep before a notification woke her up. She rubbed her eyes and sat up as she sleepily unlocked her phone to check it, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw that it was from Vanderwood, but soon her relief turned into concern. `Can't talk am okay Wil take longr than thouht` He was saying that it was going to take longer...and the way he was texting was so unlike him.

Panic began to set in. Did something go wrong? He said he was okay...but was he really? She wouldn't put it past him to tell her he was when he wasn't. Cerise wanted to reply, but it wouldn't have done any good. He’d said he couldn't talk, and she didn't want to possibly compromise him by spamming his phone. That jerk had better come back in one piece.

***

He had spent the entire trip to the mission point texting Cerise, wishing he could be there with her instead of in the car with Zero Seven. It sucked ass that when they got to their location, he couldn’t talk to her much anymore, and maybe he was somewhat distracted by that fact. This was just further proof to him of why agents couldn’t have loved ones, why he couldn’t keep working, why they needed to get this done. At least he was managing to keep up with separating himself from the kid by calling him by his agency name, but he felt like that wasn’t really doing him any good on this mission either. Vanderwood didn’t feel like he was his usual self.

The first and second day went as planned. Every twelve hours he would send Cerise a quick message to let her know that he was okay. By the time Zero Seven felt he’d taken down all of the security cameras and given them the best possible guess on where his brother would be, Vanderwood was ready to get this shit over with.

They had some trouble getting past a few guards, but they slipped easily through the corridors of the building using the blueprint Seven had found. At this point, there wasn’t even a point to calling him Zero Seven…This mission was an emotional one anyway, not even agency regulated. With the security system down, they only had to worry about running into people. There was a strange large room that honestly looked like a church from the outside. Now they just needed to get through that to get toward the main information hub where Seven thought his brother would be.

Everything seemed to be going as it should…right up until they entered the strange church like building. For whatever reason, the people inside had been expecting them. Vanderwood tried not to blanch at the number of people surrounding them. They all seemed like they were in some haze, and the one that was clearly Seven's brother was no better. He’d noticed him almost immediately, the white hair tinted in pink and mint colored eyes not keeping him from being almost the exact likeness of his twin brother.

Brown eyes traveled to the queen bitch as she stood. Really, she was rather pretty, but her heart was clearly ugly. "Can I start my revenge, Savior?" The twin had a weird manic tone to his voice, and Vanderwood furrowed his brows. What the fuck was he talking about? The queen bitch looked over to them, her eyes glassy. "Not until after we give them their cleansing."

He shifted away from her. What the fuck did that even mean? They were at a major disadvantage here. Fuck. Already completely surrounded, and no way to just escape. "You're not giving me shit." Vanderwood didn't like the sound of it, and now two men were laying their hands on Seven. He moved instinctively, knocking the first to the ground before punching the other in the face so hard that the man fell backwards. "Seize him!" The bitch shrieked and then he was on the ground as four men kicked at him. He was lucky that the first one's kick to his jaw didn't snap his neck.

Vanderwood tried to block out the pain as the next started going nuts on his abdomen, one kicking him in the back of his leg and another assaulting his shoulder blade. It hurt like Hell, and he would be damn lucky if he didn't start internally bleeding to death right there on the floor. No, he couldn't think like that. He needed to get back to Cerise. Vanderwood just laid there, waiting for it to stop and thinking of her.

When he came back to reality, they'd ended up in some sort of dungeon, constantly being watched by two guards. Vanderwood ran his hands discreetly over his body, wincing at the pain, but finding his phone and a few other weapons still stashed on him. At least he had his phone. They'd found his taser and gun and stopped at that, it seemed. If he risked a text to Cerise, there was a chance he'd lose his phone completely. Still, he needed to let her know that he wouldn't be home, needed to keep her from doing anything rash. Not that he knew what she would do or could do.

He tucked himself into the corner sending the text as quickly as he could with his left hand, since his right was out of use, thanks to the damage his shoulder blade had taken. `Can't talk am okay Wil take longr than thouht` There wasn't time to fix the typos or punctuation. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket before making his way over to his moping partner, limping a little. "So. What are we gonna do?"

***

It was the fourth day now…When he could manage, he’d sent messages to confirm to Cerise that he was alive, but he was sure that she was frightened. Honestly, he was a little frightened too. There were guards everywhere, and they could easily knock out a few, but then they would be swiftly set upon by another few.

There was simply no way they could get out of this, and every day Seven’s brother would come by to taunt them about this ‘cleansing’, which Vanderwood was pretty certain was drug related, something that gave him a whole different kind of terror. Seven wasn’t as useful as he needed to be either, begging his brother to hear him out every time he was in their cell. Vanderwood had to knock the kid over the head just to get him to pay attention instead of staring off into a corner. They needed to get out of here somehow.

After long drawn out whispers of conversation, Seven and Vanderwood had decided they needed to knock out the guards and call for the help of Seven's friends. Usually they had the agency to rely on, but considering they were about to release the information of the major members of the organization as soon as this mission was over, as well as the fact that this mission was unauthorized, that wasn't an option. Seven had assured Vanderwood that the rich kid could handle sending the right people, and as much as both of them didn't want to involve anyone else, they didn't have a lot of options left open to them.

It was only a matter of minutes after Seven had made the call that they heard helicopters overhead. Damn. The rich dude really was resourceful. After what seemed like hours, they were finally released from their dungeon, giving Vanderwood a massive rush of relief as they were out of that dirty environment and back in control.

Seven hadn’t been able to handle this well. He felt like he’d completely lost himself in all of this. His brother…there was so much wrong with this. V had been supposed to keep Saeran safe…Rika had been…It didn’t make any sense. The others…they were all involved now, and they all needed to get to a hospital. At least with Saeran on his way to the hospital, he’d be able to remove the agency threat by releasing the information on those agents who deserved justice brought down on them…Seven wasn’t even sure he felt like praying, even though it felt like his entire soul was being flushed down a toilet.

Everyone would be getting the, 'cleansing' flushed from their systems, so he needed to go with Saeran, although Vanderwood looked…all sorts of fucked up. “Mary, shouldn’t you come too?” His girlfriend was at the bunker, she was safe, but it seemed like that didn’t matter much to Vanderwood, who only gave him a glare in response to the pet name he hated so much. "I need to get home to Cerise."

And he did. She was probably all sorts of panicked, and he felt absolutely empty without her. Driving hurt like Hell. Any time he moved the muscles black with bruise, it hurt like Hell, and every time he opened his mouth, his jaw clicked painfully. Still, the only thing he could think of was Cerise, holding her close and filling what felt like an empty void in his soul. He didn't care that he was driving, opening his phone to look at the picture they'd taken before he left. It wasn't enough, but at least he could look at her and remember the joy of that moment. His moitié, the other half of his soul.

Once he parked. the thought of having a cigarette wasn't even on his mind, nor was sex, he was tense and agitated, but all he wanted was her in his arms, to bury his face in her hair. He pushed the door open, grunting at the motion before calling out to her, his voice betraying the pain he was in. "Cerise?" Was she in his room? He limped along to find her.

Cerise had been napping when she was woken up by what she could have sworn had been her name being called. She sat up on the bed and listened...could she hear someone? The possibility of an intruder hadn't even crossed her mind; the first thing on her mind was the possibility of it being Vanderwood. Quickly she got up and practically ran for the door, opening it. Her suspicions were confirmed; he was finally home.

A mix of emotions swirled through her when she saw him. Love, adoration, worry, empathy, anger...He’d said he was okay, so why did he look so beaten up? Cerise couldn't stop the tears from forming in her eyes as she ran up to him and threw her arms around him as gently as she could, knowing that he had to be in all sorts of pain. "You jerk...you lied to me...said you were okay..."

Vanderwood could only describe the sight of her as angelic. He wrapped his arms around her, grunting softly at the pain as he pulled her close, nuzzling into her hair and breathing in her heavenly scent. It was like stitching his soul back together. "I'm more than okay now..." That was cheesy, but he was too tired to berate himself. He had lied to her a little...this was incredibly painful. "I missed you so much, shortcake." Pressing kisses to the top of her head, he made a move to get back to his room, keeping an arm around her, not willing to let go quite yet.

If it wouldn't have hurt so much, he would have flopped onto his bed, but instead he sat slowly, the pain in his leg reminding him that maybe he should just be laying down. Honestly, he should get some pain-relieving patches on his bruises just to get towards functioning again, but even the thought of getting up again was painful. "Mon amour...Would you do me a favor and get the first aid kit from the bathroom?" So far, she’d been silently watching him. His jaw was clicking again, and he winced, going to pull off his shirt, revealing the mass of bruising on his abdomen and right shoulder blade.

Cerise hadn't been able to do much to support him on his way back to his room. All she could think was that he was really beat up. It was a scary sight. He had asked for the first aid kit, but she didn't move upon his request, and as he pulled his shirt off to reveal even heavier injuries, she found herself getting even more angry and upset. Marion most definitely wasn't okay. Cerise frowned at him and sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him, her arms crossed. "...If you're so okay, you can get them yourself." Her voice held a bit of bitterness. What he needed was a doctor, not a first aid kit.

She was pissed at him. Rightfully so, he deserved it. Vanderwood was about to gather up the strength to get up and retrieve the first aid kit when she went off to get it for him after all. Cerise figured she might as well give him what he wanted, because he wasn’t about to go to a doctor, and she wasn’t about to let him hurt himself more with getting up, even if a small part of her thought he deserved it.

Vanderwood wasn’t really sure how to feel at the moment, even though she was angry at him, he couldn’t help feeling so refreshed simply being around her. Cerise had wordlessly gotten up to fetch the first aid kit and bring it over, and now she was rifling through it instead of handing it to him. “Do you want me to-“ Vanderwood didn’t get to finish his sentence before she gave him a glare. Apparently, Cerise was not in the mood to let him take care of it. She had some idea of what to do and grabbed some pain relievers from the kit, preparing a glass of water and bringing that to him. "Open."

He did as she requested, opening his mouth for the pills and water and drinking it down. God, it felt like forever since he'd had something to drink. Vanderwood probably hadn't eaten in over 24 hours either, and he certainly smelled terrible after four days of not showering and sleeping in a car and on a cold dungeon floor.

His skin started to crawl, but he had other pressing matters to attend to. He reached for the kit to grab those little patches, not wanting to bother her any more than he already had. Cerise just glared at him. Vanderwood started with popping one on his jaw, a couple on his abdomen and then contorting himself to attempt to place some properly on his shoulder blade. Which, really, he shouldn't be attempting to do by himself, because that was just hurting him more, but he wasn't about to ask her any more favors. He'd pissed her off enough already.

Cerise had been watching silently as he attempted to patch himself up and kinda fail. What did he think he was doing? Really? Marion was an idiot, pretending that he was ‘okay’ and trying to take care of himself. It was only making her madder. Sighing, she grabbed a patch from him and placed it properly on his shoulder blade herself, making him snort softly that she was still bothering to take care of him despite how angry she was. God, he loved this woman.

She disappeared into the other room, and while she was gone, he pulled his pants down just enough to pop a patch on the back of his upper thigh. She didn’t need to see everything. It was about fifteen minutes before she reappeared with what looked like soup in a cup. The cup of soup was a welcome meal, even if he would never eat that normally.

His heart was doing that melty thing that it always did when she took care of him, too, and Vanderwood thought it was oddly romantic…in his own special way. Cerise had just figured that the soup would be easier on him, since his jaw had looked pretty bad. "I'm not really good at cooking, but this should be tolerable. " Marion just nodded as Cerise sat on the bedside beside him and offered to help him down it by placing the rim of the cup by his mouth.

Fucking Hell, she was amazingly kind, kinder than he deserved, and her help was more than he’d ever gotten from anyone other than maybe an agency nurse, and she got paid for that shit anyway. Vanderwood let her help him drink the soup down, feeling his stomach protest somewhat at finally getting food again, but knowing that it would settle before long.

As he finished off the soup, he reached for her, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. She deserved an apology, and he meant to give it to her. "I'm sorry...I should have told you. I didn't have much time to explain, and I didn't want you to worry...but I shouldn't have lied to you."

She enjoyed the feeling of his lips on her skin, but as much as she enjoyed it, she was still irritated with him. "Shut up, don't talk." Cerise was happy that he was apologizing, she just didn't feel like hearing it at the moment. He was just going to have to put up with that. She got up, taking the emptied cup with her to put away and then came back to clean up all the packaging mess from the first aid kit.

He did as she asked, clamping his mouth shut and watching her move about the room cleaning up. Vanderwood was happy she was picking up for him because otherwise it would have just driven him crazy. It was difficult to understand for him, the fact that his apology didn’t mean anything, but then he’d never been good with interpersonal things. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d apologized for something. Cerise was pissed…he deserved that…and it wasn’t like someone had to accept an apology even if it was given. Perhaps she just wasn’t ready for it? Hell if he knew, but he laid back on the bed as best as he could, letting her do the cleaning, despite itching to do so himself.

Shit, he needed a shower too. Vanderwood tried not to think about it. Tomorrow…tomorrow after he took her back home like he’d promised, at least not failing her there, he could clean, and he could shower in the morning. For now, just focusing on the fact that he would get to clean up soon was keeping him from wanting to scrape his skin off.

Cerise left the actual kit out in case he needed it, watching him as he was laying there in thought before settling on the bed beside him and getting as close to him as she could without hurting him. Lying beside him, she reached out to stroke his hair comfortingly. She was mad, yeah...but that didn't mean that she didn't care or didn't love him, and she was sure that he knew that. Right now, no matter how much of a jerk he was, she wanted to be close…to appreciate that he was back at all.

As she played with his hair, Vanderwood closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of it. Cerise was angry, but the care was there. It was only too obvious how much she cared. No one ever cared for him like that in his life, and it made him smile, despite all the pain he was in. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, feeling like he needed it after being away for so long, thinking maybe she needed it, too. Now he simply laid in silence, lightly playing with her hair, happy to be back with the love of his life.

Cerise felt the silence was much needed. She didn't want to snap at him too much, just needing some time to cool down before she was ready for normal conversation with him. The jerk had lied to her and was in so much pain. It hurt, made her chest feel tight. She welcomed his arms and gently snuggled into him, hoping she wasn't hurting him too badly. After so many days away from him and despite being upset, she was happy to be in his arms and beside him again. There was no way she could fall asleep after that, so she just laid there awake, enjoying the feeling of having her hair played with as she returned the favor

Vanderwood's thoughts drifted around as he felt himself relaxing into her. He hadn't even needed sex to get to this point and was honestly pretty proud of himself, knowing that it was all thanks to Cerise that he could relax like a normal human being. The two times they'd had sex had only served to prove to him even more. While he was still impatient as ever, his relationship with sex had changed into something else entirely.

He remembered the last time they’d had sex, making a sharp intake of breath as it hit him full force that he’d nearly forgotten to put on a condom. It was the first time that had ever happened to him, and knowing the way it felt being with her, seemed to him that he could easily forget again. Vanderwood internally slapped himself, not wanting to keep his thoughts drifting in that direction.

His arms tightened around her. Now wasn't the time to think about it. They'd talk about it tomorrow when he went with her to her apartment. Vanderwood felt incredibly stupid on many levels, but again, it wasn't the time. Why was he even thinking about it right now? He was exhausted, she was still angry, and he was passing out even with that moment of panic. After pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and nuzzling into her wealth of hair, he took some time to just breathe in her scent, not even realizing that he was sinking into sleep.

Cerise had felt his hold on her tighten, heard his sharp intake of breath, but now he was relaxing again. She didn't know what he was thinking, but it didn't feel like it was really the time to ask. He needed to rest, be able to recover. and she wasn't going to keep him up any longer than he needed to be. He was out shortly after kissing her forehead, easy to notice with the way he went lax. The room was cold, but he was warm, and alive. Such a jerk…Marion had terrified her, but she’d clung to the fact that he was okay only to now find out that he really wasn’t. That was what made her so mad. She sighed again and snuggled into him more, hoping not to wake him, but he was so exhausted that he didn’t even stir in his sleep.

She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, opening her eyes slowly and pulling back from him. For the first time since meeting him, she’d woken up before he did. Marion was out cold and was probably going to stay that way for a while, despite how light of a sleeper he was. Even a secret agent couldn’t train himself out of sleep when he was exhausted. Cerise did her best not to wake him as she carefully moved away from him to hop off the bed, heading to the kitchen to fix a glass of water to set by the bed in case he woke up. After grabbing some fresh clothes, she closed herself in the bathroom to take a quick shower, not wanting to use too much of the warm water. He was probably going to want to use the shower when he woke up.

The sound of the shower turning on was what finally woke him. He opened his eyes slowly and rolled over, groaning softly at how sore he felt. There was a glass of water on the table. A smile spread across his face as he realized Cerise must have put it there. Vanderwood drank it quickly before forcing himself out of bed. Gross, he felt rather gross in general, but Cerise was in the shower for now, and the best he could do was change clothes.

Energy wasn't exactly something he had a lot of at the moment, but he needed to eat, so he made his way to the kitchen, making some toast and grabbing some juice. Vanderwood set some out for her as well, not sure if she had eaten yet but guessing that she hadn’t. When she was done with her shower they'd just switch places, and then he could get delightfully clean. After that, back to her place. The thought of taking her home wasn’t one he was a fan of either, but she did need to be in her own place.

His thoughts stilled for a moment as he remembered what had panicked him last night. Fuck...They'd need to talk about that. It wasn’t a major emergency, but the fact that it could have been was enough to tell him they needed to talk sooner rather than later. It was strange the way that after coming back from something so dangerous and stressful, a person slipped into their normal life as though nothing had happened. Before he’d just continued on with training, so agency life was what had felt ‘normal.’ Vanderwood snorted at his own musings as he bit into a piece of toast.

***

Cerise finished her shower quickly, getting dressed as quickly as she could, too. Her hair was still wet, but she could dry it later, wanting to check on him first. She wrung out any excess water and threw a towel over her head before heading into his room. Her eyes scanned the room, finding he wasn't in bed anymore. "Marion?" Cerise called out and headed out into the kitchen, finding him there. She noted that he looked a little better, rested at least. "Morning. Shower's all yours." It would be silly to lie, she was still a little upset, but she had had same time to cool down. Sleep had definitely helped.

Vanderwood heard his name and perked up a little as she entered the room. "Morning..." His eyes scanned hers, checking to see if she was still angry, and it looked like she was, at least a little. "Thanks...I’ll be right back.” It would have been a lie if he said he wasn’t absolutely excited at the thought of taking a shower and washing off the dirt and grime. He chugged down the rest of his juice before wiping his mouth and giving the top of her head a quick kiss. Vanderwood limped as quickly as he could into his shower.

Cerise gave him a non-committal 'Hnn' before she sat down and nibbled on what he’d set out for her. Even though he was injured, he was still thinking about her, making her breakfast. God, she was being a brat. Briefly she wondered where the red head was, but since Vanderwood wasn't broken up about anything, she assumed he was okay. As much as they seemed to not get along, she could tell they cared about each other. There was no way Vanderwood would have let anything happen to him.

Vanderwood felt like he’d been in a dream-like state as he showered. It felt so good to have the hot water over his sore muscles, that and washing off all the grime. He tried not to think too much about the conversations they needed to have as he dried off and got dressed, packing up a little bag for himself before heading into the kitchen. "Want me to help you pack up your things, mon amour?" He was taking her home today...It felt a little weird, not that he was going to let her stay there alone tonight. The last time he saw her in that apartment, she was being attacked.

She had been a little lost in thought when he came back into the room and inquired about helping her. "Huh, what...?" She stared confused for a moment while her brain caught up. Right. The plan had been to take her back to her place when he got back. It had slipped her mind as a possibility, since he’d been so injured, but clearly, he was still sticking to the plan. That…probably shouldn’t have surprised her, considering how OCD he was. "Oh! No, I have it. " For one thing, she wasn’t about to let him hurt himself helping her, but for another, Cerise had packed up most of her things already while waiting for his return, besides the things she knew she was going to immediately need.

He didn’t really have much of a chance to respond before she was moving the dishes to the sink and washing them. It was oddly homey, and he found himself wanting this every day, the time together at least. Vanderwood lightly touched the bruise on his jaw as she ran off to grab the rest of her things, feeling just a light twinge of pain. The formerly black bruises were now yellow and orange in color, so it wouldn't be long before they were gone completely. It wasn’t even that long before she appeared again and stood in front of the garage door. “Ready when you are, Marion."

It felt awkward to him, the way he was stiff completely unrelated to his pain as he helped her to the care. Vanderwood couldn’t quite place his finger on it, maybe all of the things that they needed to talk about were just…picking at him harder than he thought. As he was about to help her into the car, he felt like he needed to say at least something. "Hey...shortcake..." She paused and looked up into his eyes. Maybe she was ready to hear it now? He gently slid his fingers along her jawline, urging her to lock her eyes with his. "I really am sorry." It wasn't like him to apologize to anyone. Usually, he had nothing to be sorry for, but with Cerise, he was as vulnerable as he could ever be. "I love you, Cerise."

His eyes were so genuine as he apologized to her, and she couldn’t help the way her heart responded or the relief she felt now as the anger had washed off of her. It's not like she could stay mad at him forever. Cerise caught his hand and nuzzled into it before bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles like he often did for her. "I know...I was....I was just scared. I want you to be honest with me, even if the truth hurts." Cerise moved to embrace him gently before she got ready to get into the car. "I love you too, Marion."

His face lit up with blush at her simple little actions, those small moments feeling like they mattered more to him than anything else. "I'll try my best. I'm not really used to...sharing my world." He lightly stroked her hair before taking her hand to help her into the car as he liked to do. Maybe what he'd just said didn't make much sense, but hopefully she understood.

It's not that he really made a habit of lying, but it was far more often that he just lied by omission, because he had to, as much as he hated lies. Vanderwood drove in silence for a while, biting his tongue. There was still that other thing they needed to talk about. For the time being she was blissfully unaware, but it wouldn't be long before she'd notice how agitated he was, if she hadn't already.

Cerise was lost in her own thoughts as he drove. She hoped that eventually Vanderwood would open up to her more, maybe trust her. Yeah, she would worry, but at least she would have a clear idea of what was going on and what to expect. It was a complete shock to her when she’s first seen him when he came back, and she didn't want that to happen again.

The silence was starting to become almost deafening. Cerise felt like there was something between them, something unsaid, and she wanted to talk, but decided to busy herself with her phone for comfort. The air seemed so strange. Did he want to talk too? She peeked over at him more than once, waiting for him to speak up.

Maybe it wasn’t the right time at all, but the thought was starting to become impossible to ignore, so Vanderwood decided to just get it out there. "I uh...I have to tell you something.” He needed to tell her something? She tensed up a bit. What in the world was he talking about? “We kind of might have a problem...Well, I don't think we have a problem...but the other night I got really distracted, and...I was so caught up in you I just, I uh...For the first time ever, I did something majorly stupid. "

She was giving him her full attention, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion as Vanderwood was getting frustrated with himself. His words were having trouble working. Talking to Cerise about these types of matters was constantly flustering. It would be so much simpler if he could just come out and say it. "I almost forgot to wear a condom." Oh great. Well, at least now it was said. He coughed softly, going back to biting his tongue as he watched for her reaction from his periphery vision.

Oh. Cerise was at a loss for words before she could gather her composure. It's not like she remembered either..."I...uhh..." What was the correct response? She took in a deep breath. "I won't get pregnant will I...?" Cerise internally screamed at herself a little. Obviously, he’d only almost forgotten, but now her mind was going down another path. "I think...I'm too young." It was a little like having cold water dumped on her all at once. What would she even do if she got pregnant? She felt herself start to panic a little but tried to talk herself down from it. Nothing had happened, it could have happened, but it hadn’t.

"I…No, but…We should get you on some birth control in the future, just in case…I forget." Vanderwood couldn't stop biting his tongue, her comment that she was too young just making him think more about it. Cerise felt she was too young…but he wasn’t sure no matter how old she was if he could ever be a father. "I can't..." He sighed heavily. She wanted his honesty, and she deserved it. "I can't be a father. After Caleb...I mean...He died in my bathroom. I knew something was up, and I left him at my place alone. Had I been a better parental figure than I was a brother, maybe none of that would have happened."

Vanderwood felt like his heart was crushing in on itself as he pushed his bangs back with one hand, keeping the other on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry. Really, I never thought I'd have anyone in my life again, and I certainly never thought I'd have a girlfriend or a family. I don't know." That was a heavy conversation to just lay on her. It hadn’t been meant to be that kind of conversation, just a suggestion to solve any potential forgetfulness.

He didn't like it, the pain that he felt, and he liked even less that now she was stuck feeling it too. It wasn't like he would run away if it ever happened. Vanderwood could never leave Cerise, but the thought of being a parent terrified him. Then again...No...Not now, and maybe not ever. His jaw was starting to get sore with how much he was biting his tongue. "I might not ever be able to give you that..."

Marion was clearly hurting so badly, and the air in the car was only feeling heavier, but at least he was telling her. That was all she could ask for right now. "Marion..." She listened to him talk, concern apparent in her eyes. "You were so young...a child can't raise another child. You did the best you knew how." Cerise put a hand on his leg and squeezed gently. "I can't say I understand how you feel, and I'm not going to pretend that I do. You've been through so much, and I've been through so little..."

Her heart ached for him. What happened with his brother was beyond his control, and Cerise wished that he could realize that, as hard as it was. Marion would probably beat himself up over it for the rest of his life. "I honestly....I never thought about it...but..." She paused, trying to search for the right words, "I want you to know that...all I need from you is yourself. That's all I want. You don't have to give me anything. "

Vanderwood listened, not really able to bring himself to talk with the knot that seemed to have formed in his throat. What she was saying...It wasn't wrong, but he would always feel like he could have done more, that he could have done something. His foot had gone off the gas, letting the car slow on its own as the weight of her words sank into him. 'All I need from you is yourself. That's all I want.' He pulled over, and Cerise was about to ask him why, thinking that maybe she had said something wrong before he was leaning over to slide his hand along her cheek and kiss her deeply.

He needed this right now. It was like his heart couldn't decide whether to disintegrate or to swell with affection, so it was doing both and he didn't know what else to do except this. She made the pain bearable when any other time he would have been slamming his hand through something or finding some random woman to just bury the pain. Cerise made him see things from a totally different point of view, with a new outlook on life.

She relaxed into his kiss. It felt like it had been forever since they'd last kissed, and she’d missed it, missed him. Cerise returned his kiss with fervor, letting him know how much she cared and how much she had missed him. Maybe one day he would be able to see himself through her eyes and stop blaming himself, even though it was a lot to hope for. Whether he could or not, she would stay with him every step of the way.

Vanderwood felt choked up, something now burning at his eyes. Was he crying? He was honestly crying. Vanderwood kissed her just a little longer, having missed the feeling of her lips on his. This wasn’t like when he sought physical release to make the pain go away, the pain was still there…just it was somehow a lot lighter.

It was so different, letting himself actually bear the pain, but it also felt good underneath it all. Vanderwood touched his cheek as he pulled away from her, fingers coming away wet, snorting softly at himself. Really, this just wasn't like him. He hadn't cried for so long it seemed, and now, here he was, crying in front of his girlfriend. It wasn't that he felt emasculated; it was just funny to him that after all these years she was what it took to break through his barriers. Seemingly, his whole life had been leading him towards her, somehow.

He pressed another kiss to her forehead, thumb stroking her cheek gently. "I love you. You're all I need." Cerise was surprised to see that he was crying when he had pulled away. If he was crying then..."I..." She started to sniffle as tears welled up in her eyes. "...I love you too." It wasn't that she was sad, she was actually really happy. Cerise just happened to be a sympathy crier. At least...that's how it was at first.

Once she started to cry just because he was crying, she started to cry harder as all the emotions from the past few days came flooding to her. Her entire composure broke, and she wasn't able to hold it in. Cerise didn't care if Marion thought she was a baby or if she was being silly, she just wanted to be close to him. After flinging her seatbelt off she leaned over to throw her arms around his torso and bury her face into him, sobbing. Really...he was the one who had all these problems and emotions to deal with and here she was making a scene and being a baby.

Vanderwood pulled her close despite the pain as she’d launched herself at him, nuzzling into her in turn as he gently stroked her hair, muttering softly into her ear. "Je'taime...Everything's okay." He continued to mutter sweet words, not really sure of what else to do. This was another of those new situations where he berated himself for not watching more romance movies, so he'd have known what to do. Vanderwood wasn't entirely sure why she was crying. Hell, he wasn't sure why he was crying, but right now he just wanted to hold her close and never let go.

After today, he was going to ask her to marry him. He’d already wanted to, had already thought about it before he left for his mission, had wanted that domestic bliss of watching her do the dishes just today…Yeah…Tomorrow he'd get a ring, and then he'd find the right time. It seemed like he held her there like that for hours as their tears dried up, but he still didn't let her go for a while longer, needing her close to him. "Je'taime, Cerise...Let's get you home, so I can hold you even tighter." That sounded cheesy but right somehow.

She didn't know how long they were there, and she didn't care. Marion didn't judge her, he just held her and told her that he loved her. It did wonders for calming her, and she could feel her tears lessen until she wasn't crying anymore. "...Je'taime aussi..." Cerise murmured into him and pulled back to put her seat belt back on, settling back down into her own seat. "That sounds good..." She was looking forward to potential cuddles, like she couldn't get enough of just having his arms around her, sharing their warmth. It was a beautiful feeling that she didn't think she could get tired of ever. Cerise leaned against the window and closed her eyes. The trip wouldn't be long, but a little relaxation never hurt anyone, and she even opted to ignore her rapidly buzzing phone.

Like this? Want more? Become a Patron ~Let’s Connect! FFC

Tagged Chapter Directory

#vanderwood #mystic messenger #mysmes #vanderwood fanfiction #vanderwoodxoc #cherrywood

5 notes · View notes

ephemera · 7 years ago

Text

Fort Totten at World’s End

By Sylvester Joseph

The thing about oblong relationships is that no matter what happens, they almost always become awkward. It’s a risk you run with relationships with even amounts of people, especially more than two, but when it came to odd numbers, it was almost always the number of people that did the relationship in. The best you can pray for—which is almost always the result, is that someone appears or disappears and the even number manages to endure.

Back in the day, when I was a junior in High School, I suffered in such a relationship. Me, Iris and Hakeem were a unit. I grew up with Hakeem and most of junior year we were in the same school. Iris was a family friend of Hakeem’s and she used to come around on weekends, so we all grew up together in a sense. Junior year it became different, because Iris wasn’t just the girl with the pigtails, she hit puberty and grew a couple of inches and got meat in places that made her appealing.

And more than anything, that scared me, the kid who hadn’t even kissed a girl.

She stopped coming around Hakeem’s house on the weekend, instead, on Fridays, we would ride the bus from school to Fort Totten and ride out to Silver Spring where she would meet us and we’d hang out and all go see a movie or something. She went to Blair, so it was only a bus ride away from Downtown Silver Spring and we didn’t mind hopping a bus and a train to hang out (at least Hakeem didn’t) and Iris was a cool girl, anyway.

We were an odd group, though. No one would point it out, but we were. Hakeem was the type of guy that you’d call a thug, not because he was particularly large or threatening or did anything of that sort (when he was with us, at least), but because he was loud and obnoxious and black. There’s nothing worse that you could be in this world than obnoxious, confident and black and DC had those types in abundance. He’d always wear his North Face rain jacket and a pair of skinny jeans and on his feet a pair of Nike Foamposites or the occasional Timberland work boot. The top of his hair was knotted in short dreads, while the sides of his head was shaved in a close fade.

Iris was older than us by months, she was quiet and reserved, whenever we hung out she usually just watched Hakeem and I banter back and forth and laugh. When she spoke, the both of us shut up and listened. Not only was she older than us by a few months, she was slightly taller than me and a bit taller than Hakeem, her hair was long and cascaded down her back in a subtle red color that she’d dyed it at the beginning of junior year. She wore these square frame glasses that looked kind of like those reading glasses that you could pick up at any pharmacy, but they clearly were designer frames by some European dude (I can’t remember his name, sue me).

She was fashionable in a different way than Hakeem, on Fridays after class she’d be in her school uniform, but if we hung out on a Saturday or Sunday, she would come in something much flashier. I always wondered how such a subtle person was so loud in what they wore, during the winter she wore tight turtlenecks and matching jeans with heeled boots, usually entirely in black, with large, gold hoop earrings and a dark shade of lipstick. When I first saw her in an outfit like that I was kind of shocked, mostly because I dressed like a hobo during those colder months. When it got warmer, she moved to crop tops and daisy dukes and Chuck Taylor sneakers and skirts.

My wardrobe wasn’t much to look at, especially during junior year. I wore ripped jeans and t-shirts and beanies. I had this big down coat that I would wear whenever it was cold. Hakeem was my exact opposite, some often said. While Hakeem was loud and rambunctious, I was more quiet and subdued.

Those days were the best days, even with the awkwardness between us. They became even fonder when I moved from the neighborhood and found myself in PG County, just across the border of Northeast DC in Hyattsville. We made a conscious decision that we would definitely see each other on the weekends now that we were all separated, but the meeting place changed since we couldn’t just ride to Fort Totten on the bus and meet her at Silver Spring.

Well, we could, but it was her idea that we just change it to meet at Fort Totten instead.

My school, Northwestern, wasn’t far from the Green Line and I was only two stops away from Fort Totten. Hakeem was still only a bus ride away, and Iris hopped on the bus from Blair and rode two stops down to Fort Totten. It would take us a while for us all to get together, but once we were all there, it was always the best. I guess, somehow, my moving away from Hakeem made us try and gel closure together.

You see, and now that we were meeting at Fort Totten, we could go anywhere in DC. Other than L’Enfant Plaza, Fort Totten was the line that had the most lines run through it. The Yellow Line to Huntington, Virginia started at Fort Totten on the lower platform along with the Green Line going north to Greenbelt and South to Branch Avenue and the Red Line, which ran from Glenmont to Shady Grove in Montgomery County. With these three lines all the best places in DC and outside of DC was accessible to them, Fort Totten was a literal hub for transferring from line to line.

We could go anywhere as long as we had the fare, and we almost always had the fare. Iris had a hefty allowance, Hakeem made enough money selling pot and I was working mowing lawns after school. At twenty bucks a lawn, I’d knock out about four lawns in two days and by the end of the week have enough spending money just to hang out and buy myself some nice stuff.

The awkwardness, though. The thing that began plaguing our relationship that spring was what I was talking about. It wasn’t about how different we were or our chemistry, it was about how I came to realize the three of us had secret rules. If one of us backed out, another one of us backed out, and it was always the same one. If I told them I couldn’t make it, Hakeem would concur and say he couldn’t make it. If Hakeem had something to do, either Iris or I would find an excuse not to hang out with one another. It was uncommon, but one week out of the month one of us would try to back out and find that we just wouldn’t hang out.

We became wise to it, as well. Not as a unit, but separately.

There was a point that the awkwardness between us shot to an all-time high that summer. We didn’t have school so we hung out whenever we could, but the more we hung out, it seemed the more it became strained between us. The rules became that much more obvious, as well. Now that we tried to get together at least three times a week, we confirmed separately that if it wasn’t the three of us, we never hung out, and that was it.

“Ay man, do you like Iris?” Hakeem asked one day while we were sitting at Fort Totten, on the Red Line platform. I’d had a long day, having promised one of my neighbors that I would finish their lawn in the morning, so my arms were a bit sore from doing that then hurrying to hop a bus and a train to get here. The sun was high and hot and there was a film of sweat that formed on my forehead, making me a bit dizzy. I hadn’t eaten, either.

“Yeah, I like her. Why?”

“Nah, I mean, are you tryin’ to fuck?” Hakeem had put it so eloquently. I had a crush on her, something I couldn’t admit to myself back then, but in retrospect I definitely wanted to do dumb shit like hold her hand and get closer to her.

“No. What the fuck?”

“I think she want to.” Hakeem said.

“With you?”

“Nah, with you, man.” He smirked.

“You’re crazy.” I laughed as the Red Line toward Glenmont rolled in, the cars screeched to a halt behind us and we both sat there. I was slouched with my hands in my pocket and my feet out in front of me and he was sitting next to me with his phone in his hand. I thought about it and didn’t see what he saw, we didn’t have a relationship outside of Hakeem, we had one another’s numbers but we didn’t really talk, at all. We were friends on Facebook but we didn’t really message one another. We had each other Twitter handles but we never mentioned one another, we’d retweet each other sometimes, but that was it. In my head, she never looked at me that way, and that was fine, because I never planned on letting her know I looked at her that way.

Not then, at least.

It’s strange, because when he asked me that question while sitting on the bench waiting for her to show up, it felt like the world began shifting. Not immediately, but gradually, I first noticed that evening when we were on our way back from Dupont Circle on a crowded car. She was sitting in the priority seating toward the middle of the car, she looked tired, her eyes a bit sunken and her brilliant red hair pressed against the hard plastic. I was standing in front of her, and sitting adjacent to her was Hakeem and we weren’t saying much to one another.

“If the world ends,” she suddenly started, opening her eyes slowly and staring blankly at my shirt.

“We should meet at Fort Totten.” Me and Hakeem traded a glance, then looked to her, a bit confused. Hakeem ran with it, though.

“If the world ends I’m going to be busy getting as much cheeks as I can.” Hakeem had a way with words, if you couldn’t tell.

“I’m serious.” She glared at Hakeem.

“If the world ends, we’ll meet at Fort Totten. All of us.” I agreed.

“What if Metro stop runnin’? Then what?” Hakeem asked, poking his nose up, his lip jutting to one side questioningly. “I ain’t got no whip. Y’all niggas not gonna’ come scoop me. If the world end—I’m getting cheeks, y’all can go to Fort Totten all y’all want.”

We laughed then, but it wasn’t funny looking back. That was the last time the three of us were together, all of us, happy, despite how bittersweet it was in the moment. The following week Hakeem got shot, and I remember hearing about it on Facebook before hearing about it from his momma. I remember the comments, how people who didn’t really know him outside of his drug dealing and party going said it was probably over some stupid shit. Rumor was that it was over his shoes, then there was a rumor that he didn’t pay his supplier, but ultimately when the investigation was over it came out that Hakeem was shot because he put himself between the bullet and a thirteen year old kid after a party.

The first time I talked to Iris in two weeks was at the funeral. I was sure we would drift apart, but she looked at me and smiled and told me that we should hang out soon. And we did, that weekend after his funeral, and while it was hard at first, we bonded over the grief we felt. Not that we hadn’t bonded before, but we weren’t as close as we were after Hakeem was killed. Our relationship changed, it had to, especially ours that depended so heavily on Hakeem.

We met once a week toward the end of summer, and it took a couple of weeks. She sometimes cried while we hung out, and we talked a few times about bringing new people in, but it was while we were sitting in a McDonalds in the city that we decided against it.

“I think three people—a group of people being friends is weird.” She told me, then gauged my puzzled expression that clearly said ‘we were a group of people being friends.’ She tilted her shake sideways, looked down at the table as if she were finding the words she wanted to say. “I think we were weird but not in the same way as three or five people trying to be friends is. I think we were special. It was a rare thing, you know?”

“I feel you.” I said, somewhat understanding.

“If one of us wasn’t one of us, if Hakeem happened to be like—Bob or you happened to be Jim or I would have been Jessica, it wouldn’t have been the same. Especially because there’s two guys and a girl.” She said with a slightly pained expression.

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone else would have started dating and one of us would have been a third wheel…maybe that would have been bad but—“ She stopped and took a pause. Then looked up at me, her brown eyes seemed to ensnare me and keep my wandering mind anchored to the here and now.

“We didn’t do any of that because it was us. Does that make sense?”

“You’re saying none of us ever dated because it was us. That if we were anyone else the entire formula would have been fucked up. I get it.” I told her, pushing a fry in my mouth and chewing thoughtfully. I was thinking of what Hakeem told me about a month ago, about how Iris wanted to sleep with me and my head went fuzzy thinking about how she was talking about any of us dating. Was she coyly referencing a possible romance? I wondered. “Maybe it’s because we’ve known each other since we were kids. That’s why none of us looked at each other that way.”

“That wasn’t it.” She said bluntly with no elaboration, I didn’t seek any further elaboration, either. I kind of took it as a confirmation that she shared the feelings that I had, that maybe this girl was as into me as I was into her. What was stopping us? For me, it was fear. A fear of rejection, a fear of losing a piece of Hakeem in Iris. I think the ghost of Hakeem was the biggest reason not to try to get together, but talking with her I could see his smirk out of the corner of my eye, sitting on the Red Line platform waiting for her to arrive.

That evening, as we pulled in to Fort Totten on the Yellow Line having come from Chinatown, I walked with her up to the Red Line platform which was above the mezzanine.

“You don’t have to come up with me. Your train is about to come in like two minutes.” She smiled a subtle smile with the edge of her lips as we ascended the long escalator. She leaned against the side and looked down upon me, the lights that lined the awning of the platform above washed over her in a way that made her look like a goddess to my sixteen year old brain. With my hands tucked away in my jeans, I shrugged my shoulders and smiled.

“I don’t mind. It seems like the right thing to do, anyway.”

We moved to the end of the Red Line platform to the usual spot and sat on the bench at the very end. The next train wasn’t coming for twenty minutes due to track work on the Red Line, and she kept urging me to go back downstairs and catch my train home, but I told her it was fine.

“You don’t have to wait with me.”

“Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?” I asked, and she smiled, but I knew it was the wrong question. It was bad wording, a bad sentiment so soon after we’d lost our closest friend. Hakeem was like a splint that held us together, and that splint was gone, and now the wound was felt. I don’t remember what we talked about for those twenty minutes or what we talked about that entire day, I just remember the periods of silence between us that came in the outline of Hakeem. He couldn’t stand silences, it’s why he was always talking in his cool voice in his obnoxious tone.

As her train rolled in, we stood at the edge of the platform, the wind whisked her hair around and I remember the way she winced her eyes and pushed the locks from her face. It was like a Polaroid in my mind that played over and over, I had quite a few. Some of my dad before he went to prison, some of my sister before she went to college, but most of them were before something big happened. The train was coming to a halt and she grabbed me and threw her arms around me and hugged me close. It was the first time I was so close to her in all my years knowing her. We never hugged before, maybe as kids, but that was different.

I put my arms around her and held her close and she sobbed softly in my ear.

The doors to the train opened and she hadn’t pulled away, then they closed. The train pulled off and we were still there, holding one another underneath the marmalade sky, and by the time she was ready to go, the sky was dark and the moon was high. That moment was a turning point, it was as if she had opened her heart to me in a different way, and I took the opportunity to try and open mine, as well.

“I’ll text you when I get home.” She said, and that was another first.

“Yeah?” I asked with a smirk as her train rolled in. She was facing away from it, so her hair blew into her face and she didn’t bother to beat it back this, time.

“To let you know I got home okay.” She chuckled. “Okay?”

“Okay.” I smiled.

“Okay.”

This time, when the doors opened, she stepped onto the train and waited by the doors. I waved and she waved back, and the train pulled off into the dark night toward Takoma.

#literature #lit #short story #spilled ink #this is the version that actually got published sorry for reblogging the old unedited version

1 note · View note

smutbangtan · 7 years ago

Text

Office Files - Chapter 2 “Case File”

Word Count: 5,174

Summary: You are a lawyer at a major company. You’ve been given the responsibility to oversee an intern.

Paring: Reader x Jimin x Namjoon x Jungkook

Genre: Smut

When Jimin walked into your office, he was expecting some 50 year old woman stomping around and angrily talking on her phone. But that wasn't what he saw at all. Instead, he saw a woman in her later 20's dressed in sleek office wear and heels which shouted money. Your hair draped off one shoulder like silk curtains. He wasn't going to let your soft features fool him. From what he's heard, you're dangerous and not the person to cross over. He mentally prepared himself, and knew that if he really wanted a place in this company, he's going to work hard. Even harder, knowing now that you're his boss now. He had to ooze confidence and knowledge.

"Ice Queen" He thought.

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

There was a moment of silence between you and Jimin, as both of you stood there inside your office. Jimin hesitated a little and started drumming his fingers on his side, not entirely sure what to say or even do. You stared at him, eyeing him down then letting out a sigh. You were given an intern in the last minute, and you had no idea what to do with him. You could make him do a paper run, possibly a lunch run and do orders for everyone in the office? You thought. There was knock on your door that broke the silence and both of you turned to see who it was.

"Come in" You said.

Katy opened the door a little and popped her head in with a small smile. She looked over at Jimin then at you again. Jimin smiled at her a little, remembering her from earlier. At least he knew a familiar face.

"I have your coffee here Ms Y/N"

"Oh yes, thank you for that." You walked past Jimin and grabbed the coffee off her with a nod. You closed the door when Katy left then you turned around, looking over at your files piled on your desk. An idea popped into your mind. This entire time Jimin was shitting bricks. He didn't know what you had in store for him, and he had a small feeling that he might end up being the paper boy, and doing small errands around the office instead of taking in real cases. He understood that one must to start from the bottom and work to the top, if you assigned him to be a errand boy, so be it.

"What do you know about the Carter case?" You asked him softly after taking a sip of your coffee, eyeing him above the curve of your cup. His right hand moved out of his pocket then scratched the back of his neck, with a slight frown as though trying to remember something.

"Oh, I believe it's about an apartment complex dispute and a community hub?" He looked over at you, unsure of his answer. You lifted a brow, impressed by his answer. I guess he's not that stupid after all.

You took a few steps to your desk and lifted one of the three files that you had to complete. Without looking at him, you stretched out your hand with the file and expected him to walk over and take it as you spoke.

"You're in charge of the case. Go through the dispute and paper work and tell me if you find any inconsistencies. There's a few contacts in there that you might need to speak to in case you need further information. Tell them you speak on behalf of me."

Jimin's eyes widened a little, and felt a little excited but he kept it all hidden under his cool demeanor. He stepped forward and took the file, opening the manila folder and scanning through the documents. You turned and looked at him once more.

"I wasn't told that I will be taking in a intern until 5 minutes ago." You said bluntly.

"Tell me what you find, you'll have until 4pm today to complete it. I need it ready by tomorrow" You added.

Jimin nodded "I'll get it done." Ran his fingers through his hair.

He then asked "Have I been assigned a desk?" shutting the folder and holding it to his side.

You lifted a finger at him, as though you just remembered something then leaned back to press the red button on your desk phone. "Katy could you please come here" Seconds later, Katy walked in with a paper and note pad expecting to take notes. You set the coffee cup down pointed at Jimin "Could you find Mr Park a desk, and preferably a place where I can keep an eye on him" You added. When Jimin heard this, he pursed his lips. He wasn't going to be intimidated he reminded himself.

Katy smiled and wriggled her fingers at Jimin with a silent 'hello'. Jimin smiled at her softly and nodded in return. "Sure thing, I'll find a desk" Katy motioned Jimin to follow behind her. When they both left you sighed then headed back towards you desk and sat down. Without another word, or contemplation you began working.

____________________________

When Katy and Jimin left your office, Katy looked over her shoulder at Jimin and smiled while he followed.

"I see you haven't pissed your pants yet." Katy giggled. Jimin chuckled at her words then ran his hand through his hair again. A nervous tick. "I seriously thought she was some old lady with a temper" Katy stopped at an empty desk with a few basic stationary that was only metres away from your office and her own. It was a plain cubicle with a phone, chair and a computer.

"Everyone thinks that before they meet her" She added with a smile. Katy waved her hand, indicating the desk before them.

"You can sit here, lf you need anything I'm just over there" she point to her area. Jimin followed her gaze and saw her desk, he then looked behind him and saw your office. His back would be facing you where he worked. He watched you type away on your laptop, sipping on your coffee and looking over your folders.

"Thank's I'll definitely need your help if I don't know how things run around here" He added then looked back at Katy with a sheepish smile, his eyes turning to half moons.

"Katy, right? I'm Jimin" he reached his hand out. Katy shook it with a smile, her cheeks flushing with pink.

When Katy returned to her work station, Jimin dropped the folder on the desk and sat down. He eagerly started reading through the documents, taking a pen and sticky note that was provided on his desk and started jotting down notes and placing them in various sections.

_____________________________________________________________________________

A few hours had already passed and you were almost completed with one of the files. You had called back to those who left messages and arranged a few more meetings. You slowly stopped typing and saved a final document you were working on. As you leaned back on your chair and looked over to your right. Through your glass office wall, you could see the back of Jimin. He had already taken off his blazer and placed it at the back of his hair. He ran his fingers through his dark red hair then continued typing, and writing into the folder you gave him. Does he even know what he's doing?

The file needed to be completed for a meeting tomorrow and you couldn't entirely rely on a intern to do everything. What he fucked it up? Or he's just pretending that he's working? You were about to buzz in Katy, but your desk phone rang. You looked down at the I.D call and knew who it was. You picked up the phone then leaned back on your chair again, relaxing into the leather.

"Yes?" You said bluntly. You could hear Namjoon chuckle on the other end of the phone. You were still upset about the whole intern ordeal.

"I see you're still pissed?" said Namjoon, you could practically see the grin on his face. He then continued.

"What are you making the poor kid do? Massage you're feet? Oh wait! You turned him into a paper boy! " He laughed. You rolled your eyes at his comment, not falling for his stupid charms like you used too.

"He's working on the Carter case." You cut off Namjoon, before he added another one of his jokes. There was silence and he spoke in all seriousness.

"Are you serious?" He asked. He could hear him shifting in his chair a little. "Shit, you threw him into the deep end. Generally an intern doesn't take a case until 3 months in. I'm making mine do lunch and coffee orders" He ended with an amused tone. You weren't impressed. You turned on your chair and faced Jimin. You saw the back of him, watching him work away.

"I know, but I decided he could take it on. I see it as a test. If he pulls through, it means he's actually worthy of being here. For now anyway. Besides, you're the one who through this shit on me so I can do anything I like. Bend the rules a bit." You added the last part with a grin.

"I'll meet you at 9 tomorrow, bring your intern to the case meeting. I'll bring mine." said Namjoon. He felt a little bad now, knowing that you had made your intern actually do 'work' while he made his do remedial tasks. You hung up after he spoke. If the conversation continued any longer, you knew that he'll start a casual conversation which may lead to dirty talk. You didn't want to deal with that right now.

You pressed the red button. "Katy could you please call Mr. Park into my office. And tell him to bring his work." You ended the call. Thankfully you're office walls was glass, so you could practically see if people were wasted time. You shifted your gaze to Katy and saw how she called out Jimin. You watched how his red head moved up, looking at Katy then his shoulders stiffening. He shuffled his papers then stood up. It was like watching a silent movie playing before you.

______________________________________________________________________________

Jimin was halfway done going through the documents. He heard his name get called out and he looked over in Katy's direction. He lifted his brows, looking a little surprised.

"Miss Y/N wants to see you Jimin" Katy said from across the room. Jimin swallowed hard. Did you expect him to finish already? You did say that he had till 4 pm. Unless this was some kind of test? He hesitated then asked Katy

"Did she tell you why?"Asked Jimin, sounding a little worried than he wanted it.

"No, I'm sure it's fine though!. Oh excuse me I need to take this call!" Katy smiled at Jimin, then took the call quickly.

He shuffled his papers into the folder then stood up. Pushing his chair into his desk. He looked a little disheveled than this morning. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms and his hair a little more ruffled. He walked casually towards your office, hoping you wouldn't hear his heart beating so fast from feeling nervous.

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

You turned in your chair before he caught you watching him, and you looked back at your laptop. He entered into your office carefully and closed the door behind him. You motioned your hand to the chair in front of your desk, asking him to sit down.

"Please take a seat. I called you in too see how you were going. I'm heading to a meeting and won't return till 4 to collect your work" you smiled briefly then waited for him to sit.

"Oh okay, sure. I looked over some of the documents and called some of the land owners to confirm a few of the statements. I did find at least 3 inconsistencies so far. They have sticky notes next to them." Said Jimin formally as he sat down. He handed you the file and leaned back, rubbing his hands on his thighs a little nervously. He felt as though he was in the principal's office, reporting on his good behavior.

You hummed in response and took the file. You opened the manila folder and scanned through each of the edited documents by Jimin. He scribbled a few things here and there, but the sticky notes is what you wanted to read. You read each note carefully. There was silence in the room.

Fuck, he's really good. You thought to yourself. You lifted your eyes at him for a moment, then continued reading his notes. He was able to find the building contract code law and it's flaw in the document. Interesting.

You closed the folder then handed it back to him. He took it suddenly, and paused for a moment expecting you to say something about his work. Your gaze moved to this Adams apple and saw it bob slightly. Sure, you found him extremely attractive. But you had no intentions of pursuing him. Attractive guys like him are dangerous. You leant your lesson from dating Namjoon.

"You're lunch break starts at 12, and you have an hour break. Use it wisely. I'll see you at 4pm Mr Park." You moved your attention back to your laptop and continued typing.

"Er.. okay. I'll see you then." Jimin stood up, and paused for a moment wanting to ask something about the work that he did. He assumed, if he's doing something wrong then you would've said something by now. Instead he turned and headed out the door and headed to Katy's desk first. Your eyes followed him, then at Katy. You watched him exchange a few words with her. Even though you only saw the back of Jimin, you could see Katy's face. She was smiling like always. Remembering that you head to send a few more emails before leaving, you resumed working.

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

Jimin left your office and felt a whole weight lift off his shoulders when he existed. He wasn't sure if he was relieved from leaving your presence or that he's on the right track. Jimin however never recalled you mentioning if he was. He sighed then headed towards Katy.

"Is she always like that?" asked Jimin. He arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest with the file in his hand. Katy pulled down her headset, and laughed at Jimin. She looked up at him and grinned.

"Yep! She has her good and bad days. Today is a good day." Katy watched Jimin, admiring his body and his red hair. Katy knew that he will be eye candy for everyone in this department. She can't wait to speak to the other girls during lunch about him.

"Wait! This is a good day?" His eyes widened, looking surprised. "I'd hate to know what a bad day looks like. Jesus christ!" His joke made Katy laugh a little too loud. He chuckled at her response then lifted his file "Better get to work then!" They both resumed working silently from across the room.

__________________________________________________________________________

You reached over and grabbed your bag. Ensuring you had everything and your file. You stood up and walked out your door. Passing Katy and Jimin, you spoke to her "If I get any calls please tell them that I'll call them back tomorrow. If it's urgent, call my phone. No interruptions otherwise"

Katy nodded and saluted you with a smile. "Sure thing!"

You added "I'll be back at 4" You passed the cubicles and desks then left the department with the sound of your heels disappearing.

Jimin looked up from his desk and watched you leave. He shifted his gaze to Katy and they both made eye contact he then watched you again, till you left the double glass doors. He noticed how everyone on the floor changed their demeanor and the vibe of the department changed. People started to talk a little more loudly about useless things. Another worker, standing up with his phone and claiming he got a date from the girl he likes from down the road to a friend across the room. He grinned to himself and knew that he will definitely enjoy being here despite the fact that your his boss.

____________________________________________________________________________

It was lunch break and Jimin decided to use half of it to do more work. Once it was 12:30, he headed to the staff room which was explained by Katy before she hurriedly met up with a group of ladies down the hall for lunch. The staff room had a full furnished kitchen and lounges and tables. Majority of the workers usually eat outside of the building at neighboring cafe's or restaurants. Jimin walked into the staff room and saw the two other interns he met early that morning. The two guys turned and recognized him. Jungkook lifted his hand and motioned him to come over to sit with them.

"Hey man! Surprised you haven't been fired yet by Ice Queen!" laughed Jungkook. He quickly reached over and checked Jimn's wrist. Jimin arched a brow at, wondering what he's doing. "Nope! he's still human" said Jungkook with a grin. Jimin chuckled at Jungkook's lame joke and pulled out a chair and sat with Hoseok and Jungkook.

"How's your day been so far?" asked Jimin. He didn't feel that hungry, he was still buzzed over the fact that he was given a case on his first day. He'll buy something on his way home.

Hoseok was on his phone then he set it down, with a soft smile looking over at Jimin "It's been okay, I've been doing a few odd jobs here and there. Nothing interesting though" Jungkook groaned after hearing Hoseok's response and replied to Jimin with an annoyed look.

"It's fucking stupid. I've taking coffee and lunch orders all day. I had one guy getting pissed at me because I forgot he wanted soy milk in his coffee. Are you fucking serious? I mean I know as an intern it doesn't start very nice but..shit. Namjoon seems like he's all cool, but really he's an ass"

Jimin paused for a moment, listening to Hoseok and Jungkook's responses, but wasn't too sure he should say what he's been up too, feeling a little guilty. He leaned back on his chair and sighed.

Hoseok turned to Jimin "What about you?, what have you been up to today?"

Jimin grinned, his eyes creasing a little. "I've been working on a case"

"WHAT?!!?" Hoseok and Jungkook said in unison, then looked at each other completely shocked.

"What the fuck!? How is that possible?" asked Jungkook, looking extremely frustrated now then flicking hair off his eyes. He leaned back and slipped his hands back onto his pockets, clenching his fists. Jimin shrugged at Hoseok and Jimin then continued talking.

"I don't know, she just decided to give me a case. I have until 4pm today to complete it. She needs it tomorrow for a meeting I think" There was silence between the three of them for a moment then Jimin continued.

"She's not as bad as I thought though." he added. He wasn't sure what he meant by that.

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

It was 4pm and you still hadn't arrived yet. Jimin shuffled his papers and adjusted the folder neatly while he waited for you. He remembered that you didn't want to be disturbed, so he couldn't ask Katy to call you. He thought about leaving the folder on your desk and going home, but what if you didn't like his work? What if he needed to add a few more things? which would result in him staying back longer. He looked around the office floor and it was already empty. Katy had already gone home, and only other person in the area was the cleaning guy who was vacuuming a meeting room. He groaned loudly and leaned back on his chair, ignoring his rumbling stomach. Jimin leaned forward again, ran his hand through his hair with a sigh before reading through his notes for the millionth time. Moments later he could hear your heels in the distance, slowly becoming louder and louder as you approached the department. You pushed the glass door and headed straight to your office. Jimin immediately saw you and stood up, shuffling the papers back into the folder. As you passed him, you spoke.

"Mr Park, please follow me" You said softly, then entered into your office. Jimin followed closely behind and in time opened the door for you. You passed him and walked towards your desk, setting down your cloak and bag then turned towards him. You reached out your hand, expecting the folder to be given which it was instantly and you opened it to read. You both stood in the centre of your office in silence. You scanned passed his previous annotations then read through the other documents and his notes placed in different sections. You didn't have to read all of it, cause you knew that this particular intern knew exactly what he was doing. The previous ones you had were either useless or clueless about this company. However Park Jimin, was different.

You closed the file and looked at him for a moment, and placed the file down behind you. Jimin stood there with his hands in his pocket's waiting for your response.

"Good, it seems like you know what you're doing." you nodded at him.

"Oh thanks!" Jimin smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels briefly. He continued "In that third contract, I knew there was something odd and when I read through it closely. It did seem dodgy. Whoever this construction company is, they seems quite shady."

"Indeed, thank you for pin pointing it" You crossed your arms "And apologies for being late Mr. Park." Jimin lifted his hand and motioned it as a 'don't worry about it' gesture

After speaking, you walked around to your desk and sat down, turning on your laptop to resume work. "You can leave" You said without looking at him. Jimin looked out of your office at the empty depatment then back at you with an arched brow.

"Wait, you're not leaving?" Looking at little confused. He knew that people generally stay back to complete work however, you were the manager. You could leave at any time if you wanted too. Hearing Jimin's words you looked up at him feeling a little amused.

"It's nice to know that you're concerned about my wellbeing Mr Park. " You grinned. Jimin blinked, seeing how your facial expression changed from a cold stone face to something as bright as sunshine.

"Call me Jimin" He smirked back.

"You can leave now... Jimin" you added then resumed typing away on your laptop. Without another word, Jimin left your office. He felt a little more relaxed knowing that he had done a good job to impress you.

______________________________________________________________________________

Next Day

Namjoon casually walked into your office, and found you standing there reading into the file that will be used at today's client meeting. He admired the way you looked so elegant but authoritative at the same time. You were leaning back against your desk, with your legs crossed at your ankles. He licked his lips then walked over to your side. He knew you were ignoring him, and he loved it. Namjoon leaned down and peeked over the file, seeing a few annotations and notes placed here and there. He knew instantly that it wasn't your handwriting.

"Ready?" He asked, moving his face a little too close. You hummed in response "Give me a few more minutes." You added. You scanned the documents a few more times, and reading Jimin's notes that was extremely useful. Because of Namjoon's height, he towered over you. He wore all black suit with red sleeve shirt inside and his hair combed to the side in that specific style. He knew that dark tailored suits was your thing. He reached over your desk and pressed a pressed a button. Immediately the glass walls of your office frosted and the doors locked. From the outside, people could only see blurred shadows but no distinctive features or shapes.

You instantly heard the click and looked up from the file to see Namjoon standing in front of you with a grin. You watched as he licked his lower lip slowly and stepped forward again, his chest pressing against the file you were holding in front of you. Using his longer slender fingers he slowly pulled the file away from your hands and closed it shut then setting it the side of you.

"What do you think you're doing?" You asked with a quirked brow.

"Oh nothing.." He replied with a cocky tone. He placed a finger on to your collar bone then traced it down the shape of your left breast and towards your stomach. You eyed his slender as it made its way down towards your shirt. Y

Even though things didn't work out, there still was sexual tension between the two of you. You had no one else in your life right now and Namjoon was the closest thing you had to a booty call.

Your lips parted at the feel of his hand tracing up your inner thigh. You let out a sigh of relief, the feel of a hand so close to your centre and the touch so intimate. Namjoon watched your facial expression, changing from nothing to pure relief. Instinctively you reached back behind and clenched the edge of your desk with white knuckles. You didn't want to look at him, you didn't want to see his splendid face so you tilted your head back, exposing the length of your neck.

Namjoon's leaned forward and placed his free hand on the desk beside you, supporting his own weight. Your bodies so close. His head leaned into the corner of your shoulder and neck, wanting you to feel his hot breath. His fingers brushed the outer edge of your panties, then with a finger he traced the line of your folds.

"Remember when we used to do this, almost every morning?" He breathed over your skin with a grin.

"Do you miss it?" You asked softly then licking your lower lip, loving the feel of his finger over your hot core.

He didn't plant a kiss or brush his face onto your neck, he wanted to make you melt just by his finger alone. After hearing your words, he rubbed over your clothed clit very slowly in a circle as he spoke.

"I might, do you miss me?" Namjoon moved his head back a little too look at your face closely. He was addicted to you, like a user addicted to ice. He knew that things were meant to be back to normal, but he just could help himself.

You opened your mouth, about to reply but a voice was heard from your office phone. It was Katy.

"Mr Namjoon and Miss Y/N, your interns are here to see you" You immediately open your eyes and pushed Namjoon's hand away from between your legs and stood straight. You started adjusting your skirt a little and your hair. Namjoon 'tsk' in disappointment at the interruption and moved away, picking up your file and opening it to read but not really paying attention to whatever was in the there. You cleared your throat then reached over, pressing the button again to respond.

"Okay, thank you Katy" With another push of a button, the door was unlocked and the walls became transparent again. Namjoon had already made his way to the door with the file in his hand and opened it for the interns to enter.

"Please come in!" Namjoon said brightly, patting Jungkook on the back and a slight wave to Jimin who stood next to him. When Jimin looked at you, something was off. He could tell by the way you shifted your eyes away from the pair walking in. He also noticed a small flush of pink over your cheeks, but he didn't pay much mind to it.

Jungkook looked around the office, impressed by the furnishing and the view. His dark eyes move over and saw you standing across from him. He scanned you and your attire and immediately he was drawn in. In his eyes, you were the meaning of pure sexiness. He licked his lips nervously.

"Ah, Jungkook this is Y/N" said Namjoon formally, but noticed how his intern watched you. Namjoon knows that look. As a man himself, he knows when a guy is thinking dirty thoughts. You hadn't paid mind to the other intern just yet as you were too busy finding your phone for the client meeting. You briefly smiled at the young man and took his hand.

"Hello Mr Jeon" You said formally. With the same hand you moved it towards Jimin who stood there with a small smile on his face, happy to be in the room.

"Namjoon this is Mr Park, he was the one who went through our client's file, and seemed to have done an impressive job" Jimin chuckled at your words and scratched his head.

"Ah! It was nothing, I just did was I was told.." Jimin smiled. In his mind though, he wondered why you praised him more in front of other colleagues but not when it was just you and him.

Jungkook stood there, watching how the others exchanged words and felt a little useless. Namjoon nodded at Jimin in greeting then patted Jungkook's back, somehow knowing what he was feeling. "You'll be dealing with cases in no time my friend" Jungkook forced a smile at Namjoon.

"Are we all ready?" You asked, Namjoon and Jungkook nodded headed towards the door and exited. Jimin froze, for a moment, looking at the other intern leave then at you. "Are we going somewhere?" He asked.

"Well, yes..." You said bluntly, as though it was obvious. You slipped your phone into your skirt pocket which was the only thing you needed since Namjoon already had the file. You walked past him for a moment then paused, noticing how he was hesitating and running his hand through his hair briefly.

"Oh right.." You just remembered "I forgot to tell you, you're coming with me to a client meeting."

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

Jungkook had to look away from you, every time you moved your eyes towards him in your office. He didn't want you catching him perv at you. Had he known that you were the Ice Queen, hell he'd sell his soul to have you as boss. He noticed how the curves on your body was in all the right places, and the way your silky hair flowed off your shoulder. Even though you're attire was simple, it was oozing with sex appeal. He licked his lower lip, then looked away. He wanted to make it his mission to get into your pants.

#bts #jimin #park jimin #smut #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #bts fanfic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan #fanfic #sexyjimin #namjoon #jungkook #kpopwritingnet

57 notes · View notes

tiaraofsapphires · 7 years ago

Text

Starlight’s Bridge- Chapter 1

A NEW JAAL/SARA FIC BECAUSE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I HAVE NO SENSE OF SELF-CONTROL

Summary: Their union would unite their peoples, whether they liked it or not. aka the Royalty!AU that literally nobody asked for. You’re getting it anyway.

Read on Ao3 here!

Sara knew it was a privilege to be born into royalty. It meant a full belly and a roof over her head. Clothes and books and want for nothing material.

But, like all things, that sort of security came at a price.

Her life was dictated by one immutable fact: that her freedom, her life, could be made forfeit in the name of protecting the people.

It wasn’t something to be met with fear, but with a sense of honor. It was an honor to serve, to lead.

This applied to both her and Scott, but to her especially.

She was the first-born. It was random chance that she was born before her brother, the first twin, making her heir apparent and him second in line.

It had been a relief to the politicians who orbited and leeched off of the crown, the ones who the people elected and connived in their towering headquarters.

The King and Queen of Hyperion had two children.

Scott was an extraneous part in their eyes, in case Sara had died before she could ascend the throne, in case Sara ran errant and was forced to abdicate.

An ugly thing to say, often whispered between the fawning bureaucrats, honeyed tones turned to poison as soon as they were out of earshot. It was one of the many reasons Alec kept his children as far away from the Citadel and its bureaucrats as possible.

She was Princess Sara. She was to be queen, one day.

Her life was meant to be of sacrifice, for the good of the people. It meant countless sleepless nights, the burden of millions of souls.

It meant dealing with the threat of war. It meant looking to the future, both of her family and families she would never meet.

This was her fate. And she accepted that.

Sacrifices had to be made for the good of the people. It was a given, something drilled into her head the moment she was old enough to comprehend it.

She already lost plenty of sleep over the people her family was charged with protecting.

…

Sam found her tucked in a remote corner of the palace, one hand fiddling with the hem of her slacks and the other holding up a datapad.

She had missed out on a Prothean dig in Leusinia’s mountains the days before, but Peebee had sent her files of their findings. Sara dug through them with envy, mentally comparing what they had found to what she had found in previous sites.

The set of files came with a short message: Come on, Princess. Shed those palace digs and join me at this dig!

And really, Sara would have and should have gone, taken her required security detail with her, and gotten her hands dirty. But Alec had tightened her leash recently, virtually forbidding her to leave Hyperion.

She just had to hope something interesting showed up in Hyperion so she could leave and actually do something.

She wasn’t holding her breath. When humans were given their share of land and kingdom on Nexus many centuries ago, they were—likely unintentionally—shoved into the most boring archaeology-wise part of the planet.

It was enough for her to publish three academic papers—under pseudonym of course—but if she lived in Leusinia, she would’ve had enough for ten.

Damn it, why did the asari get to have all the fun?

“Your Highness.”

Sara started and almost rolled her eyes at the sound of Sam’s voice. Sara had known Sam as long as she had been alive, more of a father to her than her own father. Yet, he still used all the proper titles, hardly ever used her name.

“Yeah?” she sighed.

She looked to him as he rose from a bow. Another formality that he clung to.

Yeah, thanks Sam, she got it. She was royalty. It meant she had few friends and way more responsibilities than some would predict.

“Your father requests your presence in his office.”

She cocked a brow, interest piqued.

There were very few things that would merit her father calling her into his office. It was almost always to inform her of something important. Like an attack or a military engagement or the signing of an important treaty.

And when it wasn’t, it was an occasion he took to reprimand her on something she did wrong. That happened more often than not. She liked looking for artifacts, talking with real people, and experiencing life outside the palace walls, so what?

She, of course, tried to avoid scandal and drawing attention to herself but if there was a situation that needed mediating, of course she stuck her nose in it. What was the point of having influence if you can’t throw it around on occasion?

“Alright. Thanks, Sam. By the way, you are allowed to call me Sara, you know that.”

He nodded, a wry smirk twisting his features.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness, Princess Sara.”

She actually rolled her eyes at that.

“Thanks Sam. Walk with me.”

Sam nodded again, this time with more of a smile.

“Of course.”

They walked through the halls of her home, their home, really, side-by-side.

They got respectful nods and salutes from the people they passed, most of them directed at her and not at Sam. While not royalty—to be honest, Sara didn’t know where Sam actually came from or how he came into her father’s service—Sam was respected by most. Belittled and mistrusted by a few, since being at the king’s ear drew ire from politicians who desired a similar position.

The man was striking: dark skin, electric-blue eyes, and hair white as snow. He was also probably the smartest human alive. It probably helped Sam’s case in being her father’s right hand, his eyes and ears.

Put Sam and her father in a room, and there was little they couldn’t do.

Sara spoke up after a moment of quiet. “Any idea what my dad wants to talk about? Or has he told you to keep your mouth shut?”

She glanced over at Sam. His face was a careful blank, as usual.

“I was made aware of the topic before I was sent to get you. But he wishes to tell you himself. So, I will, as you say, keep my mouth shut.”

Sara sighed. Of course. Right. Leave it to her dad to be secretive. She wanted to know what was so important that he sent Sam to fetch her personally, as soon as possible.

“Does this only involve me? Or is Scott in trouble too?”

“No, this has nothing to do with your brother.”

Okay, that narrowed things down a little bit. Not a lot, but a little.

Finally, they stopped in front of two ornate doors.

Sam murmured, “He wished to speak with you privately. So, I will take my leave.”

Sara nodded.

“Okay. See you later, Sam.”

He held the door open for her, nodding. She stepped into the room and the door closed softly behind her.

Deathly silence in the room, not even the soft murmur of music.

“Dad,” Sara said, in a way of announcing her presence. Her voice was strong and steady and she internally high-fived herself for not sounding like a guilty child.

Alec was seated in his desk chair, turned so his back was to her. He didn’t move to acknowledge her, didn’t say a word. Sara thought about calling out his name, but instead took the opportunity to look around a bit.

There were bookshelves and models and maps on every wall—not unlike the inside of her room—except for the one right behind the desk.

Behind his chair was a large painting.

Her father, stern as always, but also younger, a little happier and a little less tired, stood stiff, staring forward. The Hyperion crown sat on a head of hair that had more brown than grey. Her mother sat on a stool next to him, regal, kind, a small smile curling at the edges of her mouth. Her tiara was delicate, dress simple. Scientist and gentlewoman, the love of Hyperion’s king.

Sara sat on a slightly shorter stool next to Ellen, Scott standing behind Sara.

The artist had taken liberties on her and Scott’s appearances. This was painted when they were teenagers, soft and gangly and awkward, before they grew into their bodies.

It was a happier time. A picture of blue and green and white and gold.

Now, Ellen was dead, had been for a while. Alec was distant and solemn, worn down to the bone and turning grey. And Sara and Scott had matured and struggled to find their places in the world.

Finally, Alec turned in his chair.

“Sara,” he greeted.

She bowed her head slightly in deference. Though he was her father, he was still king. And it meant that everyone treated him with respect, even his own children.

“Dad. Is something wrong?”

Another question she could’ve asked was ‘Did I do something wrong?’ She couldn’t think of any recent issues that would’ve required a summons.

Alec’s mouth twitched sardonically and a pit of dread formed in Sara’s stomach.

Crap, something was definitely wrong. She didn’t know what, but she knew enough about her dad to know that something was at least not-good.

“Come,” Alec said, gesturing to the empty space next to him behind his desk.

Sara obeyed with little hesitation. She slowly rounded the large desk and stood next to him.

This was how it could have been. If Alec hadn’t been wrapped up in his duties and set out to keep his children at arms’ length, they could actually have a relationship that couldn’t be boiled down to because-we’re-family-we-love-each-other-just-by-virtue-of-being-family.

“What do you see?” He gestured to the holographic image of a planet, a familiar one.

This felt like a test. She didn’t know what kind of test it was, but she wasn’t in a position to not humor Alec in whatever he had planned.

“Heleus, our sister planet,” Sara said.

War-torn, a fifth of its land occupied. Reports came in daily of attacks on villages and towns at the borders, a dozen, a few dozen, dying at a time.

The kett hadn’t come to Nexus yet, but Nexus peoples have died when they attacked shipping transports and trade hubs on Heleus.

Mere weeks earlier was the 10-year anniversary of a massacre that killed a thousand people in a trading market on Heleus, many of whom were Nexus citizens.

Sara remembered the mass funerals for the human victims. She was young, but not so young that the tragedy was hidden from her. She stood behind the podium with her brother and mother as Alec gave a speech.

He gave condolences, asked for vigilance, asked that the Nexus didn’t cut off Heleus in reflex to the attack.

“Their pain is our pain and our pain is their pain. Their war is our war,” he had said.

The isolationists hissed and gnashed their teeth in the face of the idea, but they were a minority. Cooperation with Heleus continued, albeit cautious and strained.

Sara blinked as she came back into focus to Alec speaking. “—the kett have plenty to gain from taking over Heleus: slave labor, mining resources, cutting off trade routes.”

He pointed at spots in Heleus where there were known kett bases and hotspots of fighting. Sara’s eyes followed his finger, not really catching the gist of why he called her in the first place.

He continued, “That would make a subsequent strike against Nexus more in their favor. We have our armies, arguably just as strong as the kett. But we are almost entirely reliant on imports of ores from Heleus to make weapons. If the trading stops, eventually there won’t be enough guns, enough ammo, to go around.”

This war started before she was born, before her father was born. That was a lot of time, a lot of suffering. The angara were strong, were able to keep kett gains to a minimum over the decades, containing them, but never defeating them.

And there had been whispers of a Heleus-Nexus summit in order to better deal with this shared threat. Nobody confirmed anything to her, for security reasons.

But why was Alec telling her this? She could pull up the same records without her father’s help and look for herself.

“You’re beating around the bush, Dad. What’s going on?”

Alec glared at her and before she could think to apologize for her outburst, he sighed.

“Dowager Queen Sahuna Ama Darav of Havarl, a large territory in Heleus, made contact with the Nexus heads of state with an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

They were getting to the part where it was pertinent to her. If the grit of Alec’s teeth was anything to go by, the offer was not a happy one.

“She offered her son, Jaal, in a political marriage with one of the Nexus royal families.”

Sara blinked at that information.

“I—”

Alec barreled on as if she didn’t speak. “Asari and humans are the only ones who can have children with the angara. Leusinia’s queen and council have already refused the offer.”

The reason Alec called her quickly fell into place in her mind.

“But you haven’t,” Sara said slowly.

Alec sighed and turned in his chair to face her directly.

“Nexus needs a tangible connection to Heleus and the angara outside of trade and military alliances. It will give people hope that there will be a future. It will also improve Hyperion’s standing amongst the Nexus kingdoms.”

The other shoe dropped. And she knew he wasn’t referring to Scott to be the one to marry this…Jaal.

Sara said, “So, you want me to marry him?”

For a moment, she thought Alec would burst out laughing, telling her it was a joke, like he, after the twenty-two years she knew him, suddenly grew a sense of humor. Instead, he nodded.

Fuck.

“Jaal and a host of angara representatives will be in Hyperion in four days. You and Jaal will be introduced. You can...talk, get to know each other.”

He made it sound like the decision had already been made. It probably was. Knowing her father, he answered ‘yes’ the moment the offer landed on his desk.

It was almost funny to see how the whole idea of this was uncomfortable for him. He never asked about her romantic life. Now, he made himself the architect of it.

Marriage to a man she didn’t know and didn’t love. Expected as a symbol of unity. Expected to bear a child, maybe several children, as tangible proof of a Nexus-Heleus alliance.

Scott was going to have a heart attack when she told him.

Alec continued, “And if he proposes and you accept, well, we will work on it from there.”

Sara chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Did you talk to Tann and the rest of the Citadel? Do they approve of this?”

The four kingdoms had power, considerable power, but they all answered to the Citadel, a group of elected representatives. Surely, they had to have a say in this. A politically arranged marriage between humans and the angara would not only affect Hyperion but the rest of Nexus as well.

Alec crossed his arms, looking utterly defiant.

“Tann and the Citadel don’t know about this, yet. They will soon. They will have enough on their hands with negotiations with the other angara representatives. I don’t need their approval when it comes to my family.”

Sara blinked at the acid Alec seemed to spit at the idea of answering to the Citadel regarding this.

It was no secret he had next to no respect for Tann or Addison. There were few Citadel leadership he tolerated, much less respected.

Alec sighed again.

“I know I am asking much of you. You are my daughter and my heir and strength runs in our family.”

She wished she could take him on his word. She wished he could take that as an expression of his fatherly love and pride for her and leave it like that.

She wasn’t fooled, knew most of it was in an attempt to persuade her. An appeal to her pride or something.

But she knew, and she was pretty sure he knew, what her answer was after he gave her this offer.

“I will do it, Dad.” The words were out of her mouth, in the open. She was waving the white flag of surrender in a face of a potential conflict she wasn’t willing to fight. “It’s—it’s my duty, right? For the people?”

For the people. That was where it started and ended, wasn’t it? Do it for the people?

He nodded, relaxing slightly. Maybe he expected her to fight him on it. Demand that it wasn’t fair.

Well, it really wasn’t fair. She just wasn’t going to argue that point. Life wasn’t fair.

She made the right answer. There wasn’t a choice. She knew that.

She glanced away and up at their family portrait, to four faces. She didn’t want to look at the living man in the chair.

The world was complicated back then and nothing had changed.

Arranged marriages were supposed to be things in storybooks, things that happened centuries ago, especially when humans were trying to keep and maintain a foothold of power on Nexus.

“You know, your mother probably wouldn’t have approved of this,” Alec mused, following her gaze, sounding self-deprecating.

Sara exhaled a laugh. “Probably not. She wanted me and Scott to fall in love, like you and her did.”

Ellen’s deathbed request, as the last of her life began to leak away.

She turned back to Alec. He looked sad. It was a hollow victory to see some sort of emotion that wasn’t either anger or detachment on his face.

Sara knew that part of Alec died the moment Ellen died. The loss had broken his heart, as it did Sara’s and Scott’s.

“We don’t all have that luxury,” Alec said. “I wish I could have given it to you and your brother.”

Alec drummed his fingers on his desk before pulling up another file, this one looking more like a person’s profile.

The somber mood was forced away. Back to professionalism, father and daughter only in name and in blood.

“I don’t know the details of what will happen after the wedding,” Alec said. “It is likely you will live half the time here and half the time in Havarl. We will iron out the details later.”

She nodded, could hear the forced attempt at a light tone in his voice.

She couldn’t smile at him.

“Okay. Tell me more about my future husband.”

#jaal ama darav #sara ryder #rydaal #jaalxryder #jaalxsara #mass effect #mass effect andromeda #me:a #my fic #my fics

5 notes · View notes